The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  “Really?” Victor said.

  “Hm, yes. I have the dubious honor of explaining why Wyvern attacked Merlin Hall, unprovoked, and broke the truce.”

  Victor whistled at this startling information. “What if they don’t believe you?”

  “Then there will be war. But don’t worry, they will.”

  “You seem very sure.”

  Grandfather paused. “They’re sending someone I…trust.”

  Victor stared at him, perplexed. These were astonishing words. He was not aware that the Dark Master trusted anyone.

  Hold on, Victor thought. Surely Grandfather didn’t mean he was meeting with her.

  Oh, he’d heard the rumors about Zolond’s youthful romance centuries ago with a powerful young witch.

  Ramona something.

  She had chosen the Order, while he had joined the Dark Druids. Over time, she’d become an Elder, while he’d clawed his way to the top of the black brotherhood. Though they had been sworn enemies ever since their break, as far as anyone knew, somehow, between them, the pair had managed to keep the truce between the two sides intact for many long years.

  After all, even Victor had been taught that a full-out magical war was a prospect too terrible to put either side through, let alone the mundane world of ordinaries who had no idea magic even existed.

  “Who are you meeting with, sir?” Victor asked cautiously.

  Zolond pursed his thin lips. “It does not signify. What matters is making sure the Order understands this was an unsanctioned attack, and that Wyvern has been dealt with. On that note, I must go—”

  “Oh, sir?” Victor interrupted, unwilling to miss this rare chance to tell his grandsire what he craved this year for his annual gift. After all, Victor’s Hallowe’en birthday was only a week and a half away.

  “Yes, boy, what is it?” Zolond cocked his smoky head impatiently.

  “Erm, before you go…w-would it be all right if I told you what I really want for my birthday this year?”

  Zolond’s snowy eyebrows shot up. “Such audacity!” he said mildly. Then he gave Victor a dry look of amusement. “So, that’s your real motive for helping me tonight?”

  Victor laughed, fairly sure the old man was teasing. “No, sir! I did it because I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind an ally, considering your own top henchmen have proved so treacherous.”

  Zolond smiled. “Indeed. Blood is thicker than water, I warrant. Very well, then, Your Highness. What do you want for your fourteenth birthday?”

  Bracing his hands on his thighs, Victor leaned a little closer to the calling candle, his heart pounding with eagerness. “I want to go to London.”

  Grandfather’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I don’t mean alone, of course.” Victor straightened up again. “I know that wouldn’t be safe because of who I am. But Master Nagai could come. Or even…you, perhaps, Your Majesty. If you are not too busy with ceremonies and such.”

  Samhain was the high holiday for their side, after all.

  “Hmm.” Zolond narrowed his eyes, considering.

  “Please? I mean, it’s no extraordinary request, surely, just to be able to see the capital of one’s own country, is it? Anyone can go there, so why not me? I daresay I’m old enough to start going out into the world, finally. You know I can’t just stay locked up here forever with Magpen and Master Nagai—”

  “Easy! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let me think for a moment.”

  Victor obeyed, holding his breath.

  “Tell you what. You will serve as my assistant in this year’s Samhain ritual atop Mount Woe, and then I will take you to London myself for a few days.”

  Victor’s eyes widened. Had he heard right?

  The Dark Master had not just agreed—and offered to take him there personally, no less—but he was giving Victor the unprecedented honor of assisting in the All Hallows’ Hail to the Dark.

  Grandfather looked amused to see he had rendered Victor speechless. All Victor could think was that the old man must’ve been impressed, indeed, by his assistance earlier tonight.

  “Master Nagai will have to come along, as well, but tell him I said he’ll have to dress like an Englishman. He’ll draw too much attention to us if he goes to London in his Japanese garb.”

  Victor nodded, still slightly in shock. “Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir!”

  “Well, it is your birthday. And I hear you’ve been diligent in your studies all year, so…why not?”

  Victor smiled from ear to ear. “I can’t wait. Thank you, Grandfather!”

  Zolond bowed his head in acknowledgment; he seemed amused at Victor’s joy. “Now, then. It’s far past your bedtime, and mine. So, I bid you a fond goodnight—grandson.”

  Victor bowed to the sorcerer-king. “Goodnight, sir.”

  “Rest well.”

  When Zolond disappeared from atop the calling candle, Victor blew out the flame.

  Still in awe, he rose from the edge of his bed where he had been perched and walked dazedly across his bedchamber to let Magpen in.

  The imp had been eavesdropping, of course. He bounded in at once. “Oh, master! At last!”

  Magpen danced about, knowing how much Victor had been yearning for this.

  “I guess he appreciated my help.” Victor began to pace, anticipation for the trip already zinging down his nerve endings. “Oh, Magpen, this is going to be tremendous!” He spun around and grinned at his servant. “I’m finally going to get to see the River Thames, and Big Ben, the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace—! And girls,” Victor added heartily. “Girls everywhere, I reckon.”

  In truth, that was the tourist attraction that interested him most.

  “Oooh, girls,” Magpen echoed. “What are those, then?”

  Victor snorted. “Exactly.”

  Because, in truth, for all his fearsome magic, he had never successfully talked to one. Not a real one, although he had conjured a few to gather ’round and tell him how wonderful he was.

  He suspected it wasn’t the same.

  Illusion girls could only do and say the sorts of things a mage conjured them to carry out. And that grew boring fast for any self-respecting lad.

  Real girls, now, there was a challenge. And, frankly, for all his well-honed powers of death and destruction, the delicate creatures terrified him. On those few occasions when he’d had the chance to try to meet one, his simple effort to offer a normal greeting, such as “Hello, how are you?” came out sounding more like “Heh-hubble gleck-loo?”

  Smooth.

  In short, he usually tripped over his own tongue, humiliated himself with his ineptitude, and then just wanted to run away as fast as possible.

  One young lady with strawberry-blond ringlets and a turned-up nose had giggled at his awkwardness once. Victor had been seriously tempted to turn the haughty miss and her whole family into amphibians—or worse.

  But, of course, if he ever gave way to that kind of temperamental, knee-jerk response, they’d lock him up here at Shadowedge until he was thirty.

  That was why Nagai was always harping at him about self-control. He could hurt people. With ease.

  But, of course, if he ever did, they’d make him sit down for another talk with the loathsome Professor Labyrinth.

  The one man Victor truly feared.

  With a shudder, he thrust the pasty-faced image of the bearded, bespectacled psychiatrist out of his mind and quickly returned his thoughts to the much more pleasant subject of the female race.

  Talking to them had to get easier, surely. There had to be some sort of trick to approaching these strange, fascinating beings, with their bonnets and parasols and dainty fans… But he was never going to figure it out stuck here, as always, in his gilded cage.

  Just then, the mantel clock bonged two soft notes, tolling the hour. It was late, he thought.

  Victor knew he ought to get some sleep. Nagai would no doubt have more schoolwork and training challenges for him in the morning. The emergency of tonight
would not matter in the slightest to his sensei.

  But although Victor lay back slowly on his bed, lacing his fingers beneath his head, he stared up at the ceiling and could not possibly go to sleep.

  London!

  Finally, he would get to see a little bit of the world he’d one day rule when he followed in Grandfather’s footsteps and became the great and terrible sorcerer-king.

  He could hardly wait for Hallowe’en.

  CHAPTER 18

  A Light in the Dark

  At last, Beacon House came into view through the scraggly trees that adorned the Victoria Embankment. Still a safe distance from the rambling Tudor mansion, Jake halted the group on the graveled path.

  For a moment, they all gazed in silence at the giant rooftop lantern that the huge house was named for shining out amid the drifts of fog.

  “So, that’s the place?” Brian glanced at him.

  Jake gave a grim nod. Now came the hard part: making sure the Dark Druids hadn’t seized control of the Order’s London headquarters.

  Red and Jake would do this by themselves. Once he could confirm that the building was secure, only then would he beckon his friends in to take shelter.

  In the meantime, they could wait out here. It shouldn’t take long. Jake just hoped he could keep his eyes open long enough to carry out his mission.

  Almost too tired to think, he drew a deep breath of chilly night air. It helped revive him a bit. Then he turned to his friends and called Red over.

  The Gryphon had prowled a few steps ahead of the kids, but he needed to hear the plan too. Jake couldn’t do it without him.

  “All right, everyone. This is it. We’re almost in the clear. You might as well take a seat for a while.” He nodded at the lonely park benches along the path. “Here’s the plan. Red, you and I are going to fly ahead and scout out the situation.”

  “Becaw!” Red pawed the ground in approval.

  Jake looked around at the others. “If I see any sign of the Dark Druids, believe me, I’ll be right back, and we’ll have to move on. But if it looks promising, then Red and I will land on the roof and sneak in through the cupola door to check inside the mansion. As soon as I know whether it’s safe, I’ll come out onto the back terrace and call you in.”

  “I could go with you,” Brian said.

  “Nah.” Jake gave the earnest young Guardian a grateful glance. “You’d better stay here and look after this lot. But thanks.” Jake turned to Dani. “You know the city as well as I do, carrot. If anything goes wrong, get everyone out of here.”

  “And leave you behind?” By the light of the gas lamps lining the path, she frowned at him.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Red,” he assured her, glancing at the Gryphon. “If we get into a scrape, we’ll just fly away.”

  “Very well,” Dani said uneasily. “Where should we go? We’re far from the waypoint now.”

  Jake thought about it for a moment. They used to hide from the bobbies in the rookery, but the old neighborhood wasn’t close, nor was it safe at this hour.

  They had just passed Waterloo Bridge, however, on their walk along the Victoria Embankment, and the three rowboats he’d noticed moored beneath it caught his eye.

  “There.” He pointed at them. “Borrow those boats below the bridge and row downriver as fast as you can. The current’s strong here. Without the trains running, that’ll be your quickest way out of the city.”

  “What, steal them?” Archie said.

  Jake shrugged. “If you must. Better than dying, coz. Desperate times.”

  Archie frowned. “That phrase is becoming uncomfortably familiar of late.”

  Dani heaved a sigh and looked at Jake. “Just promise you’ll be careful.”

  “Promise.” He smiled at her. If the others hadn’t been there, perhaps he’d have even pressed a farewell kiss to her cheek. But he remained all business as he turned to his Gryphon. “Right! Well, come on, Red. Before I fall asleep on m’ feet.”

  “Good luck, Jake,” Isabelle said, leaning against a tree trunk that glistened with dew. “For what it’s worth, I’m not sensing any particularly evil people nearby.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Stay on your guard anyway,” Nixie warned him.

  “Will do. See you all soon.” With that, Jake swung up onto Red’s back and gripped his leather collar. The Gryphon’s warm, fuzzy back was so soft and comfy he could’ve laid his head down on the big beast’s neck and gone to sleep.

  Shaking off fatigue once more, Jake focused on the task at hand. “All right, boy. Let’s circle a few times first and see what we can see.”

  Jake steeled his courage as Red took a few running strides then leaped into the air. He held on tight as the Gryphon pumped his wings, moving higher through the swirls of mist.

  He could feel his friends staring after them, but he left them behind, telling himself they would be safe there. Whether it was true, he could only hope.

  Red rose past the bare tree branches, but continued following the course of the path below until the blanket of fog still churning over the river hid it from view.

  To his right, Jake caught glimpses of the Thames, black and silky as it slithered through the city. Fortunately, there was no sign of any more Nightstalkers or those bizarre little imps.

  Ahead, the light from the huge yew-tree lantern glowing in the cupola atop Beacon House grew stronger. As they approached, Jake scanned its gardens that backed onto the Thames; he also spotted the Order’s private barge moored at the river’s edge behind the mansion. His gaze skimmed the carriage house, then the turreted roof of the creaky old mansion, but there were no warlock minions that he could see posted there, keeping watch.

  A good sign.

  Red banked to the left, rounding the manor as they made their first pass toward the front. Below them stretched the Strand; it was so strange to see the busy thoroughfare empty at this hour. Only one lonely carriage trundled past below; Red and Jake whooshed by unnoticed overhead in the darkness.

  Jake kept scanning the ground below. The front face of Beacon House looked exactly as it should in the middle of the night, silent, the lanterns by the front door dimly shining. Its immediate surroundings looked quiet, too.

  Up the road to his right hulked the familiar outline of old St. Mary-of-something church. Across the Strand from Beacon House, the various buildings of King’s College took up several blocks.

  But there were no Dark Druids.

  So far, so good. Maybe Izzy was right. Maybe they simply weren’t here. That would be a welcome change of luck after the night they were having.

  Jake urged Red a little lower, making a second pass around the house at closer range. He tried to see in the windows, but the blinds were drawn for the night.

  If enemies had taken the place, he reasoned that they’d probably have Noxu or servitors peering out the windows to watch for any attempt by the Order to take it back.

  Increasingly hopeful, Jake rounded the headquarters one more time, then murmured to Red to land on the rooftop. It was time to get inside.

  The Gryphon landed on silent paws near the center cupola, running a few paces, then slowing to a halt. Jake was always amazed at how quiet Red could be for an animal weighing several hundred pounds. He supposed it was Red’s lion side that made the beast so stealthy.

  Jake swung off Red’s back and whispered to him to follow. The flat main section of the manor’s roof stretched all around them, black and broad. Turrets poked up from the corners, broody in the fog, but straight ahead, the tall center cupola shone like a miniature lighthouse.

  He had to squint as he approached, for his eyes had long since adjusted to the night. The giant lantern in the cupola had given Beacon House its name; the metal yew-tree design superimposed over the glowing light served as a signal to any magical creatures in distress that they could find refuge in this place.

  Walking silently toward the little door that opened off the side of the cupola, Jake glanced at the y
ew-tree symbol with a heavy heart. The nightmarish sights, sounds, and smells of the battle were still fresh in his memory—including the horrible image of the Old Father Yew burning in the great maze.

  Anger hardened Jake’s heart against the enemy as he reached for the door knob. The Dark Druids had taken enough from them tonight. They better not have taken Beacon House, too.

  The metal doorknob was slippery with mist, but it turned with ease, much to Jake’s relief. Unlike the street-level doors, the rooftop entrance was normally left unlocked for the sake of any of magic-kind who might arrive seeking safety in the house.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the Gryphon. “Ready?” he whispered.

  Red nodded, his golden eyes gleaming with courage. Jake inched the door open slowly, taking care not to let it creak.

  Unfortunately, even by human standards, the doorway was small and narrow; the Gryphon had to squeeze his wings in tight to be able to fit through.

  From there, they crept down the spiraling metal staircase, and, with every step, Jake listened intently.

  Beacon House was very quiet. Only two people lived here on a permanent basis: Mrs. Appleton, the housekeeper, and Mr. Mayweather, the butler. If the Dark Druids have done anything to them…

  His jaw tightened. But, again, he warded off his worry. So far, he had seen no signs to indicate that the enemy had been here. Meanwhile, behind him, Red accidentally bumped Jake in the shoulder with his beak and nearly knocked him down the last couple of steps.

  “Ack!” With no choice but to leap off the stairs, Jake landed nimbly on his feet in the hallway below. He caught his balance at once, but knew he’d made a rather loud thump. “Red!” he whispered. Jake rolled his eyes. “Blimey.”

  “Becaw,” Red mumbled, contrite.

  “I hope nobody heard that. C’mon. We’d better hurry, in case they did.” He headed down the dim third-floor hallway, drawing on all his stealthy skills as a former thief, and listening for all he was worth.

  At times like these, he envied the Guardians with their extra-keen senses. But the thought of Guardians only made him worry about Derek and Maddox and Ravyn and Janos and Ibrahim and everyone he’d left behind.