Dragon Breeder 3 by Dante King (motivational books for students txt) 📗

for something in particular, my bodyguard said, “It is a highly powerful magical object this bag, very fuckin’ powerful indeed. It is enchanted with an anti-magic forcefield on the inside and stops a dragonmancer—or any mancer—from being able to communicate with the stone in which their soul companion resides.”

“Why would you need something like that?” I asked.

Jazmyn swapped a quick, uncomfortable glance with Ashrin, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

“We of the Twelve are often called to hunt down rogue dragonmancers,” she said in a low voice. “You could say that that is the very reason why the Twelve were formed all those years ago.”

“Rogue dragonmancers?” Renji asked in a disbelieving voice. Her lips were parted in incredulity, showing a sliver of her bright silver teeth.

“Yes, they exist,” Ashrin said, her voice cold and dangerous. “And no, they do not live long after they choose to forsake the Empire.”

Chapter 16

With the crystals—the Etherstones—stowed safely on my person, I prepared for a hasty exit. I summoned Garth into my Leg Slot so that the Pearl Dragon appeared in front of us.

The deep pink fronds surrounding his rose-colored head pulsed more quickly than was usual, mirroring the young dragon’s excitement—and, I supposed, my own. Outwardly though, Garth remained fairly impassive and cool, not showing much sign of his relative immaturity. I had a notion that it was, partly, to impress Noctis.

“It is not, Dad,” Garth said, latching on to the tail end of this thought.

I grinned and thought back, “Sure it’s not.”

I got the distinct impression that Garth viewed Noctis as something of a hero figure mixed with an older brother. Noctis was far older, far more experienced, and far more battle-tried than Garth. As we shared one headspace, I figured the Onyx Dragon had probably been sharing tidbits of advice with Garth on some other plane of thought that I was not privy to.

I climbed onto Garth’s back and slapped him affectionately on his thick, muscled neck a few times.

“You feeling fit?” I asked him aloud.

The Pearl Dragon let loose a short, sarcastic rumble from deep in his chest: the audible dragon equivalent of “Does Sofia Vergara sleep on her back?”

“Good,” I said, “because we need to make some serious ground.”

I glanced around at the gathered dragonmancers and squad members, at Diggens Azee and Will.

“I owe all of you a drink,” I said, “and a lot more. Right now though, I’ve got to get my ass and these crystals back to base and on to Wayne.”

“Mike,” Ashrin said, stepping forward, “General Shiloh’s orders mean that Jaz and I have to come with—”

“I’ll be fine,” I said firmly. “I’m heading straight up the tunnel and then back to the base of the mountain. Besides, I have Garth and Noctis. Nothing is going to stop me getting this crystal back to Wayne. You guys focus on getting everyone out of here alive, and make sure that nothing happens to the prisoner.”

Ashrin opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could say anything, I gave Garth a nudge in the ribs and the Pearl Dragon sprang away.

He ran like a cheetah through the doors of the temple, muscles bunching and stretching before he jumped into the air and snapped open his wings.

“You call that speed?” I asked, narrowing my eyes against the intensity of the wind. I hunkered down closer to his back so that the wall of building wind resistance didn’t tear me from my perch.

Garth growled as he ripped toward the tunnel entrance like a rocket-propelled falcon.

“Old man,” he said, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

We shot into the mouth of the tunnel, so close to the ground that Garth’s beating wingtips were almost brushing the floor. Dust and grit blasted up and around us, swirling out behind Garth in a vortex as we raced onward and upward, heading for the surface.

* * *

Our emergence back into the light, and back into the milling military town surrounding the base of Galipolas Mountain, was about as unobtrusive as a clown arriving drunk to a funeral.

Garth and I blasted out of the main mine entrance in a cloud of dust and loose stones and headed for the main street. So fast and low was Garth flying, he overturned a cart simply by flying too near to it. The empty, horseless cart, parked at the back of one of the clapboard buildings and awaiting loading, was spun into the air by the vortices left in the dragon’s wake. It crashed, upside down, onto the dirt track, sending splinters and bits of woods flying into the air.

“Sorry!” I called as we shot past.

As we neared the tents in which I and the other dragonmancers had been quartered, I spotted Saya sitting outside one of them, staring pensively into the campfire and sipping from a mug.

I pulled Garth back into his crystal in midair, but carried on flying through the air myself, propelled by sheer impetus. I dropped, hit the ground hard, and rolled to my feet, coming to a skidding halt some ten yards from the fire.

“I’ll give you an eight for the dismount,” Saya said as I hurried up.

Not bothering to answer, I pulled the two Etherstones out of my pocket and held them up.

“Holy shit,” Saya said.

“Where is Elenari?” I asked. “Where’s Wayne?”

Saya jerked her thumb at the tent behind her.

“Hurry,” she said.

I ripped the tent flap open and strode inside. Elenari was sitting on a pallet bed cradling Wayne. The dragonling was so small now. He had shrunk to a size that enabled him to fit into Elenari’s palm. He was the pale gray of the purest ash.

Elenari looked up miserably when she heard me enter. When she saw who it was, though, her face contorted into a slight frown of puzzlement.

“Mike…” she said.