“I see,” he said slowly, then turned and left without so much as a good-bye.
I stood there, the book in my hands, staring after him. Was he angry with me now? I wasn’t sure what I could’ve said to offend him, but I also knew the tension between us was so precarious, even my self-righteous tone might’ve made him leave.
Well, I couldn’t worry about that now. I had research to conduct.
Under the stained glass of the north wall I found a window seat and pulled my legs up so the book rested against my thighs. I flipped past the section on wraiths and stopped on dragons. The last dragon in the book was the Sable Dragon. There was little information about it. It was said that it had killed the people who knew most about it and the recorded text was only stories passed down and not actual accounts.
If I were to destroy it, though, I had to start somewhere. My hands tightened around the edges of the book, and I started to read.
The Sable Dragon is born of evil—shadows, darkness, wickedness from the hearts of men.
I sped through the details of how the darkness accumulated and the different omens associated with it—all signs Gelloren had mentioned. When it came to the section on its shell and skin, I slowed down, looking for weaknesses.
The shell is made from the hardest substance known on earth. No blade can pierce it. At the time of hatching, the dragon is most susceptible. According to King Yolan, descendant of the Second King, the dragon is made of obsidian, with the ability to produce black flames. The flames burn the coldest ice, all while the victim is tortured by every horrid emotion and feeling that plagues this world. To induce even more suffering on its victims, the flames burn much more slowly than normal fire. Its only vulnerable spot is its mouth, where the very flames are produced.
The text was terrifying but nothing I hadn’t expected. I knew of two other Sable Dragons preceding this one. And though this egg didn’t necessarily mean the dragon, if hatched, would be worse than the other two, it could still mean the end of the Legion. We were weaker than the Legion who had defeated the other dragons two hundred—even one hundred—years ago. The state the Legion was in now would not be able to hold up against a monster such as a Sable Dragon. All to say, I had to get to that dragon before it hatched.
“You’ll need this, too.”
I tore my attention from the text and looked up.
Bathed in blue and purple from the light shining through stained glass, Bromley stood above me, holding out another book. Kisses of Dragon Slayers: Volume Nine.
I’d read volumes one through seven a couple of years back, before my first mission to slay a Bronze Dragon, but Master Gelloren had told me I needn’t bother with the last two volumes, since they held spells to kill dragons that had long since been extinct.
I took the book and flipped to the back.
“A servant told me I could find you here,” Brom said.
“New rule: no servant is permitted to tell anyone where I am,” I muttered, flipping another page.
“You weren’t at lunch or dinner, so I figured you wanted to get a head start after seeing Prince Zach fight.”
I didn’t reply. Bromley assumed I’d be going with Zach to kill the Sable Dragon. Well, he was half right. I was going, just not with Zach. I’d find another partner. Maybe another Saevallan. Or, Heavenly Queen forbid, I’d even get Amias if I was that desperate—maybe the Council would make an exception because of the tight deadline. Whoever it was, I was certain my power alone could beat the dragon.
I found the spell. It was long and intricate. More than five dozen syllables, all with unique pronunciation and rhythm. Of course it had to be complicated. The higher the risk, the greater the price.
“Do you think she ever slayed a dragon?” Brom asked, staring up at the stained glass.
I stood, both books in my arms, and turned to look at the stained glass as well.
It was of Queen Myriana.
Her image stood at least fifteen feet tall, with indigo-colored hair, white skin, and a beautiful blue dress. Roses, thorns, and ivy entwined in her hair and around her dress and arms. While holding a sword, she stood back to back with the Wicked Queen, who was wrapped in a violet cloak and holding a staff of gnarled wood. It was a beautiful juxtaposition. Like two sides of the moon, one blackened by shadows, the other illuminated by the sun. They were also both mothers. Myriana, mother to the first generation of Royals, and the Wicked Queen, mother to the Forces of Darkness.
Usually whenever I admired this stained glass, I focused on Myriana, but today the sun seemed to be shining directly behind the Evil Queen, bathing us in violet. The staff was beautifully designed with swirls of ancient dark symbols, but I knew that was merely an artist’s choice. The truth was we didn’t even know if she had a staff, much less what it looked like.
The historical texts had always been cryptic about the Evil Queen and her past. It was also extremely annoying to run into ripped or warped pages of history books whenever the text got close to her origins.
Even the version the young princess told in the classroom was said to have been mostly fabricated by bits and pieces of rumors from over five centuries ago. The Royals accepted that they were mother and daughter—that Myriana’s firstborn had been stolen and cursed into a hellish oblivion. How could anything, or anyone, take away an innocent baby and turn her into something so wicked and twisted…so terrifyingly evil that new monsters and curses were born by nothing more than her thought or nightmare?
Tearing my gaze away from the cloaked queen, I refocused on Brom’s question. “Oh, I’m sure she fought many dragons. Maybe not a Sable—”
My words were drowned out by the tolling of the Myrial bells, then three sharp horn blasts, one after the other.
A breach.
I shoved the books into Brom’s arms. “Copy page 354 of the Dragon Slayers volume for the spell. I have to go!”
The librarians didn’t say a word as I ran through their precious stacks. They knew I was running to join the fight. Even without a partner, I had to help stop whatever monster had breached our walls.
…
Down in the armory, it was ordered, calm…routine. Younger Royals strapped armor to the older Royals. Princesses slung quivers of arrows to their backs and fastened wrist guards as they stood under shelves and racks of weapons upon weapons. Swords, shields, rapiers, daggers, staffs, longbows, crossbows, maces, and axes all hung neatly on gray stone walls stretching high into rafters of dark brucel wood.
Tulia and Minnow were already loaded with shields and their preferred weapons—Tulia with a collection of throwing daggers, Minnow with a crossbow. I hurried to my friends and grabbed a sword and a smaller, easier-to-move shield.
“Any report yet?” I asked, strapping the shield to my left arm.
Tulia shook her head. “Just the three horns. It’s probably a horde. We’re waiting for the scouts now, and then we’re to set out.”
I grimaced at the word “horde.” She was probably right—no single monster was stupid enough to attack Myria’s walls, but they gained courage in numbers.
The double wooden doors banged open, and two running scouts sped through, stopping to report to Roland and Edric. Then Roland pointed to six pairs of half princes and princesses and signaled for them to depart. They were outside before Edric had even crossed to Tulia, Minnow, and me.
His face didn’t look quite so strained now, but there were still signs of fatigue in his gait—just like Minnow and Tulia, he was still tired from their week-long patrol.
“The good news is the breach is contained. The Royals on the wall were the first to respond, so they have a good handle on it.” Edric nodded to Tulia. “But we should hurry, just in case.”
Minnow and Tulia started off with their partners, but I grabbed Edric’s arm. “And what of me? Don’t tell me you expect me to stay behind.”
Edric shrugged off my arm. “You don’t have a partner yet.”