Another dark dragon shot through the glowing clouds, a fake mage on its back with a nocked arrow. The dragon wheeled behind Giddi, but the dragon mage didn’t dare tear his gaze from Commander Zens. Clutching the dragon’s spinal ridge, his forearms corded with tension, Giddi pushed Zens out of his head.
Sharp pain pierced Giddi’s shoulder. Then his lower back. And his other shoulder. Something sharp and painful dug inside his body. Three somethings, burrowing into his skin. Searing burning paths through his flesh and muscle. Gods, by the flaming holy dragon gods. He screamed, arching his back. Giddi’s mind-block shattered. Mazyka’s face exploded into thousands of tiny shards that were swept away by dark tendrils.
Shadows whirled through Giddi’s mind, mist lurking at the edges of his vision.
“Listen to me, Master Giddi. I now control you.” Zens’ voice was the most alluring thing Giddi had ever heard.
Commander Zens descended from a gate of billowing golden clouds upon the large dark dragon with fiery yellow eyes. Zens extended a hand.
“Welcome to my army, Master Giddi. Climb upon my dragon.” His melodious voice slithered inside Giddi’s mind and wrapped itself around his senses like soft dark velvet.
Giddi’s arms dropped to his sides. His legs moved, clambering upon his dragon’s saddle in a crouch.
His body tensed.
No. He fought it, trying to withstand Zens’ command.
“Jump, Giddi. Come with me.” Zens smiled, beckoning him with a welcoming hand.
Giddi sprang, landing on the back of Zens’ saddle.
And wrapped his arms around the monster he’d been fighting for years.
Even as he struggled to withstand Zens’ commands, pain radiated from the new channels in his back and shoulders, darkness spreading through him. Bit by bit, he summoned his magic. Tiny lights flitted inside him. But darkness smothered them and they winked out.
He’d wanted to face this monster for years. And now he couldn’t even summon a spark. Slumping against the commander’s back, Giddi held on, his arms not his own.
Commander Zens rubbed one of Anakisha’s travel rings and muttered, “Kisha.”
A pop sounded and Spanglewood Forest and Montanara disappeared.
§
A tunnel of billowing golden clouds engulfed the shadow dragon carrying Commander Zens and Giddi. A transparent wispy figure dressed in white was suspended in midair, her mouth open in shock, and her hand outstretched. With a jolt, Master Giddi recognized the spirit of Anakisha, the former Queen’s Rider lost in battle years ago.
The jade ring Zens had used was one of Anakisha’s jade rings that controlled the world gates, rings that Ezaara and Roberto had taken on their hand-fasting holiday.
Oh gods, Ezaara and Roberto might be hurt. And worse, Zens could now travel Dragons’ Realm at will. Giddi tried to mind-meld. “Anakisha.” No reply. His heart sank. Somehow she was bound, powerless to guide them through the gate. Giddi tried to buck and thrash.
Zens chuckled. “Try as you might, you now serve me.”
The commander’s insidious tones wound into Giddi’s head. His arms stayed wrapped around Zens’ thick torso, his body slumped against the commander’s massive back. By the dragon’s talon, Giddi found himself drawn to Zens’ melodious tones. Pain radiated from the crystals channeling into his back and shoulders. Mouth dry and stomach clenched, he tried to summon his magic. Tiny sparks flitted within him, then winked out, one by one, smothered by the darkness of Zens’ foul burrowing crystals.
The commander rubbed the ring again and, with a crack, they were above the stark slopes of Death Valley. Devoid of vegetation, the valley was a channel of dusty arid land, a far cry from the lush forested valley Zens had stolen years ago.
The shadow dragon flapped its ragged wings, and they descended behind a desolate mountain. It flew into a gaping hole in the hillside, then winged down an enormous tunnel to a holding chamber.
Bitterness flooded Giddi’s mouth as they swooped between rows of dark dragons. Replicas of Sorcha and Velrama sat upon the dark backs—Zens’ unnatural creations. The commander had brought abominable dark magic from his world that enabled him to grow creatures, monsters, and people. The two young kidnapped mages had been pliable and eager to learn, but their replicas had hard-edged faces and sneered at Giddi, sparks dripping from their fingers as he and Zens passed. There were hundreds of them. And other mages too, some familiar, mounted on snarling dark dragons, ready to do Zens’ bidding. No doubt those fake mages had also been grown in those infernal tanks that Roberto had described.
Giddi tried to thrash against Zens’ mental restraints, but it was useless: he couldn’t even remove his hands from the commander’s waist. Finally, they left the ranks of dragons behind and came to an enormous metal door. The dragon thudded to the rocky floor.
Behind them, a cry rang out. A dragon bellowed. A troop of twenty shadow dragons flapped their wings, the draft sending shivers down Giddi’s spine as they flew out the tunnel, fake Velramas and Sorchas astride their backs, headed for Dragons’ Realm.
Oh gods, he’d thought they’d defeated the worst of these dark dragons, but what they’d faced was nothing compared to the hundreds of battle-ready dragons lining this tunnel.
“Time to dismount, my faithful mage slave.”
Master Giddi’s arms moved, unwrapping themselves from around Zens’ waist. His torso straightened to allow the commander to slide off the shadow dragon’s back. His body moved of its own volition—no, Zens’ volition—slipping off the saddle and following Zens. His feet felt like clumsy blocks of wood. He traipsed behind the commander, his spirit bucking and fighting every step of the way, but his body was under Zens’ control. The door slid open and admitted them to a chamber with row upon row of tanks holding dark dragons. Soft black dragons’ wings undulated in clear fluid. Snouts were pressed against the glass, revealing pointed fangs. Talons and tails poked out from the masses of wings. Everywhere Giddi looked were orderly rows of dragon-filled tanks. So many. Too many shadow dragons to ever defeat.
Tharuks looked up from their work, their beady red or black eyes taking in their commander, claws instantly springing from their furry hands. They bowed their heads for Zens, snouts and tusks scraping their breastplates.
“Keep working. No time to lose,” Zens barked.
The beasts retracted their claws and went back to their tasks, mixing substances in glass jars, using needles, vials of fluid, and other strange methods to do their work—the work of growing more dragons.
Zens turned and grinned, his bulbous eyes raking Giddi’s face. “See? You never really had a chance. None of you did.” He flung his arms out, addressing his tharuks. “Look who I’ve captured. The master mage of Dragons’ Realm is mine to command.”
Tharuk roars filled the chamber, reverberating through Giddi’s bones. He tried to summon a fireball, a flame, a spark—nothing.
The largest tharuk paced toward them. Dark saliva dripped from its tusks, one of them broken. A whip was coiled at its hip and 000 was emblazoned upon its inner forearm.
Giddi knew of 000, Zens’ only love and first creation. Roberto had recently threatened to harm 000, to bargain with Zens for Adelina and Ezaara’s lives, allowing them to escape from Death Valley.
000 stopped before Master Giddi and spat. The stench of rotting carrion hit Giddi and dark spittle splattered his face.
He lifted his hands to wipe it away, but Zens guffawed and waved at him. Giddi’s arms slammed against his sides and he was powerless to move. The tharuk’s stinking spittle slid down his cheek and into the corner of his mouth.
Panic constricted Giddi’s chest. He was a pawn in the evil commander’s hands.
“The dragon mage shouldn’t have closed the portal all those years ago and trapped me here,” Commander Zens said softly. “It’s time to teach him a lesson, 000.”
000 grinned and uncoiled his whip.
§
Leah glanced back at Marlies—still injured
in Montanara’s town square—as Giant John led her and Taliesin away. Blood seeped from the wound in Marlies’ side, but Hans was already helping her onto a dragon to get back to Dragons’ Hold. The square was in complete havoc. Dragons swooped through the air, plucking up tharuks and breathing fire. Ugly tusked tharuks fought villagers, claws out, snarling. The snow was churned with ash and stained red.
“Will Marlies be all right?” Taliesin asked, slipping his small hand into Leah’s. Despite their efforts to feed him up, the boy was still waif-thin from being Commander Zens’ slave in Death Valley for so long.
Leah squeezed Taliesin’s hand. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” She wasn’t sure at all. She blinked back tears. She had no idea whether Marlies would die from being stabbed, but what else could she say?
She and Marlies had failed to find piaua juice, and the realm needed a supply for this war against Commander Zens. With Marlies now injured, if she and Taliesin didn’t find it, hundreds, even thousands, would die. The life-giving juice was essential for healing their injured riders and dragons. And there were no tree-speakers left except her. Although she didn’t want to, for the sake of the realm, she had to walk away from her dying friend.
“Come on,” said Giant John. “We have to go.”
Leah tugged Taliesin and followed Giant John’s bulky form out of Montanara’s square into a winding lane. She instinctively ducked as dark dragons flapped overhead. Tharuk snarls echoed down alleys either side of them, making the hairs on her arms prickle. The giant ragged wings of a shadow dragon blocked the light as it shot over a building. Giant John pulled Leah and Taliesin into a shallow doorway. The dark beast whooshed a gust of flame between the buildings. A littling cried out as his jerkin caught fire. His mother screamed and batted at the flames.
Giant John leaped to their aid and rolled the boy in a patch of snow to douse his flaming clothes.
Leah’s breath caught in her throat.
“Now get home,” Giant John said to the mother, handing her back her littling.
The mother cradled her littling to her chest and nodded, then rushed along the alley.
“Let’s get out of here,” growled Giant John. He snatched Leah up under one arm and Taliesin under the other, and jogged through the alley, past tharuks fighting villagers and dragon riders valiantly swooping over the buildings to battle Commander Zens’ beasts. Leah jolted with every one of Giant John’s steps, her feet bouncing in the air behind Giant John’s large body. Opposite her, Taliesin’s head bobbed as Giant John ran. The man was stronger than an ox, no, two oxen. Alley after alley, he raced.
Leah had seen Giant John at Roberto and Ezaara’s hand-fasting dance. He’d been sitting in a corner with Master Giddi, gnawing on a goat haunch. His appetite had been amazing, but then again, not so amazing, given his size; the man had downed enough to feed an army of snarling tharuks.
Giant John ducked into a lane and stopped under a sequestered archway, puffing. He lowered Leah and Taliesin to their feet, then crouched down, catching his breath. He looked them both in the eyes. “It’s havoc here. If you’re to get to the red guards and find the piaua juice we so desperately need, we have to keep you out of sight—otherwise tharuks may take you as slaves.” He waved a hand down the lane. “In the stables along here, I have a wagon full of ale and wine barrels. One of the larger barrels is empty and has no bottom. It’s on the wagon tray over a trapdoor. I’ll hide you in there as we leave town. If there’s any trouble, open the trapdoor to escape. You must get to the red guards, the dragons and riders that patrol an area north of Great Spanglewood Forest close to Death Valley. The piaua trees in Spanglewood have been destroyed. Marlies said the red guards are our best chance of finding piaua juice.”
“B-but where are they?” Taliesin asked.
“Through Spanglewood,” Giant John said. “Travel to the east for a week. When you can see the Terramite range poking above the trees, head north. You’ll find them.” He cleared his throat and straightened. “Of course, all this talk is just a precaution. Hopefully, I’ll be with you the whole way. Now, come. If the stable master asks, I’m your uncle and you two are my niece and nephew. We’re rushing home after making the deliveries for my vineyard.”
Giant John rushed along the alley with their hands in his and turned into a stable yard. “Good,” he whispered. “Tharuks haven’t been here yet, but we’d better be quick if we’re to get out of town.”
A man with a dark mustache stepped out of an outbuilding. “Morning. Got some littlings with you today, have you?”
“Just my nephew and niece returning home from a week in the city with friends.” Giant John thrust coin into the man’s eager hands. “Thank you for taking care of my horses and getting them ready for the return journey.”
Giant John took them behind the stables to the rear of the yard where four horses were harnessed to a large wagon laden with barrels. “It’ll be cramped, but this is the best way for you out of here.” Giant John lifted them both onto the wagon tray, then leaped up and pried a barrel open. Glancing about, he said, “Quick, while no one’s looking. Some citizens of Montanara like to make quick coin by selling information to tharuks.” He lifted Taliesin into the barrel. “Stay quiet. I’ll let you out again when it’s safe.” He helped Leah inside.
She crouched on the wagon floor and leaned against the barrel’s inside wall. The tang of red wine filled her nostrils. Taliesin’s legs were crammed up against hers. She set their rucksack on the floor.
Giant John peered inside. “Not very comfy, is it? Hopefully we’ll have you both out soon. Move until you find the bolt to the trapdoor, then try not to sit on it.”
Leah shuffled over until she was hard against Taliesin’s side and felt around the floor. She found a bolt with a rope attached to it.
“That’s my girl. If you tug that rope, the trapdoor will pop open.” Giant John reached in and tapped wooden pegs on either side of the barrel above them. “When you open it, hold these so you don’t fall straight out. But make sure you don’t open it while I’m moving. All good?”
Leah gave the rope a tug. “All good, Giant John.”
“If I drum my fingers on the wagon, then you need to flee. Understood?”
Taliesin reached up to touch a peg, then nodded, his blue eyes huge.
“Righty-ho. Off we go,” Giant John murmured.
A lid thudded shut above them and everything went black.
Taliesin’s hand found Leah’s. “Leah,” he whispered.
“Yes?”
“I don’t like small spaces. It reminds me of when tharuks found me.”
“Don’t worry, I’m here.”
The wagon rocked as Giant John climbed upon the seating. Reins snapped, hooves thudded, and the wagon trundled out of the yard, every reverberation running through the boards into Leah’s bones. The jolting got worse as the wagon wheels clattered onto city cobbles. At least she had a little cushioning on her rump. It’d be much worse for Taliesin with his bony backside. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Taliesin gripped her hand hard as they headed on, surrounded by darkness.
Tharuk Attack
With their knees jammed up to their chins and their rucksack crammed between them in a wine barrel, Leah and Taliesin headed out of Montanara. Soon, the metal-bound wheels of Giant John’s wagon clattered off the cobbled roads and onto a dirt trail. At least the bone-shuddering cobbles were behind them. Leah adjusted her sit bones, but it was impossible to get comfortable. This was going to be a long journey, but every dragon length closer to the red guards was a boon.
Beside her, Taliesin squirmed.
The wagon slowed and stopped.
“Where you going?” a guttural voice snarled.
A tharuk! Leah’s heart pounded. Taliesin whimpered. She fumbled in the dark, covering his mouth with her hand and guiding his hands to his ears. His elbow dug into her. Pressed against her side, his bony frame trembled. Leah had seen the old lash scars on his back. The beast’
s voice must be bringing back his memories of tharuks beating him in Death Valley.
“Good day, kind sirs. I’m delivering wine,” Giant John boomed.
Marlies had told Leah tales of Giant John’s deliveries across the Flatlands while she was hiding in the secret compartment in the base of his wagon. Back then, Giant John had dulled the tharuks’ senses with beer. Hopefully these tharuks would fall for his tricks. If not… Leah gulped.
There was a creak as Giant John clambered onto the wagon tray, then the scrape of a barrel being moved—although how one man could move the enormous barrels on John’s wagon amazed her. Giant John thudded to the ground. The wagon jolted and sticks crunched underfoot.
“Here, my fine tharuks, some of Nightshade Alley’s finest.” The tang of red wine drifted on the air. “Enjoy it.” The wagon creaked and shifted as Giant John climbed back on board. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins, then they were moving again.
Leah let out a breath, not daring to take her hand from Taliesin’s mouth yet.
“Wait!” roared a tharuk.
The wagon kept moving, picking up pace. Feet stomped behind them.
Shards, from the sound of the pounding, a whole horde of tharuks must be racing after them.
“Wait. 555 warned us about you, Giant!”
“Whoa,” Giant John called.
The wagon careened, everything tilted. With a smash that ricocheted through Leah’s spine, they stopped. Giant John drummed his fingers on the wagon tray, the signal for them to flee. Beside her, Taliesin shook harder than ever.
She pulled the rucksack onto her back and leaned in, whispering, “Stay quiet.”
He nodded against her shoulder.
As thudding feet converged at the head of the wagon, Leah barely breathed her next words into Taliesin’s ear. “Wriggle back against the side of the barrel and hold the pegs. I’m opening the trapdoor.” As soon as Taliesin had shuffled out of the way, she held onto the peg above her and felt in the dark until her fingers found the rope. She pulled it, thanking the dragon gods the bolt didn’t squeak. The trapdoor flew open. Leah blinked against the bright light.
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