The Return of the Dragon Queen

by Farah Oomerbhoy

  Oblek raised his eyebrows. “Your mage magic seems to be as strong as ever, Princess.”

  A second set of archers emerged from behind the others, bows ready and black-tipped arrows nocked. The dark fae bared their teeth at Tristan, sharp canines flashing in the light of their swords, which were now lit up with red fire.

  Oblek raised his hand, readying the archers to fire again. “It was a good show of resistance, but your mage magic will only hold for so long, and I have an abundance of archers and arrows.”

  From the corner of my eye I could see Kalen moving toward the trees. Black shadows had started to snake out of him and wind around the closest tree, spreading to the others.

  My eyes widened and my blood chilled when all around us the trees suddenly started to come to life. Brown and green shapes emerged from the tree trunks, separating themselves from the bark.

  “Impossible,” Penelope gasped as she beheld the incredible spectacle. “Hamadryads. They haven’t awoken outside of Elfi in centuries.”

  A scream pierced the air.

  My head whipped around to see a hamadryad—a fae spirit of the trees, strong beyond measure with razor-sharp teeth and claws that could kill with a single swipe—pounce on one of the Drakaar. The Drakaar screamed in pain as the brown-skinned maiden crushed its neck, twisting it and severing its head with her claws.

  The Drakaar and Oblek’s soldiers looked startled as they began to realize what was happening. Some fumbled for their bows while others dropped theirs, drawing their swords instead.

  Shadows started to form around Tristan as his magic took shape. Tristan rarely used the magic of the night, but when he did, anyone could sense the power of the High Fae prince. It was only now that I finally realized why he was the most feared of Izadora’s warriors. This was a magic I didn’t understand, reserved only for the royal Night Court bloodline, a darker magic than most of the fae would dare to use. The magic of the night was a darkness that flickered on the outskirts of fae magic, an ancient calling passed down through Tristan’s bloodline to keep darker forces in check.

  Tristan roared as his twin swords lit up with silver fire, and he charged at the scattered, confused soldiers. Half of them turned and ran before the fury of the Prince of the Night Court, as the Drakaar tried to get the warrior-mages to stay and fight. The dark fae ran at Tristan, swords flashing as they clashed with the Dark Prince of Elfi.

  He blocked their blows easily and grinned at his enemies. “You are going to have to do better, dark fae,” he said, twirling his swords effortlessly in his hands and attacking again.

  Rafe drew his sword, and mage soldiers went down like stones as the King of Eldoren released his magic upon them. He fought with his sword in one hand and a ball of magic in the other. Heads rolled and magic crackled all around us as Penelope shielded Kalen while he worked his magic.

  I unsheathed Dawn from the scabbard on my back. I may not have fae magic and strength, but I did know how to fight, and I had my mage magic. Taking Rafe’s cue, I gathered my magic in one hand and flung it at an approaching mage soldier. Lightning sizzled and struck as I called forth my powers. This was no time for push strikes and shielding; it was kill or be killed. However many times I had been put in this situation, it was hard for me to bring myself to do it, but I knew I had to—our lives depended on it.

  Metal clashed against metal as I braced my sword for an attack from the side. I whirled around and swung my sword in a wide arc, slicing through my attacker’s arm. My hand sizzled with mage fire as I let it loose, engulfing the screaming mage in a torrent of fiery death. The stench of burning flesh made me nauseous, but there was no time to think or stop as I braced myself for another attack.

  Tristan was still fighting the dark fae, silver and red fire shooting back and forth between them as their swords clashed and flickered faster than the human eye could see. They were strong, the dark fae, and powered with demon blood, they were ferocious fighters with all the strength and fire Tristan had.

  Two Drakaar moved toward me from the trees. Before I could shield myself, one reached out his clawed hand and a Shadow Demon emerged, snaking in my direction. My mage magic could not withstand a Shadow Demon, which I had learned the hard way back in Brandor when one had first attacked me.

  The shadow creature pounced upon me, its dark claws choking my throat. I tried to pull it off, but I was not strong enough.

  “How does it feel to be helpless, Dawnstar?” sneered the Drakaar, moving closer, his hand outstretched, controlling the Shadow Demon. “Without your fae-fire you are noth—” His words were cut short as two hamadryads emerged from the trees behind him and embedded their claws in his throat.

  The Shadow Demon disappeared with the death of its master, and I gasped for air. Black blood stained the undergrowth while the tree spirits finished their work.

  I looked at Tristan, who was standing over the bodies of the two dark fae. They lay lifeless on the ground, their heads severed from their bodies. I smiled. I guess they underestimated the Prince of the Night Court.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an arrow whiz toward Kalen. It tore through Penelope’s shield and embedded itself in his arm.

  “Kalen!” I screamed. If I had my fae speed, I may have been able to stop it.

  He grimaced and pulled out the arrow. Penelope ran to him to check the wound.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. He was lucky the arrow had only hit his arm. Tristan had told me that if an arrow of blackened iron hit a vital organ, it could be deadly even to an immortal.

  The Drakaar were shouting to each other to retreat as more hamadryads broke away from their trees and ambushed the soldiers and Drakaar. They tore out throats and strangled others in a fury, resulting in bloodshed and carnage the likes of which I hadn’t seen since the werewraiths in the temple in Elfi.

  Suddenly, a roar sounded above—a creature I could not recognize. It wasn’t Abraxas; my magic could not reach him to summon him or speak to him. I craned my neck back and saw a flash of white wings through the trees.

  Chaos erupted all around me.

  Magic flashed and crackled in green and blue hues above the treetops.

  A musical voice spoke in my head. “Do not fear, little one. I am here. And I brought help.”

  I knew that voice, and my heart lifted with hope. “Snow!”

  My beautiful white pegasus came soaring through the trees.

  Behind her flew huge white snow leopards with massive wings. They came tearing through the branches and settled themselves in a circle around us. On their backs rode towering warrior women, resplendent in full battle armor that flashed in the midday sun.

  “The warrior witches of Rohron,” Kalen whispered in awe.

  The warrior women were beautiful and incredibly tall with braided hair, holding wooden staffs topped with shining jewels. A few of the witches’ staffs had more than one jewel shining on their apex.

  One of the witches calmly aimed her staff at a Drakaar near me while still astride the winged leopard. Blue light shot out of one of the jewels and hit the Drakaar in the chest. He went down like a stone, and Tristan severed his head before he even touched the ground.

  My legs nearly gave way in relief when I saw who was at the head of the witches of Rohron.

  A familiar figure jumped off my pegasus, as agile as a young man. His long white hair was plaited like the warriors with whom he rode, and a familiar sword flashed in his hand. He looked thinner than I remembered, and with his short beard shaved off, his face appeared gaunter than before. But his blue eyes twinkled when he saw me, and he smiled.

  There was no mistaking who it was.

  I could hardly believe it. I felt my heart lift and fill with hope as a beam of sunlight fell through the trees, illuminating the clearing and the man who stood before me.

  Gabriel Silverthorne was alive.

  An Old Enemy

  The witches, hamadryads, and Tristan cleared the forest of the threat, and Oblek was bound and tied to a tree,
unconscious.

  Uncle Gabriel spoke privately with Rafe, then joined us.

  “We will need him for questioning,” said Uncle Gabriel after he hugged me tightly.

  “We thought you were dead,” Penelope said plainly.

  “I almost was.”

  “Then how?” I asked, my heart still bursting with joy. I felt as if everything was going to be right again. Uncle Gabriel was here.

  “All in good time, my dear.” Uncle Gabriel put his hand on my shoulder. “There are some things we need to deal with first.”

  He went up to the hamadryads, who had gathered in a group. “Thank you for your help,” said the Duke of Silverthorne, bowing to them.

  One of the hamadryads stepped forward and inclined her head. Her hair and eyes were a dark green like the leaves of the tree she inhabited, and her skin was crusty and brown, resembling the bark of an old oak. Up close they seemed more human than when they were tearing open Drakaar throats, but they still made me nervous. “We came at the behest of the Prince of the Night Court.”

  Silverthorne looked over at Tristan, who shook his head.

  “Not Prince Tristan,” said the hamadryad, and she turned to Kalen and bowed. “Prince Kalen summoned us.”

  Uncle Gabriel narrowed his eyes and looked at Penelope. “So my suspicions were correct. Kalen is Kildaren’s son?”

  Penelope nodded as Kalen shifted uncomfortably beside her.

  “Interesting,” Uncle Gabriel said, rubbing his chin and turning back to the hamadryads. “Thank you for responding to the summons,” he said formally.

  The hamadryad nodded and unexpectedly turned to me and bowed as well. “It is an honor to serve and protect the Dawnstar.”

  I had read about the hamadryads at the library in Elfi. They were different from ordinary dryads in that they were the spirit of the oak trees specifically and the ancestors of dryads. Their life force was tied to the trees they came from. The older the oak tree, the more powerful the hamadryad was. They were ancient creatures and almost impossible to control. That was why Penelope was shocked to see Kalen summon them.

  I thanked them and smiled faintly. I knew powerful fae creatures could sense my fae magic even when it was shielded by the amulet. But if my fae magic was all gone, how did they know I was the Dawnstar?

  The hamadryad came closer and put her clawed hand on my shoulder. I stood very still, not wanting to make a wrong move. Magical fae creatures were temperamental; any slight could cause them to attack. She spoke softly in a musical, ethereal voice only I could hear. “You were destined to be the protector of this world, Aurora Firedrake. The magic of the Dawnstar was meant for you and you alone. There is no one else who can wield the magic as it was meant to be wielded.”

  “But my fae magic,” I whispered back. “Lilith stole it.”

  “Your fae magic doesn’t define you, and neither does your mage side,” said the Ancient Fae creature. “You are the Dawnstar, the light that fills this world with magic. You are here for a reason. Your destiny is still to unfold. Find your true purpose and path; do not waver in your faith. Only then will you be able to find your power.”

  Those words. The light that fills this world with magic. It was the same thing Abraxas had once said to me. I missed him and his advice. His powerful ancient voice had kept me going at the darkest of times. But now I couldn’t even contact him. The ring on my finger lay dull and lifeless.

  “I have no idea how to do what you ask,” I said softly, looking at my ring. “I’m not as strong as everyone thinks I am.”

  “You are stronger than you know, Dawnstar,” said the hamadryad, and she turned to disappear into the tree from which she came.

  Once the hamadryads had returned to the forest, Uncle Gabriel smiled, patting Kalen on his back. “That was quite a feat you pulled off back there, young Kalen.”

  Kalen grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. “Not as big a feat as you managed to pull off, Your Grace.”

  Uncle Gabriel laughed. “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Are you ever going to tell us how you managed to escape when everyone thought you were dead?” Kalen asked my granduncle, wincing as he tried to move his arm.

  “All in good time, my friend,” said Uncle Gabriel, throwing a fleeting but pointed look at Penelope. “I think you should let your mother take a closer look at that arm.”

  Kalen nodded and went over to his mother.

  Uncle Gabriel turned to the witches, who stood slightly apart, the great white leopards prowling impatiently behind them.

  One of the witches, with sparkling eyes the color of burnt honey and long dark plaited hair falling over one shoulder, came forward. Her caramel-colored skin was heavily tattooed with strange symbols that ran down her neck and arm. She held her head high as she stalked toward me. Her body was all muscle, and I could see she was a warrior through and through by the way she carried herself.

  “This is Ashara, war leader of the northern witch tribes,” said Uncle Gabriel, introducing us.

  I stepped forward to clasp her forearm in the universal greeting. “Thank you for your help. If you hadn’t come to our aid, we would not have survived.”

  Ashara smiled warmly. “It is an honor to come to your aid, Aurora Shadowbreaker,” she said formally.

  I glanced at my granduncle. “How did you convince them to help us?”

  Uncle Gabriel huffed a laugh. “I didn’t. It was you who convinced them.”

  I put my hand on my chest. “Me? How? I’ve never even met them.”

  “Yes, Aurora, you have,” said Uncle Gabriel, his blue eyes twinkling as he spoke to me. “It seems the slave girl you rescued in Neris was none other than the witch king’s granddaughter and heir.”

  I gasped. “Rhea!”

  The Duke of Silverthorne nodded, a smile on his face. “She had been taken a few months ago while out visiting a sick friend. They have been searching for her ever since. When she returned to Rohron, safe and sound under your protection, she told her grandfather everything about the young queen who rescued her—the Shadowbreaker who was going to save the world.”

  I shook my head and looked at Penelope and Tristan. This was unbelievable.

  Ashara spoke up. “What the duke says is the truth. Our kingdom never gets involved in mage or fae disputes. But when Rhea told us of the young queen from the west who saved a seemingly inconsequential slave girl at great cost to her own life and safety, we knew a high queen who was worth fighting for had finally arrived. Our king has granted full support of his witch warriors to assist you in your battle against Morgana. So far, forty-two tribes have answered the summons.” She bowed to me. “We are yours to command, my queen.”

  I was speechless. This was much more than we had hoped for. The witches of Rohron might be few in number, but there were some among them who possessed the powerful magic of their ancestors, and they were formidable allies to have when fighting demons.

  Oblek, who was still tied to a tree, regained consciousness.

  He opened his eyes, and they widened when he saw who was standing before him. “You!” he spat at the Duke of Silverthorne. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

  “Well, I’m not,” said Uncle Gabriel calmly. “But what I would like to know is the name of your general.”

  “Ha! You can tear me to pieces, but I will never tell you.” He grinned a maniacal grin. “You don’t have any idea what is coming for you. You’d better run now, Silverthorne, while you have the chance.”

  Uncle Gabriel sighed and looked at Rafe. “He’s never going to tell us what he knows this way. I will have to take him back to Silverthorne Castle if we are to get any answers out of him.”

  Rafe gave a brief nod, his arms crossed in front of him. “Take him.”

  Tristan stepped forward, drawing his sword. “I can take care of this right now. Based on the stories I’ve heard from Aurora, this mage doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Rafe looked at me. “We need him for questioning. But if you want him dead, I will
allow Prince Tristan to execute him right here.”

  My old enemy was tied up before me, and all I could feel was remorse. I didn’t want him dead, even after everything he had done to me. It was not up to me to pass judgment on his life, even though I had the power to end it.

  I shook my head and put my hand on Tristan’s arm, restraining him. “Take him to the dungeons at Silverthorne Castle and find out what he knows,” I said to Uncle Gabriel. “There has been enough bloodshed here tonight.”

  Tristan scowled at me but put away his sword.

  Uncle Gabriel came forward and clapped his hand on my shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling with an emotion I had not seen before—pride. “Spoken like a true queen, Aurora Shadowbreaker.”

  My eyes welled up, but I forced back the tears as I had learned to do and hugged my granduncle. I was so glad he was back.

  Uncle Gabriel scrutinized the area. “We need to get out of here. It is too easy to get ambushed in this part of the forest.” He turned to Ashara. “If your witches can take Oblek back to Silverthorne Castle, Captain Raingate will take care of him.”

  Ashara nodded. “It will be done.” She turned to instruct her warriors.

  The relief was palpable all around. The Duke of Silverthorne always knew what to do.

  “I know a place where we can rest and decide our next course of action,” Rafe said. “Hopefully the people of Pixie Bush took my advice and have gone into hiding.”

  “Do you think any of them are still alive?” Penelope asked.

  Rafe nodded and led the way. “If they left when I told them to, yes.”

  The Goldleaf Forest was still and quiet as we traveled through it. I fell into step beside Rafe. “Why did you come after us?” I asked finally. “Don’t you need to be with your army?”