Dragon Mage- Uprising Read online

  He stroked the curved, robin-egg blue surface with anticipation. It was getting warmer, but not warm enough. Cyrus had installed a boiler in the chamber for magical experiments. He now filled it with a mixture of fuel and dragon eggshells. He lit it and opened the steam and safety valves, allowing hot vapor to pour into the room. Closing the door, he sealed the dragon inside. If the steam and heat didn’t kill Windbiter, the brimstone fumes eventually would—but a price had to be paid if he were to hatch the egg.

  Now to wait.

  For two days as the new moon drew near, the temperature in the sealed workroom rose until the door radiated heat. Cyrus could feel Windbiter’s thoughts grow sluggish as the dragon continued to heat the egg with his dragon fire.

  It was a powerful time in the realm, with the conjunctions of stars and planets of magic, as far as mage spells went. Cyrus smiled. Patience. He knew the price of impatience. And he wished no more errors in the course of important events to come.

  On the eve of the new moon, he pried open the door with a long metal tool and jumped aside as steam and smoke billowed out. Windbiter lay on the floor of the room, unconscious but still alive.

  He waited for the room to cool. He walked over to the egg which glowed from within, the surface too hot to touch. Cyrus moved his ear closer, a smile curling on his gaunt face. He could hear the hollow stir of life within. The egg jiggled, quivering to the new thrusts of life. A few test taps with hammer revealed more. Yes, the petrified shell seemed to be thinning. Like a blacksmith striking his anvil, he swung the hammer against the shell.

  The sharp blow incited the egg to quiver. He struck again, and again, raining blows on the egg like a madman frenzied on drugs. He conjured forth green fire from his mage staff, covering the surface with sparks and flames. The egg jerked and the shell at last cracked. A wet, gleaming shape slithered out of the broken pieces. The gelatinous mass, sluggish and alien, struggled to rise.

  Cyrus gazed in awe. The newborn uncoiled to twice its size, stretching limbs that had been curled in its shell for untold ages.

  Magnificent, the creature was magnificent!

  His eyes brimmed. The dragon staggered to its four clawed feet, light blue with greenish tufts on its horned head and its splayed-back ears. Cyrus grinned.

  A tusked beak parted in a gurgling croak as the dragon sank to the floor. Something was wrong. The young scales had a dry and duller cast than normal. The creature’s eyes seemed sickly and white fluid leaked from its nose. The dragon’s thin limbs appeared underdeveloped. A runt of the litter? Its right leg appeared deformed and unable to support its full weight.

  Doubt plagued Cyrus that the hatchling would survive without his help. He retrieved a dragon amulet: an instrument crafted of amber crystal, the size of his fist. It had tamed the newborn dragons for centuries in the island kingdoms. He reached out a probing finger. The young dragon snapped at it.

  Cyrus jerked his hand back.

  “A wounded and pathetic specimen.” The mage’s grin remained sour. Had he gambled Windbiter for naught? The grey dragon was reviving in its huddled stupor. His eyes settled back on the hatchling. “Though you do have some fight in you. A quality to be admired. No one wants to be ruled by a master. Especially one like me. But ruled you shall be.” Cyrus laughed again. “Not to worry, Dendrok—that is your name from now on—the Defiant One in the old tongue of the warrior mages. With my magic you will grow strong and powerful.” He let the words echo off the dank rock. The dragon’s eyes wheeled in their horned skull; its ears seemed to perk, as if hearing its destiny in that rough, harsh sound emanating from Cyrus’s mouth.

  He would make his dragon more powerful than any that had ever lived. With Raithan and Darek out of his way, nothing would stop him from ruling the Dragon Claw Islands. Once he had taken care of the last two gnats in his side, he would start training his serpents to crush the coast and all who opposed him.

  The hatchling he would leave here in this secret chamber. Let Windbiter care for it in the meantime. It couldn’t fly with its thin, premature wings. With nowhere to run, it could roam free and hunt fish in the grotto’s pools. No escape routes existed in the connecting tunnels and side caverns. That he had ensured.

  Cyrus flew west on the back of his sea dragon Valoré, the fastest of his remaining minions. On toward the Black Claw port of Ravenstoke he rode, drawing the monstrous squid after him with a familiar fluting call in the back of his throat. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as the water churned behind him as those powerful tentacles slapped the rising waves, propelling its slimy yellow bulk forth with enormous speed.

  An instrument of destruction… Cyrus squinted in the sunlight, nursing pleasant thoughts. No need to accompany his servant for the rest of the long journey. The creature was the harbinger of death. It would ravage everything in its path. He imagined it tearing Raithan apart and when it failed to find him among the wreckage, it would return to his lair. The spell could be repeated, possibly even to kill the mage boy himself. He sent the final instructions out to his leviathan while he returned to Curakee on his dragon.

  Chapter 4.

  The Rookery

  Jace relaxed on returning to the large training field inside the Rookery. Overlooking the sea, the school’s high walls seemed to block out the strange events of the day and the angry mutters of more foul magic at work as he put a wing of new recruits through their practice drills. It was an unrelenting but rewarding task. Thirty-seven new riders had joined the school in the last moon. He walked beside Meira who was straddling her white dragon, Typhoon. Her hair was dark like her half-brother Darek’s, complementing the lighter hue of Typhoon’s scales. She took after her mother in this regard. The young, athletic woman had always been like a daughter to him and his chest swelled with pride at her assistance in training so many new recruits. Though Raithan was her father, it seemed she was destined to follow in his footsteps instead. Jace looked out with satisfaction over the impressive scene.

  The training ground was nearly as large as the nearby town itself, divided into three distinct areas. Curved arches and large stone hoops surrounded the perimeter that formed an elaborate obstacle course where dragons honed their acrobatic flying abilities and raced for rank and position among the trainees.

  The first section in the center of the course was a field crowded with riders and dragons in combat training. Several ranges allowed riders to practice with projectile weapons of every kind, from throwing spears to nets and cross-bows. Alongside that three large fighting pits ranged: one for dragon-against-dragon sparring, one for rider-versus-rider, and one where both faced off together. Groups of recruits practiced sword strokes and parries in close-combat, while fire-breathing dragons hurled searing red blasts down-range at stone targets.

  The second section was a giant trench filled with sea water. The artificial lagoon held a second underwater course filled with obstacles like stinging fire coral and a submerged network of caves. Riders used the deep pools to extend their ability to hold their breath and practice free-diving.

  The third area rose amongst the low-hanging clouds that rolled off the sea and covered the green valley. It had been designed by Agrippa himself for groups of dragons to practice coordinated aerial maneuvers. The section appeared mostly empty, save for dozens of light metal, rope-like columns piking high up in the air, and pulled taut by balloons.

  Tethered to each of these columns floated the huge balloon made from dozens of canvas sails sewn together and sealed with gum sap. The sap was sticky enough for dragon and rider to want to avoid, while also providing an air-tight seal. Each was filled with a mixture of gas called “Dragon’s Breath”, a substance lighter-than-air and self-contained for days at a time.

  Large groups of dragons flew above and below the inflated orbs as they refined their precision and perfected their teamwork. Mock battles along with a kind of real-life dragon chess reigned amongst the most popular war games. To touch the balloon meant a deduction of points or they lost the race, depe
nding on the training exercise in effect.

  Darek and Bree, his wiry female companion, flew in the middle of the riders, jousting with staves while Briad, the castaway from Curakee, looked on in wonder, taking in what pointers he could.

  Jace mounted his big tan-scaled dragon and flew across the different training areas, barking instruction and tips to his trainees. As the newly-appointed Rookery dragonmaster, he used a series of one-handed signals to others too far away to hear his booming voice.

  At midday a bronze bell gonged from the clubhouse, calling a halt to the activities. Sweaty riders streamed toward the tall towers of the school buildings. The trainees ate meals and attended night classes within the compound, studying the complicated hand signals and battle formations and mastering the various levels of skill tests to graduate to full-fledged dragon riders.

  Novices attended demonstrations of the making and maintenance of the shark-skin harnesses, basic care for a sea dragon and its treatment in the field, plus lectures on dragon breeding. Late each night, the students collapsed exhausted in the west wing dormitory, only to repeat the regimen over again the next morning.

  Rider and dragon needed the best possible food as they went through the rigorous training, and today’s midday meal was no exception. Rookery staff rolled large troughs of raw meat and fish outside for the dragons, while riders entered through the double-wide doors to the vaulted-ceilinged dining hall. Large sideboards stood everywhere piled high with the full bounty of the sea along with savory mutton and braised shanks of glistening lamb and beef. A team of cooks and workers serviced the school and grounds, all provided for by a generous endowment from Agrippa’s wealth and taxes collected from the Red Claw Islands. The ceiling, painted in great detail with the scenes of famous dragon battles, depicted the colorful history of the Rookery.

  “A good session out there today. Be proud and fill your bellies!” called Jace. The veteran dragon riders and students ate together and took hearty helpings. Good cheer and raucous laughter filled the air.

  Jace had just bit into a steaming meat-filled pastry, when through the wide bay windows, he saw a messenger dragon dropping into the grassy yard. The newcomers angled from the west and landing beside Meira and her dragon. As usual, the young rider was ministering to her mount’s needs before her own.

  The dragonmaster cleared his throat, his brows peaked in curiosity. He left his meal half eaten and strode out to investigate. The flush-faced scout had a wild look in his eye, his dragon trembling from the exertion of flying hard. It rasped out a guttural roar, teeth gnawing on the bit.

  “Festlex, what news?” Jace asked, hailing him and patting the gusting beast’s snout.

  “Black Claws, Jace. Mobilization of their paddlewheel war schooners. They seem to be moving in force.”

  “Against who?”

  “Pirates from Devil’s Isle. But that’s not the strangest thing. I swear I spotted Raithan aboard a Black Claw clipper nigh of Ravenstoke. Or his ghost prowling the decks.”

  Meira uttered a strangled gasp. “My father? Alive?” Her eyes lit up like fire.

  Jace shook his head. “Can’t be. I saw the destruction of The Soaring Cutlass with my own eyes along with the other Black Claw schooners. He went down with his ship.”

  “Or so we thought,” muttered the scout. “Word amongst the Black Claws says he’s returned in time to lead the attack. He’s been given command of their remaining ships.”

  Meira closed her eyes, as if in a silent prayer of thanks.

  “I was in Ravenstoke earlier, carrying a message to a merchant in the markets,” continued Festlex, “I kept my ear out for anything of interest, as you instructed me, Jace. Raithan has apparently bought his way out of the accusations against him and jumped at the chance to redeem his name. He claims he was deceived by Cyrus and was only protecting Black Claw interests. Once he saw Cyrus’s dark plan, he made efforts to put him down.”

  “He left a few things out,” grumbled Meira, “but his heart is in the right place.”

  Jace’s lips curled. “Raithan’s always sought profit. This ploy to erase his misdeeds sounds just like him.”

  “I must ride to him. Let me go find out the truth of it,” said Meira.

  Jace wrinkled his nose, shaking his shaggy head. “I don’t like the idea, but I know you’ll do it anyway. Take Festlex or Girar with you.”

  “No,” argued Meira. “This is something I must do alone.”

  “I can’t let you do that,” croaked Jace. “You’ll be in enemy territory.”

  “He’s my father!” Meira’s eyes swam with defiance. “He’s not going to do anything to hurt me.”

  Jace rubbed his chin, sucking in a long breath. “Take Briad with you, then. He could use the flying experience. They’re less likely to target two young riders who look to be training.”

  Darek and Bree returned from some private corner where they had been sharing their meal, trading moony looks. Darek’s ears perked up at the news.

  “You think that’s a good idea, Jace? Briad’s inexperienced. Maybe I should go, or Bree.”

  Jace pulled Darek aside, his eyes darting from side to side. “Let me speak plainly, Darek. Before you and Silver Eye arrived, the riders were having trouble controlling their dragons.”

  “What do you mean?” Darek asked.

  Jace gave a heavy sigh, stroking his blackened dragon-claw hand. “The dragon amulets seem less effective than before. Agrippa’s influence over them has waned ever since he died.”

  “What? Is this happening everywhere?” Darek looked around to see who might be listening.

  “I’ve had reports of widespread disobedience and defiance on the rise,” Jace said. “But that’s all changed here since you two arrived. No, I need you to stay at the Rookery. I can’t spare anyone else to go. We’ve absorbed the Cape Spear disaster well here, but I don’t want to leave the central port undefended again. We’ve added to our ranks, and are swelling in numbers. Give us some time to get up to fighting caliber and I’ll start sending out patrols to Drist and Valast up the coast.”

  Darek nodded and turned to his sister. “Promise me you’ll be careful. A high flyby reconnaissance only. If your father is alive, use the white flag of parley. Find out what is happening and then report back.”

  Clapping Meira on the shoulder, Jace nodded his agreement. “If anything looks wrong, you wing it out of there! He might’ve turned sides after the Cape Spear siege, but we can’t take any chances.”

  Meira shrugged with a happiness that denied any such betrayal. Hope shone in her eyes and Darek saw there would be no dampening her resolve.

  Jace summoned Briad and filled him in on the mission. Darek blinked as Meira flew off into the shimmering sunlight with Briad struggling to keep pace on his grey-snouted dragon.

  He was unable to get the crawling spider feeling out of his stomach. He peered over at Silver Eye, his silver-headed dragon stretched in a lazy sprawl on the grass. Why did he sense something unpleasant was going to happen?

  Resisting the urge to fly after Meira, Darek shook his head and tried to focus on the larger issue. If Agrippa’s death had weakened the riders’ control over the dragons, it fell to him to restore order and forge new dragon amulets.

  Bree came up to Darek and laced her fingers into his. “It’s okay. I know you worry about her, Darek. She can take care of herself, and Briad too.”

  Darek nodded. He forced a smile and put his other arm around Bree’s waist. She had been a wealth of comfort these last few months.

  He watched her as she brushed back an auburn curl, tinted a sun-kissed red-gold. She looked beautiful in the warm sunlight, her riding leathers snug about the contours of her hips and chest. Too long had his life been consumed with suffering and violence. Spending time in her arms had helped to fade some of his memories enslaved to the Black Claws and other misfortunes.

  It seemed that dropping his guard had been an invitation for catastrophe. Who had been the mysterious attacker in the
town square? The figure had flung a mage blast at him. This was nothing ordinary. Something Cyrus would do, but Cyrus was dead, consumed in the waterspout, and he hadn’t been seen since. There was something familiar about that evil aura—something cold and diabolical. The situation demanded more thought and he could not ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

  Chapter 5.

  Archituthis

  After nearly an hour of flying over endless blue water, Meira sighted a cluster of black sailship steamers in tight formation. She veered in, signaling Briad to follow. The dragons swooped down with powerful wings beating a steady rhythm. Briad was handling himself well, considering he had only had eight weeks of lessons on one of Agrippa’s dragons. The youth’s determination to help their cause had accelerated his progress.

  A flurry of activity sprang from the Black Claw decks as harpoons and cannons sighted on them. A sleepy dragon rider roused his dragon to attention and they sprang up to challenge them from the lead ship, its paddlewheels churning.

  “Stand down!” came a booming voice from the foredeck. The harpoons and cannons paused in mid-swing. “Any man who fires on my daughter will be used as serpent bait!”

  Meira reined in, guiding Typhoon in a perfect circle to land on the lead ship’s foredeck with effortless ease. Her eyes searched the face of the rangy captain who approached her, heedless of the dragon’s claws clacking on the polished deck. “Father!” She leaped from her mount, ignoring the looks of astonishment on the faces of the deckhands around her. “I knew you’d survive!”

  Raithan wiped his brow, a pride shining in his eyes for his daughter who was as fierce as any dragon rider. “I lived, Meira. Bailed ship at the last moment before that wind funnel tore her guts out—but your words about the truth of Cyrus’s serpents was what actually saved me.”