The Dragon Rider (The Alaris Chronicles Book 2)

by Mike Shelton

  The guard moved forward and seemed about to kick Eryck. But, with the guard’s back turned, Bakari took this chance to draw upon his power. His hard push of air knocked the guard forward, dropping him to the floor, where his forehead hit the hard ground. He slumped down, unconscious.

  Bakari saw that the two wizards now held hope in their eyes. Bakari grabbed the guard’s keys and undid the chains that bound them. Standing up warily, the two wizards thanked Bakari.

  “Spelled chains,” Eryck said. “Couldn’t work our magic.”

  Bakari nodded. He knew that a lot of old magic existed in the lower levels of the Citadel. In fact, the rooms one level lower held artifacts that were not to be messed with.

  Bakari removed his hood, and the two men finally recognized him.

  “Young Dragon Rider.” Titus bowed his head to Bakari. “Thank you for coming, however you did it.”

  “Have you seen Roland?” Eryck asked. “He threw us in here. I don’t understand why. Just a day earlier, he had healed me.”

  “It isn’t Roland—but an impostor,” Bakari said. “But we need to get out of here before the other guard comes back.”

  The wizards agreed. So they chained the guard and locked him inside the cell.

  Bakari stood there, momentarily, trying to figure out where to go. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Then he thought about how Roland had communicated with him before and tried the same thing now.

  Roland? he asked in his mind.

  Nothing came to him, and so he pushed down deeper.

  Eryck tapped Bakari on the shoulder. “Hurry. I hear the sounds of boots coming down the stone stairway.”

  Bakari thought about how he communicated easily with Abylar. The dragons had the power to bind things together. That was how they spoke across distances to their riders and to the other dragons. So Bakari pulled upon Abylar’s power, amplifying his own and then brought it all together inside of himself.

  Roland? he thought again.

  But there was no response.

  His friend had to be here somewhere. Bakari tightened his focus on only the few floors below the Citadel and called out again in his mind, Roland, where are you?

  A faint thought tugged at his mind, and Bakari chased its path down to below where they stood.

  Bakari!

  Bakari felt relief and exhaustion fill Roland’s mind, then the connection abruptly dropped away.

  Bakari pulled the two men with him, down the hall, in the direction of the stairs.

  “They’ll catch us!” Titus said.

  The approaching sounds grew louder as multiple pairs of boots clunked down the stairs toward them. Bakari could also hear the gruff voices of those guards, talking and arguing, as they came closer. So, before getting to the stairs, Bakari stopped and pushed on the secret places in the wall, and another passageway opened up, this one taller than the others had been.

  He pushed the two wizards inside, in front of himself, and then turned, closing the door just as the guards came walking by. Their voices rose in alarm when they soon discovered their prisoners missing and the guard locked in the cell.

  Bringing up a flame in his hand to see more clearly, Eryck turned with a stern look toward Bakari. “Do you really know what you are doing, Scholar?”

  Bakari pointed to a dark space on the other side of the room. Eryck shoved the light inside to look within the small opening. It was a stone slide, the only way for them to leave the hidden room without being caught.

  “You can’t be serious?” Titus said, himself a scholar wizard also.

  “Better hurry if you want to help me save Roland, our illustrious Citadel leader. He’s down here,” Bakari said before he jumped through the opening and then slid down the dark, stone slide. Memories of his childhood surfaced then, and Bakari laughed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Onius Neeland sat in a room with the rest of Kanzar’s Wizard Council. At the front of the room, Kanzar sat fuming behind a desk but, as of yet, had stayed silent. Onius touched the bruise on his cheek, where Kanzar had hit him, but it was hard for Onius not to grin when he thought about Bakari flying off on that dragon. Bakari! Of all the scholar wizards—or even among all wizards, young and old—Bakari was the last one Onius would have guessed to become one of the fabled dragon riders. The young man retained a fabulous memory for facts and figures and historical events, but Bakari was relatively weak as far as being a wizard goes.

  Following Bakari’s escape on the dragon, Kanzar had stood next to Onius. The would-be king was livid, and his screams had filled the air as Bakari flew off. But Abylar’s final display, the dragon turning around and breathing fire out toward the castle, sent Kanzar over the edge. And he, a man Onius had known for decades, hit Onius hard on the face, knocking him to the ground. It had taken all the control that Onius had not to retaliate.

  Maybe I should have, he thought now. Something would need to be done soon about Kanzar.

  The last wizard entered, and Kanzar stood up. His face looked stern, as if his anger was barely in control. His tight lips quivered as he said, “I am convening this council to declare open war on not only the Chief Judge but the dragon rider also.”

  That comment brought chaos to the room. Some of the wizards had seen the dragon’s display as he had flown off. But many had only heard of the spectacle secondhand. And a few, by the looks of them, had heard nothing yet, so they questioned what Kanzar was even talking about.

  “Earlier today, a dragon rider and some girl snuck into the castle,” Kanzar informed the small group. “His dragon awaited him outside. As they left, the dragon shot fire toward the castle, a sign of the rider’s intention to declare open war.”

  “If he had wanted to do any damage, he would have hit the castle, I am sure,” said one of the elder council members, a counselor wizard. Some of the other wizards nodded in agreement. Onius understood why, since the dragon riders had always promoted peace.

  “This order is not open for debate,” Kanzar said. “This dragon and its rider are our enemies.” Kanzar stood up from his desk’s chair and paced across the front of the room. “He was last seen flying north. I want to send a delegation back to the Citadel, to protect it from the dragon.”

  “What about Corwan, sir?” asked a younger battle wizard that seemed eager for war. “Have you heard if we have captured the city yet?”

  Kanzar shook his head.

  Onius stood and, without looking at Kanzar, said, “We lost Corwan.”

  This news once again brought panic and side conversations to the room. And it took Kanzar a moment to regain control.

  “Onius, how did you come by this information?” Kanzar asked as he walked up to within inches of Onius.

  “From the dragon rider,” Onius said with complete control. “Bakari told me that elves from Mallek and a battalion of the local judge’s men fought hard against our forces. Though, I would bet the dragon rider himself did some considerable damage, too.”

  The veins on Kanzar’s neck pulsed, and his lip rose into a snarl. “The dragon rider was Bakari—the boy scholar that went missing in River Bend?” he demanded as he grabbed Onius by the front of his robes and shook him.

  Onius saw others in the room put their hands on their swords.

  “Why did he come and see you?” Kanzar bellowed, his face contorted. “I’ve known the boy since he was five.”

  “He and I became close in Cassian.” Onius tried to shrug, but Kanzar still held tight. “I was trying to get more information, but you interrupted by trying to kill him.”

  “You go too far, Onius!” Kanzar yelled, moving to backhand him again. But two other wizards intervened, so Kanzar turned on them and said, “What is the meaning of this?”

  “You are acting unstable, Kanzar. We are not your enemies here. We are your Council,” said one of the other level four wizards, speaking for the rest of the group. “Let us in on your plans, and use us. We sit around here, wondering what is going on. You can’t seem to
keep Cassian safe from the thieves; they steal and spread disruption at every turn. Even the army is getting spooked, for you underestimated Corwan and sent only a small contingent there. Now, you worry about a lone dragon rider—a boy with little power of his own?”

  Kanzar stared hard at the man but said nothing.

  Then another wizard stepped forward, one of the older counselor wizards, only slightly younger than Onius himself. “Focus, Kanzar,” the wizard said. “We are with you, on having a king for Alaris. That is the goal, remember? While we sit here and argue and play games, the Chief Judge, the largest threat to our plan, builds up his army from deserters and sympathizers. Let us make some plans. We can still succeed, but only if we work together.”

  Since Onius was now away from Kanzar’s grip, he took a couple of steps backward and surveyed the faces in the room. Not all seemed in agreement with the last speech by the older counselor wizard. Some glanced toward Onius with questions apparent in their eyes. Onius decided that he needed to do something to find out who would side with him against Kanzar if need be and who might be having second thoughts about Kanzar being king.

  “Let us send a delegation to the Citadel, Kanzar, as you had mentioned,” Onius said. “We can get more information on the dragon rider as well as ascertain how many more apprentices are available to fight for us. Roland Tyre has been left there alone too long.” Onius eyed some of the wizards in the room that he thought would take his hint. “Who here will volunteer for that?”

  Four Council members came forward—three older and one younger—a mix of battle, counselor, and scholar wizards. Onius looked to Kanzar for confirmation.

  As Kanzar nodded his approval, Onius realized that the man was blind to what went on around him.

  “We will then send a small group to spy on Orr,” Onius continued, “a mixture of wizards and other men and women. We need to know the enemy’s strengths and where to attack first.”

  Kanzar nodded again and scanned the group. Then he chose four men that were extremely loyal to him. Onius nodded, secretly smiling at his luck. That would leave only three Council members in Cassian, besides Onius and Kanzar, wizards who were on the fence and, hopefully, could be trusted to leave Kanzar’s side once they saw him fall.

  Kanzar then pointed to one wizard that he had chosen. “You, Stephen, I want you instead to go to Celestar. I have not heard from Gorn or the others I sent later to reclaim the city. I want to know what is going on there. Take more soldiers with you, and secure the town. Then bring me back anyone that knows what has happened there. I have allies there that I haven’t heard from.”

  That detail surprised Onius. He thought he had kept abreast of all of Kanzar’s plans. But, ever since the barrier came down, Onius hadn’t thought about Celestar or his old friend Gorn.

  “I will be king!” Kanzar said, after a brief pause, as if trying to once again find his dignity. The councilors gave short bows—each in turn—and then left the room.

  Kanzar called to Onius to stay behind a moment. Hearing the sound of boots on the stone floor fading as the wooden door closed behind him, Onius stood still. He tried to appear unbothered by Kanzar’s beckoning, but Onius was terrified to be alone with the crazed wizard.

  “Onius, I saw what you did,” Kanzar said without any other preamble, once the door had closed, “sending those men to the Citadel.”

  Onius began to grow worried. Did Kanzar know about his plans? Did he know Onius’s intentions? I have been so careful.

  Kanzar continued, “You must think that one of those men is the traitor, and you planned it well to get them out of my midst.”

  Onius took a silent breath. “Yes, Kanzar. That’s why. It must be one of them.”

  Kanzar nodded. “Good. Good.” His face softened, and he placed a hand up on Onius’s shoulder. “And, Onius, you must forgive me. I lost control. That shouldn’t happen.”

  Onius tried not to flinch with the contact but smiled instead, rubbing his fingers over his goatee. “I understand, Kanzar.” He spoke more smoothly than he felt. It gave credence to his years as a counselor. Onius decided to stroke Kanzar’s ego with his next words. “You are under a lot of pressure, and many look up to you. It’s hard when not everyone understands that you want the best for them and that a strong king that will lead us back out into the world.”

  Kanzar did smile now, the gleam of power in his eyes as big as ever. Then he clapped his hands together in delight. “I do wish the people could understand that, my old friend. Sadly, I will have to convince some of my intent. Sometimes that convincing has to be harsher than what we would like.”

  Just then, Onius noticed something outside. In a distant quarter of the city, smoke was rising into the sky—another sign of Gideon’s men causing havoc. But, with his back to the window, Kanzar did not see this newest sign of trouble in his city. So Onius kept his own face passive. One more leaf to fuel the raging fire inside Kanzar, a fire that soon would either burn itself out or need to be extinguished.

  With a short bow, they parted ways, and Onius returned to his own rooms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Breelyn was tired of walking. The events since Celestar and Silla had been trying and tiring. But she and Alair kept glancing up into the sky for a glimpse of Miriel. The yellow and orange dragon was one of the most beautiful things she had ever beheld. Already, the bond shared between them was growing stronger. Breelyn felt power, peace, and drive from the dragon, and she immensely enjoyed the little conversations they briefly held.

  The ability to communicate with other dragon riders through their dragons was simply amazing. From studying and through oral histories, Breelyn was familiar with the concept of dragon riders, though it had been before her father’s lifetime, over one hundred and fifty years ago, when they were last seen. She wondered if the old king knew anything more he might share.

  Entering the outskirts of Lor’l, Breelyn stopped and peered longingly up into the tall trees. Home again.

  Alair touched her arm and motioned with his head for her to continue forward as more and more elves came out of the trees. They bowed their greetings to Breelyn, the youngest protector to be chosen in decades. She smiled at each one.

  Soon she found herself before the great tree, where King Arrowyn Soliel resided. Alair motioned for a lift, and then he and Breelyn stood silently as they rode up, high into the tree complex. Stepping off the lift onto a platform, they were met by two guards.

  “Greetings, Protector,” the guards said as they bowed their heads at both Breelyn and Alair.

  Then another man came up behind the guards, Lanwaithian Soliel, prince and heir to the Elvyn throne. His long, brown hair and piercing gray eyes caught Breelyn unawares. She had been gone from Lor’l for a few months and had left on the king’s orders without saying goodbye to Lan.

  “Breelyn,” Lan said. His voice was deep for an elf, and it carried deep emotion. “I am so glad you are safe.”

  She stood formally in front of him while others were looking on. So Lan motioned her to follow him, allowing Alair to go his own way. Once they had found a bit of privacy, Lan turned to her with a gentle touch on her arm.

  “Are you all right?” he said. “The king told me about Silla.”

  Breelyn shivered at the memory but pulled on Miriel’s strength and then nodded her head, her long blond hair swinging down around her tired face.

  The prince held his arms wide, and she moved into his embrace. She stayed there, feeling safe near the warmth of his body. She breathed deeply and let her body relax. Finally, she emerged from his arms.

  “What now?” Lan asked. “You are hiding something. I can tell. That familiar twinkle is in your clear blue eyes.”

  “You always could.” She pouted for a moment but then grinned wide.

  Just then, a loud roar sounded above them and the trees, so Breelyn pulled Lan up a flight of stairs to an overlook that stood out on a broad, naturally occurring branch. Looking east, the sea sparkled off in the distan
ce, a twinge of salted air reaching them. And then Breelyn pointed her finger out.

  With a questioning look, Lan followed the direction of her finger and then gasped. Coming right toward them was Miriel.

  “A dragon?” Lan said. Then his mouth hung open.

  “Miriel is her name. Isn’t she beautiful?” Breelyn watched the golden sunlight sparkle off Miriel’s scales and settled her mind on their bond.

  I will be with you shortly, my lovely dragon, Breelyn said to Miriel.

  Miriel stretched her wings in the air and blew out a breath of hot flames, yellow and orange. I am strong enough to ride on now, Dragon Rider.

  As tears came to Breelyn’s eyes, Lan turned to her and asked, “What’s wrong, Breelyn?”

  “Nothing, Lan. Nothing is wrong.” She paused and then turned toward him and grabbed both of the prince’s hands in hers. “Lan, I am a dragon rider.”

  Lan’s eyes opened wide, and he laughed, the wind blowing his long hair around his face. A beautiful laugh of pure delight. “You are an amazing woman, Breelyn. Here I was, worried about you going off on such a dangerous mission, and then you come back with a dragon. The tales you must have to tell.”

  Breelyn smiled at Lan’s excitement. “First, I need to see the king and tell him many things.”

  Lan’s face dropped. “Breelyn, he is not well. Be prepared.”

  “Bakari told me.” Breelyn was saddened by this reminder that their beloved king was failing.

  “Bakari?” Lan said. “That boy sure gets around.”

  “It is easier when you have a dragon to ride on.” Breelyn laughed. “And, Lan, I must follow him.”

  Lan frowned. “What do you mean, follow him?”

  Then the two moved back from the overlook, with Breelyn looking back once more to see her dragon. As they continued walking toward the king’s chambers, Breelyn lovingly ran her hand across the wood of the mighty tree. She was comforted with the touch of its familiar magic.