Wildermont, King Jarrek wouldn’t deny them the opportunity.
The only thing Queen Shaella loved more than flying on a dragon’s back was Gerard. But, since she had been deprived of the glorious feelings of flight for so long she couldn’t help herself. The Silver Skull of Zorellin and her hell-bound, mutant lover could wait just a little while longer. After putting on the controlling collar, she boldly mounted the young black drake, her blood electric with giddy anticipation.
“Fslandra, go fetch my staff,” she ordered her zard servant. Then to her two wizards, “I was about to ink a reply to a request from King Ra’Gren,” she told them. Cole, Flick’s near twin, was standing beside him holding the Silver Skull. Flick was beaming over having delivered Shaella the artifact and her gift successfully. He had spent all afternoon getting Shaella’s dragon harness adjusted down to the black wyrm’s size.
“I think I’ll go see the bastard instead,” she giggled and patted the creature.
Behind the two bald-headed wizards, the three remaining red-robed priests of Kraw looked on in awe. The will of their demon god was at work before their very eyes.
The group was gathered on the long stairway in front of the castle's great arched entry. A reluctant group of uniformed zard had formed a loose ring around them because a crowd was beginning to gather. Tales of the beast had spread like a wildfire through the inns and taverns, and soon everyone inside the vast walls of Lakeside Castle knew about it. Everyone wanted to see the Queen and her new dragon.
Phen eased around the spectacle and positioned himself by the great oaken doors to the castle. Flick had given the Silver Skull to another bald-headed wizard-a thinner, taller one. Phen planned on following him when he came in, so that he could nab the skull, or at least see where it was placed. All the attention the sleek black-scaled dragon was drawing made it easy for him to move around. He figured that he didn’t even have to be invisible to get into the castle. Nevertheless, he kept the ring on his finger. There was no sense in tempting fate.
The dragon’s mighty roar caused him to look back. He was halfway up the steps. The dragon looked at him, and Phen knew beyond any doubt that the wyrm could see him. Luckily it was in no position to worry about him. The sound of hurried footfalls startled Phen back around just in time to avoid a young zardess. The reptilian girl, defined by the feminine cut of her strange attire, was carrying a wicked looking staff that had a melon-sized crystal orb for a headpiece. She didn’t slow as she made her way through the group of people past the ring of zard soldiers to the dragon’s side. With little show of fear she handed the staff up to Shaella.
With her partially scarred scalp and her long raven black hair, Phen thought that Shaella looked even more beautiful and intimidating than the rumors portrayed her.
Too bad you’re gonna die soon, Phen thought as he started up into the castle to wait on the skull. He was wondering why he still wasn’t feeling afraid when the dragon leapt from its haunches into flight. Zard soldiers hissed and people jeered and cheered alike. When a man heaved open the door, Phen steeled to the task, and darted into Lakeside Castle.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Shaella was exhilarated. The young black drake wasn’t nearly as big or powerful as Claret, but he carried her effortlessly. His anger suited Shaella’s demeanor. Before long it was clear that the dragon favored her too. They were flying east over the vast expanse of her kingdom. She was the Dragon Queen, and he was her wyrm.
Even though it wasn’t necessary, Shaella leaned forward and spoke loudly over the wind. “What are you called?” she asked.
“Daragrathomlegenvrot,” the wyrm replied into her mind.
“Dar-agra-thom-legen-vrot,” Shaella repeated carefully. “I’ll just call you Vrot.”
“You are the ones with control,” Vrot chuckled sarcastically. “Call me whats you will.”
As they circled higher, Vrot picked up the scent of fresh death. Through the link of the controlling collar, Shaella sensed it as well. She told him to seek out the smell.
At first Shaella thought they were going to fly over the marshland that separated Dakahn from lower Westland, but Vrot followed the scent north of the swampy regions. Soon the dragon was circling the lower Wilder Mountains where they met the split in the Leif Greyn River.
Vrot flew high enough that the men below didn’t notice him. Shaella cast a spell that allowed her vision to zoom in and focus on details below.
Thousands of corpses lay in scattered masses, from Low Crossing all the way to Seareach. A torn and bloodied banner lay among them displaying the rising sun of Seaward.
So Ra’Gren wasn’t exaggerating, Shaella mused. Nearer to Seareach where the passable land narrowed, there was more life. Men in uniform, flying the Dakaneese trident had made an encampment. Seeing that Ra’Gren had sent his own men told her how serious he considered this matter. King Jarrek had jabbed a thorn deeply into his pride.
When they circled back around they saw that there was another encampment north of Low Crossing. Shaella could tell by the banners fluttering in the breeze that this group was a mix of Highwander men, Valleyans, and Seawardsmen. At the moment they didn’t look like much, but Shaella knew that if all three of the other eastern kingdoms had come together to help King Jarrek, soon many more men would be marching to his aid. Now that she had the Silver Skull of Zorellin, she could summon Gerard into the world, and other demons as well. She thought that it might be wise to quell the enthusiasm of this eastern coalition before it grew too strong. If King Jarrek and the High King somehow managed to defeat Dakahn, then Westland would certainly be next.
She wasn’t worried about King Mikahl and his sword anymore. Soon he would be in the red priests’ trap. She worried about Queen Willa’s Blacksword soldiers, and all those vicious, tattoo covered bastards from Seaward. She didn’t have a sizable force of men to lead into a war, but she had a dragon.
She wondered if it might be wiser to let Willa and Queen Rachel send more of their fighters. That way the demons and devils she intended to release from the Nethers could have them all at once. In her mind’s eye she saw Gerard’s fearsome demonic visage, and knew that it would be up to him. He would tell her what to do. He would reach through her staff and fill her belly full of sticky heat, the kind that scalded her insides. He would get his way.
She started to urge Vrot northward so that she might investigate the wall that she’d heard Lord Bzorch was building around his city, but she changed her mind. She had to laugh. The stupid breed giant had hated the magical walls King Balton imprisoned them behind at Coldfrost. Now he was building his own walls around himself. Whether it was made of stone and wood, or of magic, to Shaella, a wall was a wall. If all Bzorch really wanted was to be isolated with his own people he could’ve just stayed in Coldfrost. Did it matter who made the walls?
She wasn’t worried about the Lord of Locar, though, she was the one who had freed him and his people from the eternal prison of Coldfrost. She wouldn’t let him forget that.
Gerard’s image formed in her mind again and she longed for him. The red priests were preparing to call him forth, but she still needed to visit Ra’Gren. She needed to assess his battle plan and wanted to remind him of her might.
Below them, near Seareach, a small group of men were heaving body after body into the Leif Greyn River. The snappers and dactyls would be thick along the edge of the marshes, all of them fighting to get a taste of the ripening human flesh as it floated south toward the sea. By the looks of it there would be plenty to go around.
Farther south a large troop of Dakaneese foot soldiers was marching toward the passage. She had to respect Ra’Gren. The dead were far too fresh for him to have sent the reinforcements after the battle. He had done so in anticipation of victory.
The Dakaneese cities all long the marshy Leif Greyn passed under them quickly as Vrot sped toward O’Dakahn. They soared over the fishing villages of Pearsh and Owask, then Osvoin, where Shaella’s mother had lived her pitiful life as a swamp witch. Pael had planted his seed in her and disappeared into the mountains north of Westland. He’d ignored Shaella until her first menstruation. Then out of nowhere he’d arrived and given her a spell book. Gifts that caused her to have to use her mind arrived irregularly. Then came Flick and Cole, and the grand idea to train the zard and conquer Westland. Shaella had only learned recently from reading Pael’s journals that her
