Dragon Blue: A Lie That's True (The Dragonlords of Xandakar, Book1)

by Macy Babineaux

  “Go,” Magda said. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it.”

  Miranda and Siccora looked at each other.

  “Let’s go,” Siccora said, moving to Miranda. She held out a hand and helped her up. Then they looked at the portal, now nearly as wide as it had been when the riders went in.

  Still holding hands, they stepped through together.

  Miranda felt the sick jolt of being ripped between worlds. The experience was nothing like traveling with the Emberstone. That had been like moving through space without a ship. This was like being squeezed through a straw and shot out the other side. Everything felt wrong. Everything felt dark. But she was somehow still linked to Siccora, their hands still clasped together.

  They emerged, and the first thing Miranda noticed was the smell, like sulfur and burning wire. She opened her eyes and nearly gasped. A massive castle stood before them, dozens of shiny spires that looked like they were made of black glass. The landscape all around was pitted, craggy black hills. The ground looked like the aftermath of some giant volcanic event, as if hot lava had been spewed out of the earth and fused into this hellish scene. The sky above was filled with dark clouds, purple flashes of lightning intermittently crackling between them.

  We’re in hell, she thought.

  Then she felt Siccora squeeze her hand. Miranda looked up and Siccora was pointing toward the castle. There, up ahead, a massive door was opening. She could make out the riders up ahead, about to pass inside.

  “Come on,” Siccora said, pulling her behind an outcropping of black pumice.

  They huddled there, trying to gather themselves from the trauma of traveling between worlds.

  “Do you know where we are?” Siccora asked.

  “No clue,” Miranda said. The portal was gone, snapping back into a purple spark and disappearing for good. “Looks like we’re on our own.”

  “We need to find a way into the castle,” Siccora said.

  “Wait a minute,” Miranda said. “Did you feel something when we got near the portal? Something bad?”

  Siccora looked at her, then sighed. “I thought perhaps that was just a feeling I had, a momentary weakness.”

  “It wasn’t just you,” Miranda said. “There’s something strange going on, or they wouldn’t have captured Corban so easily.”

  “We have other things to worry about. Even if we find him and get him out of there, how are we supposed to get back to Xandakar?”

  That was a damn good question, one Miranda hadn’t fully thought through. How had these guys generated their portal in the first place? If there were some sort of machine they used, maybe she and Siccora could use it as well. She reached up to the Emberstone at her throat. It had the power to move between worlds, too. Maybe they could harness that.

  “One thing at a time,” Miranda said. “Let’s focus on getting in there and finding Corban first.”

  18: Corban

  He awoke to pain. Like a white-hot wire, it ran from his toes up his spine to the tips of his outstretched fingers. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. He looked up at his wrists, bound in thick manacles, suspended from iron chains that ascended into darkness. His feet dangled six inches from the stone floor.

  He looked around the empty room. The walls were a shiny obsidian. The floor was black volcanic stone. He saw only one door, heavy oak tarred as black as everything else.

  He groaned in pain, but for the first time since he had lain his eyes on that damnable orb he could feel power coming back into him. He could feel his torn muscles begin to mend, his broken bones begin to heal.

  Perhaps, given enough time, he could take his dragonform again. Then he might be able to escape.

  His heart sank when the door swung open. Nicola stood there, his hammer hanging from his belt. Thankfully Corban didn’t see or feel the quietglass. Nicola closed the door behind them, leaving them alone.

  “Feeling better?” he asked, stepping up to stand in front of where Corban dangled by his wrists.

  “Until you arrived.”

  Nicola laughed. “You have spirit. That’s good. It won’t last long, though.”

  Corban wasn’t so sure of that. He felt the energy starting to flow through him now, his body nearly completely restored.

  “We haven’t had a proper introduction,” Nicola said. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  “Does it matter?” Corban hoped to stall him. In only a matter of minutes he could become the most feared ice dragon in Xandakar and kill this man with a single blast of his breath.

  “No,” Nicola said, arching his eyebrows. “Not really. But I keep a record of everyone we take from your world. I was just curious if you might be related to any of our past guests.” A wicked glint in his eye said perhaps he already knew the answer to his question.

  “Everfrost. Corban Everfrost.” He couldn’t help himself. He needed to know if the man would tell him what had happened to his father. He also wanted him to know the name of the person who was about to kill him.

  Nicola’s eyes lit up. “As goes the father, so goes the son,” he said.

  “What do you know of my father?” Corban asked, feeling the flash of rage light up his mind.

  “I know he was here,” Nicola said. “For a very long time. He was strong, that one. A great deal of power coursed through him. I would have to check my records to be sure, but I believe he lasted over two hundred days.”

  No, Corban thought. He can’t be dead. He lies. Grief and rage took hold of him. He was now only moments from transforming and exacting his revenge.

  “You’re a fool,” Corban said. “For not bringing your little trinket in here with you.”

  Nicola laughed, and Corban felt momentary doubt. The man raised his hand up, covered by a thick black glove. With his other hand, he tugged at the fingertips of the glove, then pulled it up and off.

  The room filled with the dark purple glow of light, given off by Nicola’s hand. It was translucent, like the mounts they rode. Corban could see the bones underneath the purple-white skin.

  “I don’t need the quietglass,” Nicola said. “I don’t want to suppress the magic within you any longer." He reached out with his glowing hand, fingers splayed wide, and pushed it against the blue scales on Corban’s chest. "I want to feed on it.”

  Corban bucked and twisted, trying to get away from the man’s touch, but it was no use. Nicola’s palm pressed flat against Corban’s breastbone and all the energy that had been swelling inside him dissipated. Corban felt it being sucked out of him.

  He screamed. The pain he felt now made the pain from the fall feel like a child’s scraped knee. The power that let him become a dragon, that made him who he was, was being sapped from his body. He was being eaten alive.

  Corban opened his eyes and looked down at the man’s maniacal grin. The purple glow reflected in his eyes. He was feeling pleasure and power in proportion to what was being ripped out of Corban.

  How much time passed, Corban did not know. Agony was the only thing he knew. Time had lost all meaning. But when the hand was mercifully withdrawn, he slumped, his wrists sagging against the chains.

  Nicola took a deep breath through his wide nostrils. “That was…satisfying,” he said. Corban watched him pull the glove back on, which was a relief. He wasn’t sure he could take any more of that.

  “Usually we share here,” Nicola said. “But I may just have to keep you for myself.” He turned to go. When his hand was on the door, Corban strained to speak, the word only coming out in a whisper.

  “Parasite.”

  Nicola chuckled. “I have high hopes for you, my boy,” he said. “The well of energy inside you is strong, by the taste. Today is day one. Together we shall see if you can break your father’s record.”

  With that he left the room, slamming the giant black door behind him. Corban slowly spun at the end of the chains from which he hung.

  19: Miranda

  They circled the exterior of t
he castle until they found what they had been looking for. On the far corner of the black fortress was a massive drainpipe covered with iron grating. Along the way, they crept behind outcroppings of black volcanic rock. Huge black beetles scuttled along the ground. Mutated gray lizards with multiple heads and limbs perched atop rocks and chased after the smaller beetles. All the while, the strange purple lightning crackled between the clouds overhead.

  “That looks like our best way in,” Siccora said, pointing at the drainpipe.

  “Think we can get through that grating?” Miranda asked.

  “If we work together, I see no reason why not,” Siccora said. “And we’ve done a decent job of that so far.” She started to move from behind the rock, to head toward the castle. Miranda put a hand on her arm.

  “I need to ask you something first,” Miranda said.

  Siccora looked her in the eyes, a hint of shame there. “You want to know why I lied,” she said. “About you stealing the Emberstone.”

  “Yeah. I also want to know why you gave it to me in the first place.”

  “The second one is easy,” Siccora said. “If the old owl is to be believed, I was meant to give it to you. As for my own reason, I didn’t want to leave your world. I didn’t want to come here against my will and marry someone I didn’t know.”

  As she spoke, Miranda saw something else in her eyes, a look she had only recently begun to fully recognize. “You’re in love.”

  Siccora lowered her eyes, the fierce warrior replaced by an embarrassed young woman. “Is it so obvious?”

  Miranda remembered the first time she had seen Siccora, before all of this. She had stepped out of the back seat of a limousine. The driver had opened the door for her. He’d had a thick braid of black hair down his back and massive sideburns. He’d been there again in the Great Hall when Siccora had returned. What was his name?

  “Korrigan,” Miranda said.

  “Yes,” Siccora said. “He’s much older than me, though age matters less among our kind. My father would say he is not our kind at all. He’s a wolf, from one of the packs in the south. My father trusted him with my life, and we fell in love.”

  “So you found someone that looked like you and gave them the necklace, knowing they’d put it on and be transported here.”

  “Truth be told, I didn’t know exactly what would happen,” Siccora said. “It was Korrigan who actually convinced me to turn back. But all we found was your empty home.”

  Her story made sense, but Miranda still didn’t know how far she could trust her. “How did you get back to Xandakar?”

  “The Emberstone is not the only way to move between worlds,” she said. “There are those who work magic in your world. They are few and they prefer to remain hidden. But Korrigan and I knew where to look. We found one such magic-worker powerful and willing enough to send us back.”

  “So you really would have killed me and taken my place as Corban’s new wife?” Miranda asked.

  “I tried my best,” Siccora said, shrugging. “You and your crystal there put a stop to that.”

  Miranda almost felt guilty now. If Siccora was to be believed, she’d never wanted to go back to Xandakar in the first place. Did you ever wonder if your life wasn’t meant for something else? That’s what Siccora had asked in Benny’s. God, that seemed like it had happened a million years ago.

  “After we save my man and get back home,” Miranda said, “I’ll do everything I can to see you go free and live the life you want, with whoever you want.”

  Tears stood out in Siccora’s eyes. She reached out and they hugged each other tightly. “I doubt my father would allow such a thing,” she said. “But your words are welcome in my ears.”

  “No problem,” Miranda said. “Now let’s rip the metal off that pipe. You ready to wade through some raw sewage?”

  Siccora began to laugh and Miranda joined in.

  They walked toward the drainpipe, the ground becoming softer as they approached. The pipe itself was massive, wider in diameter than both of them standing side by side. The stench was nearly unbearable. A sludge the color of rotten avocados oozed out of the bottom of the grating, pooling into a foul makeshift pond. Clouds of huge mutated flies filled the air. Miranda thought she was going to puke.

  “We’ll shift into dragonform to remove the mesh,” Siccora said. “But we’ll have to shift back to fit through there.”

  Miranda nodded. She was afraid to open her mouth with all these flies. Siccora began to shift first, and Miranda concentrated and began as well. It took longer than usual, and was harder. Miranda wondered if maybe it was this place, but then she remembered the portal back in Xandakar. The feeling was the same, as if there were some cloud trying to prevent them from transforming.

  But they managed, growing into their full forms. Siccora led the way, trudging through the dark green slop. Miranda’s sense of smell was better in dragonform, but she immediately snorted out a tiny plume of fire to clear her nostrils.

  They each curled their claws into the grating, then looked at each other and nodded. The footing was horrible here as they both stood knee-deep in the pungent sludge. But within seconds Miranda heard the squeal of the metal straining beneath their grasps. The covering began to bow outward.

  Then, without warning, it broke loose. Neither of them had time to react, falling backwards and landing in the pool with tandem splashes.

  Gross, Miranda thought as she lay in the muck. She struggled to her feet, trying not to slip again, and looked at Siccora, who was also covered in the green nastiness.

  As they stood there staring at one another, coated in dark slime, Miranda almost wanted to laugh again. But there wasn’t much time. Still, if they shifted back into human form smelling like rancid toilets, they weren’t going to be able to be very stealthy.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Miranda asked in her deep dragon hiss.

  In response, Siccora took in a deep breath. Miranda closed her eyes. The fire washed over her, warm and soothing for a good ten seconds. When it stopped, she opened her eyes and looked down. She was still standing in the slop, but the rest of her was now nice and clean.

  Better than a shower, she thought. Then she returned the favor, taking a deep breath and burning the muck off of Siccora in a wide cone of flame.

  Once they were relatively clean, Siccora grabbed onto the lower lip of the pipe and began to transform, pulling herself up just as she became fully human. She’s good at this, Miranda thought, wondering just how often Siccora had shifted back and forth on Earth. Miranda followed suit, grabbing on and pulling herself up as she shifted.

  Inside, they moved forward into the darkness.

  20: Corban

  He swam back up out of unconsciousness. The first thing he felt was the ache deep in his shoulders. They felt as if they were slipping out of their sockets. Corban looked up, then around, realizing again where he was and letting out a low moan.

  How stupid, he thought. And stubborn as well. He should have listened to Wygard. He should have listened to Miranda. But here he was, hanging in a dungeon in some other world. He didn’t even know its name.

  He took a deep breath. Think. That giant bastard with the glowing hand could come back any time now. Was there a way to get out of this? To overpower him?

  Corban tried to pull his legs up, to see if he could possibly flip over and grab onto the chains with them. Maybe he could climb up to the top. Maybe the bolts that held the chain in place were loose.

  But as he tried to lift his lower body his shoulders and back screamed in unison. He had begun to feel stronger, almost able to shift back into dragonform. And then Nicola had lain his hand upon his chest and sucked that energy right out of him. Now he felt drained, weak, and broken once again, only much worse than before.

  There was a tiny bit of that power still in him. He could feel it, like a tiny sapling struggling through the snow for sunlight. But he also figured the way this would go. They would feed him, give him drink,
and let his power grow just so much. And then they would suck it right back out of him. He had become little more than a storehouse of food.

  When he was smaller, Wygard had told him stories of vampires, monsters that were human in form but neither dead nor alive. He said they drank the blood straight from your veins. The stories had frightened him, though Wygard had joked that if a vampire had tried to drink Corban’s blood, he might just get a headache from the cold. Or worse, his pointy teeth might freeze and break clean off.

  That had made him laugh. But now he had encountered real vampires.They didn’t bite or drink blood. They sucked the life force right out of you with a touch.

  He closed his eyes to try to think, then heard the scraping noise of metal on stone. What was that? He cast his eyes about in the dark room and saw nothing. Was this some new form of torture? Had they unleashed something in here, some kind of animal, as a form of amusement?

  The scrape came again, and then he saw it, far across the room on the floor. A piece of metal grating had lifted and was being slid to the side. Someone or something began to crawl out of the hole, a dark, indistinct shape at first.

  But when the figure stood, a hitch caught in his throat.

  Miranda.

  Her hair was in disarray and her armor was covered in flecks of filth. But at that moment she looked more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen.

  She began to walk toward him and a horrible thought crossed his mind. What if this was some sort of trick? Either his mind or his jailors could be playing it upon him. He could not remember the last time he ate, and he was dizzy from hunger and pain.

  But no, as she stepped up closer to him, worry and love in her eyes, every detail was crystal clear. The Emberstone glinted at her neck. He could even smell her, the real her, even though she had obviously just crawled through the gutters of the castle. She smelled of the hearth, of burning wood, a dusky, comforting scent.

  “Oh Corban,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”