The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  Jake realized he had better act fast, or that thing would be upon him in a heartbeat. Lifting his right hand, he poured forth a fierce stream of telekinetic energy and pulled the massive chandelier out of the ceiling.

  Standing right beneath it, Tazaroc looked up just as the iron ring plunged straight down over its horned head, pinning its wings against its shoulders. The dragon went mad. Jake grinned as the orange beast thrashed, trying to free itself.

  When the Drow rushed back to move Duradel out of the angry dragon’s way, Jake took that as his cue to go.

  He raced the rest of the way across the great hall, flashing past the dais on his left in a few more strides. As the dark maw of the hallway he’d chosen yawned before him, he entered without hesitation.

  Leaving the great hall in chaos behind him.

  CHAPTER 33

  Labyrinth

  Jake soon found himself in a dark labyrinth of black granite corridors. The walls and floors alike were slick and glossy.

  What little light there was came from the same type of sleek wall sconces he’d seen in the great hall. Low flames flickered behind grayish glass, casting arrows of blue light upward onto the walls every fifteen feet or so.

  As his eyes adjusted to the interior twilight of the warlocks’ stronghold, his other senses grew keener—unfortunately for his nose. He couldn’t help gagging on the stench of dead half-trolls wafting on the hallway’s chilly draft.

  His ears, meanwhile, began playing tricks on him. The stone surfaces all around him created strange echoing effects.

  It was disorienting.

  He could hear the dragon roaring with frustration back in the great hall, as well as the shouts of the crewmen and the dark elves, but it was hard to gauge the distance or even the direction it was coming from.

  The hallway itself was eerily quiet. His boot heels hammered down the empty corridor as he ran, but Jake did not waste time on stealth just yet.

  The dragon and the Drow would come hunting him soon. At the moment, speed was everything.

  Just keep moving, he urged himself—like in the old days, when he’d used the rookery’s intricate web of crooked alleys to escape the bobbies.

  He flung around turns at random when he found them, scanning constantly for a stairwell to the basement. That was where he needed to go.

  Jake vividly remembered that day at Merlin Hall a few weeks ago, when he had spied on a private session of the magical parliament. With his own two ears, he’d heard Lightrider Tex’s report on what he had experienced during his capture.

  The cowboy agent had told the audience of magical representatives that all the kidnapped Lightriders were being held in some sort of strange laboratory somewhere in the basement of the Black Fortress.

  That should include Jake’s parents, if indeed Lord and Lady Griffon were still alive after twelve long years in this horrid prison.

  Jake believed in his heart of hearts that they were. He had to. Aye, they were here somewhere, he could feel it, and everything in him needed to find them, save them…

  Unfortunately, Tazaroc and his master had other plans.

  Jake clenched his jaw at the thought of Wyvern as he pressed on. You’re not my father.

  There! Suddenly, Jake spotted the opening to a dark stairwell. He ran to it and peered in, but the steps only went up. He raced on with a scowl.

  It was odd, though. The deeper he went into the Black Fortress, the more he felt cut off from daylight and the world of the living.

  The darkness was tangible in this place. It seemed to slide over his skin with an oily chill. The layout made no sense to his logical brain.

  Its blue-black passageways twisted and turned, zigged and zagged, stopped at inexplicable dead ends, or forked unexpectedly, only to circle back.

  The whole place must’ve been designed by a madman, he thought. The lack of windows, moreover, was making him claustrophobic.

  Forget the rookery—this black maze took him right back to his brief stint as a coal-mine boy. All those twisting underground tunnels…

  Jake shuddered at the memory.

  The orphanage director had had a policy of sending all his charges off to various forms of child labor once they reached the age of nine.

  “Boys and girls, you have to earn your keep.”

  Jake had sampled half a dozen unpleasant careers under apprentice masters with no qualms about beating their future employees into submission with a whip, a paddle, or a backhand across the face.

  Even so, he had been more frightened of the choking darkness in those blind underground passages than he had been of any apprentice master.

  Cruel older boys who had been there longer than he had made his terror all the worse, abandoning him in the depths of the mine so he had to find his own way out. He’d got revenge, of course, before it was all said and done. He’d made them pay.

  Then he ran away and became a thief.

  He did his best to route the dark memories of those days as he sprinted on, but his chest had already tightened with half-forgotten fears.

  At least he knew something now that he hadn’t known back then: that it was all the Dark Druids’ fault.

  If the evil brotherhood had not set out to kidnap any Lightriders they could get their hands on, he never would’ve been subjected to that grim world. The world of orphanages, cruel masters, heartless bullies. The world of hunger, poverty, loneliness, and shame. Why, he had been born an aristocrat.

  His father was an earl, his mother a countess. By all rights, he should’ve grown up with a shiny silver spoon in his mouth. Aye, came the bitter thought, his family was so rich that his father could’ve bought each of his former masters’ shops and thrown the blackguards out on the street for ever daring to lay a hand on him.

  Instead, because of the Dark Druids, his parents had vanished, and he’d had to fend for himself, always.

  Well, except for a certain redhead, who had at least given him a reason to keep on surviving even when he’d wanted nothing more than to give up, lie down, and die.

  Jake had always known that he had to keep going because, without him, Dani would have no one to protect her from the violence and squalor of their harsh rookery world. He was a fairly bad kid, he knew, but Dani was good.

  She deserved better.

  Suddenly, Jake spotted another intersection ahead. He dashed toward it and barreled around the corner, only to collide with a pair of uniformed crewmen.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going!” one said as he shoved his way between them.

  “Who was that?” the other asked.

  Behind him, both men turned and stared in confusion, but Jake was already halfway down the corridor.

  Blimey. How anyone found their way in this place, Jake had no idea. The only variation he could see in anything was a slight difference in the width of the hallways. The widest were ten or twelve feet across, the narrowest maybe four.

  Just then, in the distance, Jake heard a sharp metallic clatter and skidded to a halt, pausing to listen.

  Uh-oh. It sounded like Tazaroc had managed to wriggle free of the chandelier.

  Despite the danger, a smile twitched at Jake’s lips. That had been quite a game of ring toss, but he supposed the fun could only last for so long.

  Unfortunately, now all he’d probably managed to do was make the creature angry.

  Still, it shouldn’t be a problem, as long as he stayed out of Tazaroc’s way.

  Alas, that proved easier said than done.

  Jake was already in motion as the dragon came hunting him. He could hear it somewhere in the labyrinth, snuffling along, growling to itself. It probably had a predator’s keen sense of smell, but Jake hoped the stink of rotting Noxu corpses in the air would help disguise his scent.

  Those stealthy Drow, though, could be anywhere. And considering they lived underground, they probably could see just fine in the dark.

  Jake glanced around uneasily as he jogged along at a rapid clip, taking more care now to keep
his footsteps quiet. But when the two crewmen he’d shoved aside moments ago shrieked somewhere in the maze behind him—followed by a long, throaty snarl—he stopped with a gasp, looking over his shoulder.

  Tazaroc didn’t bother the pair, by the sound of it. Otherwise, there’d have been much more screaming. Jake’s heart sank as he realized the dragon had ignored the two men because it had fixed on him as its quarry.

  Blast. Perhaps the beast had caught his scent, for it began running now, its footsteps pounding closer.

  Jake bolted, his heart in his throat. With every step, he cursed the Dark Druids for making these hallways wide enough for Tazaroc to fit through. He winced at the sound of the big lizard’s tail slapping the walls as the creature prowled the corridors.

  Fairly tiptoeing along at top speed, Jake fumed that he didn’t even have a weapon with which to defend himself from that thing, aside from his telekinesis.

  He still couldn’t believe Wyvern had eaten Risker!

  Jake hated to admit it, but it showed that the half-demon earl was more powerful than Jake had given him credit for. Aye, the fact that even dragons obeyed Wyvern rather drove that point home. Humph. Jake hoped his poor, dead dagger gave the earl the worst stomachache of his life.

  Then the sounds of Tazaroc’s movements in the labyrinth stopped. Somehow, the beast’s silence was even more terrifying than the echo of its stomping strides.

  Jake stopped too, melting against the wall. He held his breath, hating this nasty game of cat-and-mouse.

  His heart thumped in the hush. He got the feeling Tazaroc was listening.

  Jake trembled with a slight gulp. He certainly hoped that beast remembered Wyvern’s instructions to fetch and not eat him. Black Prince and all that.

  Blast. If only he could find a decent hiding place! He could duck out of sight, let the dragon pass, and then move on. It always used to work on Flanagan.

  There was just one problem.

  The rookery was full of helpful nooks and crannies—everything from broken walls to hanging laundry to stacks of crates or barrels to hide behind. But the onyx corridors of this cursed castle were downright stark.

  Motionless against the cold wall, Jake racked his brains for what to do next. He didn’t dare move, unsure where the dragon was. The monster was close; that much he sensed. But which direction?

  At the same time, he knew from experience that it was dangerous to stay in one place for too long. Keep moving, his thief instincts warned him.

  The dragon, however, was only waiting for him to make one mistake. It probably also had keen hearing.

  Briefly, Jake considered taking off his boots for the sake of stealth. He could even throw them to distract the dragon, but he discarded the idea.

  The floors were too slippery. He’d slide all over the place in his socks, and it would cost him speed.

  Self-doubt crept in as he floundered. Hang it all, maybe I should’ve escaped out the drawbridge while I had the chance.

  His parents wouldn’t want him getting killed, now, would they? Or forced to become the Black Prince, heir of all evil.

  A bead of cold sweat trickled down his face. He brushed it away impatiently, suddenly wondering about the wisdom of all this. What am I doing here? I’m an idiot. I should’ve stayed back at Buckingham Palace.

  “Overconfidence, Jake,” Aunt Ramona always warned him.

  Again? Had he bitten off more than he could chew? Would it be his bloody downfall?

  Better too cocky than a coward! Jake vowed, routing his self-doubt with an angry scowl. Besides, it was too late to turn back now. In truth, he wasn’t even sure where the great hall was at this point.

  In short, he was pretty well lost.

  So much for his rookery instincts. Every corridor looked the same.

  Well, you’ve got to do something. Don’t just stand here waiting for the dashed thing to find you.

  Right, Jake said firmly to himself.

  Steeling his courage and drawing on his old pickpocket stealth, Jake crept up to the next corner and slowly, ever so carefully, peeked around the edge.

  To his surprise, there was no dragon in sight. Just another long, fairly narrow hallway with several intersections at uneven intervals.

  Jake’s jaw tightened when he heard the faint puffing of the beast’s nostrils and wondered, briefly, why this particular dragon didn’t breathe fire. Not that he was complaining.

  Based on the direction of the sound, he’d wager that Tazaroc was lurking down the closest corridor on the right.

  Jake needed a distraction to send the beast in the wrong direction. He lifted a trembling hand and focused with all his might on a distant wall sconce, way down at the other end of the long hallway.

  He fired and missed his target entirely.

  Steady on. His powers went wonky when he let his emotions overtake him, and the human fear of dragons was ancient and instinctual. Pulse pounding, Jake inhaled through his nostrils, determined to calm down. He closed his eyes for a second and concentrated. Focus.

  He could feel the energy gathering all down his arm. His fingertips began to tingle…

  Jake flicked his eyes open fiercely and shot a beam of telekinetic force all the way down the long hallway, exploding several wall sconces in rapid succession.

  The dragon roared and whipped around the corner from the very hallway Jake had suspected. He ducked back but couldn’t resist a furtive peek out as Tazaroc’s long, sinuous body molded around the corner and bolted in the opposite direction from Jake.

  Jake watched, studying the creature.

  From here, he had a good view of its back, wings, and tail as it chased after the sound. Jake noted that although Tazaroc could fit in the hallways, the beast would have a hard time turning around in them, due to its size.

  Best to keep behind him, then.

  Emboldened by the realization, Jake slipped around the corner and glided after the creature for a few stealthy paces, then dashed down a side corridor that he hadn’t been down before.

  He hadn’t gone far, however, when a door in the hallway suddenly cracked open a few feet ahead of him.

  Jake froze, sure that he’d be spotted.

  Someone muttered, “What on earth is going on out here?” Then a familiar face peeked out the crack.

  “You!” Jake exclaimed. He could just make out Lord Badgerton’s puffy cheeks and bushy sideburns.

  “Ack!” The portly shapeshifter saw him and instantly tried to slam the door, but Jake blocked it with his telekinesis.

  “Traitor.” Infuriated at the sight of Badgerton, Jake strode over to the door and braced it open with his foot and shoulder.

  Badgerton huffed but held his ground. “What are you doing here?”

  “Maybe I’m here for you,” Jake said in a menacing tone. “You betrayed the Order.”

  “Stay back!” Badgerton’s nose twitched with the start of his namesake animal’s famous tenacity. Behind the disgraced Elder, Jake saw a room that made no sense: a cozy underground den with quaint cottage furniture.

  He shook his head. Magic.

  “What was that noise?” Badgerton demanded, keeping his voice low.

  “A dragon. Would you like to meet him? C’mon, I’d be happy to introduce you. He’s just around the corner. Here!” Jake seized the baron’s fleshy arm and tried to pull him out of his den, but could not dislodge the man.

  Badgerton dug in his heels and wedged himself in the doorway, then finally managed to shake off Jake’s hold. “Keep your hands off me!”

  Jake glared at him. “You deserve to hang.”

  “Brave talk for a mere lad.”

  “Why did you do it, eh?”

  “You really want to know?” Badgerton tilted his head angrily. “Because of people like you, Jake. You and that uppity Elder witch.”

  “She’s worth a hundred of you—” Jake felt seriously close to losing his temper. “Ach, never mind. You’re not worth it.”

  Just then, the dragon yowled somewh
ere in the maze, apparently realizing it had been tricked.

  Jake glanced in the direction of the ruckus, then gave the traitor his most menacing glower. “How do I get to the basement?”

  The shapeshifter eyed him warily, as though weighing his threat. “You don’t want to go down there, Jake. Trust me.”

  “Trust you?” Jake whispered. “You must be joking!”

  “I speak in earnest.” Badgerton’s gaze darted down the hallway, left and right. “Believe me, there are worse things in this castle than dragons, my boy.”

  “Aye, and I’m one of them,” Jake said with great bravado, ignoring the chill that the ominous warning sent down his spine. “Now, tell me what I want to know and I’ll be on my way. Otherwise…”

  With a quick flick of the wrist, Jake began levitating the chubby ex-Elder off his feet, out of his doorway, and into the black hallway.

  “Hmm, which direction did that naughty dragon go?”

  “Ack! Stop this, you rotten—” Badgerton sputtered, making a feeble attempt to grab hold of the doorframe, but missed as Jake floated him toward the ceiling of the corridor. “How dare you? Put me down this instant, you ill-mannered little heathen!”

  “I’ll bash your brains out against the ceiling, I will!” Jake taunted with a hearty grin, starting to feel the dark influence that filled the walls of the warlocks’ castle. “Start talking, you coward! Which way to the basement?”

  “Egads, you’re as bad as he is—Wyvern!” Badgerton choked out. “Like father, like son.”

  Jake growled at the insult and hefted him higher, within inches of the ceiling. “Don’t make me hurt you. I could let you fall. Probably break a leg. Then you wouldn’t be able to run away from—”

  “All right, all right!” Badgerton whispered frantically. “You don’t have to be ugly about it! I-I’ll make a bargain with you.”

  “Oh, a bargain? Really?” Jake pressed Badgerton hard against the ceiling, his left hand held high.

  “That’s right,” Badgerton said, his face covered in sweat. “Give a message to the skunkies for me, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”