Dragon's Revenge

by Debi Ennis Binder

  A chill slid through Mayra. If Cherra had intended her appearance to be a distraction, it was working far too well. Mayra needed to take back control of the situation. She slowly slid her black sword back into its sheath and before anyone could react, she stepped forward, out of the shadows.

  “Yes, I met your brother—” Mayra started and broke off. Her ordinarily soft voice was unusually loud and ringing. But there wasn’t time to consider that—Cherra was staring at her in mute astonishment. Could it be Cherra did not know Mayra would be here?

  It was time for Mayra to cease her relaxed and gullible act.

  “And I killed him,” the Ring-Witch said grimly. “He sent his vile bushdog to kill me, but I bested it. He then attacked me, and I killed him with surprising ease. Restraining a dragon who did not wish to be controlled was far too distracting to him. And regrettably, he treated me as though I were some brainless female, not recognizing a High Ring-Witch when he saw one.” A hard, malevolent smile touched Mayra’s lips as she raised a hand to reveal her Ring. “And now I wonder—why are you attempting to become me? Is it because you know what a Ring-Witch is, you heartless bitch, or because I am attractive?”

  Mayra opened her hand, palm out and the line of blue magic that flew out swiftly surrounded both dragonlets, swept them up, and deposited them at Fleura’s feet.

  “There, I removed the presumed-innocent,” Mayra said with satisfaction. “And you are answerable to me.”

  Cherra’s laugh was loud and brittle. The men she controlled drew closer to her, their swords drawn. She raised her hand, and they pulled back, vigilant but mindless guardians. “I am answerable only to Lord Hagan. You want your dragons and I have them. You are scarcely in a position—”

  “Oh, shut up!” Mayra’s voice, now harsh and deep, echoed over their heads. “By the gods, you do love the sound of your voice, don’t you? My position, as you call it, is to rescue the dragons you hold captive. If I have to kill you, as I did your brother, so be it.”

  She flung both hands up. The light that engulfed Cherra was so dark blue it looked black. In the same instance, more Phailite guards rushed from the shadows, swords raised. Mayra wrenched a shrill, eerie keen from Cherra, and they all jerked to a stop, blinking and jerking as though they were tied to each other.

  Wolfe chuckled and Mayra, knowing what he was thinking, agreed—plainly, the woman and her minions had doubted anything could harm her. Cherra dropped to her knees, but staggered back up almost at once, weakened but determined.

  Mayra glanced at Wolfe in surprise. She had not intended to kill Cherra, but the woman should have been far more incapacitated. There was more to Cherra an’Nanyn than she presented to her guests. Her guards continued to reel about, not knowing what to do.

  “Stop!” Cherra screamed at her defenders and they straightened and stood in place. “Get back here, close to me!” Her narrowed eyes returned to Mayra as she smoothed her hair and composed herself. “Yes, I know what a Ring-Witch is. My mother is a talented and sought-after Ring-Witch. She is Benise Cosfwyn.”

  The announcement that Cherra had witch blood didn’t surprise Mayra; she had surmised as much. But she also believed that the woman had soaked in dragon magic, and there was no way to know how the two powers might have merged, or what strange abilities this woman might have.

  What did surprise her was the unexpected rage that was simmering in Cherra af’Nanyn. Perhaps her parentage was a sore spot.

  “You say she is a witch.” Mayra tapped her finger against her lip, as though thinking. “I thought I knew all the witches in Nesht, even the witches of lesser talent. Perhaps, she isn’t a witch—of Nesht that is?”

  “Of course, she is!” Cherra snapped. Her seemingly perpetual smile slid back into place. “In fact, she is well-known for her power in some areas.”

  Mayra stole a glance at Wolfe, but he remained characteristically impassive. Did he know of such a woman? Did Cherra know his family name only because of Aristen? Mayra turned back to Cherra.

  “I don’t intend to stand here exchanging taunts with you,” Mayra told Cherra, with exaggerated patience. She waved her hand toward the jewels. “I see you recognize their worth, they are yours, and we will take the captive dragons.” Her fleeting smile did not convey amusement. “We will take the dragons, you understand. Now.”

  As Cherra stood, unmoving, Tybor and his bearded minion stepped up, one on either side of her, each brandishing a blade which they crossed in front of the woman.

  Mayra’s eyebrows drew together. What useless—actually inane—protection might that be? Cherra’s actions continued to puzzle her.

  “You are one witch,” Cherra said abruptly, her eyes never leaving Mayra’s face. Her words were almost an accusation. “One against so many?”

  “I am one Ring-Witch,” Mayra agreed, then shook her head. “And you think I came alone?” She nodded toward Fleura, who stepped further into the light, followed by Leyna, Jannia, and Indiera. “Meet my sister-witches, Cherra. We fight together as one.”

  “And you brought warriors, as well?” Cherra’s voice had taken on a dream-like quality that sent warning chills across Mayra’s skin.

  What is this woman doing? she wondered, wishing she didn’t have to keep her thoughts to herself.

  “But again, so few of you,” Cherra continued. “I thought there would be so many more.” She shot a dark look at Smok who, with his mate, was now curled up on Fleura’s shoulder.

  The dragonlet hissed at her. Mayra chuckled. Brave little dragonlet. She glanced at Cherra.

  “We are witches and warriors, one and all. There are more than enough of us and this useless chatter is wasting my time.”

  Mayra wanted to test the mettle of this woman, who had recovered far too quickly from her first bout with Ring-Witch magic. Perhaps, Mayra thought, it was time for some confusion. And the darkness Wolfe kept around them was a perfect screen to hide her as she moved into the shadows.

  Mayra took a deep breath, flung a warning glance toward her companions, then swept her cloak up around her and stepped to her right, into the darkness. With all her strength, she let loose with a raw shriek and swept her hands upward as though to grab the sound and amplify it with her magic. The sound that rang through the cavern, sounded as though Death Itself had grabbed the Ring-Witch.

  Cherra stifled her own scream, staggered, and stumbled as she grasped for one of her guards—but neither man was there. The keening scream had sent the unnerved men cowering and looking around frantically. One of the two who had stood next to Cherra dropped his weapon, the other shook himself and turned toward the distraction, drawing a smaller blade. The surrounding men shrank back, moving away from what they perceived as the source of the horrific sound.

  “No!” Cherra screamed, looking around frantically as she seemed to realize that protecting her was the last thing on the minds of her guards.

  Mayra jumped out from a deep shadow and threw her hands out toward Cherra. But Mayra did not target the Phailite woman. The Ring-Witch’s magic caught both men and drove each upward and back, over cauldrons and cabinets and into the far cavern walls.

  Thwack!

  Cherra screamed and Mayra grinned as two bodies slid down a stone wall, neither moving. Cherra looked like a sapling flapping in the wind, looking first at her men, then back at Mayra, then her men again. When Cherra finally stopped, it was to stare at the two men, her fingers over her lips. Cherra whirled back to Mayra and their gazes met.

  Mayra started to step forward, but she stopped. Something in the shadows caught her attention. She moved closer, her eyes narrowing—

  “What?”

  No one heard her pensive question. Instead, they saw her hurl herself away from them and vanish into the shadows. Smok whined, and Fleura stroked his chest.

  “Shh, little one,” she whispered. “Mayra is up to something.”

  * * *

  Wolfe turned to call the male witches to join him, but froze. Had he just seen his woman vanis
h into the shadowy side of the cavern? He waited a heartbeat for her to step back out before he took over planning their next move. A quick gesture brought all the humans into a small group around him.

  “We’ve all seen Mayra do this before,” he said quietly, and a slight grin touched his lips. She was like a small, pale spider, spinning a deceitful web, designed this time to take down Cherra af’Nanyn. “I don’t know what she’s planning, but she took down those guards, leaving it our charge to get the woman herself!”

  They were silent, waiting, but he could see the promise of action dancing in their eyes. He had never commanded a group of witch-warriors, but suspected the battle would be short and spirited!

  “Wolfe!” Fleura whispered, her eyes going beyond him.

  He whirled to see Cherra again running toward the back of the cave—but this time she stopped short halfway there. She looked around helplessly as though fearing to go any further and unable to decide what she should do.

  She seemed again to be overplaying her hand. Wolfe, staring at her from the semidarkness of the surrounding shadows, wouldn’t trust that she was either afraid or uncertain.

  As Mayra had done, he sent out feelers to better understand Cherra and her tricks. He could feel something from the Phailite woman; she was afraid, she was furious, but something also elated her. Whatever it was, it made his skin crawl. But it seemed Cherra’s panicked reaction to Mayra’s sending the two men flying across the cave was genuine. That meant at least one thing to Wolfe—those two men were there for more than display or even for protection. Cherra was acting far too panicked at their loss for them to be merely her bodyguards.

  He thought about dragon magic, how differently it worked than any with which he was familiar. Were the two men conduits for Cherra’s magic, directing it elsewhere, where others wouldn’t notice?

  He gestured the three Phailite allies closer to the group.

  “I don’t know what Mayra did to them, but we need to get Cherra’s minions under control.” His terse words garnered quick nods. “If nothing else,” he added, “get those wooden pendants off them.”

  Cherra still looked flustered as she again peered back toward the back of the cave where her two companions had disappeared, then moved as close to Wolfe as she dared, gazing into the shadows beyond the witches, where Mayra had vanished.

  That Mayra’s vanishing had not been voluntary never occurred to Wolfe. He jumped as warm breath ruffled his hair; Larek’s nose touched his shoulder.

  “Mayra is with the gnomes, magicked away from here,” said Larek quietly. “Friend Wolfe, I feel something around part of yonder human female that feels as though a dragon resides there. You must be careful. Too much time has passed since Hagan left. You must fight these men ere that evil one returns, not seek out Mayra, for you know she can defend herself.”

  Wolfe snorted. Just what he needed—dragon advice on waging a battle. His people could probably use their blades to draw the attack of the guards, while Wolfe used magic to handle Cherra.

  Wolfe gave the dragon a quick nod. There was no reason to dissect any of the advice Larek had given him. It was all sound. He whirled, snatched up his sword and shouted to his allies, “Use blades and magic—we strike!” he shouted.

  As he had predicted, it would not to be a long battle.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  In the Cavern of Hagan

  Day eleven of the First Moon of Wynter

  Mayra dropped to a crouch, pulled her long knives from her boots, and peered into the darkness around her. It took a few more moments for her to realize nothing had attacked her. Though heavy mists surrounded her, she was still in the cavern. Something had pulled her into this place—wherever this was.

  She slowly rose, taking a moment to orient herself. Whatever she was standing on was close to the dark wall of the cavern. She could tell she was in something of solid metal, with walls that rose almost to her chest. It looked like a box—a large, metal box. The floor beneath her feet gave a tiny lurch—by the gods, I’m moving! As she clenched her blades, she felt a small touch on her hand.

  She jumped and sliced the knife outward. She realized who had touched her at the same time she stabbed at him. A small, pale, wrinkled face peered up at her—the small leader of the gnomes. She’d barely missed him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He removed his tall, pointed hat and gave her a deep bow. White hair, bushy eyebrows, and a long white beard nearly obscured his wizened face.He grinned and his eyes crinkled at the edges.

  “’Tis me, Highness, Feshr,” came his whisper. The gnome stepped closer to her. “Come and look.”

  Mayra could barely see around her for the mists, but no sooner had she realized this, they cleared. She rose and looked over the side. Her stomach flipped; the odd boxy conveyance was rising, and she was watching a scene below her unfold from somewhere above the cavern!

  The witch-warriors were already in action.

  She jumped again as her cloak moved and Smok’s head poked out, followed by the other dragonlet, who was, Mayra assumed, his mate. She drew both beasts out and swept each up to a shoulder. Neither was as heavy as she thought they should be, and she suspected Cherra had not treated them very well.

  Feshr moved closer to her.

  “Feshr?” she whispered, wondering where they were. The box was solid, and although she could look down into the cave, she, the gnomes, and the dragonlets were far removed from the ground below.

  The gnome gave her a sunny grin. Mayra started to ask him where they were when the boxy conveyance shuddered and lurched; Mayra shrieked and clutched the side. Feshr looked over his shoulder as the heavy haze cleared and the far corner emerged. Fauler had appeared in the corner, hunched low, frozen in place, and looking surprised. Mayra hadn’t realized the box was large enough to also carry a dragon.

  “We must free the dragons,” Feshr whispered solemnly. “While the two men you dazed cannot feel anything.”

  Mayra looked from the gnome to the dragon. “Why did Cherra keep those particular men so close to her? Feshr, are those two somehow connected with the captive dragons?”

  “Yes, Highness. That is, Cherra joined Tybor with the minds of the dragons, and she connected Pelish, the other human, to me and the other gnomes. If a dragon awakened, or we disobeyed, she knew at once.” He paused, as though listening. “The captured dragons are awakening now.”

  “What happened to the man with the drug?” she asked, looking down and seeing an empty chair. The cauldron was also gone.

  Feshr sniggered. “I sent him away, too. Right before you saved us all.” He gestured toward the other gnomes; five more of the small beings hurried out from lingering mists to smile and bow to Mayra. “We must hurry now.”

  “Why am I here?” Fauler demanded, glaring at the gnomes. “Who brought me into this box where I am moving and not flying? How did I get here?” He looked at Feshr, then back to Mayra, then at the side of the cave as it slipped by him, tracking their upward move. “Where am I?”

  Mayra grinned. Fauler was a very confused dragon.

  “This is what we built to easily move sleeping dragons around within the cave.” Feshr looked as though he might burst with happiness. He grabbed Mayra’s hand. “I thank you, Highness. Thank you for saving us! We never before had the chance to break our joining with Pelish and have him out of our heads! And now, we must free the dragons, and you, Sir Dragon, must keep them calm, so they do not harm your friends. Come, we will go quietly, this way. My people will stay to guard our way.”

  The gnome ignored the skeptical snort from the green dragon.

  Mayra took a last look below her and had to fight the urge to beg Feshr to return her to the battle. But she had to trust Wolfe to lead the warriors. Her eyes settled on Cherra for a moment.

  The other woman was shouting the names of the two men who lay crumpled and still unresponsive. Mayra quickly located those men; none but those who gazed downward saw the blue wisp that settled over the two, making their unnatural sle
ep even more profound. The spell Mayra laid over them would frustrate Cherra’s attempts to awaken them until Mayra removed it.

  “Go faster,” Fauler hissed to Feshr. “Mayra, your companions will win, no doubt. No Phailite is as well-trained as a witch-warrior!”

  Feshr raised his arms; dark, feathery clouds swept in to surround them, and sent them flying toward the far wall of the cavern. Mayra grabbed at Fauler to steady herself, but there was no need. The trip was swift and smooth. Mayra walked from one side of the box to the other, surprised at how deep the cave was.

  A tug at her belt distracted her. She glanced down at the gnome leader, again looking up at her. She bent down to him.

  “I thank you again for rescuing us,” Feshr said. “Surely there is some small boon you have that we can satisfy to repay you?”

  Mayra heard his voice, but her attention was back on those she had left behind. Why couldn’t she hear the sounds of a battle below? She focused on the gnome. What had he said? He’d again asked after her boon but he had also said something about what they would find at the end of the corridor.

  “Yes, Feshr,” she replied abruptly, “there is something your people can do for me, for you are talented at both metalwork and carving things, are you not?”

  “Aye,” he muttered, and an angry look darkened his cheerful face. “As that cursed woman well knows, for she made us create the wooden dragons as abominations for that Phailite village, to trick them into helping her.”

  “They were abominations,” Mayra agreed. “But only because they were amazingly lifelike. But Feshr, they didn’t insult the dragons. No, this is a good thing, not at all like those statues and tapestries. It’s for a different Phailite village, that of Sorst, and a magical gift for Heyr af’Unshyr, the chieftain there.”

  As they descended into the shadows at the back of the cave, Mayra briefly told Feshr what the gnomes could do for her. By the time they began to slow, she was shivering; the cooling air that enveloped them was damp and murky. She peered around them. The strange conveyance was coming to a gradual stop and she was trying to determine where it would land. With a soft thump, they were on the ground again. Feshr unfastened one side of the box. The gate swung open silently, and he gestured them forward. The surrounding haze cleared to reveal a massive stone arch leading into inky blackness.