The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  Uneasily, Jake looked down into the square to see how the other battles were proceeding. Fionnula had summoned two isolated hurricanes into being around Derek and Aunt Ramona.

  Hurricane winds, driving rains, and wild tornadoes whirled around each of them. As either one tried to walk forward or fight their way out of the storm, their own personal tornadoes moved with them, buffeting them with hail and rain.

  Jake gasped when he saw that Aunt Ramona’s wand had blown out of her hand. Derek also was vulnerable, barely able to take a step forward despite all of his Guardian strength. His jacket and his dark hair whipped wildly in the winds assaulting him.

  Fionnula sang and laughed, pleased with herself.

  Over to the left of the square, though, things weren’t going so well for General Raige.

  Jake’s jaw dropped when he saw that his friends had rushed the deadly warrior en masse, tackled Raige to the ground, and proceeded to beat the tar out of him.

  A grin broke across Jake’s face as he stared, incredulous.

  Raige’s fantastical blunderbuss lay a few yards away from him on the ground with its barrel all bent at right angles. Jake could only figure that Nixie must’ve whomped it with some sort of spell. The thing was mangled.

  Having charged the general, slammed him flat on his back, and disarmed him, the kids were attacking him with great gusto—even dainty Isabelle.

  The bobbies had rushed in to help, but it didn’t look to Jake like his friends needed their assistance. With the five of them working together, they had managed to take away Raige’s knives and even strip him of his ammunition belt. And now they were giving the oversized bully what could only be described as a proper thrashing.

  It was glorious to see. Jake laughed quietly. He had never been prouder.

  Brian held Raige in a wrestling chokehold. Isabelle had torn one of the bobbies’ truncheons out of his grasp and was beating Raige about the shoulders, while Dani kept punching him in the stomach like a little rookery savage; Archie went for the eyes. Nixie was on her feet, kicking Raige repeatedly in the thigh.

  The general roared, but if he shoved off one, the others fought harder.

  Meanwhile, Miss Helena was doing her best to end Fionnula’s attack on Derek and Aunt Ramona.

  The snarling black leopard-governess crept up from the side, then sprang at the sea-witch, chomping down on her right forearm.

  Fionnula yelped but managed to keep singing, though she sounded in serious pain. Somehow she kept the two hurricanes going and quickly shifted her wand into her left hand, aiming it at Helena.

  The leopardess had to release her grip and dart from side to side as she ran to avoid being turned into heaven-knew-what.

  Jake watched Fionnula cast a quick healing spell on her chewed-up arm, then a furious lion’s roar sounded in the distance.

  He looked across the square to find Red flying slowly and with great effort toward the river; the manticore’s horrid scorpion tail was clamped fast in the Gryphon’s beak.

  Jake’s eyes widened. Thanatos dangled upside down, unable to do anything but slash at the air with his paws.

  Then Red dropped him.

  “Whoa,” Jake whispered. From his vantage point on the ramparts, he saw the huge splash as the manticore plummeted into the cold gray Thames. “Yes.” Good boy, Red!

  The Gryphon screeched in ferocious victory, rising a few feet higher now that he was free of his burden.

  Jake waved his arms eagerly, trying to get his pet’s attention without Wyvern seeing him.

  But for all his eagle vision, good old Claw the Courageous was still so full of righteous fury at his enemy that he missed Jake’s signal. The Gryphon swooped off down the river.

  Aw, no! Jake watched in alarm. Where’s he going?

  Red! he yelled mentally. Come back! Don’t leave me stranded here!

  But the Gryphon glided off over the Thames, following the manticore down the current. Apparently, he wanted to confirm that the beast had drowned and would not climb out of the river downstream to start terrorizing London again.

  Jake scowled. Well, be quick about it. He glanced over his shoulder at the tower door. There was no sign of the crewmen. He wondered why they had not come after him.

  Unless…

  An alarming thought struck.

  Maybe the Fortress was preparing to jump and the crewmen had to see to their duties. It made sense that they’d be in charge of that process, whatever was involved. Jake cursed silently, then eyed his distant Gryphon.

  You better get back here soon, you big birdbrain.

  All the while, Zolond and Wyvern were exchanging lightning-bolt wand blasts of nigh-cosmic intensity.

  The Dark Master was still very much alive, but beneath the brim of his black bowler hat, his wrinkled face was stamped with icy wrath.

  Thankfully, he was no longer part skeleton. Jake could tell Zolond had reclaimed his magical ring from Wyvern, too, because a lime-green glow radiated around the Dark Master’s left hand.

  As Jake looked on, Zolond started an ominous incantation that made Wyvern step back.

  The sorcerer-king angled his walking-stick wand toward the earl as he spoke words in some arcane language; then the ring on his finger sprayed forth a cloud of green gas.

  The cloud floated forward at once, turning dark and soupy as it descended toward the stretch of grass between the two warlocks. When it hit the ground, it turned into a large puddle of gooey black liquid resembling tar.

  The inky black goo slithered across the grass toward Wyvern. He took another step backward, as though unsure what this was.

  When the black puddle neared him, it stopped.

  Wyvern eyed Zolond with suspicion, gripping his wand.

  Suddenly, the cloaked figure of a Grim Reaper exploded up out of the substance. It was either made of the black goo or covered in it—Jake couldn’t tell. Immediately, the reaper swung its famous sickle of death at the Nephilim.

  Fionnula’s song broke off. “Be careful, Nathan! Those things don’t stop until they kill the person they’ve been sent for!”

  Wyvern glanced uneasily at her, then ducked the reaper’s blade as it swung by, inches from his chest.

  Jake watched and couldn’t help cheering inside for the gooey black figure.

  Then a flash of action from another section of the field caught his eye. Nixie had noticed that Aunt Ramona’s wand had blown away, and left off kicking General Raige to fetch it for her.

  Dangerous. Archie looked over in alarm.

  As that was happening, Red left the river and began circling back toward the square, apparently satisfied that Thanatos was good and dead.

  Jake retreated from the edge of the battlements so Wyvern wouldn’t see him and stood tall in the middle of the ramparts walkway, waving his arms to get his pet’s attention.

  He persisted anxiously until Red cawed to acknowledge he’d spotted Jake. He began flying faster toward the Fortress, but Jake did not want the Gryphon’s arrival to alert Wyvern that he was there. So he signaled Red with urgent gestures to fly around and approach the castle from the back.

  To Jake’s relief, Red understood, banking away and flying lower to avoid notice.

  Good boy. Knowing it would take the Gryphon a few moments to arrive, Jake sneaked back to the battlements to continue watching the proceedings.

  While Wyvern dodged deadly whacks from the reaper that Zolond appeared focused on controlling, Nixie grabbed Aunt Ramona’s wand from where it had blown onto the grass. The Elder witch had been unable to retrieve it herself, fighting the whirlwind around her.

  Bravely, Nixie ran toward her mentor.

  “Girl! You there! What do you think you’re doing?” Fionnula demanded, pausing her song, though she kept the storms whirling with her wand.

  Nixie ignored her. “Lady Bradford—here!” Holding on to the wand with both hands, the brave little mage slowly poked it in through the side of the tornado.

  Aunt Ramona seized it; Fionnula cr
ied out with anger.

  “You meddlesome little brat!”

  Nixie raised her own wand but backed away as the sea-witch homed in on her.

  There was too much going on at once! Jake didn’t know where to look. Fionnula zinged magic at Nixie; Nixie leaped clear.

  With her wand back in her grasp, Aunt Ramona started overcoming the tornado that imprisoned her. Meanwhile, the reaper stalked forward, determined to slice Wyvern in half. Jake glanced briefly over his shoulder and saw Red beginning his descent. The Gryphon was gliding toward the back of the castle to come and get him.

  Jake looked forward again, not wanting to miss a thing. Big Ben started tolling the hour of four, its booming voice filling the square from atop the nearby Clock Tower.

  At that moment, Raige suddenly threw the kids off him with a roar. Jake’s friends toppled aside; Raige dove for his ammunition belt and unclipped a red metallic ball.

  “Shield!” he bellowed across the square at Wyvern and Fionnula, then yanked the pin out with his teeth. Instantly, a red transparent dome of energy covered Raige as he hurled the mysterious object toward the middle of Parliament Square.

  It had rings around it like the planet Saturn. They whirled ’round and ’round as it rolled.

  Wait. Jake narrowed his eyes. Is that some sort of…grenade?

  Wyvern saw the weapon and instantly conjured a solid metal capsule around himself. Fionnula encircled herself behind a thick wall of water.

  Then came a boom and a flash as Raige’s weapon exploded.

  But this was no ordinary bomb.

  A great ring of magic rushed out in all directions. Everyone in its swiftly widening radius suddenly went motionless, as though Time itself stopped.

  A time bomb?

  The Grim Reaper froze mid-swing.

  Derek and Aunt Ramona looked like mannequins. Even the tornadoes around them quit whirling.

  Jake’s friends were stuck in their various poses, starting to get up after Raige had scattered them like bowling pins.

  Then the wave of magic swept over Jake, and he found he couldn’t move.

  A few yards behind him, Red was frozen in midair.

  Time slowed to a trickle.

  Big Ben stopped mid-bong.

  Jake felt even the mere blink of his eyes decelerate, as though each…blink…took…

  Forever.

  Then he saw that Zolond was frozen, too.

  Oh no…

  The only ones unaffected were Wyvern, the sea-witch, and Raige.

  As for the rest of them, they were fully conscious—able to see, hear, and think—but they could not move.

  As soon as the blast wave passed, Wyvern’s metal capsule disappeared, then he simply ducked beneath the Grim Reaper’s motionless sickle and stepped around the frozen phantom.

  Raige’s red dome dissolved. He climbed to his feet, and Fionnula came out from behind her wall of water.

  Jake watched in dread, unable to move, as Wyvern sauntered toward Zolond, who was all but paralyzed.

  “Thanks for your help, Raige,” the Nephilim said in a casual tone. “I won’t forget this.”

  The general grunted. “Just get it over with. This is taking too long. We don’t need Deathhand showing up.”

  Deathhand? Jake could only hear what they were saying because the rest of the square had gone absolutely silent.

  Wyvern strolled right up to the Dark Master, who could only stare balefully at him.

  He looked at him for a long moment, hands on hips. “Didn’t expect to see me again, did you? Here’s what I say to your ice grendels.” Wyvern reached for the old man’s hand and pried the ring off his finger. “I’ll take that.” Then he put it on his own.

  Extending his freakish Nephilim hand, he looked at it admiringly. “It suits me better than you.” He lifted it and showed the ring to Zolond, wiggling his fingers with a mocking smile.

  “Hurry up, Wyvern! The effect only lasts three minutes,” Raige said. His battlefield commander’s voice carried across the square.

  Wyvern snorted. “You must forgive me if I can’t help but savor the moment. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  Jake strained uselessly to move, an icy feeling in his gut. Please, don’t…

  He was powerless to stop what he knew was about to happen.

  Wyvern bent down to Zolond’s eye level and gave him a terrifying smile. “First, I’m going to kill you; then I’m going to kill your grandson.” He straightened up again. “Goodbye, Zolond. Give my regards to Shemrazul.”

  Wyvern clenched his hand into a fist and whispered a dark spell into the ring he had taken from the Dark Master. The stone began to glow with an angry reddish hue.

  Jake watched, horrified, as Wyvern aimed the ring at Zolond. He strained uselessly against the paralysis that had imprisoned him and everyone there. No, please, no…

  Aunt Ramona!

  A smoky black arrow flew out of the sorcerer’s ring with a sound like the concentrated scream of a thousand banshees.

  The arrow struck Zolond in the heart at point-blank range, dissolving into his chest as it entered.

  The walking stick fell out of Zolond’s hand. When it hit the ground, it changed into a tall rod with a horned shape on top, like the sleek, pointy ears of jackal-headed Anubis, Egyptian god of the dead.

  Wyvern reached down and picked it up, admiring it with a smile of proud fascination. “The scepter of the sorcerer-king…”

  “And don’t forget this, my lord,” Fionnula said. She had joined him and now presented Wyvern with Zolond’s bowler hat. “Or should I say, Your Majesty?”

  Wyvern laughed while Jake strained in helpless rage. Then Wyvern tapped the bowler with the scepter he had claimed. “Reveal!”

  At once, the plain round hat transformed into a sinister black crown, polished to a midnight gloss, and ornately sculpted with tall, twisting spires. Jake recognized it from the vision Duradel had projected into his mind.

  “Magnificent,” Wyvern said, touching it reverently. But he did not take it. “This must be entrusted to Duradel until the night of my coronation.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Fionnula gave him a formal curtsy, then carried the crown solemnly into the Fortress.

  Wyvern scanned the square, openly gloating, then strode after her with Raige covering his exit.

  Jake could barely see the evil trio anymore for the tears in his eyes. His gaze swung to Aunt Ramona.

  He did not know how long she had or if there was any way to fix this. As for Zolond, Jake could not tell if the Dark Master was already dead on his feet or still breathing.

  Then Wyvern paused on the drawbridge and turned to face the crowd.

  Standing right beneath Jake, he lifted his hand as his deep voice rang out in a gleeful shout: “Farewell for now, London! Expect to hear from me again soon!”

  Then he stalked into the Black Fortress and disappeared.

  As soon as Raige entered the castle, the drawbridge slammed shut.

  At once, a deafening sound erupted behind Jake, nearly scaring the daylights out of him. Machinery creaked and rumbled to life from somewhere down in the courtyard at the center of the castle. That same awful pulsation he’d heard after the rupture filled the air again—a deep, vibrating rhythm that meant the Black Fortress was about to jump.

  Jake cried out in terror as movement returned. He quickly spun around to find a huge, bluish-white ball of electrical energy dancing atop a whirling metal contraption that looked like something an evil Archie would’ve invented.

  Red stumbled to a landing near Jake just as the blinding orb shot lightning out to the castle’s four pointy spires. Jake swung onto Red’s back and prayed they’d be fast enough. The Gryphon leaped off the ramparts; Jake ducked low over Red’s neck to keep his head beneath the lightning arcs crackling above him.

  The warlocks’ castle had already started flashing.

  In the few short seconds it took Jake and Red to reach the ground, the Black Fortress was gone.r />
  CHAPTER 37

  The Strongest Magic

  The Gryphon pounced to earth. Jake swung off his back and started barreling toward Zolond and Aunt Ramona.

  The moment she could move again, the Elder witch had whooshed over to her beloved Geoffrey’s side in a cloud of white sparkles.

  Zolond was on the ground, and she knelt beside him, shouting, “No!”

  Exhausted as he thought he was, Jake’s legs pumped with wild speed, carrying him faster toward the Elder witch than he had run from the dragon.

  And yet he was too late.

  He’d never seen such panic on his aunt’s face, and it terrified him as he realized what it meant. Death was on its way.

  No. Not you.

  Jake felt his throat constrict with emotion. He ran faster, cursing himself for not being strong enough, smart enough, powerful enough, to stop this.

  But now Jake’s other gift came into play.

  He could already see Aunt Ramona’s spirit flickering in and out of her body as he approached—much like that sinister castle had done a moment ago, preparing to leave its current location.

  Physically, the dowager baroness was on her knees, clutching the old man by the shoulders, trying to wake him, her voice sounding weaker by the second as she repeated his name. “Geoffrey!”

  Zolond didn’t stir.

  There was no blood on the Dark Master that Jake could see as he skidded to a halt before them, just a strange burn mark on the front of his black coat.

  “What can I do? Red!” Jake shouted. “A feather! Here—Aunt Ramona—your wand!”

  Red bounded over to his side while Jake scrambled to pick up her wand from where she’d dropped it nearby. His hands were shaking and he tripped over his own feet in his haste to bring it to her.

  But Aunt Ramona didn’t take it.

  She just looked at him with three centuries of weariness in her eyes.

  The color was ebbing from her face. Her skin looked papery thin, and all of a sudden, a woman he knew as a tower of strength seemed impossibly frail.

  But there was no wound on her! He refused to believe she wouldn’t be all right. He shoved the wand at her again.