The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

The Drow! Jake realized, amazed.

  Tazaroc bellowed at the injury just as Zumeth neatly shot a second arrow into the dragon’s flank, then a third into its shoulder. Clearly the dark elves shared expert archery skills with their forest-dwelling cousins.

  Jake ducked into the nearest side hallway but, still determined to reach the tower, did not run away. Instead, he watched from around the corner as Tazaroc easily wriggled his body around in the large hallway to face the other direction, then growled with utter menace and went after the archer.

  Eyeing the back half of the dragon and the distance to the tower door—maybe fifty feet—Jake considered making a run for it while the monster was distracted. But he quickly discarded the notion.

  He was pretty good at sneaking, but not that good. Not good enough to tiptoe past a dragon while it dealt with an enemy.

  And lucky he hadn’t tried it, for the battle didn’t last long.

  Tazaroc, with shocking speed and surprising agility—nimbly dodging arrows on the way—bounded up to the corner of the outer ring where Zumeth was hiding. The two clashed, but then the dragon forcefully swatted the Drow with its front leg. Zumeth went flying.

  Judging by the two thuds Jake heard, the blow sent the warrior crashing against the granite wall and then down to the floor. Before the dark elf could pick himself up, the dragon roasted him.

  No! Jake thought, stricken.

  For a second, he just stared at the back of the dragon in shock. He didn’t want anyone sacrificing themselves for him, not even a Drow! He didn’t even know which one “Zumeth” was—Triangle Chin or Crescent Moon.

  Angry now, Jake was done hiding.

  He stepped boldly out of the side corridor and watched as Tazaroc yanked the Drow arrows out with his teeth, spat them onto the floor, and then curled his big, slithery body around, ready to deal with him.

  “You didn’t have to kill him,” Jake said in a hard tone. “We both know it’s me you want.”

  Tazaroc hissed. The lizard’s golden eyes gleamed in the dim, bluish light of the hallway with cruel anticipation.

  Jake stood uncertainly in the middle of the corridor, spear in hand, not quite sure what he intended. But he couldn’t run anymore. He wanted out.

  The dragon looked different now that they stood on equal footing. It looked gigantic and impossible to beat.

  It towered over him, its horned head as high as the ceiling of his bedroom back home at Griffon Castle. The apex of its muscular, rust-colored legs was as high as Jake’s shoulders, and from this angle, each of its claws, as long as his forearm, reminded Jake of meat hooks.

  When it snarled at him again, he noticed the blood on its fangs. He grimaced. “Haven’t you had your fill yet, ye glutton?”

  “Rrrrrrr,” said Tazaroc, twitching its tail.

  “Easy,” Jake said as the growling dragon bristled before him.

  Now that its fire collar was gone, Jake could see how the metal cuff had chafed the skin all around its neck. There were small, round wounds, as though the collar had been riveted into the beast’s flesh.

  He almost felt sorry for the creature, but the feeling wasn’t mutual. Tazaroc’s snakelike eyes were wicked, assessing him. The dragon fully intended to savor killing him.

  Then it snarled, its upper lip curling over its gums like a dog baring its teeth.

  Jake took a step backward. “Can we talk about this?” he mumbled, weighing his chances of running past the dragon.

  Not very good.

  “I’m, ah, the chosen one, remember?”

  He tried a quick feint to the left, but Tazaroc stepped right to block his path with ease. Far down the hallway, its tail flicked, showing the sort of pleasure a cat took in toying with a mouse it knew it had cornered.

  Jake dodged to the right; the dragon mirrored his motions. He could’ve sworn the thing was laughing at him.

  “Now look here! I am the Black Prince!” It was worth a shot, anyway.

  Tazaroc was not impressed. The rumble in its throat grew louder as it tired of the game.

  Suddenly, it tilted its head, leaned down, and bellowed at top volume in his face.

  Jake’s hair blew back, but he stared in astonishment as decorative flaps of skin that had been held down by the fire collar fanned out around the dragon’s neck. They fluttered menacingly as Tazaroc roared.

  Well, that’s new. Jake was pretty sure this showy, warlike display meant the beast had had its sport and was ready to eat him now.

  Jake took a step back, unnerved by the newfound depths of the dragon’s ferocity. Blimey. He thought this thing was mean before, but this was a whole new level of vicious.

  Then Jake blanched as the dragon’s chest began to glow.

  Just in time, he flung up his left hand and let out a cry as Tazaroc blasted him with fire. Jake had never attempted to use his telekinesis to hold back flames before and didn’t even know if it would work.

  It did. But he could feel the barreling inferno warm his palm and fingers, growing hotter and hotter.

  The fire blast seemed to go on and on. How is this possible?

  Finally, the dragon stopped to take a breath. Jake shook his hand, trying to cool it. He noticed the ground was smoking and charred all around him. He glanced at his palm and saw the flesh was reddened. But he was alive.

  Tazaroc glowered, looking angry and confused that the fire blast had failed to fry him.

  Then the battle was on.

  Jake used his telekinesis to ram the dragon’s head hard against the ceiling. Bits of masonry rained down, pelting the floor below. A cloud of brick dust filled the air.

  Tazaroc howled.

  Jake stabbed it in the foreleg with his spear, but the creature barely seemed to feel it. Then the dragon fought back, attacking him again like in the stairwell. It snapped and lashed with stunning speed. Jake held it off, though it towered over him. It even tried to stomp him, rearing up on its hind legs and then pouncing down at him.

  Jake managed to dance out from underneath its feet, but the dragon’s scaly head darted to and fro on its long neck as it tried to bite him. He walloped it in the face with his telekinesis then, as the creature charged again, nearly poked it in the eye with his spear, ducking and diving out of the way.

  All the while, Tazaroc slapped his tail back and forth from one side of the hallway to the other. Apparently, this was something the dragon did to show its displeasure.

  It felt like an earthquake hit the corridor. Jake’s eyes stung from all the debris in the air.

  This thing isn’t going to be happy until it eats me.

  Jake gulped when he saw the dragon’s chest begin to glow bright orange. Here we go again. Then it drew itself up tall and let loose another fire blast.

  “Aaargh!” Jake shielded himself again with his telekinesis, sweating in the heat.

  I guess it likes its food cooked, he thought with gallows humor as he waited.

  Dying would be bad enough; he at least wanted there to be something left for his friends to bury.

  When its fire failed to kill him for the second time, Tazaroc snapped at Jake in disgust.

  Jake thrust the spear upward hard, aiming for the roof of the mouth in hopes of piercing through to the beast’s brain.

  Tazaroc thwarted him unexpectedly, grabbing the spear between its teeth.

  Unfortunately, as Tazaroc whipped his head back, Jake released his grip on his weapon a few seconds too late. He went flying over the dragon’s wing, hit the ground hard with a solid oomph, and tumbled down the hallway, rolling to a halt a few feet away from the charred Drow.

  Ugh!

  Jake felt surging pain all over. The back of his head had hit the ground hard when he landed, and he touched it, dazed. His hand came back bloody.

  He scowled, then looked up just in time to see Tazaroc crunching down on the spear, splintering it, rendering it useless. The dragon dropped the pieces to the ground, then looked at him as if to say, Now I’ve got you.

  Tazaroc took a
massive inhale. Jake saw the dragon’s chest shining with an angry orange light.

  He realized he was about to die.

  Before setting him ablaze, Tazaroc roared once again in Jake’s face, spraying dragon spit instead of fire this time, its orange ruff flittering with triumph.

  Overwhelmed by the creature’s ferocity, Jake was out of fight.

  He tried once, feebly, to get up, but the dragon smacked him back down and held him pinned in place with an icy stare.

  Jake was exhausted, in pain, probably concussed, and, at that moment, everything in him wanted to quit. He rolled onto his back, looked up into the beast’s terrifying snake eyes, and felt utter despair.

  “Just get it over with,” he mumbled.

  But then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed the dead Drow, maybe six feet away, and the dagger sheathed at his side.

  In the last instant before Tazaroc engulfed him in fire, Jake stretched out his right hand and used his telekinesis to draw the blade to himself. The fine elvish weapon slid out of its scabbard and whisked across the floor straight into his grasp. It was warm to the touch, but not overly so.

  Jake wrapped his fingers around the hilt, drawing strength from its balanced weight and barbarous feel.

  Then, raising his left arm, he warded off the fire blast that was meant to be Tazaroc’s finishing blow. The tempest of white-hot flame bent all around him. The circle of ground surrounding his body started to glow red with the intensity of the dragon’s wrath.

  Over and over, the fire blasts kept coming.

  Jake struggled up onto one knee, shielding himself from the fiery onslaught all the while.

  The dragon raged at Jake’s refusal to die, working harder to unleash an inferno upon him.

  Heart pounding, chest heaving, sweating profusely in the heat, blood trickling down the back of his neck from the blow to his head, Jake tightened his grip around the short handle of his dagger and waited.

  Would it never end? A pained whimper might’ve escaped him as he used all of his remaining strength to outlast the beast.

  With the next, furious blast, the dragon thrashed its head from side to side, as though to make sure he’d be evenly toasted.

  Jake counted the seconds…

  Now!

  When the dragon ran out of breath, Jake surged up onto his feet, leaped into the air, thrusting his whole body forward, and, in one quick motion, hurled the Drow blade straight at the dragon’s fiery heart. Still soaring toward the beast, he used his telekinesis to drive the dagger in with incredible force.

  The blade plunged deep, fully disappearing in the dragon’s chest, handle and all, while Jake landed squarely in a crouch.

  Tazaroc reared back and screamed.

  Shaking from exertion, Jake retreated a few yards down the corridor for fear of being stepped on as the dragon began clomping around in its death throes, screeching with rage.

  Its razor-sharp claws gashed the walls, giving off sparks. The wild flapping of its wings broke several sconces, plunging the hallway into even blacker darkness. The monster unleashed one last fireball that rolled along the ceiling.

  Jake ducked as it blazed by overhead.

  Although he was trembling from head to toe, bloodied and still dizzy from the blow to the head, there was no time to recover. Distant shouts rose from behind him. He had to get out of here.

  Jake turned and saw some of the gray-clad crewmen cautiously entering the far end of the corridor. They only held back because Tazaroc was still on his feet, thrashing about. He clenched his jaw. Apparently they were evil, not stupid.

  For his part, Jake was completely spent. Blood oozed from his nose. He wiped it away on his sleeve. At this point, he could not have lifted a feather with his telekinesis. He just wanted to go home and collapse into bed.

  Unfortunately, if he did not get out of here right now, he was going to be captured, and this all would be for naught.

  Go. Glaring at the still-distant crewmen, he turned to face Tazaroc.

  The dragon was still bellowing with fury and writhing around violently in the hallway, blocking his path to the tower door.

  Jake had no choice but to chance it. He had to get past the dying beast before he was captured. For a moment, he watched the creature anxiously, but trying to predict its fitful movements was impossible. Here goes nothing.

  Jake launched into a full-out sprint.

  As he charged toward the dying monster with all he had left, disaster nearly struck. Bad timing!

  The towering beast started falling toward him.

  Jake reacted automatically, dropping backward and sliding under the angle of the dragon’s wing. He felt the breeze from the leathery sail whoosh past his face as he glided by under it.

  The second he was clear, he sprang to his feet on the other side of the beast, jumped over its whipping tail, and raced to the tower, darting through the doorway.

  Behind him, Tazaroc let out a last rage-filled roar and crashed to the ground, dead.

  CHAPTER 36

  The Reaper

  Jake ran up the spiral stairs that coiled up and up the tight, narrow tower. He could not wait to escape this cursed castle.

  He held on to the railing as he ascended, dizzy from the aftermath of his ordeal, not to mention the nasty blow to the head. His whole body felt full of aches and pains. He’d been through a lot in his thirteen years, but blimey, fighting a dragon might well leave him with considerable mental trauma, he thought wryly. He could still smell the thing’s smoky breath.

  Unfortunately, his ordeal wasn’t over yet. He would not feel safe until he was back down on the ground—and there was still the matter of what might’ve happened in his absence. Were Zolond and Aunt Ramona still alive? Were his friends safe? Or had Wyvern destroyed London? Was Jake already too late?

  The questions made him woozy, and a wave of exhaustion caught up to him. Halfway up the spiral stairs, Jake paused to rest his burning leg muscles and brace himself as best he could for whatever awaited him outside.

  It was then, as he stood catching his breath, that he heard wild singing outside. Frustration filled him.

  Fionnula.

  Oh, what is she up to now? Gathering his strength, Jake forced himself onward, wiping the sweat from his brow and the trickle of blood from his nostrils. He hoped the nosebleed was only due to overusing his gift, and not an aftereffect of smashing his head against the floor.

  Still, all things considered, he’d take it. He didn’t even want to think about what Tazaroc could’ve done to him. Jake pushed belated terror out of his mind with a shudder and kept on climbing the stairs.

  ’Round and ’round the dark tower went. The spiral staircase was making him so dizzy that he feared if he let go of the banister, he could tumble right back down into the clutches of Wyvern’s henchmen.

  They had not yet started after him up the tower. Perhaps they were afraid he’d fling them down the stairs with his telekinesis.

  As if he could right now. No, he was out of steam. Good thing they didn’t know that.

  Jake just hoped Red could pick him up quickly, before the crewmen worked up their nerve to try to capture him now that the dragon had failed.

  In any case, Fionnula’s singing grew louder as Jake reached the top of the tower. He braced himself before bursting out through the door, knowing he might have to cover his ears to protect himself from her magic.

  When he stepped out onto the rampart wall around the top of the Black Fortress, Jake discovered the sea-witch had summoned a gale that was ripping any remaining dead leaves off the trees around Parliament Square.

  To Jake, the wind felt good on his face. It helped revive him after the head smash, the chloroform, the demon…

  He did not even want to think about the Lightrider cavern. It was too painful knowing he had failed to get his parents out of there or do anything useful for all the other captives.

  There was nothing he could do now but swallow his anger and focus on the situation at han
d. Glancing around from high atop the ramparts, Jake saw he had emerged from the back tower on the side closest to where he’d left his friends.

  A wave of missing them washed through him after all he’d just gone through. They were always so kind to him. Jake sighed. He would be with them soon.

  He decided not to try to get the gang’s attention, for fear they might react in a way that revealed his presence to Wyvern. Jake could not resist sneaking over to the crenelated battlements, however, and peeking down to make sure they were all right.

  Oh, no. Sir Robert Peel stood all alone. To Jake’s alarm, his friends were no longer hiding behind the statue.

  A sick feeling twisted in his stomach. He hoped with all his heart that they had left, gone back to Buckingham Palace. Maybe Leopard-Helena had forced them to retreat to safety.

  Somehow, though, he doubted it.

  Crouch-running to the front of the castle, Jake spotted Red still engaged in a vicious battle with Thanatos atop the roof of Westminster Palace. Blimey. Lion roars and eagle screeches punctuated Fionnula’s singing. (Jake had not covered his ears, but did not feel affected.) He could see the creatures’ duel, since he, too, was up high.

  Jake knew he had to get Red’s attention to come and pick him up, but the Gryphon was fully engaged in his duel against the manticore. He dared not break Red’s concentration by trying to signal him yet.

  What he saw of their fight was disconcerting. Mighty as he was, the Gryphon could not seem to defeat Wyvern’s pet monster. Indeed, as Jake looked on, Thanatos leaped off an angled part of the roof onto Red’s back and started biting the scruff of his neck.

  Jake stared; Red thrashed, but it seemed like his magical healing feathers gave him some sort of protection. The Gryphon flapped a few feet up from the roof, and Thanatos fell off him—but then suddenly captured one of Red’s wingtips in his jaws. The manticore pulled the Gryphon back down onto the roof, as though insisting that he stay there and fight him. Red seemed happy to comply, roaring in his enemy’s face.

  Both lion-bodied beasts continued rearing up and slashing at each other with their front paws, trying to gouge each other—Red with his sharp, hooked beak, Thanatos with his hideous scorpion tail.