The Dragon Lord

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The Dragon Lord Page 1

by E. G. Foley




  Table of Contents

  From the Back Cover

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  PART I

  PROLOGUE: The Usurper

  CHAPTER 1. Through the Portal

  CHAPTER 2. Safe Haven

  CHAPTER 3. The Balance Keepers

  CHAPTER 4. Heir of Darkness

  CHAPTER 5. Jake’s Hideaway

  CHAPTER 6. Joining Forces

  CHAPTER 7. A Warlock’s Wrath

  CHAPTER 8. Shifting Loyalties

  CHAPTER 9. Forebodings

  CHAPTER 10. Under New Management

  CHAPTER 11. The Defector

  CHAPTER 12. Another Prisoner

  PART II

  CHAPTER 13. Something’s Out There

  CHAPTER 14. Lesser Devils

  CHAPTER 15. Surrounded

  CHAPTER 16. Shifty

  CHAPTER 17. The Black Prince

  CHAPTER 18. A Light in the Dark

  CHAPTER 19. A Startling Arrival

  CHAPTER 20. Ice Grendels

  PART III

  CHAPTER 21. A New Day

  CHAPTER 22. Courage & Consequence

  CHAPTER 23. A Secret Meeting

  CHAPTER 24. Tick-Tock

  CHAPTER 25. Invisible Bonds

  CHAPTER 26. Ice-Breaker

  CHAPTER 27. Two Spies

  CHAPTER 28. The Rupture

  PART IV

  CHAPTER 29. They’re Here

  CHAPTER 30. Insurrection

  CHAPTER 31. The Battle of Parliament Square

  CHAPTER 32. Belly of the Beast

  CHAPTER 33. Labyrinth

  CHAPTER 34. Visions of Darkness

  CHAPTER 35. Tazaroc

  CHAPTER 36. The Reaper

  CHAPTER 37. The Strongest Magic

  CHAPTER 38. Dark Victory

  CHAPTER 39. Farewell

  CHAPTER 40. Beacon House

  EPILOGUE: Angels

  Author Note

  Book 8: The Devil's Lair

  Also by E.G. Foley

  About the Authors

  Join Our Mailing List

  Coryright and Credits

  THE DRAGON LORD

  From the back cover:

  NY Times Bestselling Author E.G. Foley brews up a magical potion for fantasy readers of all ages!

  Take a dash of Harry Potter and a splash of Oliver Twist, add a pinch of steampunk and a sprinkle of Victorian fairy lore, and what do you get? The Gryphon Chronicles! A rollicking fantasy adventure series that’s as much fun for grownups as it is for kids.

  It has begun.

  A fiery, unprovoked attack. War between mages and warlocks erupts. The Order stands on the precipice of destruction, while a deadly new leader rises to fight for control of the sinister Dark Druid brotherhood.

  For Jake Everton, the valiant young Earl of Griffon, and his brave band of friends, the stakes could not be higher. On their own, hunted by maleficent enemies, the kids must rely on one another (and Red the Gryphon) more than ever to survive. But evil has its eye on Jake, and the mysterious prophecy swirling over his head leaves him wondering if he really could be the one to destroy the dragon lord and his ruthless followers—or if the darkness rising on all sides will swallow him up…

  Don’t miss this sweeping tale of good versus evil in the next pulse-pounding installment of The Gryphon Chronicles, where the fate of the human and magical worlds alike may rest upon the courage of the roguish boy hero, his fierce pet Gryphon, and the gutsy young adventurers willing to follow him to the gates of Hades itself.

  The Gryphon Chronicles

  Book 1 – THE LOST HEIR

  Book 2 – JAKE & THE GIANT

  Book 3 – THE DARK PORTAL

  Book 3.5 – THE GINGERBREAD WARS

  Book 4 – RISE OF ALLIES

  Book 5 – SECRETS OF THE DEEP

  Book 6 – THE BLACK FORTRESS

  Book 7 – THE DRAGON LORD

  Praise for THE GRYPHON CHRONICLES

  “I love this series SO MUCH and was hooked on the first page.” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “Need a healthy series to read for yourself or your children that will provide wholesome and morally centered interactions? This is the one!” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “I had so much fun and felt so many emotions reading this series, and I’ll be burned alive for saying this, but The Gryphon Chronicles is far better than even Harry Potter.” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “These tales are so exciting!” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “I started with book one and have never been disappointed! Even though the books are for a younger reader, the quality and style of writing is above many adult novels. I find the books engrossing and hard to put down, yet sorry for them to end! Sometimes sad and gut-wrenching, yet they are not depressing, but uplifting. I have enjoyed seeing the growth in the characters and how their experiences have made them into complex people. No matter your age, it’s never a bad thing to have a little magic in your life!” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “If you haven’t read the Gryphon Chronicles yet, you are missing out.” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “I cannot believe how much I love this series. Dare I say Harry Potter has competition, actually, I think I like these books better. I walk away from the books with a smile on my face each time I read them.” ~Amazon Reviewer

  “The thing that I love most about this series is that it is a clean, fun story that I can read with my boys, ages 14 to 8, and they all love it!” ~Amazon Reviewer

  THE GRYPHON CHRONICLES, BOOK SEVEN

  THE DRAGON LORD

  E.G. Foley

  Come not between the dragon and his wrath.

  ~Shakespeare

  PART I

  PROLOGUE

  The Usurper

  Nathan, Lord Wyvern, rematerialized from a transport spell in the moonlit field outside the Black Fortress. As soon as his body had fully recomposed from the puff of black smoke he had briefly become, he turned around to take in the sight of his handiwork in the distance and smiled.

  A quarter mile behind him, across the rolling hills of the English countryside, the Order’s stronghold of Merlin Hall was a glorious smoking ruin.

  Beneath the black October sky, towering flames consumed the great garden maze that hid their sacred yew trees at its center.

  He laughed with satisfaction, then slid his wand into its leather sheath at his side. His plan to seize the throne from the sorcerer-king, old Zolond, was moving right along.

  His attack on Merlin Hall had been brash, but this was a deed that would impress even the most skeptical tribes of the dark world.

  It hadn’t come easy. His body hurt all over from the six elvish arrows that had pierced him during the battle. Unnaturally tall and powerful of stature, he supposed he offered a large target.

  He had pulled the arrows out and healed himself quickly, of course, but the flesh was tender, and though triumph pumped in his veins, he was still rather dazed from that last wand blast to the head at point-blank range.

  Not that he’d dare to show weakness in front of his ruthless followers.

  Nearby, his top three co-conspirators also arrived in human-sized billows of black smoke. Well, human-ish.

  Beside him, the beautiful but deadly Red Queen, Viola Sangray, was still gnashing her fangs after the fight, distraught over the loss of some of her finest vampire courtiers.

  General Archeron Raige, warrior extraordinaire, had been in his element throughout the battle, of course. Herculean of build and every bit as mad as the berserkers in his lineage, the soldier’s camouflage face paint was smeared with sweat and his uniform was torn, but he had enjoyed himself immensely.

  He laughed as soon as he reappeared and slapped Wyvern roughly on the back. “Smells like victory to me!”

  Rai
ge was in a rare good mood, clearly proud of having killed the Order’s head wizard, elderly Balinor, with an expertly thrown magical knife in the back.

  Wyvern had put the general in command of their gray-skinned, half-troll mercenary troops, some two hundred Noxu barbarians.

  Raige had already sent the tusked fighters jogging back to the Black Fortress with their plunder from the palace, along with Wyvern’s fearsome pet manticore.

  Last, but by no means least, came Wyvern’s future bride, Lady Fionnula Coralbroom, a mighty siren-enchantress from the depths of the Irish Sea. Her long, dark hair was a mess and her frilly gown was grass-stained from her wand duel against old Ramona Bradford, but they had won.

  That was all that mattered.

  And yet, as the first into battle and the last to leave, the four leaders of the night’s violent festivities opted to land a short distance from the warlocks’ moving castle, requiring a moment to regroup privately before going back inside to resume command of their minions.

  Admittedly, the last few minutes of the fight had not been particularly…flattering.

  Especially for Wyvern.

  In fact, for a split second there near the end, he had believed he’d been truly captured by the enemy.

  Immobilized in a dreaded Entangler’s Net, Wyvern had experienced a rare moment of dread. He had a horror of being strapped down like that, unable to move a muscle.

  Perhaps Fionnula realized that, for the moment she returned to solid form again, she turned to him and scanned his face with concern. “Are you all right?”

  Wyvern bristled at her impertinence. “Of course I am. What kind of a question is that?”

  She blinked at his cold monotone. “Nathan, you passed out from that wand strike—”

  “No, I didn’t,” he warned.

  Fionnula scoffed, failing to take the hint. “Yes, you did! You were out cold when I found—”

  “I am the half-blood son of a demon, madam, lest you forget!” He lifted his chin, willing away the dizziness. “Nephilim warlocks do not faint.”

  “Ah.” The sea-witch pursed her rosy lips and looked away. “Whatever you say, dear.”

  He harrumphed. “I was distracted, anyway. If you had done as I asked and killed Waldrick Everton when he escaped, then that insufferable Peter Quince could not have taken me by surprise.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Fionnula said sweetly, “I was busy dealing with the Elder witch! A far more dangerous opponent—”

  “Quit squabbling, you two, please!” the Red Queen wrenched out. Wyvern growled, shook off his mild concussion, and ignored his feisty fiancée. “I lost four of my beloved followers tonight! By Dracul’s chalice, I will destroy Janos! How dare he betray the Breed? Turn against his own maker?”

  Wyvern kept his comments to himself, in no mood for typical vampire drama. His pride was still smarting over the fact that Fionnula was actually telling the truth: she had indeed saved him from the Entangler’s Net that had nearly ruined his night.

  Just one more reason to despise Sir Peter Quince.

  It was he, the Order’s second-in-command, who had thrown the charmed rope netting over Wyvern’s head, capturing him for those few humiliating moments.

  But he’d pay.

  One day, Wyvern vowed, when all of this was over, when he had successfully overthrown Zolond and ruled the realms of evil as the new Dark Master, he would hunt down that irritatingly cheerful scholar-wizard and send his soul to the netherworld.

  By the time Wyvern was done with him, there’d be nothing left of Peter Quince but his irksome tortoiseshell glasses.

  For now, though, Wyvern had bigger problems to contend with. The huge chalk-outline man who’d been etched into the green hillside a thousand years ago—Aelfric, the so-called Long Man, ancient guardian of Merlin Hall—had rallied himself to fight back again.

  Of course, there was little the Long Man could do. Wyvern had deliberately landed the massive Black Fortress atop his grassy chest, pinning him to the ground, where he belonged.

  Aelfric struggled against its weight, kicking his legs as best he could and banging on the walls of the Black Fortress with chalky fists as big as stagecoaches, shaking the whole building.

  The reverberating booms made Wyvern’s head ring.

  And if that wasn’t enough, there was also the highly annoying fact that his chosen son and heir, Jake Everton, had managed to slip through his fingers again.

  The lad had put on a most impressive show during the battle, flying up on his pet Gryphon to disable the guns of the Dark Druids’ airship. The Dream Wraith had been raining down cannonballs on the palace until bold young Jakey-boy put a stop to all that.

  Although the plucky thirteen-year-old had cut short the Dark Druids’ air assault before escaping through a Lightrider portal with his friends, Wyvern couldn’t help feeling proud of his future son.

  Clearly, there was a reason the Horned One had picked him for the next Black Prince.

  Once they got the wild lad under control, (which sometimes seemed a very big if), the young Lord Griffon would become Wyvern’s heir apparent after he’d successfully seized the throne.

  All in due time.

  For now, it seemed that, along with Aelfric’s temper tantrum, something was going on inside the Black Fortress.

  Oh, what now? Wyvern thought with a frown.

  Few things scared the Noxu, but the big, burly half-trolls suddenly began pouring out through the open drawbridge amid frightened grunts and panicked shouts.

  Even Thanatos, his manticore, ran out of the Fortress, his lion mane bristling, his scorpion tail whipping about as it always did when something had disturbed the beast.

  Then Wyvern heard roars from inside the great hall, and his eyes widened with startled recognition.

  Oh, no…

  “What was that?” Fionnula cried, turning to him in alarm.

  Wyvern didn’t answer, but narrowed his eyes and stared toward the castle. “They had better not hurt him,” he muttered. Then he glanced at her. “I suggest you all stay back.”

  “Nathan?” Fionnula and the vampire queen exchanged a puzzled glance, but took his advice and hung back uncertainly.

  Raige flashed a grin, however, catching on. “I’m going with you.”

  Wyvern immediately turned and pointed a warning finger in Raige’s face. “You are not to draw your weapon on my dragon. Is that clear?”

  “Aw.” Disappointment flickered in the hulking warrior’s eyes. “Well, if he gets out of the Fortress, can I help you hunt him? I haven’t been on a dragon hunt in ages. Such sport! They make the most challenging…”

  Raige’s voice faded at Wyvern’s icy stare.

  “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” the dragon lord replied, then stalked on, hurrying to save his pride and joy from harm at the hands of those Noxu brutes.

  Ever since he was a boy, all dragons obeyed him, but some were special, and his Ruffed Orange Darter had grown close to his half-demon heart.

  As Wyvern strode toward the open drawbridge, the manticore ran to meet him. He uttered a comforting word to the creature and commanded him to calm down.

  He did not bother giving the Noxu mercenaries the same reassurance as they continued flowing out. They were now joined by the uniformed bridge crew who ran the castle-ship, along with the dozen white-coated scientists in charge of the absent Dark Master’s experiments.

  “Commander!” One of the navigational officers rushed toward him. Wyvern believed his name was Lantz. “Oh, thank the Horned One you’re here, sir!”

  Wyvern glowered at him. “You abandoned your post?”

  “I-I-I’m sorry, sir! It’s j-just that y-your dragon got out! The chalk man’s raging upset him, and he chewed his way out of his stall! He couldn’t escape through the carriage entrance in the back, s-so he came up through the stairwell, a-and now h-h-he’s running amuck. He’s eating people in there, sir!”

  “Humph. Anyone important?”

  “Er
—no,” the officer said abruptly. “Just a couple of Noxu so far, but—”

  “And his fire collar. It’s still on?”

  “Y-yes, sir.” The frightened navigator bobbed his head.

  “Good. Then there’s nothing to worry about. Pull yourself together and get back to your post!”

  “Yes, sir,” Lantz mumbled with a crestfallen look.

  Raige arched a brow at the man, then followed as Wyvern marched into the vast great hall, where his naughty dragon had caused, well, a bit of a bloodbath, to be honest.

  The Orange Ruffed Darter was still scarfing down bits of Noxu, gleefully tossing them up in the air and swallowing chunks of flesh amid growls of pleasure.

  Wyvern winced to note the upper half of a gray half-troll corpse dangling from the round iron chandelier.

  Tazaroc must’ve flung it there in his vicious delight at breaking free from his quarters.

  Raige’s smile faded at the bloody prospect of the escaped dragon, Wyvern noted with amusement.

  Taz might seem rather docile and well-mannered when he was hitched to the flying chariot, but that was only because Wyvern kept him under expert control.

  The fact was, left to his own devices, the Darter was wilder and more vicious than most people realized.

  The general’s hand came to rest uneasily atop the horse pistol by his side. “I thought you said he was tame.”

  “Trained, not tamed, Raige. No dragon is ever truly tamed. It’s part of their charm. Don’t worry. As long as that collar stays on and holds the ruff down, he can’t breathe fire. It’s only then I’d consider him really dangerous.”

  With that, Wyvern gave Raige an arrogant wink, then sauntered across the black granite flagstones toward his escaped pet.

  Tazaroc crouched over his midnight snack, his brownish-orange wings spread out across the floor, ready to swat anyone away who tried to come between him and his catch.

 

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