The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  Just then, a shriek from somewhere in the maze suggested that another unsuspecting soul had crossed paths with Tazaroc. A loud clatter followed, like the sound of dropped trays. Then a door slammed.

  Maybe the person had escaped.

  Then a long, brooding growl rumbled through the labyrinth; Jake and Badgerton looked at each other uneasily.

  “Fine.” Jake lowered the shapeshifter lord to the ground. “What’s the message?”

  Badgerton dropped his gaze. “Tell Prue and the boys that I…I haven’t abandoned them. That I’ll find them as soon as I can. Then they and their mama can come and live with me. Tell them I love them a-and that everything will be all right.”

  Jake shook his head in disgust. First of all, everything would not be all right. There was a rupture in the Veil, for starters.

  Secondly, there was no way Jake would ever mention the word love to Prue Badgerton. The stuck-up shapeshifter girl already had the most annoying infatuation with him. It made her act like a widgeon—and meaner than ever to Dani O’Dell.

  And yet it struck Jake as curious that even the likes of Badgerton cared about someone.

  “The basement,” Jake reminded him.

  “You’ll tell them? You’ll remember?”

  “I’m not an idiot. Yes! Next time I see them.”

  “Good.” Badgerton adjusted his waistcoat with his usual pompous indignation, then nodded toward the right. “Go that way until you reach the outer ring—the widest hallway that wraps all the way around this floor and connects to the four corner towers. The main stairwell to the basement lies in the middle of the castle’s back wall. There may be others,” he added, “but that’s the only one I know.”

  “You’d better not be lying to me.”

  “And you’d better not go back on your word.” With that, Badgerton huffed back into his den and slammed the door shut.

  Humph. Jake did not like that man. If I had known you’d turn traitor, I’d have thrown those mashed potatoes at you on purpose.

  Then Jake left Badgerton’s door and began cautiously following the route the ex-Elder had described.

  He soon found the “outer ring” hallway that Badgerton had told him to look for. Finally, it helped him start to get his bearings in this place.

  All right, then, he thought. So only the inner passages are loony. The outer ring seemed at least somewhat sane. His hopes mounted as he followed it stealthily to the back corner of the Fortress.

  There, he came upon a rounded section of wall that jutted out into the wide hallway. Aha. Jake realized it was the base of one of those spiky corner towers.

  A closed wooden door gave entrance to the tower beneath a stone-carved archway. Jake tested it out of curiosity; it might make a handy exit.

  Locked.

  No matter. It was the stairwell he wanted, anyway. It shouldn’t be much farther…and it wasn’t.

  In short order, Jake spotted the opening to another black stairwell ahead. He glanced up and down the hallway as he dashed toward it, making sure that none of his pursuers were in sight.

  To his relief, Badgerton proved true to his word. The stairs here only led down.

  Without hesitation, Jake slipped into the shadowed entrance of the stairwell and started speeding down the steps. Ever deeper into the Black Fortress he went. The stairs were extremely dark. His sense of evil grew with every step.

  He came to a landing where the staircase turned and hurried down the next flight.

  As he neared the bottom, he slowed his pace and softened his footfalls. Creeping down to the edge of the stairwell’s exit, he furtively peeked out.

  To the left, a rounded hallway unfurled before him: empty.

  But when he looked to the right, Jake had to stifle a gasp at what he saw.

  Lying dead on either side of a pair of fancy black double doors were two Noxu warriors.

  At least, they looked dead to him.

  They were just lying there, motionless, and the smell was unbearable. When Jake heard flies buzzing around, he grimaced and lifted his hand to cover his nose.

  Disgusting. Their kind were ugly to begin with, and death hadn’t done them any favors.

  They were armed, however. With a quick glance, Jake made sure there was no one else around but him and the dead half-trolls. All clear. He stepped cautiously out of the stairwell and sneaked over to the corpses.

  Ah! His gaze alighted on the seven-foot spears the pair carried. One of those could come in handy for keeping that dragon at bay.

  Jake bent down and silently pried the spear out of the Noxu’s stiff gray hands.

  He straightened up and hefted the weapon for a moment to get the feel of it. The spear was light enough to wield with one hand, but the shaft was strong, with a ten-inch spike on the end. Perfect.

  “Thanks, boys,” he said under his breath. Then he noticed the glossy black doors the two warriors had apparently been guarding. “Hmm.”

  I wonder what’s in there.

  Maybe this was where they were keeping the captive Lightriders. Jake’s pulse quickened.

  After glancing over his shoulder to make sure his pursuers had not yet picked up his trail, he grasped the handle of one of the big black doors and pulled it open a crack.

  But when he peered inside, an ominous wave of awe made him go very still.

  What is this place?

  Everything in him said to get out of there immediately, but Jake could tell that the room was important, so he took a step over the threshold in order to have a look around.

  The heavy door swung shut slowly behind him with a desolate moan. Jake stared into the chamber, mystified.

  It looked like some sort of arcane temple. A black granite walkway flanked by low blue flames stretched ahead, leading into a dark, soaring chamber.

  Towering black columns carved as hideous devils held up the ceiling. The huge sculptures were grotesque, from their twisted horns and leering eyes down to their cloven hoofs.

  Dread knotted in Jake’s stomach as he tilted his head back to look up at them. The statues reminded him of the demon whose shadow he had seen on the wall last night.

  Shemrazul—the warlocks’ evil god.

  Jake snorted.

  You ain’t nothin’, he told the so-called Horned One with all of his rookery bravado, then dared another step into the Dark Druids’ inner sanctum.

  Ignoring the giant devil statues, Jake turned his gaze toward the center of the chamber, where thirteen grand chairs were arranged in an inward-facing triangle, the tallest at the apex.

  Jake realized he was looking at the throne of the sorcerer-king. The very seat of the warlocks’ dark magic.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  I should definitely not be in here.

  He started backing away, but he feared he was too late, for he suddenly got the sense of overwhelming evil approaching. Then came a thunderous voice from somewhere in the room: “Who’s there?”

  Jake gasped and recoiled. Then a burst of orange flames rose from the center of the triangle where the thrones were arrayed.

  “Nathan? Is it you? Come. How goes the war?”

  A cloud of black smoke and sulfurous fumes joined the flames. An earsplitting clank of chains rasped from the center of the room like the screech of a thousand banshees.

  Then Jake glimpsed the tips of two red horns beginning to rise from the center of the inferno, a terror overcame him, the likes of which he had never experienced before—not even in the coal mine.

  He spun around and fled the temple so fast that he tripped over one of the dead Noxu just outside the doorway and went sprawling on the corpse.

  Horrified, he scrambled upright but managed to drop the spear in his terror. It clattered loudly on the floor. Jake cursed. On his feet again, knees shaking, he turned around and pushed the heavy black door shut.

  His pulse beating a panicked staccato, he bent and grabbed the spear, then ran back down the hallway to the relative safety of the stairwell.
r />   There, he paused out of sight, chest heaving with lingering panic. He was trembling from head to toe, his grip clammy on the spear.

  Jake leaned his back against the wall and strove to shake it off and get a hold of himself. Ugh, he was glad his friends weren’t here to see him like this.

  Blimey. Badgerton wasn’t kidding, he thought. I don’t know what that thing was, but it’s definitely worse than a dragon.

  “Don’t be silly, Jake,” a quiet inner voice responded in his head. It sounded rather like Celestus. “You know exactly what that is—or, rather, whom. You’ve met before.”

  Jake gulped.

  “But don’t worry. This is not your battle. Yet.”

  “Yet?” Jake whispered, jolting away from the wall. His heart started pounding anew. “No. No way.”

  Let Derek do it. Or Aunt Ramona.

  Anyone but me.

  I’m not going in there ever again. I only came to find my parents.

  For heaven’s sake, he already had enough problems of his own. Jake hung his head, suddenly overwhelmed by all he had to face.

  But when a low, bloodcurdling singsong echoed from the direction of the Dark Druids’ temple, calling to him, Jake jerked his head up.

  “Jaaaaake?” it taunted him.

  He held motionless. The voice was deep and dark, soft and deadly—a voice from the pit of Hell.

  Then a low, horrifying chuckle resounded through the passageway.

  “Why, grandson, is that you? Come back, m’boy. I’ve been waiting to meet you face to face, and we have so much to talk about. Come, let’s have a little chat.”

  Jake felt the blood drain from his face, but this time, he did not let panic overtake him. With a dry-mouthed gulp, he thought, Right. So…the Dark Druids had a demon living in the basement. Very well.

  That was not his business.

  He’d only come to find his parents, and not even Shemrazul would scare him away.

  Determined to resume his quest, he stepped out of the stairwell, refusing even to look at those black doors. Instead, he hurried on, jogging up the wide, rounded corridor in the other direction.

  “You can’t run from destiny, Jake! You’ll join us one way or the other, just like Badgerton did. You belong with us! Don’t you remember how you trapped those bullies in the coal mine? Such splendid revenge! How good it felt! Remember the people you stole from? The lies you told? And got away with it all, because you’re cleverer than other people, Jake. You know you’re better than them. That’s why you deserve to be the Black Prince. Join us, and together we shall rule the world!”

  Sinister laughter filled the hallway.

  Jake ran for his life.

  CHAPTER 34

  Visions of Darkness

  Still spooked, Jake ran down the curved hallway until he had put a good distance between him and the black doors. Finally, he started feeling more like his old self.

  At least now that he knew what resided in the center of the Black Fortress—or could somehow enter the castle there. He also now realized who had sent those imps, lesser devils, and weird little monsters after him and his friends.

  Even the imps’ cautious treatment of him now made sense. Of course they hadn’t attacked him. He was the bloody chosen one.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Jake trudged on, spear in hand. Still, there was no point in denying that he was officially out of his depth.

  This place needs an exorcism. No—a whole team of exorcists.

  But on a more practical level, it dawned on him that he’d better find the captive Lightriders and get out of here before the Fortress jumped. If he wasn’t careful, he could end up stranded on the far side of the world with these mumpers.

  Suddenly, he heard off-tune whistling somewhere in the corridor behind him. Someone’s coming!

  Jake looked around anxiously for a hiding place and spotted a bench by the wall. He raced over and dove under it, molding himself out of sight as best he could. But, hang it, the blasted spear didn’t fit. It was too long to hide fully underneath the bench.

  Jake held his breath, watching in silence as a bespectacled man in a white lab coat strolled toward him, head down, studying some papers on his clipboard.

  As the doctor or scientist or whatever he was approached, Jake carefully shifted the spear’s position to keep it out of sight, first pulling it under one end of the bench, then shifting it to the other as the fellow ambled by.

  Once he’d passed, Jake realized he had to follow the man.

  Tex had said that the Dark Druids were holding the Lightriders in some sort of large laboratory. The man’s white coat made it reasonable to assume he’d be headed that way.

  As soon as the scientist moved on around the bend, Jake climbed out from under the bench and lifted the spear, taking care not to bump anything. He couldn’t risk making noise.

  On his feet once more, he prowled after the fellow with growing eagerness to find his parents.

  Admittedly, it had been tempting to abandon his mission after what had just happened in the Dark Druids’ temple. But he’d come too far to turn back now.

  They’re counting on me.

  Keeping his footsteps light, Jake followed the whistling scientist around the curve of the hallway.

  The dim lighting grew a little stronger as they approached some yet-unseen destination. At the same time, he started hearing a most unsettling sound.

  A low lub-dub, lub-dub reverberated through the basement like a giant heartbeat. It got louder, stronger, as he trailed the scientist up the corridor. It made him uneasy.

  Hadn’t Archie mentioned something about this from his vision of the captive Lightriders? If Jake recalled correctly, Tex also had described some huge machine keeping the Lightriders alive but unconscious…

  Abruptly, the whistling from up ahead stopped. Jake heard a door creak open. The heartbeat sound grew louder, then slowly softer again.

  He waited out of sight with his back pressed against the wall as the door squeaked shut somewhere around the bend.

  Jake listened intently for any new sounds—footsteps, or worse, dragon growls—but heard none. His pulse quickened as he decided to investigate.

  Step by stealthy step, he crept around the bend and saw that the hallway opened up into a sparse, kidney-shaped lobby. On the left was a pair of brown wooden doors. He must’ve gone in there. Then his gaze traveled on, and he noted that across from the doors lay another stairwell, offering a second way up to the black labyrinth upstairs—and the waiting dragon.

  No thanks. Jake was in no hurry to face Tazaroc again.

  In any case, between the doors and the stairwell entrance, the curved hallway ended at a room straight ahead. A sign over the open doorway read, Cloakroom.

  Inside, Jake could see tidy rows of white lab coats hung on pegs. All right. He nodded to himself, quickly concluding that the cloakroom held nothing of interest.

  Through those doors was probably where he needed to go—and fast, Jake realized as he heard three pairs of feet coming down the staircase.

  Voices echoed down to him, a language he didn’t know, but he recognized the accent.

  The Drow. As the wooden thump of a wizard’s staff echoed down the stairwell, he realized Duradel was with them. Great.

  Jake got moving. He had no choice. The Drow warriors would see him the moment they turned at the landing. Spear in hand, he stalked over to the doors. He hesitated, but blimey, whatever was in there couldn’t be as bad as the room he’d just left.

  Bracing himself, he pulled the door open, stepped inside, and beheld the strangest room he’d ever seen.

  If you could call it a room.

  It looked like a huge limestone cavern, but the rounded rock walls were riddled with recessed niches—like the catacombs Aunt Ramona had taken them to see on their Grand Tour.

  Fortunately, it was very dim in the vast chamber, so none of the busy white-coated scientists here and there noticed him.

  Jake quickly stepped sideways in
to the shadows and glanced around. Plenty of places to hide in here. He sneaked along the wall until he came to a trio of upright barrels. Crouching down behind them, Jake scanned the bizarre chamber, flabbergasted.

  His gaze was drawn back to the long, low niches carved into the cave walls. He could not believe what he was seeing.

  Lengthwise within every alcove sat a glass coffin, and, inside each, a Lightrider lay motionless.

  It was just like Archie’s dream.

  The reality of it hit harder than Jake had expected. For a long moment, all he could do was stare.

  It’s true. It’s all true.

  There were rows and rows of captives, even up high, for the cavern was as big as the ballroom back at Merlin Hall. There must’ve been a hundred of them. Jake was too overwhelmed with emotion to count.

  He didn’t know whether to rage or to weep. He’d heard about this twice now, first from his clairvoyant cousin and then from Tex.

  But seeing it with his own two eyes, and knowing his parents were probably among the victims, brought tears briefly to his eyes. Mother… Father. What have they done to you?

  He clenched his jaw with growing fury, blinked away the dampness clouding his vision, and forced himself past the grief. He had to figure out what to do.

  Just like Archie had described, thin rubber tubes connected each unconscious captive to the towering, cylindrical machine in the center of the chamber.

  Lub-dub, lub-dub…

  That cursed contraption was the source of the deep, muffled booming. Must be Zolond’s work. Some unholy blend of science and magic.

  About twenty feet tall and ten feet wide, the heartbeat machine had so many thin rubber tubes flowing out in all directions from the top part that it resembled snake-haired Medusa.

  Lower down, inside the thick glass container, Jake could see some sort of metal arm pumping and sloshing many gallons of a bright green potion.

  What is that stuff?

  On second thought, maybe he didn’t want to know. Whatever it was, Jake saw that the liquid was running through the tubes to each of the glass coffins. Maybe it was bringing the unconscious victims the nutrition and water everyone needed to stay alive.