The Emerald Rider (Book Four of the Dragoneer Saga) Read online

  After the elation of saving one of their own wore off, Aikira asked Jade about Jenka. The young dragon was exhausted and could manage very little. When they learned the bond connection between the two had been severed, everyone grew solemn again.

  March was proud of his dragon for saving Jade, but he was worried for his friend. All Jade had been able to tell them was that Jenka had gone into a temple to the north. Looking out the cavern in the clear afternoon, March could see nothing in the northern distance but open sea. Nearer to the shore, the bloody sea-feast raged on. Fins of things huge and menacing slid through the water searching for a lagging rock lion, or a forgotten morsel of the last one savaged. This stirred a primal fear in his dragon. Just knowing there were things dragons were afraid of was enough to chill Marcherion’s blood.

  He hoped Aikira or Golden would wake soon, for he had every intention of flying north and scouting what was there. He would go first and look, then think of a plan while he rested. It was the smart, efficient thing for them to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Coven Wisteria occupied a mansion on the harborfront southeast of Mainsted, but that wasn’t the only place where the witches gathered. Ankha Vira’s surprisingly sizable following had another residence, a respectable manor on the outskirts of southern Midwal. Herald said they couldn’t get them all at once, but that didn’t diminish Rikky’s resolve in the least. Herald wasn’t counting on Zahrellion to arrive at the Midwal coven, not with enough force to contain the witches there, but Rikky knew she wouldn’t let them down. They’d traveled great distances and fought too many terrible battles together. He believed she would be there sooner than she needed to be.

  Rikky hoped he could be at Midwal to meet her. If the surprise attack on the seaside mansion was swift and successful, he and Silva could hurry there and help.

  “We will go in first and clear the way,” Bhyront, a Grimwielder of higher rank, said. He, Herald, and Rikky were gathered in a field with two dozen other angry Grimwielders and Silva. Coming up a dirt track was another group of men that Herald had found willing to join them. The gathering wasn’t very far from the Mainsted coven. Only a few days had passed since the incident in the market square, and there was a strong sense of urgency. “We owe them some payback and you some redemption.”

  “The gods must be a watchin’ over me.” Herald winked at Rikky. “I’ve had my fill of startled witches.”

  “You’re not leading the men you rounded up on the second charge?” Bhyront asked.

  “I am.” Herald looked at his boots and shook his head. “I was once married to a witch. One time I snuck behind her while she was a brewing somethin’-or-another. I said boo, but the bug-eyed thing that turned and snapped at me made me shit my britches.”

  Rikky laughed and slapped Herald on the shoulder. “Mysterian did that to me once, too, only I didn’t shit myself. I ran. Well, I hopped away as fast as I could.”

  “I just don’t like surprising ‘em, is all.” Herald crossed his arms over his chest and beard in a manly fashion. “Killin’ ‘em is a whole different matter.”

  “I’ll be right beside you, Herald.” Linux stepped up out of nowhere, startling them all quite dramatically. “Please don’t soil yourself this time.”

  “Why, I’ll soil you, you fargin’ druidoo,” Herald snapped angrily. “Nearly shit myself again!”

  “That rhymed, Herald,” Rikky laughed and looked at the Grimwielder for support in his mirth. There was none there, and the man’s serious demeanor reminded Rikky that they had some business to take care of.

  “I’ll need a signal for when the first men attack.” Rikky took a breath and readied his mind for the battle. “If Silva and I come from the sea at the same time you enter, we can keep them spread out.”

  Bhyront begrudged him a nod of respect. Rikky smiled, but turned his attention to Linux’s spiel.

  “They’ll have magic protection and alarming wards and such,” the druid said, clearly using common terms so as not to confuse Herald. “I will need to go with the Grimwielders to counter the witches’ craft, but I’ll not go in with them. I’ll wait for you, Herald, and the city men who’ve come.”

  I’ll tell you exactly when they enter, Rikky, Linux continued in the ethereal.

  Rikky could tell that Linux was sustaining some sort of casting that would keep their ethereal communications from reaching the witches. He hoped it wouldn’t keep Zahrellion’s voice from reaching them when the time came.

  “If my Keepers got the word, they’ll have a battalion riding for the Midwal place.” Herald grew serious, too. “Let’s get this witch hunt a goin’.”

  Rikky and his dragon were ready. After being helped up into his saddle, the young, one-legged Dragoneer got situated, then strung his bow. They took to the air and flew east for a time and then banked south before circling themselves high into the sky. They gathered an extreme amount of speed diving down into the knife-shaped, cliff-sided harbor. All the while they listened to Linux as he helped the Grimwielders through the witches’ protective magic. When Linux announced the men’s entry into the building, Silva started her gliding rise from the waves up toward the mansion.

  Rikky guessed this place was probably where some illegal shipments made it into the city. It was far enough out from the heart of Mainsted to be beyond the Harbor Master’s reach. It had winches at the top of the switchback, and below there was a wooden dock-house big enough to berth a sizable ship or two.

  As he and his dragon came above ground level, a harpoon launched at them. The rope trailing it kept it from flying true, and it fell before it reached Silva.

  An explosion of colorful witchy magic lit up the sky beyond the building. The air was filled with static. The smell of brimstone mixed with the brine, and then the dragon teardrop mounted in Rikky’s bow filled him with a rush of Dour.

  Battle-lust overcame him.

  First, he used his bow to send a Dour-formed arrow at the harpoon gun that hadn’t yet loosed. The shaft swiftly turned into a whirring flow of destructive energy. When it hit, mortar and stone caved in and crumbled into the interior in a completely unnatural manner.

  Silva was already bathing the rear of the structure with her molten pewter spew. There were men there, loosing arrows and bolts up at them, but Rikky’s Dour and Silva’s protective magic shielded them from the missiles. Another whirring flow erupted from his bowstring and turned a balcony into rubble.

  A witch found them from the garden, though. Her blistering fist of energy nearly thumped Silva out of the sky. Then three witches, two on brooms, and one apparently powerful enough to forego a flying device, came streaking out of an opening.

  Amazingly, Silva tilted her head up and caught one of them with her spray. The witch, now covered in hardening metal, went down beyond the ledge and out of their vision like a falling chunk of stone.

  The other broom rider rolled a ball of bright orange flames in her hands. She opened her palms before her face and blew. Her breath sent the inferno streaking across the space between her and Silva far too quickly. Rikky’s dragon was forced to dive away and go below ground level.

  Silva didn’t waste energy. She curved around and started back up, swimming through the air in short, undulating bursts.

  Rikky loosed another arrow the second he saw the broomless witch hovering over the garden. She let go of something, too. Rikky’s shaft needled its way past the witch’s magic and went straight through her heart. He saw this as her blast engulfed him in a choking concussion.

  He saw the last broom-riding witch speeding away north and knew he had to shake off this sense of lethargy.

  Then he realized he and his dragon were plummeting toward the bay.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Go, Rikky, go, Linux called. They’re not here. They must be in Midwal. We’ve taken the building. Zahrellion and the Keepers will need you.

  The word “Zahrellion” cut through the haze and found Rikky. He shook his head violently back and
forth until he saw what was happening. He was spinning… Silva was spinning, but she was fighting it.

  Rikky reached for the Dour he commanded and used it to give his dragon strength. Silva responded by forcing her wing where she wanted it to go. This happened just in time to avoid slamming into the sea. They didn’t miss the wave-tops completely, and Rikky was splashed with surprisingly cool seawater. It served to knock the remaining cobwebs from his skull and blur his vision. By the time he was comfortable again they were streaking across the Frontier at an amazing clip.

  Rikky was searching the sky for the broom rider, but didn’t see her. He felt her, though, when her fiery spell impacted them. Having recently been similarly surprised by the ogres in the orchard, Silva avoided crashing into the trees. Instead, she curved her trajectory upward and snaked around in the sky to meet the witch.

  The second fireball flew past them, its heat filling Rikky with resolve.

  Rush her, Silva, Rikky commanded into the ethereal. Charge right at her and peel off to the left.

  Yesss, the pewter-colored wyrm responded.

  The witch was molding another orange ball of flame in her hands, but seeing the dragon coming right at her caused her to try to defend herself instead of attack. Rikky waited patiently as his dragon opened her maw to spray her breath. Silva let loose and curved left, while Rikky fired a Dour-formed arrow at a space yet unoccupied.

  The witch, trying to avoid the dragon and its breath, moved her broom right into the arrow’s path. In an explosion of magical force that blossomed outward but quickly sucked back in on itself, the witch was consumed. Nothing remained of her but part of a tumbling broomstick and a few bits of material lazily floating toward the ground.

  Rikky wasted no more time fumbling around. As Silva carried them toward Midwal, he used his healing magic to make sure both he and his wyrm were able. After that, he cast forth some protective wards he’d learned from Jenka.

  Way back when they were boys in Crag, Master Kember once said that the best way to deter the vermin was to make an example of the ones you had to kill. Rikky and Solmon saw a rotted goblin corpse hanging in the trees once. Standing there looking at it, he’d never thought that someday goblins would eat his leg and leave Solmon gutted by the lake. He reflected that his beloved Master Kember had been wrong for once. Those horrific displays had only angered the little beasties.

  Even still, Rikky had every intention of making an example of the Coven Wisteria. All he had to do now was get there before they surprised Zah and Crystal with their numbers.

  ***

  The being that was slowly unclenching the painful grip it had on Jenka and Clover was terrifying. A ghoulish set of cold blue eyes stared out from a meshed-metal-covered muzzle that wrapped around its mannish head. The mask formed into some semblance of a crown at the top and connected to the great chest piece the thing wore with lengths of silvery chain. Shoulder armor capped with molded sabre-cat skulls, and a jeweled belt bedecked the imposing form.

  The demon was tall and lean. When his image was fully amongst them, the bone-spiked toe of a boot could be seen jutting out from under the priestly robes flowing under all the steel. The demon spun the forearm-thick shaft of a mace around once and slammed the butt end of it into the smooth surface on which he was standing. A thunderous boom echoed around them. When Orthon finally spoke, his voice cut into Jenka so deeply that he felt he’d rather die than endure it.

  “What is this? Why is the binding not broken?”

  When Jenka didn’t respond, Orthon clenched his muscles in a rage and roared, “I asked you a question!”

  Jenka didn’t respond. He cowered there before the powerful being. He looked at Clover and saw that her projected image wasn’t nearly as afraid. This gave Jenka some confidence and he instinctually reached for his dragon to draw some strength and resolve. Not finding Jade there was disheartening. He’d forgotten the link had been severed. Without his bond-mate, or the Dour sustaining him, he felt helpless. Still, he gathered his courage and stood before Orthon.

  “Xaffer, the wizard who used you, is dead. You are bound here, but we are not. Release us from this place and restore us to our bodies and I swear I will find a way to end your binding.”

  “Bah!” The heavy end of the mace came over the demon’s head and cracked down. Jenka had no substantial form. If he had, he would have been smashed flat. There was no flesh to damage, but the impact of the gigantic weapon hurt him nonetheless. He’d thought being ripped from the stillness was painful. This was a hundred times worse. He felt as if he’d actually been hammered flat, as if every bone were broken, and every cell destroyed. He thought diving into a vat of molten forge-metal might soothe such a feeling as this. Luckily, the pain eventually carried him away.

  He dreamed of Zahrellion and his unborn child, but it was no hazy day-vision like he often had when he was on his dragon’s back. Lemmy was looming over a crib with a knife held partially concealed in his fist. Zahrellion was in full battle gear but staring aimlessly out the window of the tower in which they were all standing. Jenka strode over to her, but when she turned it was Orthon’s iron-masked gaze that met him.

  The demon’s eyes flared with laughter. He reached up and tore off his crown mask and Zahrellion’s beautiful face was there, but only for an instant. Then it was Orthon’s ugly, mutated visage.

  The demon had sharp, jagged teeth with thin lips that didn’t close all the way over them when he swallowed. His long, pink tongue was forked, and he licked his upper teeth every few seconds. His nose was skullish, just two open holes. The demon’s eyes, though, were as blue as the sky.

  Orthon wasn’t as intimidating when he was the same relative size as Jenka. But Jenka still felt the pain of the mace blow. He wouldn’t dare provoke another crushing.

  “Why should I believe you?” the demon asked before restoring his crowned mask to his head.

  Jenka wasn’t expecting the question, and it took him a moment to force out the feelings of longing he’d just been consumed with. He wasn’t certain how he should respond, but the words came to him, as did the reasoning behind them. These thoughts flowed to him in the memory of a dragon song sung by Jade’s mam. She’d sung it just before she cried the teardrop that was mounted in his sword back in the world where his body existed. “Because you have nothing to lose by trusting me, and this may be the only chance in all of time you ever get to be released from a dead wizard’s spell.”

  “I know these things,” Orthon growled and snatched Jenka by the collar of his triangular chest armor. “Why should I trust any measly mortal?”

  Again the words just came. “Because I once swore to do everything I could to save Clover from this fate. That promise brought me all the way here before you. How could you not trust any being who would willingly go this far?”

  “Why hasn’t the bond already been broken?” Orthon asked. The demon was clearly considering Jenka’s suggestion, but now he was waiting for an answer.

  “Because I am not of dragon blood.” Before Jenka could finish responding, the demon roared and the mace pummeled him flat again. This time, when the pain carried him away, it was to a place far less pleasant.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Zahrellion knew immediately that she’d swooped into a nest of expectant hornets. Crystal failed to freeze any of the witches she blasted. They were somehow protected from the dragon’s frigid spew. The sky filled, far too quickly, with more mind-stretched women riding poorly enchanted broomsticks, and it soon looked as if a beehive full of filthy tavern girls had been kicked over.

  Crystal’s angry magic did some damage—far more than the witches must have anticipated. Most of them couldn’t even be considered witches, Zahrellion decided. They were mostly just girls taught to blow a ball of fire and ride a stick. When Zahrellion started casting powerful druidic spells and a hundred Keepers rode into the mix, the odds looked to even out a little bit, but only long enough for them to catch their breath.

  Crystal was
nearly as old as Golden, and she was a vastly capable wyrm. She kept the witches’ fiery kisses from reaching her and her rider. She also shielded some of the Keepers who had ridden a very long time to meet them there. The big, white-scaled frost dragon even bashed one witch into oblivion with her tail, but her breath was useless, and a streak of lightning eventually came up and bit her.

  Scales were sizzled, and some of the meat beneath them was crisped from the heat of the strike, but Crystal kept them in a position to protect the Keepers. This allowed Zahrellion to take in the scene. It didn’t take long to find the source of her dragon’s current pain.

  In the yard before the manor was a trio of witches all hovering in an outward-facing triangular formation. Their dark hair was blowing wildly in several different directions. In the middle of the three, and hovering slightly higher, was Ankha Vira. She was building up another mass of crackling yellow energy to shock Crystal with. A handful more of the hovering witches were scattered in a rough circle around their leader, but they were attacking more than guarding.

  Arrows were flying in arcing volleys between the Keepers and the hired mercenaries battling alongside the coven’s fervent followers. A few dozen men lay dead already, and more were falling every minute. Over there an arrow-riddled witch lay dying. Over here a knot of young men fought furiously against a pair of seasoned Keepers. They were probably just stupid boys in love with the half-crafty harlots swarming the sky. They must have been in love, for even as the Keepers slaughtered them, more came charging in.

  Zahrellion held fast as Crystal darted out of the way of Ankha Vira’s next blast of lightning. It was a near thing, but having avoided it, Zah found she was just glad these were not Sarax in the sky. This many Sarax could savage a dragon in a few heartbeats.