ISBN 10: 1514689839
ISBN 13: 9781514689837
Copyright 2015 by Michael Robb Mathias Jr.
All Rights Reserved
This one is for Kelsey, Britt’s dog/familiar,
who passed in 2015, after a long happy life.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
The Royal Dragoneers
Part I: The Frontier
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
A special thank you to www.t-rexstudios.com for the original cover art
Chapter One
On an old barrel keg
underneath a tree
is where you ought to look
If you want to find me.
- Parydon Cobbles
In a matter of days, the situation on Parydon Isle grew worse than Vanx or any of his companions could possibly imagine. It seemed that the Heart Tree and even Orendyn were no longer in danger, though. The Trigon fighters and lesser wyrms who were still dazed had gone from their continent completely, and showed no intention of returning.
Zeezle and his green dragon, a female drake he called Kelse, had just returned from scouting the situation firsthand. Vanx was grinding his jaws in anticipation of what his Zythian friend would report. The information he had tortured out of the Trigon wizard whom Sissy was feeding on down in the dungeon was only slightly helpful. They needed an edge, and he was hoping to gain one this evening.
He and Poops met Zeezle and the women near the entry to his partially destroyed crystal palace. Even though Chelda was no longer bound to the Underland and could travel into the palace, this was still where they all seemed to meet at times like these.
There were two log benches and a fire pit, and when it was colder up high, it was still spring-like down in the valley. The air this evening was chill, or maybe the absence of Pyra’s infernal nature was causing Vanx to feel that way. Just to give them some light, and maybe to show off that he had been studying the Hoar Witch’s spell books, Vanx threw his hand at the pit and caused a sizeable fire to burst into existence.
Zeezle seemed unsure how his news would be received, and as soon as the fire left his hand, Vanx could sense a deep anger coming from Pyra. She was circling above, and angry. The big red dragon had escorted Zeezle and Kelse on their observational trek. It was clear something they’d witnessed had her riled.
“The Paragon Dracus hasn’t killed King Ravier Oakarm,” Zeezle said flatly. “He has him under the Trigon Daze, thus putting some of the kingdom in his control, and rendering all of his secrets revealed.”
Vanx’s expression changed, and he could tell that Gallarael, Chelda, Moonsy, and whoever else was hovering about had changed their expressions, too, for Zeezle went on nodding, as if they were all getting the implications.
“The great palace of the Oakarm dynasty has been removed from the top of the island mountain, just as you told me Russet saw in the Mirror of Portent. All that remains is a large, flat, checkerboard floor. It is surrounded by the stubs of the columns that once held its roof in place, but it is now open to the sky.” Zeezle stepped over and gave Poops a scratch behind the ears, and went on from a squatted position. “The throne dais still sits majestically at one end. This is where I saw the Paragon lay out a smaller blue dragon and torture it, by twisting its wings nearly off.
“While it happened, King Russet’s dazed father sat in the exposed throne, with his crown on, watching with dull, blue eyes.
“The teardrops it is torturing out of the dragons are making him—it—even more powerful. Pyra is none too pleased about it. The young blue it took came from her island.”
Vanx wasn’t sure how Ravier Oakarm’s entrancement would help the Paragon. With Russet alive to rally the kingdom folk, no one would listen to the bewitched old man, would they? Vanx had liked him, too, and he was Gal’s real father, which meant she might need him to keep it together.
In dragon form, if that is what you could call it, the Paragon Dracus was a huge, blue beast with twin rows of deadly sharp ivory spikes running down its length. Its head was lion-like, and a little human, with a mane of smaller spikes and two larger ones spiraling out, just like a devil goat. It was just as big as Pyra, but Vanx supposed that since it could change into human form, it could assume the form of anything it wanted. As a dragon, though, it could catch the smaller wyrms on the island with its claws, like a hawk catching a sparrow.
“After the wyrm’s teardrop finally fell—and this was amazing—it hardened and rattled around like a gemstone, just like the legends say. The Paragon grabbed it and swallowed it, as if it were fresh bread before a starving man.” Zeezle told Vanx this part later, when they were alone and making preparations for the coming hunt. “Then the Paragon shifted forms: its wings became elongated arms, and it picked up its trident and jabbed the blue dragon with it. The dragon shivered and roared,” Zeezle went on, in a hushed tone. “Its body shrank and twisted. Its outer skin, and its color, were burned away by the Paragon’s powerful magic. After that, it was docile.” Zeezle put his hand on Vanx’s shoulder for emphasis. “Then he gave the wyrm to King Oakarm, and ordered him and his remaining wizard to go find and kill his get.”
“Did you warn Russet?” Vanx asked, wondering why Zeezle hadn’t told him this stuff when he’d first arrived back from his reconnaissance mission.
“I did,” Zeezle nodded. “He and his men are still in Orendyn, about to travel to Zyth to gather forces. He told me not to tell you that part in front of his sister. The gargans, skmoes, and remaining Parydonian fighters are all on ships sailing to Dabbldwyn, which is still under human control.”
“So, if Russet has been warned, there is little we can do, other than begin our hunt,” Vanx finally decided.
“I agree,” said Chelda, as she and Gallarael regained the palace entry where Vanx, Poops and Zeezle were going through their gear. An area off to one side had been doused with acidic spew from one of the black dragons. Pyra had cooked the muck into a hard, glasslike surface that the dragons were using to laze around on.
Three of the five sprites ordered to watch over Poops were hovering far enough above them as to not be intrusive, but Vanx knew nothing said here would remain private for long. Luckily, the most talkative of the little finger-sized, glassine-winged guardians was off duty
, as Vanx had put them on a rotating shift that allowed them all to rest.
“So, my true father is one of them now?” Gallarael asked Zeezle, with more than a little contempt showing in her wicked gaze. “And who are you to keep news of one’s father from them? I am his get, too. Do you not think that matters?”
Zeezle looked at Vanx, then at Chelda’s angry stare. “I only kept that part from you because Russet asked it of me. I won’t keep anything from you again.” He shrugged. “He also said your mother is still alive, and barred away deeply in her stronghold.”
“That part I wasn’t supposed to tell Vanx, only you.” Zeezle grinned at Gal, and then at all of them. “Why is that, I wonder?”
Vanx almost laughed, but the anger in Pyra was finding him again, as was Sir Poopsalot’s angst.
Chelda and Zeezle loaded their gear onto their persons, for neither dragon would agree to being saddled. Vanx, however, threw a rope around the spinal plate that protruded from Pyra’s back, before the gap where he and Gallarael would sit. After tying the rope snug, he hung various packs and bundles from it. He then tied on a padded leather cushion in a way that made a perfect saddle for the two of them.
“I was scouting Parydon Isle,” Zeezle shrugged at Chelda’s questioning look. “I didn’t have time to fashion us a rig. Besides, that is to keep mighty Pyra’s infernal heat from blistering their asses as we go. Kelse here is a much more comfortable ride.”
“Ya.” Chelda grinned at that, and they mounted the long, green wyrm.
Once Vanx had Gal situated, he slid down and knelt before his familiar. More than that, Poops was his pup, and his pup was worried about him badly. He wondered why Moonsy wasn’t saying goodbye to Chelda, but here she came, all dizzy-eyed and grinning.
He looked at Chelda and decided they’d been at it before Chelda had returned. Moonsy was love drunk, but she found Poops and hugged him as she blew Chelda a kiss and waved.
I will be back before you know it, Vanx told the dog through the common link all wizards share with their familiars. He scratched Poops’s ears in his favorite spot. I will be with you, on the inside, the whole time. Have fun with Moonsy and keep her from getting sad about Chelda. Can you do that?
Poops barked and licked Vanx’s face. Vanx hugged him back and then stood and gave General Gloryvine Moonseed a nod. He didn’t look back as he gracefully climbed up behind Gallarael to his place on Pyra’s back.
“Where to start our hunt?” asked Zeezle. “I hope you have a plan.”
“Plan?” Vanx looked around. The edge he’d been hoping for hadn’t come with Zeezle, but he did have an idea what they could do to catch that thing.
“We lay a trap for him on Dragon Isle, where he thinks he is the alpha hunter,” said Vanx, knowing it is what Thorn, the bravest being Vanx had ever known, would have done. “That is the plan.”
Vanx’s certainty was fortified by thoughts of he and the previous elven general creeping through a rotted cavern to kill the Hoar Witch. Foxwise Posey-Thorn had stepped into death willingly for another, and the fact that he had witnessed the horrific event firsthand still sickened Vanx.
“Ya,” Chelda snorted out her agreement. “Smart plan.” And with that, they took to the sky.
The hunt for the Paragon Dracus had begun.
Chapter Two
That spike has always been there
sticking right out of the sea.
Through tempest storms, and crashing waves
that spike will always be.
- A sailor’s song
Since they’d slept together, the friendship between Vanx and Gal was awkward. But as they flew, she had no problem wriggling her ass against him, causing his body to respond, whether he wanted it to or not. She was nervous at first, but the world as seen from dragonback was clearly exhilarating to her, and her body was showing it.
Vanx doubted Zeezle was getting the same treat. In fact, Chelda had made him sit in front of her, which, due to her larger size, and his glittery hair, looked strange from across the night sky.
Pyra’s movements were slow and steady. She gently lifted up and down in a steady rhythm. The smoothness of her wing strokes, and the warmth of both her and Gallarael, made it easy for Vanx to relax.
Vanx knew deep down that he was catering to the darker part of his nature, the part about which the Hoar Witch and the Goddess had both warned him. He was hunting the Paragon Dracus to avenge his friend Thorn, not for any sort of justice. The thing had come and destroyed a third or more of Saint Elm’s Deep, and forced him to douse the Heart Tree with molten silver, thus making it impervious to the Paragon’s tainted dragon magic. Besides that, something so cruel and powerful just needed to be ended.
Revenge was a poor motive, but it was strong fuel to an already roaring fire. Vanx was only worried that, if all the Paragon needed to grow more powerful was dragons to torment, then they might be in trouble. Pyra’s island was infested with them.
He thought about these things after Gallarael finally fell asleep. They were over the sea now, the glossy water reflecting the moonlit clouds back up at them, bathing them all in a golden-hued light.
With Foxwise Poseythorn dead, the world, or at least Saint Elm’s Deep, had lost its charm. The last thing Vanx would ever want to do was replace the Hoar Witch as some sort of power in the north. And the secret of the Heart Tree was out. So many Zythians and men had seen it, coming and going from the sward, that expecting it and its wondrous inhabitants to remain a secret was foolish.
Vanx supposed he would have to help with that before he started back into his journey through the world. There were so many places he wanted to see, and he loved to catch fish—he still hoped to catch one of the great fish up at Highlake, but he supposed that might be impossible, unless someone lured Gallarael’s mother away for a time.
Thinking of places he longed to see, he remembered something.
“Pyra,” Vanx said aloud.
Yesss, came the dragon’s response, as much in his head as in his ears.
“Can you take us by the Sea Spire?” Vanx asked. “It isn’t out of the way, is it?”
It is called an Octron, Pyra hissed. I cansss take you.
“What is an Octron?”
There are sssix of them, the dragon began. Long ago, the greatessst wizardsss used them to bind and travel the world.
“How does it work?”
Thatss I cannot ssay.
“Why are they called Octrons, if there are only six of them?” Vanx’s question had been rhetorical, and he wasn’t expecting an answer, especially the one he got.
If you envisionsss a plane between each of the towerss, they portion this world into eight equal octrantsss.
Vanx thought about it as they flew on, banking slightly south to accommodate his request. The six Octrons were probably spaced evenly around the globe. He remembered a lecture about them from his youth, and some diagram showing their bases extending all the way into the globe’s core, but it was vague. The Zythian lesson masters had called the Octron the Sea Spire, and had no idea what purpose it had.
The idea that great wizards once used them intrigued Vanx. He was glad when dawn broke the golden night into morning and he saw the Sea Spire, or Octron, in the distance.
“Why are we coming here?” Zeezle called over.
“I just want to look around,” Vanx called back.
“Me, too,” Gallarael agreed. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“I’ve never even heard of such a thing,” Chelda said, and Vanx heard Zeezle go into the lecture he couldn’t remember. His Zythian friend was probably reciting the old professor’s lesson word for word.
Vanx ignored them and watched the tall, black, needle-like structure grow as they neared it. To him, the most amazing thing was the way the waves didn’t crash against it, as they did every other object in the sea. Against the spire they quelled, leaving the area a few dozen paces out from it eerily calm. The fact that it had been there longer than Zythians had been re
cording history was baffling, and it made him wonder just how old Pyra was to know of it and its users.
Chapter Three
They came on clever ships of wood,
those that called themselves men.
They spread like mice through fertile fields
and over took the land.
- Balladamned (A Zythian song)
The Zythian wizard at King Russet Oakarm’s side had cast a shielding over him. He was glad for the help, but was wishing Quazar was still alive. There were more wizards of the Royal Order coming, and some of them young and sharp, but until then, Vanx’s people were proving to be an ally that was both reliable and resourceful.
Using the speedy uni-horned kangas, arrow tips made from Heart Tree leaves dipped in silver, and teleportation spells, Russet’s small group had managed to retake a portion of Andwyn and undaze a few hundred of the Trigon’s fighters in the process. Keeping the undazed from becoming a nuisance would have been a problem, if the citizens of Parydon didn’t understand that their loved ones no longer resided in the empty-minded bodies left after the Paragon’s spell was broken. There were a good number of good folk following the group at a distance, and they seemed to be killing any of the ones Russet’s crew missed.
Learning that his father had been turned and was giving orders from the back of one of those twisted wyrms filled Russet’s heart with sadness. Knowing his sire was coming for him, and that Russet would be forced to undaze and then kill his mind-washed father, made him angry.
He’d culled seven of the best men in Orendyn to come with him, and the four Zythian spellcasters at his command.
The men he had were no experts at riding the Zythian creatures, but that had been one of the criterion for his culling, and a few of the seasoned soldiers had taken leave in Flotsam and were able to stay seated on the kangas and still manage a bow.
They were gathering men from the outlying farms and fortifying the three strongholds they’d retaken, when Russet’s father came streaking by overhead. His dragon mount sprayed them with its blue, gooey spew, but the Zythian shielding kept it from reaching them by turning the stuff to a light, ashy powder.
Paragon Dracus: The Legend of Vanx Malic Book Six Page 1