Sky Jewel Legacy- Heritage

by Gregory Heal

  Almost immediately, Silvress backed away and growled. Her eyes were searching the intruder cautiously until her irises dilated in recognition. Issuing a rumble deep in her throat, the dragon stepped forward and bowed her head.

  Charles smiled. “Hey, it’s good to see you, too, girl.” He patted Silvress’s nose, then turned to the Smiths. “It’s safe now. Hop on.”

  Richard and Beth hesitated, paralyzed with the thought of getting near a massive dragon.

  “Hey! You two!” a voice shouted from down the corridor.

  The Smiths turned to look at where the voice came from, but said nothing.

  “I wasn’t notified there’d be any prison guards down here!”

  Charles repeated, this time louder, “Hop on—now!”

  Choosing the dragon over the Dark Watcher guard, they sidestepped over to Charles.

  “You’re going to need those helmets” Charles picked up his. “The wind feels like glass shards when dragons fly at top speed.”

  Nodding, they slid on their helmets.

  “You go first,” Richard said to his wife, helping her walk up the dragon’s leathery wing.

  After Beth and Richard were straddling Silvress’s bony spine, they made room for Charles.

  “Okay, now hold on.” He slid his helmet’s visor over his face and patted Silvress, and she took off out of the cage and into the corridor, roaring in freedom.

  The guard backpedaled and fell to the ground as he saw the dragon stretch its wings and lift off into the air. Before he could call for backup, Charles shot him with a knockout spell and proceeded to open every other cage in the dungeon.

  Beth fought to hold on to Richard, who in turn was doing the same to Charles, as Silvress swooped high then low, gliding the length of the dungeon past every cage. Different colored lights spewed from Charles’s fingertips as he shorted out each and every electric barrier, instantly creating mass chaos in the dungeon.

  Craning her neck this way and that, Beth saw two smaller dragons slice the air straight above her head, belching fire in triumph as they found themselves free after countless years in their cages. A huge dragon came lumbering out of its cage, shaking the dungeon as its enormous clawed hands and feet struck the stone floor, creating small craters wherever it went.

  Beth caught movement on the stairwell and looked to see several Dark Watchers file down into the dungeon in a foolhardy attempt to help the outnumbered dungeon guards establish some semblance of order. After an unlucky few were either charred alive by dragons’ breaths or trampled underfoot, the rest retreated back up the stairs.

  As the last of the barriers deactivated, Charles took no time in waiting to see what would unfold; instead he directed Silvress down into the exit tunnel. Before their vision was cut off, Beth and Richard saw the metal spiral staircase tear free from its housing and crumble, adding to the debris on the dungeon floor.

  “We’re almost out of here! There’s an opening straight ahead where Draconex brings in every dragon he captures!” Charles had to scream so he could be heard over the terrified screams of the guards who were trapped after the staircase collapsed, desperately trying to hide from the hungry, roaring dragons.

  Beth looked over Richard’s shoulder to see natural light at the end of the long tunnel.

  “Does Draconex have his own dragon?” Richard asked as he fought to stay on Silvress.

  “Yes—he calls it Volcanor! I didn’t see him in the dungeon, though!”

  “Uh, Charles?!” Richard asked, fear in his voice. Beth saw him point toward the opening ahead, which seemed to be not as bright as it was only moments before. “What’s that?!”

  Charles looked forward again and saw two red dots above the tunnel’s exit, followed by a silhouette that formed into the unmistakable shape of a wyvern dragon.

  “Volcanor!” Charles cursed.

  As Silvress flew closer, he noticed that Draconex wasn’t riding the beast, so he decided to capitalize on that opportunity. Commanding his dragon to speed up, he watched what the wyvern dragon would do. Charles saw Volcanor drop low, preparing to fly up into Silvress and skewer her with his massive horns.

  “What are you doing?!” Richard frantically asked.

  “Close your eyes! And duck!” Charles ordered both of them. He clicked his tongue and Silvress ascended a few dozen feet before belching out a dense cloud of smoke that overtook every inch of the tunnel. Without slowing, Silvress flew into it, blinding her three riders.

  As Volcanor roared in confusion, Silvress shot out of the tunnel and into the dry air of Nyzanth, barely missing Volcanor’s deadly horns. Finally free after two decades, Charles silently wept before nudging his passengers.

  “You can open your eyes now. We made it out.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Anger. Hate. Lust. That is all we feel.

  Dominance. Control. Power. That is all we crave.

  Use our power that now flows through you . . .

  Malcolm was no longer Malcolm, even though his appearance hadn’t changed—except for his coal-black eyes that bore through Lord Draconex as he stood to his full height.

  Madro started bouncing on the balls of his clawed feet, licking his lips as he eagerly stared up at Draconex, like a dog that was expecting to be fed.

  Draconex ignored the primitive creature’s grunts and snorts, not breaking his gaze from Malcolm’s. Silently, he stepped forward and dragged a metal heel through the line of blood that stained the ground, breaking the warding spell. Now nothing was preventing Madro, the Keeper of the ShadowCrystal, from falling upon Malcolm.

  But that was exactly what the young Dark Watcher wanted to happen.

  Like a rabid animal, Madro lunged at Malcolm as Draconex nodded to his apprentice and retreated into the shadows, keen on watching the melee unfold.

  Malcolm hardly had any space to play with, so he dropped into a low crouch and raised his arm in front of his face just as Madro clamped his drooling maw on his forearm. He didn’t feel anything, since he’d used terramancy to turn his entire arm into diamond, the hardest mineral in the known universe.

  Madro whimpered but did not release his bite, despite the clattering of chipped teeth on the stone floor. With a quick swing, Malcolm flung the cannibal into the ShadowCrystal at the center of the chamber, sending purple-white sparks in every direction and electrifying Madro.

  Smoking, Madro dropped to his haunches and set his bulging eyes once more upon Malcolm, who looked back just as furiously. Grabbing one of his busted chains, he tugged at the end, feeling that it was still attached to the wall. As he waited for Madro’s next move, Malcolm let the ShadowCrystal’s sentient dark magic invade his thoughts once again.

  We need more.

  Fighting is poor sport.

  Give us death to feed on.

  Malcolm watched as Madro silently slinked into the shadows, producing the same bone-rattling cackle as when Malcolm had awakened . . . but this time he was excited, not scared.

  Malcolm’s body tingled as he felt the dark magic penetrate his nexus, granting him the powers of animancy. Wanting to see his opponent in the deep shadows, Malcolm blinked twice, channeling a pit snake’s infrared vision. As his irises slitted to those of a reptile, his world turned into neon colors. As if the lights has suddenly flicked on, Malcolm could clearly see Madro off to his right, slowly crawling like a crab.

  And there was Draconex, standing in the corner with crossed arms on the other side of the room. Smirking out of the side of his mouth, Malcolm was glad Draconex was watching; he wanted him to see this.

  Malcolm looked back at Madro, and once their eyes locked, the creature launched at the Dark Watcher like a bat out of hell. Reestablishing his grip, Malcolm yanked the chain free from the wall, bringing with it a clump of concrete. He swung it with such force that when it hit Madro in the chest, it shattered, showering Malcolm with debris and cutting off the cannibal’s devilish scream.

  CRACK!

  Madro hit the wall so hard that hi
s skull split open and started oozing brain fluid before his body crumpled to the floor.

  Letting go of the chain, Malcolm stood up and looked straight at Draconex, saying more with his actions than he could ever say with his words. White noise rang through the enclosed chamber, save for the erratic crackling of purple-white sparks from the ShadowCrystal.

  Behind you—!

  A powerful hand gripped his ankle, tearing into his skin with its claws. Madro was still alive, intent on at least tasting the blood of his combatant before he died.

  The dark magic swallowed Malcolm’s scream, and before Madro’s broken, unhinged jaw could reach his ankle, he struck Madro’s neck with a knife strike, severing the head from the body as his rigid hand cut through muscle, vertebrae, and vocal cords.

  Normally, a chop like that should have only bruised the neck, but since Malcolm used chronomancy to speed up his attack, it was as though his hand were as sharp as a samurai’s katana blade. As Madro’s head rolled into the shadows, leaving behind an opaque blue trail of brain fluid and blood, Malcolm stared at his hand, slowly wiping it on his cloak.

  Klaxons blared throughout Feralot, alerting Lord Draconex that there was an emergency. “Come with me,” he said to Malcolm, who was still standing over the headless—and finally lifeless—body of Madro.

  Malcolm looked up at Draconex through blackened eyes. “Right behind you.” He tossed the cannibal’s body to the side and fell behind his master, who was sprinting like a cheetah toward the lift that would take them to the main level.

  Draconex couldn’t help but think that Charles Lancaster had something to do with this unexpected development. When the lift came to a stop, a frazzled guard nearly rammed into Draconex. Grabbing hold of the Dark Watcher, he calmly asked, “What is going on?”

  The guard pointed toward the dungeon. “Three prisoners have escaped and let all the dragons out! They’re destroying everything!”

  “Lancaster,” Draconex seethed. He pushed the guard away and sped toward the dungeon staircase, which was now nothing more than a heap of twisted, melted metal, leaving a gaping hole in the floor. A large dragon soared high above, rattling the walls with its booming cry as others emerged from the opening.

  Forgetting about the loose dragons on the main level, he and Malcolm dropped down to the dungeon floor below. Their twenty-meter fall was softened by a quick blast of air as they looked around to see a score of dead Dark Watchers lying around pockets of growing flame. Draconex’s eyes burned with the same intensity of flames as he sped toward Silvress’s cage.

  “They’ve escaped,” Draconex growled.

  An explosion shook all of Feralot as metal girders crashed to the ground.

  “Who has, Master?” Malcolm asked, watching behind them for signs of any dragons.

  “Charles Lancaster.” Draconex’s burned from the rage he felt inside. “And I’m willing to bet your girlfriend’s foster parents too.”

  As Draconex was reevaluating, Malcolm powered his ring with dark magic when he saw a hungry dragon spot them. Right before he cast a killing spell, a larger dragon intercepted the smaller one, snapping its neck between its enormous jaws.

  Draconex turned around to see Volcanor swallow the decapitated head while the headless body of its prey twitched on the burning ground. He walked past Malcolm and decided to change his plans.

  “We have a party to crash,” he said, sneering.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  After putting Mira’s shoulder bag in one of the open cubbies in the bathroom, Jen stepped into the hallway looking like a princess. Wearing an evening gown that blended modern fashion with medieval, Jen couldn’t remember a time she had looked more formal. Thankful that her gown covered the scars on her shoulders, she turned the corner and fell into step with the crowd of other well-dressed sorcerers and sorceresses as they made their way to the ballroom, which had a breathtaking view of Lac Cravath through its storied windows, which glimmered golden as the sun started its daily descent below the horizon.

  Above the archway leading into the ballroom, Jen noticed that Salve was etched into the stone. Chuckling to herself, she remembered that was how Mystra Blackfire first greeted her back on Camelore.

  Salve indeed.

  The ballroom’s hardwood floors were polished to a shine, and had different stains to accentuate the different kinds of wood that were used. Looking up from the floor, Jen was amazed to see how high up the ceiling was—easily three stories—and hanging from it were several glistening chandeliers that flared with colorful art-deco designs, classily offsetting the painted ceilings that reminded Jen of the Vatican in Rome.

  Straightening her filigree headpiece that had shifted on her head as she looked up, Jen focused on trying to find Mira and Gavin, scanning the mass of bobbing heads.

  Every sorcerer must be here tonight!

  Just before she gave up, Jen perked up when she spotted them across the ballroom, standing in front of a column as tall as King Kong. Mira looked stunning in her two-piece gold-and-black gown, while Gavin seemed slightly stiff in his white-gold swallowtail jacket, but it was nearly impossible for him to not look handsome.

  Jen walked up to the couple. “Hey, strangers!”

  “Jen!” Mira hugged her joyfully. “You look amazing!”

  “All thanks to you—you practically made this gown.”

  “You are too cute! I only cut the fabric. The rest was all you, girl.” Mira held Gavin’s arm, smiling.

  “You look good too, Gavin,” Jen said, trying to play down how gorgeous he was.

  Gavin smiled. “I’m not used to being this formal,” he said uncomfortably, trying to loosen his collar, “but thanks. The purple really suits you.”

  Jen blushed and glanced down at her velvet gown, tucking a curl behind an ear. The way he downplayed his looks made her find Gavin that much more attractive. Some part of her wanted to be his Jubilee date and dance the night away in his embrace, but guilt quickly set in after her conscience reminded her that Mira was that girl, not her.

  “Well, if you don’t mind,” Gavin added, “I would like to ask Mira for a dance.” He looked at his date.

  “I’d love to!” Mira smiled at Jen. “See you later?”

  “Definitely. Have fun!” Jen watched as the couple left for the center of the dance floor, swaying to the orchestra. All alone, Jen played with her totem bracelet while she walked to the wall of windows that overlooked Lac Cravath, taking in the beautiful sunset.

  How can there be evil when something so beautiful exists?

  Jen caught herself silently swaying to the music. She turned around to notice another familiar face by the buffet table. Jen strode up to Hephalon, who was busy filling two plates with food. “They have any Azumarian ale here?”

  “Jen!” He almost dropped several bacon-wrapped water chestnuts. “Merlin’s beard, you gave me a fright.” He laughed as he set down his plates to give her a hug. “And as for the ale—they have but a cheap imitation.” He slyly pulled a flask out of his leather vest.

  Jen laughed, leaning in to whisper, “You came prepared, I see.”

  “I always do,” he whispered back. Seeing someone was approaching, Hephalon slid his flask back into his vest and picked up his plates. “Victor, you’ve got to try the mutton!”

  Jen turned around to see Victor, who was wearing an olive-green brocade doublet jacket. “I’ll wait until they bring out more. You seem to have it all on your plates.” Victor pointedly eyed the food Hephalon had stockpiled.

  Shrugging, the metallurgist said dismissively, “He speaks the truth!”

  Victor took Jen’s hand and lightly kissed it. “You look radiant, my dear.”

  Flattered, Jen curtsied. “Thank you. You clean up nicely too.”

  “Yes, well, even an old sorcerer like myself has nice clothes.”

  “It’s stylin’! How did your meeting go?”

  Victor glanced at Hephalon, then responded. “As expected. My team and I will begin the search tomorr
ow with some solid leads.”

  “If your parents are out there, we will find them, milady,” Hephalon said between bites.

  Jen blinked in surprise. “You’re helping Vic out too?”

  “I wouldn’t let him go without me.” Hephalon raised a turkey drumstick in Victor’s direction.

  Jen’s heart wanted to go with both of them, but her brain told her that if she wanted to help, she needed to finish her training. “Thank you both. So, so much.”

  The lights dimmed and the orchestra stopped playing as Grand Mystra Cindergray stepped up to the podium at the far end of the ballroom. A lone spotlight pointed to him, and he began, “Welcome, everyone, to the Sesquimillennial Jubilee. Tonight, we honor all who perished in the Great Battle fifteen hundred years ago, and the sorceress responsible for bringing peace back to the eleven realms, Genevieve Lancaster.” Cindergray waited for the applause to die down before continuing. “Tonight is doubly special, for we also happen to have her only living descendent here in attendance, Jennifer Lancaster.”

  A second spotlight positioned itself on Jen, who couldn’t decide if she was more surprised or blinded.

  “Would you do us the honor, my dear?” Cindergray asked as thousands of eyes turned to look at Jen.

  As murmurs of surprise and awe came from the crowd, Jen instinctively shied away from the unwanted attention—but something inside smothered her fear, making her stand up a little straighter and face the onlookers with confidence.

  On this hallowed night of the Sesquimillennial Jubilee, Jennifer Lancaster publicly accepted her destiny and wore it on her heart as a badge of honor.

  Now that every sorcerer knew that the rumors of the return of a Lancaster heir were true, Jen wanted nothing more than to share this moment with Victor—her instructor, her guardian, her friend. Calmly surveying the crowd, she waited until her eyes fell upon the one she was looking for.