Dragon's Revenge

by Debi Ennis Binder

  “How nice of someone to help me,” Mayra mumbled. “As if I wouldn’t go in.” The dragon grumbled something under his breath, and she shook her head. “I know. It’s a trap.” Her voice was faint. “What can I do but cooperate, Fauler?”

  Fauler did not reply but bent down and sniffed around the door. “Aye, they’re in there,” he said grimly. “It is the smell of distress.”

  Mayra joined him, examining the wall of rock. Someone had ingeniously joined a wooden frame and the door to solid, dense stone. All she had to do was push the door open, and both of them could finally see what lay beyond a boundary that had been so graciously opened for them.

  As she reached out to touch the rich wood, a gust of wind surged from the cavern beyond the door, and the door clicked shut.

  Both jumped back from the door. Mayra glanced at Fauler; he looked sheepish, and she grinned at him.

  “Do you have any suggestions?” she asked abruptly.

  “The younglings first,” he replied gruffly.

  She hated to disagree with him, but—“No, Fauler.” Mayra turned to the dragon and placed her hand on the top of his snout. “I’m not capable of handling young dragons like you might be. I must free their mothers first. They can then find and comfort their own nestlings.”

  Fauler gazed at her a long moment, then gave a slight nod. “Yes, of course. But you understand that will be many times more dangerous?”

  “Of course.”

  “I feel as though we are being led along,” the green dragon growled. “Who- or whatever is playing games with us knows we are here. I will hide no longer. I should stay here and guard this entryway, even try to somehow show the females I am out here.” He looked over the thick wood and thicker walls and shook his head. “That would distress them even more. I am going back the way we came. That corridor the gnome led us into went two ways. I will find out where the other led. And possibly, I will find that gnome.”

  Mayra hesitated, then nodded. “Perhaps it is time to stop doing what is expected of us. Go now and be careful.”

  “And what will you do?”

  As a reply, she backed up and extended her arms. The door flew open with the speed of a tightly nocked arrow. If anything waited directly behind it, it would be dazed, at the very least.

  Fauler chuckled and backed himself up to turn. Before Mayra could say another word, he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  In the Cavern of Hagan

  Day eleven of the First Moon of Wynter

  Mayra’s shoulders sagged. She leaned slightly forward; what she could see of the chamber was dimly lit and unexpectedly quiet. She held her blade in the doorway and moved it about, halfheartedly expecting a barrage of weapons to slice through her. She raised both arms, and her Rings gave a slight vibration as she raised a flame on those wall-sconces she could just barely see. The door hung still against the wall.

  She waited a breath, then stepped through the doorway. The light helped her see that the cavern was lined with barred chambers running down both sides. One or both sides, she suspected, held the adult dragons. But where were the younglings? And why was it so farking quiet?

  She jumped. The quivering of the animated metal disks in her Rings reminded her they needed sunlight to feed them their power. She was safe for a while longer.

  The chamber was vast. Mayra stopped short, assailed by a heady smell. A rush of memory washed over her at the odor—it was now one she would forever associate with dragons. Not unpleasant, but definitely exotic. Was that the smell of dragon distress Fauler had scented?

  The torches she had lit revealed a wooden floor and illuminated a straight line of large flagstones that ran from the doorway, through the cavern, to a huge wooden exit way far opposite her, likely where they brought the adults in. Somewhere beyond that door might be a way back to the main cavern.

  Mayra stood and listened. On either side, that unnerving silence reigned until gradually, the slight, leathery sound of dragon skin, wings on scales, and other indicators of movement made the hair on her arms rise. The dragons were there; why were they so still and quiet?

  Were they watching her?

  A tiny growl from the farthest chamber made her jump. But she realized the youngest dragons were at the other end of the corridor. She continued to listen, but the young dragons were also quiet. Despite what Feshr had said about the drug wearing off, they must be still under its effect. The men working over the cauldron flashed through her head. Feshr said he had sent them away but perhaps they had been able to deliver their terrible draught.

  She passed a chair as she took another step in, felt a movement behind her, and spun around, blade raised. The door had again closed itself, sending a gust of wind toward her that made the torches flicker again. Mayra turned back, waited another moment to listen, then took another step in.

  A deep, wavering feeling of weakness washed over her, pulling strength from her legs and arms like a deep drink from a flask. She grabbed at the chair, pulling it closer to her, and steadying herself. Her sword dipped as its weight dragged her arm down. She raised her free hand to touch the small dragon scales at her throat, trailing down to the large ones that guarded her chest.

  The scales felt cold and lifeless.

  She slowly sheathed the blade. As soon as she removed her hand from the hilt, the torch flames rose high and bright, sending renewed alarm through Mayra. She looked around wildly. And there, above her, illuminated by the brighter lights, she saw it.

  Oakenwood—more than she’d ever seen in one place. She faltered as she peered up at the ceiling and groaned. It was all around her; she recognized it in the dark rafters, the hanging lamps, even patches on the floor. She started to drop into the chair, but instead, steadied herself again and took two steps back to the door.

  Strength poured back into her, and she took a deep breath. Well, this was just farking perfect. She couldn’t enter the damned room and she sure as hell couldn’t cross it to get to the other exit.

  She whirled as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. A whispery voice from the shadows gave a soft laugh.

  “You are overly cautious.”

  Mayra gasped. She knew that voice! Another bright light flickered to life near the first chamber, and Mayra’s heart sank.

  Feshr grinned at her. “And you are far wiser than I thought you would be. It is a shame you must die now. I thought I needed you, but I don’t.”

  * * *

  What was once a merry twinkle seemed nothing more than a malicious gleam in the eyes of a treacherous gnome. This time, when Mayra’s knees threatened to give out, she pulled the chair out of the reach of the damned oakenwood and sank onto it.

  “I must admit, though,” Feshr said, “For all your caution, I’ve yet to know a witch so utterly trusting. Most are suspicious and even disbelieving, to a fault.”

  “Why, Feshr?” she whispered. She licked her lips. “Why are you doing this?”

  He glared at her. “I hate witches. My father did, and we have our good reasons. But my assistant thought that because our own King Jenus had given you such favor as a blessing, you would be amiable to us from the start. Such clever help I have, for that gnome was quite right!”

  Feshr was standing near the first chamber, and from where she sat, Mayra could see that an enormous lock was fixed through the cell door’s intricate hasp, but not fastened shut. Her eyes went past the gnome and through the bars; in that instant a huge figure emerged from the shadows and into the dim light—a stunning, dark-red dragon.

  What Mayra could see of Hesta was magnificen—from her glittering, gold-tinged scales, to her sleek, glimmering wings, tucked up close to her. She sat in silence, staring at Mayra with glowing green eyes, looking every bit the wild and violent dragon Fauler had called her.

  “You were quite easy to mislead, Highness,” Feshr continued happily. He studied her a moment, then glanced at her wrists. “I tried to drain away the energy in those dratted Rings by keeping you away
from the sunlight, but you were too anxious to move ahead. You are very resourceful.”

  Mayra shook her head. “Why, Feshr?” she asked again. “I thought you needed our help.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. He turned his head as though he was speaking to Hesta. “It all fell together so simply, didn’t it? I led the princess away in the conveyance and convinced her she must follow me to find you. And now, she is trapped! And Lord Hagan will see that he relied upon the undependable Cherra, won’t he?” The gnome chuckled. “That green dragon was of no help to you, was he, Hesta?” He snickered. “He never did trust me. But he did follow the princess as I led her to this chamber, going along as obliviously as she did.”

  He cleared his throat and turned back to Mayra. “Why, you ask? It is so simple. Have you any idea who mines the metal the Phailites use for their weapons? They are my people. The trolls who oversee the mines enslaved them, where they are cruelly mistreated. Lord Hagan vowed he would have them released if somehow I brought you to him.”

  “Why does he want me?” she asked incredulously.

  “Oh, not for any personal reason, Highness. Dear me, no, indeed, what would he want with you? No, you were to be the lure for him to convince a powerful witch—the most powerful witch in Nesht—to make himself vulnerable while trying to save you.”

  Mayra stared at him. Who? Did he mean Leisher, who though a reever, had started life as the most powerful Ring-Witch ever born? But no, Leisher had returned to a life with neither sons nor High Ring-Witch beside him, his Rings hidden away again, this time by the son—her thoughts came to a stop. Leisher’s Rings, were originally hidden by the current Sorcery Guildmaster’s father, Thom au’Pernyn. After Leisher had revealed his Rings, Thom’s son Marris had sent them back into obscurity, hidden behind his leather wrist bands, as his father had done before him. The power of both men was legendary.

  “Marris au’Pernyn?” she whispered in disbelief. The current Guildmaster of the Sorcery Guild had been her mentor since she was a small child. This was becoming more and more bizarre. “Why do you want him?”

  Feshr snorted. “I don’t want the man, what would I do with him?” He waved his arm impatiently. “Surely, you see that I have no battle with you. But you must also appreciate that I will do what I must to save my people. The lives of one or two witches can be sacrificed for the hundreds of gnomes who are enslaved.”

  “We would have helped you,” she said quietly. She had to get the gnome away from that lock. Hesta moved closer to the bars and pressed her nose against them, breathing in deeply.

  Is she trying to catch my scent? Mayra wondered with a shiver. That could not be a good thing.

  “I doubt that,” Feshr said tartly. “After all, I am the gnome who was forced to create that horrifying tube weapon. I never dreamed it would be used to kill humans.” Despite that declaration, Mayra noted that he neither looked nor sounded contrite. “After the harm done your kind, you wouldn’t have helped me at all.”

  “No, you are wrong!” Mayra raised her voice and leaned forward. “Feshr, I understand that you must save your people. That you would do whatever it took to do that.”

  “It’s too late.” Feshr looked almost regretful for a moment, then smiled at her again. That smile had definitely lost its charm. “Lord Hagan will soon return, having given me all this time to capture you.”

  Mayra shook her head. His mood jumps were as confusing as his ramblings. She tried to turn his train of thought back to the Guildmaster.

  “Why does he want Marris?” she asked softly. “Feshr, please, tell me!”

  The gnome was humming softly. Mayra wasn’t certain he had even heard her. As she started to speak again, a quiver of light went through her Rings, and Mayra made her own connection—a whimsical tale the dragon Elder, Theura, had told them.

  That recounting had been the first time the Ring-Witch had heard of Thom au’Pernyn, the witch who, with two wise dragons and one powerful gnome, had created Enchantment Rings. Afterward, that gnome had gone missing, along with a very young Hagan, who was the nestling of one of those dragons.

  If Thom au’Pernyn had known Hagan, had Marris known him, too? And Feshr’s father—

  “Does all this have anything to do with the gnome called Grigim?” she asked abruptly.

  Feshr looked surprised, then inclined his head. “Tell me what you know of him.”

  Fortunately, the tale was fresh in Mayra’s memory. She quickly repeated what Theura had told her. When she was done, she stole a glance at Feshr. “Grigim demanded a set of Rings in return for giving Hagan back to his sire,” she finished. “But the powerful magic wrought by our Rings would have killed any gnome, so Thom still refused.”

  “Thom should have let Grigim take the Rings,” Feshr said softly. “If they did kill him, it would have been done. But no, Thom au’Pernyn refused and banished Grigim. Grigim raised Lord Hagan, evil and greedy, always seeking more power, more wealth.”

  “How does that old tale concern you, Feshr?”

  Feshr grinned at her. “You haven’t deduced the truth? Grigim was my father. I was there when he brought the nestling home, and I have been with Lord Hagan ever since. Lord Hagan killed my father.”

  Mayra tried to hide her shock but Feshr snickered.

  “I couldn’t punish the young dragon, could I?” the gnome demanded. “It was my father’s own fault the dragon was so evil and bloodthirsty. Grigim encouraged his vile temper and died for it.”

  “Is it revenge for Grigim that you seek?” Mayra asked gently.

  “No!” His shrill scream made her jump. He snatched off his pointed hat and threw it to the stones at his feet.

  “You must be being intentionally dense,” Feshr decided and crossed his small arms over his chest. “It’s not for Lord Hagan’s benefit that I assist him. It is true that I had no choice but to create such evil as that weapon.” He paused and took a deep breath. “How strange it was, for I sensed the cursed weapon as soon as it came into the cavern. It has wards upon it to prevent it being destroyed, but I was still afraid your people would use it on my gnomes or her on Cherra’s men. Until I realized my salvation was at hand!”

  He didn’t see Mayra roll her eyes, but for some reason, Hesta snorted.

  “I will free my people from the mines,” he continued, looking well-pleased with himself. “And then I will destroy the wards protecting the weapon so that it can be destroyed. Surely, by these means, I shall finally regain my honor.”

  Mayra wondered about the soundness of the grand plans of the gnome. Who did he think was going to take on such a dangerous task as trying to destroy that deadly weapon? And what had elicited that rude noise from the red dragon.

  Feshr retrieved his hat and slammed it onto his head, then waved his hand toward Hesta.

  “I have been revealing to Hesta most vivid tales about how you led her mate to harm, and yes, nearly cost him his life.”

  Mayra's mouth fell open. Just when she thought the little monster had a heart—

  “I did no such thing!” she cried. “He is my dearest friend!” She thought desperately. “Feshr, you cannot harm me—by the gods, I am the king’s granddaughter!”

  Feshr cackled. “You were no more than bait, Highness,” he continued happily. “You handed me your silver-lined cloak!” He giggled and clapped his hands. “Like it meant nothing! And your garment is on its way to Marris au’Pernyn, proof that Lord Hagan has you. Now, you have no use, and he has commanded that Hesta kill you. You speak of gods—it is to them that you should now pray, Highness.” He busied himself with removing the lock on Hesta’s cell, then glanced back at Mayra. “Have you any other questions before I release Hesta?” The gnome’s cheerfully evil grin returned. “She certainly has questions for you!”

  Mayra jumped to her feet. “Of course, I do! Most important—are you farking mad? My companions will be searching for me! Fauler knows where I am!”

  She saw Hesta stir when Mayra mentioned Fauler’s name. The red
dragon was listening! And perhaps she hadn’t believed the gnome when he had mentioned the green dragon. Hesta’s act of wildness was surely just that, and Mayra had to convince her that the witches were there to help the dragons. Including Hesta, first and foremost!

  “Larek is out there,” Mayra cried, “as well as Hyaera, Corren, and Talft!” Mayra knew those names meant little to the gnome, but as she shouted out their names, she pictured them, accompanied by Ring-Witches and tried to push those images toward Hesta. “We helped Gaulte, and the other males defeat the Phailites who imprisoned them, and now we are helping them free their mates and nestlings!”

  Hesta was moving restlessly, growing more animated, and Feshr seemed to notice it for the first time. He waved his arms toward the red dragon, muttered something, and stepped back.

  Immediately, the scales Mayra wore as armor around her upper body and as jewelry around her neck grew warm, heating up so quickly that she almost snatched the necklace away. Feshr must have removed a previously-cast ward or a spell from around the red dragon, and made the scales react.

  Feshr suddenly turned and bolted down the stone walkway, merrily waving back at Mayra as he went.

  The huge red dragon she jumped to her feet and let out a long, chilling scream that echoed through the chamber. Her eyes were wild and sparking as she sought out Mayra. She threw herself against the bars, and the cell door slammed open.

  The gnome stopped at the large door, his hand on a small handle near the bottom. He waved his arms again and one by one, the remaining chamber locks opened and clanged to the ground.

  “Why do you have so much farking magic?” Mayra shouted, her eyes never leaving the red dragon, who was slowly, purposefully, creeping out of her cage.

  Feshr laughed. “Dragon magic can be absorbed by gnomes, my dear. Or should I call you, dear one?” His mad laughed echoed around her.

  Icy fear filled Mayra. She looked around wildly. The door behind her was just out of reach. As soon as she stepped further into the chamber, the oakenwood would sap her power. As Feshr giggled again, Hesta hunkered down and advanced, quickly lessening the span between dragon and witch.