The Dragon Lord

by E. G. Foley

  “What about Aunt Ramona?” Isabelle asked, teary-eyed.

  “She’s still here. I’m looking at her right now. Why, she looks…different. Young! She’s smiling. She looks beautiful.”

  And she did. Even as her ancient body struggled for its final breaths, her spirit shone brighter. She seemed to be getting younger by the moment.

  “You do look really pretty, ma’am.”

  “Thank you,” Aunt Ramona whispered, staring in awe at the back of her hand as the wrinkles smoothed out.

  “No,” Jake said, “I’m the one who has to thank you.”

  When she looked at him in surprise, Jake could no longer hold back his tears. He could not bear to lose her too—the first, maybe second adult he’d ever trusted in his life, after Derek.

  Yet he knew she had to go. She deserved to. It would be good up there. And, heaven knew, she’d waited long enough.

  He just needed to tell her how much he cared. “I never would’ve made it without you,” he forced out, tears spilling down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them despite his embarrassment that his friends saw. “You were always there for me. For all of us. Rock-solid. I mean it. I love you, Aunt Ramona.” Jake broke down. “I never even got to hug you.”

  Through their sobs, his friends also told her they loved her, and Aunt Ramona turned to Celestus in distress.

  “Please. Give me one more moment with them. I was always so stern.” She sounded like she could cry.

  “Very well.”

  The angel took her hand, and then the golden-white light from heaven shone down from behind the pair. Jake’s friends gasped and paused in their crying.

  Jake looked over and realized that now, everyone could see them.

  “My dearest children.” Aunt Ramona’s ever-younger face glowed all the brighter as she gazed at them. “I love you all so much. I know I was strict and frequently unapproachable, but the lot of you mean the world to me.” She brushed away a tear. Celestus gave her a reassuring look. “All of you have given me such joy in my long journey—despite occasionally driving me mad,” she admitted with a sniffle and a short laugh.

  They smiled and sobbed, each staring at her with the light rays from beyond illuminating their faces.

  “I will miss you all so much. My pure-hearted Isabelle. Noble Archie. Steadfast Daniela. Nixie, my fierce little lioness. And brave, unselfish Jake.”

  “Unselfish?” Jake whispered.

  “I’ll be watching over all of you, I promise. Just know that I love you.”

  The crying kids answered in kind and told her they would miss her so much.

  “It’s time,” Celestus said softly.

  “Right,” she whispered, gathering herself with a businesslike nod. “Righty-ho, then. I’m off on a grand journey! Derek, Helena, dear, take care of them, and as for yourselves, do aught in your power to live happily ever after together, hm?”

  “We will, ma’am,” Derek said, while the leopardess sat down sadly by the dowager’s motionless body.

  “Red, old friend, I know you’ll be looking after these rascals, too.”

  Red let out a mournful “becaw” and gave the baroness a formal bow.

  “Well, then!” Spirit-Aunt Ramona wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders back to her usual firm posture. “It’s bon voyage, my darlings. I can hardly wait to see the blessed isles!”

  Jake shut his eyes to squeeze away the tears. When he opened them again, her spirit was radiant, almost sparkling. The peace of the realm she was headed to had smoothed all the wrinkles from her face and the sorrow from her eyes.

  To his wonder, the years had fallen away from the Elder witch until she stood before them, tall and proud, a woman in her prime. Her eyes were blue, her long, wavy hair a rich walnut brown.

  “You’re a brunette!” Dani blurted out.

  “Am I?” Ramona pulled one of her dark tresses forward, saw her long, youthful hair, and laughed. “Ha! So I am again! Goodness me, I am going to like being dead. What fun! Strange, though. I feel more alive than ever. Now, listen, you all. Don’t you worry about me. I shall be in fine company—and so will you all, as long as you stick together.”

  “Will you come back and visit me sometime—as a ghost?” Jake asked in a leaden voice, but his question was halfhearted. He already knew the answer.

  “She won’t be able to,” Celestus chided. “Once she crosses over, you will have to wait until it’s your time to join her.”

  “Ah, don’t cry, dear boy,” Aunt Ramona said, wincing, as a small sob escaped Jake. It had been worth a shot to ask.

  Aunt Ramona held them in a loving gaze. “I’m so proud of you all. Such extraordinary children. Remember: stay brave. Stay true. And above all, stay together.” She glanced sorrowfully toward the spot where Zolond had been standing.

  Then Celestus laid his hand on her shoulder. His light touch visibly comforted her. “We must go.”

  The new, young Aunt Ramona gave the shining blond angel a grateful nod, then looked at them for the last time. “Love is the strongest magic, my dears. It lasts forever. Goodbye.” She blew them all a kiss, then her frail, ancient body, still lying on the ground, rasped out a long, last, painful exhalation.

  “No,” Nixie moaned. Dropping her wand, she hung her head and cried.

  Archie fell to his knees and stared at Aunt Ramona’s body in stupefied silence. Dani and Isabelle clung to each other and wept.

  Jake had never felt such terrible pain in his whole life.

  The now vibrant and glowing Ramona Bradford turned away, hand-in-hand with the angel. Celestus led her off into the light, then it, too, disappeared. Jake could not have seen more, anyway, for the tears blinding him.

  The next thing he knew, Derek was standing there, pulling him into a fatherly hug. “It’s all right, lad,” he said gruffly. “You still got me.”

  Red let out a mournful caw.

  All the kids were crying. Derek gathered the others to him as well, and hugged them all together, as far as his strong arms could reach. The leopard-governess meowed sadly and pressed in, too, comforting them as best she could.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he whispered, but Jake didn’t see how.

  Overwhelmed, he stepped back from Derek’s brawny embrace with a resolute sniffle after a moment. Brushing the tears roughly off his face, he noticed in surprise that they were the only people left in Parliament Square.

  Everyone else must’ve been scared away. No wonder.

  Brian stood apart from them, since he hadn’t known Aunt Ramona personally. The young Guardian squinted down the road toward the river, then turned to them with an awkward look, somber but dry-eyed.

  “Um, Mrs. Appleton and Mr. Mayweather just pulled up to the river’s edge in a barge over there,” he said, hooking a thumb toward the Thames. “They’re waving at us. I think they’re here to pick us up.”

  Derek nodded. “Good lad,” he said. “Will you go tell them we’re on our way?”

  “Yes, sir.” Brian darted off like he was glad to remove himself from all this raw emotion and wished to give his new friends privacy at such a time.

  “Come on, kids,” Derek murmured. “Let’s get you all to Beacon House. We need to figure out what we’re goin’ to do.”

  As they all stepped back, nodded, and attempted to collect themselves, the girls’ tear-stained faces wrenched Jake to the core.

  Dani, at least, had dealt with death before when her mother passed away. But Isabelle was shattered, and Nixie looked like the rug had been yanked out from under her world.

  Archie stood there, desolate, as though this was a puzzle not even he could solve. He wasn’t crying anymore. One hand resting atop his head, he just looked lost. He turned to Jake, dropped his hand to his side, and shook his head. “I know she’s happy, but…”

  “Aye.” Jake stared bleakly at him. “I’m sorry, Arch. I promised you I’d save them, and I-I let you down.”

  “Coz, there was nothing you could do. You got car
ried off by a dragon. We nearly lost you too.” Archie suddenly hugged him.

  Jake hugged him back, but he still felt terrible for somehow letting this happen.

  Archie had no sooner released him than Dani came crashing into Jake’s arms. He nearly started crying again as they clung to each other. There they were again—two orphans hanging on to each other for dear life, like shipwreck victims who had found one boulder in the midst of an angry sea. Dani didn’t even talk, just sobbed, and Jake’s heart broke anew at the sound.

  He knew she was thinking of her mother.

  “Come on, everyone,” Derek mumbled, bending to retrieve Archie’s glasses from the lawn for him. All his years of Guardian training had probably not prepared the warrior for how to deal with a bunch of grieving kids. “I’ll stay here and see to their bodies, but it’s time for you all to go and get on the boat. Come on. Let’s go. That’s enough for one day.”

  He was right. There was nothing they could do here anymore.

  So they went.

  CHAPTER 38

  Dark Victory

  Wyvern could not understand why every joy he managed to eke out of life came tainted with a dose of bitterness, disappointment, sorrow. He had gained the Black Crown, yes, but he’d lost the only two creatures on the planet he considered actual friends.

  He hadn’t planned on that.

  What made his loss especially poignant was that it was his son who’d done it—Jake and his thrice-cursed Gryphon.

  Yes, Wyvern had seen the Gryphon drop Thanatos into the Thames and knew at once that his pet would not survive. The river was too deep, the current too strong, and lions couldn’t swim.

  But engaged in his duel with Zolond at the time, there was nothing he could do but let his pet be sacrificed. Instead, he’d focused all the harder on his fight, telling himself that this one casualty, hard as it was, would be worth it in his quest to seize the Black Crown.

  But once Wyvern had entered the Black Fortress, prize in hand, and landed on the other side of the jump in the desert of Karakum, only then had the crew found the courage to inform him that Jake had murdered Tazaroc and escaped.

  Wyvern had run to see the body, staring at it with a wave of sickening shock. The ground-up dagger in his belly wasn’t helping matters. He’d enjoyed seeing the horror on Jake’s face when he’d eaten the thing, but it sure as Hades had given him a stomachache.

  And so, on the very eve of his victory, Wyvern sat alone, brooding with anger. Let the others have their celebration. He was somewhere between anguish and volcanic rage.

  He hadn’t even had time yet to recover from the ice grendels’ torture. First that humiliation, and now this gut punch when he should’ve been on top of the world. He didn’t know how to feel. He wasn’t much for feelings in the first place.

  But perhaps the thing that gnawed at him the most was the rare whiff of self-doubt he found himself experiencing. He was not terribly pleased with his performance in the duel. He cursed quietly, glanced down at the Master’s Ring, and reminded himself that he’d won. That was all that mattered.

  And yet, deep down, Wyvern didn’t like how he’d won.

  In truth, it wasn’t much of a victory, was it? Considering that if Raige had not assisted with his time bomb, Zolond’s reaper would’ve killed Wyvern.

  Acknowledging that put him in an even darker mood.

  Wyvern stared into space, loath to admit that the old man had spanked him like an amateur with that ghastly conjuration.

  Then again, nothing Wyvern did ever quite lived up to his own cruel, unforgiving standards. Just like nothing he did was ever truly good enough for his infernal father.

  Shemrazul was also in a bad mood, for that matter. Around the edges of his mind, Wyvern could hear the demon raging. Something about a last-minute change of plans concerning Zolond’s fate.

  Wyvern shrugged it off. He was not in the mood for the Horned One’s constant whining and never-ending demands. He had enough problems of his own.

  He could not route the image of his beloved dragon slumped, lifeless, in the corridor with a blade thrust deep into its heart. How could this have happened?

  At least Wyvern had had the magical blood of the dragon collected before levitating poor Tazaroc’s body into the burning crater outside for cremation.

  Already missing both of his pets, he got up from the chair and prowled restlessly across his chamber, increasingly angry.

  To think that his own, soon-to-be son could have done this, well, it felt like a very personal betrayal.

  The boy had to be punished.

  Wyvern was not surprised that Jake had survived the beast’s attack, of course. A lad destined to be the Black Prince ought to be able to handle himself against one of the smaller species of dragons, like the Ruffed Orange Darter. Begrudgingly, Wyvern admitted that perhaps Jake was rather young for how well he’d done.

  Still, this changed things between them.

  As Wyvern gazed at himself in the mirrored walls of his chamber, he realized that his pets were not the only thing that had died today. So had his hopes for some form of an affectionate father-son relationship with Jake.

  He shook his head at his own foolishness. What had he thought—that they’d go to the park together and toss a ball around? Idiot. He shook his head at these daft longings.

  Such weakness could only be ascribed to his pitiful human side. No more of that. The boy would obey henceforth because Wyvern would make him.

  No more of this indulgence. He’d beat Jake into submission if he had to. It was not what he had hoped for, but this was Jake’s own choice. So be it. Wyvern would raise him the same way he himself had been molded for greatness.

  Through punishment and fear.

  In fact…

  He rose from his chair and left his chamber, the cruel, petty side of him churning with spite. Wyvern had been hurt; he wanted to hurt something in return. He couldn’t hurt Jake. He wasn’t here. But Wyvern could hurt the boy’s parents.

  He found his way easily through the black maze, well familiar with it, then went downstairs and entered the dim recesses of the Lightrider cavern.

  Only one scientist was on duty tonight. The others were either dead or too traumatized by the afternoon’s events to do their jobs.

  The lone white-coated man monitoring the patients and the machine jumped like a startled hare when Wyvern walked up behind him.

  “Sir!” He clutched his chest and strove to calm down. “Can I help you?”

  “Roll out Lord and Lady Griffon.”

  The doctor stared at him uncertainly for a second. “Y-yes, sir.” Then he hurried to fetch the hydraulic platform used to lower the various glass coffins to the floor as needed.

  While he waited, Wyvern watched the magical potion slosh in the big glass base of the machine. It was a pulpy and disgusting green brew that nourished as it sedated. The doctors knew the right ratios and all the boring details.

  As for the machine itself, Wyvern had no idea how the thing worked, nor did he care. It was one of Zolond’s top inventions, and without the old man here, they’d be in trouble if it broke.

  No matter. It only had to last long enough for Wyvern to bring his father’s grand design to fruition.

  Probably by the spring.

  Knowing that the final conquest of mankind would take place under his rule, and that he, not Zolond, would get all the credit, cheered Wyvern up considerably—enough to lift one corner of his mouth, at least.

  Then the scientist finished lowering the Griffons. “They’re ready, sir.”

  Wyvern stalked over to where the two glass coffins sat at waist level, side by side. Inside slept the captive Lightriders.

  He studied them in cold, ominous silence.

  The mother was beautiful, he could admit. She’d given Jake his blue eyes as well as the ghost sight. Staring at her, Wyvern felt vengefully glad that Jake had been deprived of a mother’s love, the heartless little thief.

  The father, though…
/>
  Wyvern walked around to the Earl of Griffon’s glass case and stared at the man, hard.

  Hatred filled him. He opened the glass lid. The urge to destroy throbbed through him. You and your golden hair and your perfect wife and strapping son…

  He pressed the end of his wand against Lord Griffon’s temple as though it were a pistol. In his hands, it might as well be.

  “Sir?” the scientist said in alarm.

  Wyvern sent him a look dark with evil intent.

  “W-we’ll need every subject we have in order to get the portals open wh-when the time comes.”

  “Oh, really?”

  The white-coated man nodded anxiously.

  Wyvern debated, lowering his gaze to Jacob Everton’s peaceful face. It would be so easy…

  That would hurt Jake, all right. You take two of mine, I take two of yours. How does that sound, brat?

  I’ll put you in your place. And if that doesn’t teach you to behave, then I start killing your friends.

  Just then, the door to the cavern opened and a voluptuous silhouette appeared.

  “Nathan? There you are!”

  Wyvern lifted his gaze as Fionnula invited herself in and bustled toward him, the click-click of her high-heeled shoes resounding beneath the quiet dome of the cavern.

  “Come and join the celebration, darling. You’ve earned it! This is your big night.”

  Wyvern said nothing but straightened up, withdrawing his wand.

  The future queen of the Dark Druids slowed her approach, and her face turned grim when she saw what he was doing.

  She nodded the scientist’s dismissal; the nervous little man retreated, discreetly sending her an imploring look.

  Wyvern regarded his bride warily from across the glass coffins. He figured she had come to manage or manipulate him somehow. He wasn’t blind to what she was, after all; he wasn’t Waldrick.

  Her wiles didn’t work on him quite as well as she thought.

  “Was there something you wanted?” Wyvern prompted.

  “Um, Raige wants to know if he should give the order now for your Drow hirelings to move in on Shadowedge Manor. You wanted to wait until it was dark for the attack, and it is now, so…?”