The Royal Dragoneers: 2016 Modernized Format Edition (Dragoneers Saga)

by M. R. Mathias

  Jenka gently asked his bond-mate to land nearby. “This won’t take long,” he promised. “I know just where the tear fell. I can almost feel where it is.”

  “Yesss,” Jade hissed in response, as he circled to find a place upwind of the gigantic mass of gore. “I don’t want to be here long.”

  Jenka could feel Jade’s anguish, and his heart went out to his draconian friend. He dismounted as soon as the young dragon landed, and batting away the bugs and buzzards, he went straight to the place he had marked in his mind. By the end of summer there would be nothing but a skeleton here, but now it was like walking in foul sticky mud. The smell grew sharp and threatened to dislodge his gorge as he traversed the nasty stuff.

  When he made it to the long lump of festering scaled dragon arm where the amber drop had plopped and rolled over, he had to gather himself. Then he reached his arm down into the muck between the rotting limbs of two trolls that had met their end there. He felt around and was forced to reactively pull his hand out as something substantial crawled across his fingers. Trying to hold his breath was futile, and when he exhaled and inhaled again he nearly vomited. Looking at his distraught dragon pacing nervously across the way, he decided to get this over with. This time when he reached his hand down into the mess, he found what he thought was the tear. It felt like a small river stone in his hand.

  His assumption was confirmed before he even had the chance to look at what he held. A slow, intoxicating tingle began to creep into his hand. It spread up his arm, and when it reached his shoulder he was suddenly overcome with a rush of magical power so intense that he nearly fell into the gore face first.

  Through the bond they shared, Jade felt the power of the tear as well. He knew it would overwhelm Jenka, for he had been overwhelmed in much the same way when his mamra had been instilling her lessons into his mind as she lay dying. He leapt into flight and, with wing strokes strengthened by his emotion, he went to Jenka, grabbed him by the shoulders with his powerful claws and pulled him up and out of the horrific gore before he fell into it. Jade flew upwind and landed softly beyond sight of the grave. He immediately began to fret over his bond-mate. Jenka hadn’t moved since he had stiffened and started to fall over. The tear was so powerful that even in Jenka’s clenched hand, with Jenka unconscious, Jade could feel the intense magic coursing through the bond they shared. Jade hoped that it was a temporary sensation. If it wasn’t, he feared that the both of them would be driven mad.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Zahrellion looked around and found herself lying in a dense thicket of thorny brambles directly under an ancient, tangle-limbed oak. She remembered the arrow slamming into her chest and looked down reflexively. The shaft no longer protruded from her body. The wound had been healed somewhat, but there was still a noticeable amount of bruising and pain. Crystal must have helped her, but the big white snow dragon was nowhere to be seen. It occurred to Zah that Jade would have blended in perfectly to the environment she was in. Crystal’s glittering white scales would no doubt contrast starkly against all these shades of green and brown. Zah sat up to try and better take in her surroundings, but it wasn’t easy. Crystal had chosen a place for her that looked next to impossible to penetrate.

  It was mid-afternoon and unpleasantly warm. By the way her bloodstained robes crunched and crumbled in her grasp she figured she had been there a while, a day at least. A flicker of movement caught her eye and she saw a curious troll leaning down to sniff at the edge of the thorny bramble patch she was huddled in. It saw her wild tangle of hair and almost dismissed it as some sort of foliage, but when light reflected off of Zahrellion’s lavender eyes, the creature's ears laid back and it snarled doggishly. Zah was in no mood for this madness so she stood, traced a symbol into the air, and called forth a sizzling yellow ball of her magic. The blast shot through the brambles, opening a wide lane, and completely obliterated the troll. Zah quickly realized her mistake. She could see dozens of the feral little goblins swarming around now, and at least a half dozen trolls. They had been moving through the forest toward the wall, but all of them were now converging on her.

  She didn’t panic. She started calling forth another spell, this one more potent. Her fingertip traced a streaking line of pink energy through the air before her while her tongue twisted around words older than the world itself. A crackling static began to hum around her as she focused the energy from everything near her into her casting. She started to speak the word that would release it all, but a log the size of a full grown man's arm bashed into her temple, sending her into total blackness. The orc that had crept up behind her started laughing at his achievement, but when the goblins and trolls looking on chattered their mirth over the incident, the huge commander barked out orders, sending the lesser goblinkin quickly back on their way to battle.

  The orc wasn’t about to share the glory of this capture with the others. Gravelbone had promised positions of great power to any who captured one of the Dragoneers. This orc was going to drag the white-haired sorceress directly to the Goblin King’s lair and reap his reward.

  Rikky and Silva were in trouble. He had openly vowed to kill the Goblin King when Master Kember had been bashed by the troll, but when he came face to face with the ivory-horned demon, his courage quickly turned to water. The Goblin King and his nightshade were on their tail now, and they weren’t going away. Gravelbone was chasing them, had been chasing them since the night before. The demon was enraged that Ricky and Silva, with poor Master Vahlda’s help, had closed the tunnel to Port. The Goblin King was leading them into a trap similar to the one he had laid for Royal in the grottoes, but both Rikky and Silva knew this. It was tragic that Master Vahlda had fallen to his death when the chase began. Had Rikky not been so terrified, he would have been raging at the loss.

  The city was far behind them now. Since the wall was still to the south of them and the sun was sinking in the sky behind them, Rikky knew that they were moving east and north. It was amazing how Silva could maneuver through the air to avoid the occasional magical blast of crimson energy that the Goblin King sent forth. Rikky had spent most of the flight ducked down and clinging to the spinal plate before him. At times he had been slung, whipped, and tossed, but he had somehow managed to remain clinging to his bond-mate’s back.

  “We’ll never lose him,” Rikky yelled out, though his thoughts were plainly clear to Silva. He just couldn’t break the habit of speaking.

  “Yesss,” Silva hissed back inaudibly. “He is leading usss, but I keep misdirecting the chase. I have sssomething in mind. Do you trussst me, Rikky Camile?”

  Do I have a choice? Rikky’s mind answered before he could stop it. “Yes, I trust you.” He looked over his shoulder and was rewarded with an eye-searing view of the setting sun. The nightshade was nothing but a rapidly closing silhouette, and he could tell that the fargin Goblin King was preparing another blast of magical energy.

  “Dive,” he called out. Silva was diving even before Rikky completed the thought.

  The warbling mass of destructive energy shot over them like a comet, and the Goblin King howled out his rage.

  Below them, Rikky saw more troops of goblins and trolls. There was no telling how many tunnels had been dug under the wall. It had become clear that the early attacks on Port and Midwal had been but a diversion to occupy the kingdom’s forces while huge numbers of the Goblin King’s horde passed under the wall at less-guarded positions. Soon the outskirts of Mainsted would be overrun, Port and Mainsted proper soon after. The hold on the mainland that men had worked so hard to gain would soon be lost.

  Rikky felt the tingling of Silva’s magic and didn’t dare disturb his dragon while she cast the spell she was calling forth. Or was it a spell? Rikky wasn’t sure, because there was a pleading quality to Silva’s tone. He did trust her. He trusted her with his life. He wished to live long enough to prove it to her. Already, the persistent nightshade was regaining the ground lost when they dove. By the loud, angry tone in Gravelbone’s voic
e as he called forth some more of his evil magic, it was clear his spell would be much more potent this time.

  “Hold on, Rikky,” Silva said into her bond-mate’s mind. She had finished casting her summoning spell. Hopefully, another pure-blooded dragon would hear it and come to her aid. If not, then she was certain that she would be overtaken by the foul hellborn wyrm dogging her tail. With a snarl, she summoned all the strength she could muster in an effort to continue avoiding going the way Gravelbone wanted to herd her. For now, it was all she could do.

  Prince Richard’s head was starting to clear, but only slightly. He couldn’t understand why he was still with the huge ogre. They were moving through a cavern that was vaguely illuminated by softly glowing yellow moss, but he knew that he was fleeing the most terrifying ordeal he could have ever imagined. He and the big, olive-skinned creature had been walking for quite a while, several days at least. They had stopped and rested three times and once had eaten a meal of raw, sticky larva the ogre dug out of a crevice. How long they had been moving and how far they had gone, the crown prince couldn’t say, for he had long since lost any sense of time.

  They stopped after an insubstantial tumbling of loose rock could be heard from the way they had come. A terrible yet familiar growling erupted from that direction. A few seconds later, the rump and tail of the huge, blue-scaled dragon appeared, backing down the shaft toward them.

  It was Royal, Richard knew, but he didn’t even attempt to decipher the strange muffled conversation taking place between his dragon’s rear end and the ogre. They travelled some more and came to an opening of cavern large enough for the dragon to turn around.

  It was a sickening sight. Royal’s long neck and shoulders had been savagely hacked and chopped at by the orcs in Gravelbone’s lair. The whole length of his neck was gashed and festering. The dank cavern quickly took on the sickly sweet smell of infection. The big blue wyrm's eyes, once lively, were dim and distant. It was a wonder he was still alive.

  The ogre spoke something to the wyrm. Royal responded, and the ogre hurriedly left them. It lumbered off into one of the two other shafts leading away from the cavern they were in.

  The prince could hear dripping water and moved to investigate the sound.

  “Stay close,” Royal warned lovingly. “The ogre will return with others and lead you out of here soon.” It was obvious that his life was fading.

  Prince Richard found the trickle and took off his heavy steel chest armor and then his undershirt. He soaked the filthy garment in the water dripping down the wall, wrung it out a few times, then used it to clean the scales around Royal’s wounds.

  It wasn’t much, but it was all the comfort he could offer. Richard had never gotten the hang of magic. Mysterian told him that some folk just didn’t have the knack. He wished he had practiced more or tried harder, for he knew that a healing spell, even a minor one, could go far in keeping his brave and loyal bond-mate alive. He swam through the muddle that his mind had become. He found a raw emotion there, not quite hate, a loathing perhaps. It was a loathing for all that was supposed to be good and righteous. He had done no wrong that he could imagine, yet he had been tortured to the edge of insanity. Now the only true friend he had ever known was about to die because they had the honor to attempt to save another. The crown prince could find nothing good or fair about any of that.

  “Find the good,” Royal hissed weakly. “Even in the turmoil of rage you are lossst in, there will be good. Find it, Richard. Find it and hold onto it, for it is only that bit of goodnesss that can sssave usss in the end.”

  “NOOOOOOOO!” the crown prince howled as Royal heaved out his last breath. “You are the only good thing left in me!” Rage flashed through Prince Richard. Rage and hate, and an awful lust for vengeance began to boil. Royal felt his bond-mate as he fell into the empty blackness that was death, and knew he had failed. He fought back the tear with all he had left in him, but it wasn’t enough. Royal loved Prince Richard dearly, and it pained him beyond measure to leave his rider and bond-mate in this pitiful state of anguish. Though he knew Richard had been deeply corrupted by Gravelbone’s taint, he couldn’t hold back the tear that had formed of its own accord. When it thumped to the ground at Prince Richard’s feet, he picked it up and was instantly consumed with its power.

  Crystal had heard Silva’s frantic summoning and struggled between standing guard over her bond-mate and helping her fellow dragon. She had chosen to aid the dragon, for the silver wyrm and this Rikky Camile, the boy who had lost his leg, would aid her and Zahrellion in turn. Since she stood out like a broken wing in the forest, her presence was likely to draw the attention of the vermin to their location. Zah would reach out to her through the bond they shared when she woke from her healing slumber. Otherwise the dragon knew the girl was safe. Not even the hungriest of trolls would brave those thorny brambles to get at a meal. There was no way Crystal could have known that Zahrellion would wake and draw so much attention.

  Ahead and below her, Crystal saw the silver dragon undulating through the air on tired, heavy wing strokes. Directly behind Silva, with the unending vigor that only the hellborn can muster, was the nightshade. On the black-skinned wyrm’s back rode the foul Goblin King. Gravelbone looked as fierce as ever with his fanged maw open wide, and his crown of flaming antlers. None of them had sensed Crystal’s presence yet, and she gained some more altitude while trying to keep it that way.

  Suddenly, a streaking blast of cherry-red light shot from the Goblin King’s hand like a ray. The sizzling line of energy sliced across the silver's back, blackening scales and charring flesh as it went. Rikky’s peg leg touched the ray and a faint whiff of wood smoke was swept away with the wind.

  Knowing that even Gravelbone would have to catch his breath after such a powerful display of dark magic, Crystal came streaking out of the sky at them. The nightshade sensed her just in time to avoid having its wing shredded by Crystal’s lowered claws. The move caused Gravelbone to take a deep rip across his shoulder, as he was knocked from his seat. As he tumbled toward the ground, the nightshade immediately dove after him. The silver dragon banked around to see what was happening. After seeing that she was no longer being pursued, Silva began winging away from the area as fast as her weary limbs could manage.

  The nightshade caught Gravelbone in its grasp before he hit the earth and then started back eastward into the setting sun. Crystal flew to Silva’s side and led them to where Zah was supposed to be sleeping. When they arrived, Zahrellion was gone, and the air was thick with the foul smell of vermin. She roared out savagely, but she could only blame herself. She had left Zah there in order to answer the other dragon's call. She said as much to the exhausted silver in the impossible draconian tongue, and without hesitation Silva swallowed her fatigue and leapt back into flight.

  “Where are we going now?” Rikky asked. “You need rest.”

  “The orcs have taken Zahrellion,” Silva hissed. “We must help find her, for it was to save us that the white one left her alone.”

  “Then let’s get it done,” Rikky agreed, knowing in his heart of hearts that all of them would be better off with Zahrellion safe and on their side.

  It turned out that she wasn’t that hard to find. The orc that had been dragging her through the starlit frontier had picked her up, and was now carrying her limp body over his shoulder as he fled. Crystal’s roar warned him from continuing. Her glacial breath froze a whole swath of forest into solid ice before the creature. It dropped Zahrellion and tore away like a frightened child.

  Crystal picked Zah up in her claw and found a clearing they could easily defend. When they were on the ground, Rikky slid off of Silva’s back and hobbled to Zahrellion’s side. He used all the healing strength he could muster on her, and was rewarded with a lazy smile from the beautiful, tattoo-faced girl.

  “I always thought it would be Jenka who would come to my rescue,” she said.

  “Your dragon came to your rescue, Druida,” Rikky told her flatly.
He was still too young to have developed a real interest in girls, and he was as tired as he could ever remember being. “We need rest, Zah. The whole of the mainland is under attack and, as far as I can tell, we are the only ones left to defend it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “I’m the fargin king, man!” King Blanchard bellowed from inside of Linux' body. He was still in the cell he had been in since they arrived in Port, and had managed to get the gag out of his mouth. “I’ll have you flogged to death, man, I swear I will,” he told the guard for the hundredth time.

  “I seen King Blanchard speak once down in Mainsted. You sound just like the fat bastard,” the guard laughed. “I’ll give you that, you crazed dimbuss.” The cell guard’s grin disappeared so quickly he almost swallowed his own lips.

  “Leave us,” Linux spoke to the guard from inside King Blanchard’s body as he came storming into the torch-lit cell house. His personal guards stayed outside the doors. “Leave the key and close the door behind you.”

  “Yes, Majesty,” the man bowed and slipped a leather thong from his head. Dangling from the strand was a heavy brass key. The guard hurriedly backed out and shut the steel-banded oak door behind him.

  “Your treachery knows no bounds, druid!” King Blanchard said hotly. No matter how hard he tried, he could not wrap his mind around the idea of speaking to his own huge body. “This is madness.”

  “It is madness, Highness,” Linux conceded. “The wall has been breached between here and Midwal in a dozen places. No telling how bad it is beyond. Soon Mainsted proper will be under attack, if it’s not already. We’re about to lose the mainland entirely, and I need to know what you want me to do.”

  “What do you care what I want?” the true king growled. “Do what you will. You already have.” His tone softened, but only long enough to ask a question. “What of my queen? Has her ship been found?”