Moonsy felt sorry for the skmoe. He’d lost his twin yesterday, or so she’d heard. And they were crazy to begin with.

  The gargans seemed to be in shock, for they hadn’t even noticed the silver-coated Heart Tree yet. “One moment we were all about to die, the next they just stopped attacking. We were ninety-three in number when we came. Now we are naught but four.”

  Moonsy saw that Chelda was bloody and limp, and she ran as fast as she could, drawing the Glaive of Gladiolus as she went. The man shouldering his comrade ran toward Moonsy then, and laid his burden out on the strange, hard surface where the great red dragon had blasted the ground with his breath earlier, before landing.

  Moonsy jabbed the gargan twice for good measure, but he had been dead too long. There was no life left to heal. Moonsy’s heart was racing as she made the few steps it took her to meet the man cradling Chelda.

  She was looking for any sign of life, and then her lover’s bloody face cracked into a smile. She sniffed and opened her eyes, lifting her cheek away from the chest of the one carrying her. Chelda grinned and then grimaced, but her eyes stayed happy. “I jabbed one of the dragons,” she managed.

  “This is for leaving me behind when you went to Zyth without me.” Moonsy poked Chelda’s tender ribs extra hard, but then she hugged her. The gargan man let Chelda’s feet slide to the ground and eased away from the two.

  Moonsy was ill over the hole through Chelda’s gut. It was healing, but she wanted her lying down. This would not be a speedy recovery, even with the aid of magic. She turned and started snapping out orders. When a pair of fluttering sprite medika arrived, and a few of the larger elves came over to support her, Moonsy went to see about the man who’d fallen near Russet.

  The king of the humans was still on a knee beside him, and looked as if the whole tension of the battle had broken through. Moonsy had to remind herself that this young man had lost his father, and half of his kingdom. He’d probably ordered the Zythian, who was attracting all the Zythian survivors even now, to go get something from the Underland.

  This drew her mind back to the Heart Tree. Out beyond where the circular thorn wall had been, there were silvery roots thrusting up into saplings. This phenomenon was happening in a circle far greater in size than the one the thorn wall had encompassed, and it reminded Moonsy of a day when she was but a girl, before the Hoar Witch had come.

  There hadn’t been a thorn wall then. There had been a wall of soldier pines, all tall and slender, and perfectly spaced, shoulder to shoulder, happy and green. The sward had been humungous.

  It was amazing to see this happening around them, but not as amazing as watching Vanx Malic and the glittery-scaled, scarlet wyrm he rode. They landed and then settled on the hardened surface they’d made. Then the green dragon landed, and after letting its rider slide to the ground, it began eating the old thorn wall in big, crunching bites.

  “I will keep watch from the sky, Vanx Malic,” Pyra hissed. “You oweseth me your lifeth, for I did not eatsss you assss I ssshould have whence you first stood beforeth me in my lair. You will hunt thisss Paragon Dracusss with me as repayment, for even now I feel he hasss captured some of the slower wyrmsss from my island.”

  “Yup,” was all Vanx said, which made Moonsy smile. She’d have bet a gallon of honeysuckle wine that Vanx had been planning on hunting that thing down all along. Now that he’d protected the Heart Tree from it, they could all go.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Seven

  I wrote a pretty ballad,

  to win my Molly’s love.

  But when she saw my empty purse,

  she said it twern’t enough.

  – Parydon Cobbles

  Vanx avoided Russet, the Zythians, and even Moonsy, for he suspected that Pwca might have pilfered his palace. Poops and Gallarael, however, came up out of the Underland and were not far behind him when he went in.

  There were men and Zythians, and even a few of the fae all hiding inside, but once they were told the battle was over, that they had won the day, they all dispersed and went to find their fellows in the sward and around the palace.

  Vanx was in the lookout when Poops found him and nearly tackled him. The dog was licking his face and waggling his tailless body back and forth in sheer joy.

  “Go down and check,” Vanx asked Gal, who’d come in and might have already been moving to do so.

  I missed you, too, my friend, Vanx told his dog familiar. I wonder if you can even go on this hunt, though. On a dragon’s back is no place for a dog.

  Then Vanx remembered the vision of himself and the others walking along purposefully. Moonsy’s long shadow gave away that she was riding Poops. Where had they been? Vanx wondered. They certainly were not hunting the Paragon from Pyra’s back.

  “She is gone,” Gal said. The look on her face was one of utter disgust. “Sissy took the Trigon wizard, though, in her stead. Who killed her?”

  “Pwca,” Vanx answered.

  “Why would he take her?”

  “Probably for a trophy.” Vanx shrugged.

  “So, she couldn’t tell you all of her secrets, is why,” Ptelea said, as she glided into the room. “Pwca is dangerous,” the wood nymph continued. Vanx was growing hard just thinking about her touch. “Follow your heart, Vanx Malic.” Ptelea’s voice sounded strangely like that of the Goddess. “I will visit you again, when I can.”

  Vanx had no response, and the look Gallarael gave him was one of jealousy. Whether for her mother, or for herself, Vanx couldn’t say.

  The idea that the little rat-riding devil had killed the Hoar Witch didn’t bother him as much as he thought it might. The rat bastard had fought with them to defend the Deep, and Vanx still had all of Aserica Rime’s potions and spells.

  He wanted to look into the Mirror of Portent, but before he could get up from where he had been petting Poops, Gallarael crawled down beside him, let her hands slide over the erection in his britches, and kissed him deeply.

  It was a good long while before Vanx was thinking with his mind again, but when he did, he knew two things: one, he was going to hunt down the Paragon Dracus with Zeezle and Pyra; and two, Gallarael was going to be a problem. Now, instead of visions of her mother stealing his focus all the time, it would be visions of her.

  As he lay there on the dirty floor of the lookout, with Gallarael sleeping on one side of him and Poops curled up near his feet, he dug the mirror out of his jacket pocket and couldn’t help but look at what it portrayed.

  The vision wasn’t very clear, but Russet was right. It was Vanx fighting Prince Russet in the throne room of Parydon Palace, and only then did the idea that Gallarael was the King of Parydon’s sister take hold in his head.

  By the Goddess, what had he been thinking?

  She rolled over and pressed her warm breasts against him. Her back was slightly arched, and her well-toned ass was as smooth as anything he’d ever gazed upon. He knew what he’d been thinking, and as bad of an idea as it was, he was already thinking it again.

  Vanx was awakened back into reality when Moonsy splashed them with cold water and explained that King Russet was on his way over to say farewell.

  Vanx scrambled to get dressed, and Gallarael simply shifted into her feline form. This made Vanx shiver, until she put her fur against his hip and slid past him out of the room.

  “I’ve never slept as well as I did these last days,” King Russet said as he eased down uncomfortably into the Hoar Witch’s lookout.

  “Nor, I.” Vanx nodded. He saw Gallarael’s tail flicker off down the stairwell. He was a grown man, and he wondered why he felt so relieved. “Not if it has been days since Pyra sat me on the sward.”

  “It has.” Russet chuckled. “Some of the Zythians are taking us back. They say they will rally some of your people to help us drive the remaining Trigon off of Andwyn, and then the island. The hundreds of undazed we’ve rounded up are being driven to Orendyn. What we will do with them, I’ve no idea yet.”

  “They’ll freeze to death on the way, and probably eat each other because they won’t be able to hunt.” There was a long pause as the idea of it faded. Vanx knew the gargans would be escorting and feeding them. “I was sad to hear about Quazar. He was a good man,” Vanx finished.

  “Quazar held you in the highest regard, and told me I’d be wise to do the same.” Russet scuffed his boot on the floor. “It is still there. The Paragon was seen dazing more Parydonians out on the island.” Russet shrugged. “But then it disappeared and hasn’t been seen for two days now.”

  “I think it went to Dragon Isle.” Vanx gave the young king a look. “Take back the mainland cities, first. Stay wary of the Isle of Parydon. I do not think the Paragon will give it up so easily.”

  “Aye.” Russet nodded. His sword came out of its sheath, but Vanx saw it was no threatening gesture. Russet used the tip of the blade to pick up his sister’s blouse and show Vanx that he’d noticed it.

  Vanx felt his face flush hot and red.

  “Take care of my sister.” He gave him a conspiratorial male look. Vanx wasn’t sure how to take it. “And if you do come to kill me in my own throne room someday, be prepared for your lesson.”

  Vanx had to grin at that, for making light of the vision they’d both seen in the mirror gave it less weight in his heart and mind, and the idea that Russet might be able to beat him wasn’t an impossibility, either. The boy was treacherous with a sword.

  Chapter

  Thirty-Eight

  When you bargain with the devil,

  you get a stain upon your soul.

  The problem is, until your dead,

  these things you never know.

  – A Zythian bard’s song

  The funeral they held for Thorn, Quazar, Volan, and the other ranking officers who’d died in the great battle was a sad event. It was being rushed, too, which defied the point of observing and honoring the heroic deeds of the departed. Vanx found himself feeling detached at first, for he hadn’t known Volan and the officers well, save the crewman of the Sea Hawk. He couldn’t even remember that man’s name.

  When Gallarael talked about Quazar, Vanx listened. He held her afterward as she sobbed. But when it came to the final portion of the ceremony, and General Gloryvine Moonseed started talking about General Foxwise Posey-Thorn, and all he had done before Vanx even came along, Vanx couldn’t contain his tears.

  Thorn had risked his life to find a crystal just so Queen Corydalis could reach out to him. And sure enough, he’d felt that calling. He was never sure of what it was, but it had drawn him here. Poops missed Thorn terribly, too, which didn’t help, but due to Vanx’s circumstances with nearly every female in his proximity, more than anything, Thorn had been his best friend. And the worst part of it all was that he was about to have to leave his closest companion of all with Moonsy, while he, Zeezle, Gallarael, and Chelda went after the Paragon Dracus on the backs of Pyra and the green dragon called Kelse.

  Eventually, Vanx decided he’d had enough of the ceremony. He and Poops excused themselves and went for a walk in a part of the forest that hadn’t been scorched or melted. It didn’t take long for Poops to find something that riled his hackles, and all of a sudden Vanx’s face was filled with two spear-wielding sprites, each about the size of his smallest finger.

  “The big cat’s litter be here,” one said.

  “’Taint to be bothered,” said the other.

  “Oh, wait, that is Sir Poopsalot Maximus,” the first one said.

  Poops barked at the sprite.

  “Have you come to replace us?” one of them asked.

  “We’ve been on duty for a week straight and—”

  “Go to the Heart Tree this moment.” Vanx shook his head, wondering how in all the hells no Trigon had gotten near the big snow lion and its litter. “Wait!” he yelled before the last of the five-sprite troop was out of earshot. “I am leaving soon. Tell General Moonsy that your new duty will be to watch over Sir Poopsalot while I am gone.”

  The sprite looked crestfallen, so Vanx added, “After you’ve had plenty of rest, of course; and we will put you on shifts, so that two of you can rest while three of you watch over him.”

  The sprite looked up, his fellows all hovering up behind him. “General Thorn?”

  “His burial ceremony is happening in the sward as we speak.” Vanx felt another hot tear roll down his cheek. “Now go. Pay your respects, and then rest.”

  “Sir.” The sprite saluted, and they buzzed away.

  Vanx, with Poops right behind him sniffing the air for any sign of the big cat, crept forward with caution.

  When he parted some leaves and saw the three young kittens, each about half Poops’s size, and all covered in thick, ivory-colored fur, he smiled. They were lying side by side, all in a row. When he heard the mother cat growl and saw her lift her head, he realized they were nursing.

  “Easy, big girl.” He started backing away, and found Poops had already done so.

  As he and his dog sauntered back to what was left of the crystal palace, Vanx wondered why and how one place in the forest, the one place in the forest with a snow lion’s den in it, could go unmolested in the middle of a war. Had those sprites done something, or was it just meant to be? He wasn’t sure, but if those little guys had been diligent enough to hold their post for five whole days, while a war raged around them, then they were diligent enough to keep an eye on his familiar.

  He sat and leaned back, taking a moment to try to clear his mind.

  It didn’t work.

  The curiosity behind Pwca killing Aserica Rime, but not the Trigon wizard, was worth pondering. So was the strange little turd-looking devil joining with them in battle. Thinking of Pwca made him shiver.

  He knew he had to do it, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to sleep another day and then be off on the hunt, but the Mirror of Portent was calling him. It kept on doing so, until he could fight the urge to look into it no longer.

  When he looked into the small fragment and saw King Ravier Oakarm, Russet’s and Gallarael’s father, blue-eyed and stamped with the three dots of the Paragon’s trident, ordering the good folk around, he shook his head in disgust. The Paragon had a puppet king now?

  Sitting Russet on the throne would be no easy chore, now, not even with the skmoes, gargans, and Zythians on his side. Neither would be the finding and killing of the Paragon Dracus, but Vanx Malic was certain it could be done, and he wasn’t afraid to go try and do the deed himself.

  The End of Book Five–Trigon Daze

  Enjoy this preview of:

  The Legend of Vanx Malic

  Book Six — Paragon Dracus

  Copyright © 2015 by Michael Robb Mathias Jr.

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  In a matter of days, the situation on Parydon Isle grew worse than Vanx or any of his companions could possibly imagine. It seemed that the Heart Tree and even Orendyn were no longer in danger, though. The Trigon fighters and lesser wyrms who were still dazed had gone from their continent completely, and showed no intention of returning.

  Zeezle and his green dragon, a drake he called Kelse, had just returned from scouting the situation firsthand. Vanx was grinding his jaws in anticipation of what his Zythian friend would report. The information he had tortured out of the Trigon wizard Sissy was feeding on down in the dungeon was only slightly helpful. They needed an edge, and he was hoping to gain one this evening.

  He wished he’d had just a bit more time to bleed the Hoar Witch of information, for she’d managed to keep the Trigon, and their master at bay for a few millennium.

  He and Poops met Zeezle and the women near the entry to his partially destroyed crystal palace. Even though Chelda was no longer bound to the Underland and could travel into the place, this was still where they all seemed to meet at times like these.

  There were two log benches and a fire pit, and even when it was colder up high, it was spring-like down in the valley. The air this evening was chill, or maybe Pyra’s lingering infernal nature was causing Vanx to feel that way. Just to give them some light, and maybe to show off that he had been studying the Hoar Witch’s spell books, Vanx threw his hand at the pit and caused a sizeable fire to burst into existence.

  Zeezle seemed unsure how his news would be received, and as soon as the fire left his hand, Vanx could sense a deep anger coming from Pyra. She was circling above, and furious. The big red dragon had escorted Zeezle and Kelse on their observational trek, and it was clear something they’d witnessed had her riled.

  “The Paragon Dracus hasn’t killed King Ravier Oakarm,” Zeezle said flatly. “He has him under the Trigon Daze, thus putting some of the kingdom in his control, and rendering all of his secrets revealed.”

  Vanx’s expression changed, and he could tell that Gallarael, Chelda, Moonsy, and whoever else was hovering about had changed their expressions, too, for Zeezle went on nodding, as if they were all getting the implications.

  “The great palace of the Oakarm dynasty has been removed from the top of the island mountain, just as you told me Russet saw in the Mirror of Portent. All that remains is a large, flat, checkerboard floor. It is surrounded by the stubs of the columns that once held its roof in place, but it is now open to the sky.” Zeezle stepped over and gave Poops a scratch behind the ears, and went on from a squatted position. “The throne dais still sits majestically at one end. This is where I saw the Paragon lay out a smaller blue dragon and torture it, by twisting its wings nearly off.

 

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