The Last Dragon Lord

V

V

Dark and Norwyn landed in a courtyard. The sky above was black, painted with orange flames from the vigil outside the palace walls. The crowd was singing hymns now, their voices swelling with each new verse. The smell of wax was still thick in the air.

The courtyard was bare compared to the gardens—mostly dirt, dead grass, and matted clumps of clover. The palace’s bone walls reflected against the grass, adding to the desolate feel.

That was another aspect of his parents’ design: everything outside had the appearance of being dead—to instill respect and fear. Dark had no intentions of changing that anytime soon.

“She’s right, you know,” Norwyn said.

Tessa’s words were on Dark’s mind, but he didn’t want to think about them.

“Not you, too, Norwyn.”

“It’s what they would want,” Norwyn said. “They’ll never tell you outright, though.”

Norwyn was always talking about right and wrong. It made for a good advisor, but not a confidante.

The white dragon sensed Dark’s anger. But unlike Kimber, he said nothing and waited for Dark to respond instead. He did not back down, and he did not avert his gaze.

“What would you do?” Dark asked, reluctantly.

Norwyn exhaled, relieved that he could speak freely.

“We have a lot of problems right now,” he said. “Security issues with the assassination attempt. Monsters on the trade routes. The blights in the fields and the food shortage. Humans and their declining faith in our authority. Elven rebellions. And amidst all of this, we have your parents.”

“You make them sound like liabilities,” Dark said.

“If you were the dragon lord, and you woke up one morning and your body was broken and without power, wouldn’t you feel like a liability?” Norwyn asked.

Dark considered the question. Norwyn always had a way of drawing an ethical line, even when the situation was difficult to discern. His blue eyes radiated confidence, empathy, and sadness.

“I don’t know,” Dark said, finally.

Norwyn started to say something, but he was interrupted by rapid footsteps in the grass.

“My Lord, My Lord, My Lord!” a voice cried.

A young green dragon ran into the courtyard. He had a chubby, round face with warts on his neck, webbed feet and a tail that was unusually short. He got hiccups whenever he was nervous, and he reminded Dark of a frog. So Dark nicknamed him Frog; he never knew what the boy’s real name was.

Frog slid to a stop at Dark’s feet.

“What is it, Frog?” Dark asked.

The young dragon panted and stammered something that Dark couldn’t understand.

“You look like you’ve been chased by an army of elves,” Dark said, laughing. “What is it, my boy?”

Frog regained his breath and calmed himself down. Then a hiccup exploded throughout his body, making him bounce into the air. He tucked his head into his chest and took in a deep breath, but another hiccup sent him into the air again.

“You’re not going to kill my father, are you?” he asked finally.

Dark cursed.

Frog’s father, Toad, was one of Dark’s bodyguards, and to abandon the dragon lord was an offense punishable by death. Though, technically, Dark had left for the bog without giving Toad notice.

But Toad hated conflicts, and was always sending his son out in front of him to placate Dark when he knew he was in trouble. Fortunately for Toad, Dark was fond of the young dragon.

Dark grinned at Frog. “No, no, your father’s not in any trouble. Toad? I know you’re listening. Come on out so I can apologize.”

A hulking shadow emerged from behind the palace walls. Toad looked exactly like his son, except three times bigger and heavier. He had thick green scales and long whiskers growing from his warts.

“I followed ya’ to the bog,” Toad said. He had a thick, croaky voice and spoke in a slow drawl. That was the way of river dragons—Dark often felt like time slowed down whenever Toad spoke.

“I didna see the one who what tried to kill you,” Toad said. “I searched the place up and down. I thought you maybe’ve left but didn’t know for sure.”

“I should have told you I was going to the bog,” Dark said. “I’m sorry. I had other things on my mind.”

Dark brushed Frog’s head with his tail. “Might I say that your son is growing fine and tall!”

“Yes, My Lord,” Toad said. “He tis.”

Frog smiled as Dark caressed his head.

“Frog, what has my father taught you lately?” Dark asked.

Dark’s father had taken a liking to Frog too. He was a little slow, but then again, Alsatius had nothing but time. He gave the boy weekly lessons in the gardens, teaching him magic spells and history.

“We’ve learning history,” Frog said. The river drawl crept into his voice here and there, like bubbles bursting on the top of a pond. “Of what it was like to live in the Magic Wars.”

“I’m sure my father could lecture about the Magic Wars all night,” Dark said.

“Yes, he likes to talk about the past,” Frog said.

“Because it determines the future,” Dark said.

“That’s what His Majesty says, but I don’t know,” Frog said. “The present isn’ too bad. No sense lookin’ back’n the time or predicting the future when we’re missing today.”

“That’s a good point,” Dark said. “Since you’ve persuaded me, my boy, why don’t you convince your father to take the night off and enjoy this seasonable night?”

Toad shook his head. “I’m meant to serve.”

“I feel terrible about leaving you behind, Toad,” Dark said. “Please, take the night off.”

The truth was that Toad couldn’t concentrate when he was frazzled, as he clearly was. He made mistakes and missed seeing things that a bodyguard should have seen. On a night like tonight, Dark couldn’t risk it—even if it meant not having Toad at his side.

“It’s an order,” Dark said.

“You’ve too kind, My Lord,” Toad said, bowing.

Dark had a magicked coin in his hands, and he tossed it to Frog. “Why don’t you go patronize some humans outside? With the crops the way they are, you’ll gain a few friends.”

Frog’s face lit up at the sight of the coin. Toad ushered him out of the courtyard and they flew over the castle walls, a little blob and a big blob against the candlelit sky.

Shadows fluttered overhead, and a group of nine dragons descended. They were talking to each other and laughing as they landed.

They bowed to Dark.

His entourage.

“We are ready to leave, My Lord,” Norwyn said. “We’ve located the village of the elven assailant.”

Dark spread his wings and stretched his legs.

Soon, the conspiracy would be crushed, and one more problem would be solved. He tasted blood on his lips and savored the crunching of bones in his mouth. Smoke leapt from his nostrils, and he laughed as he lifted into the air.

“Dragons, let’s fly.”