Slayer

  Arek shivered in excitement. He needed to kill the Ognok on first sight. Then he would be famous.

  The two minutes seemed like two hours. But finally, Honoglata came through the gate.

  “Are you ready, Arek Eouhjasson?”

  “I am, King Honoglata.”

  The king of Kiolerasdarque smiled. “Honoglata Tethurasson.” Then he moved out of the way of the doorway as a giant Ognok emerged from the doorway.

  “Release the beast!” yelled Honoglata. “Fight!”

  Arek drew Stabber, and he pointed it at Galorat. The Ognok was chubby in the face, with bloodshot eyes and chapped lips.

  Galorat snorted. He flew up and over Arek’s head, landing behind him. Arek spun around just as Galorat’s fangs sank into his shoulder.

  Arek screamed. Then he pushed the Ognok off of him, and while his teeth were still out of its mouth, Arek slashed off its right fang.

  Galorat screamed in agony. Then Arek stuck his blade into Galorat’s belly. He yelled again and stumbled back, then fell over.

  Arek made one last attempt to finish him off, but Galorat got to his feet and started running towards the metal gate, which was closed.

  Galorat flicked his wrist in an upward gesture and the gate lifted, and the Ognok ran out of it. Since there were no guards around, he wasn’t caught.

  Arek stood up and ran after him. He saw him twist down a staircase, and Arek dove for his heels.

  He hit a stair with a loud thump. Then he bumped down the stairs, Galorat escaping.

  Galorat ran and finally exited the castle. Arek stumbled after him, tripping over the stairs.

  When he exited the castle, the sun blinded him. It’d been a long time since he’d seen daylight, and he wasn’t prepared for it.

  He looked east and west, not seeing any sign of Galorat.

  Then he saw footprints which stopped. Arek looked up. The Ognok was flying away, heading southwest toward Toromok. Arek wished he had a wand to transport himself to Galorat’s destination, but he didn’t have one yet. He wished he hadn’t used up all his magic without a wand so early. But he could still use magic…

  He ran into the castle, up the staircase, past the room where he fought Galorat, through a tunnel, and into Honoglata’s chambers.

  “Can I use some of your magic?” asked Arek. “I just need to borrow—”

  “No,” said the king. “I gave you one wish. Why aren’t you fighting Galorat? Did you kill him? Do you need your wand?”

  “No,” said Arek, out of breath from running through the gigantic Capital Castle. “He escaped. He’s flying southwest.”

  “Impossible. How did he get out of the room you were supposed to battle him in? That was an iron gate!”

  “He used magic,” responded Arek. “He flicked his wrist upward, and it just opened. He’s escaping right now! He’s probably out of sight! I need magic!”

  “I’m afraid I’m low of magic right now,” said Honoglata. He stood and went behind his throne to a desk filled with boxes, jars, glass containers, and other objects that could be filled up.

  The king picked up a small container with about a centimeter of green liquid in it.

  “This is the amount of magic I have left,” said Honoglata.

  Arek gaped at him. “But…you’re the king. How do you only have that much magic?”

  “Morchad is stealing it from me. Every night he sends one of his highly trained troops in here and they steal a few jars of magic. It’s been going on ever since the war started.”

  “War?”

  “Oh. You haven’t heard. There’s been a war raging for a while. Ever since your parents were killed.”

  “Why?”

  “The Council of Kiolerasdarque believes that the strangers that attacked you at the café were Morchad’s brothers and sister. Maloet, Kerbaun, and Daerja. The one who killed your parents, Maloet, is still alive. Daerja and Kerbaun are dead though.”

  “How did Kerbaun die?” asked Arek, remembering he had killed Daerja.

  “She went with Maloet, through a few deserts, and died from thirst. Maloet kept all the water for himself.”

  “So technically Maloet killed Kerbaun. Where is he now?”

  “Maltonka. Just northeast of here. You have a choice, Arek Eouhjasson. You can either go after Maloet in Maltonka, or you can go after Galorat who is probably near Mt. Palrr.”

  Arek sat down on the cool floor of the king’s palace. His mind told him, Go after the killers of your parents. But he also needed fame. Would he have fame if he killed Maloet? He wouldn’t have a wand. Would there be enough time to go after one and then find the other?

  “I will let you go to one of them, and I will transport you.”

  Arek hardly heard what Honoglata said. He was thinking about his decision.

  “Make up your mind, Rider.” Honoglata was growing impatient. “You have one minute to decide.”

  Arek heard this. He had to make a choice.

  Finally he said, “I’ll—”

  Arek! yelled a voice inside his head. Why go after him? Think about both of your choices! Are you sure you would want to kill Galorat and gain fame, or would you rather kill the murderers who killed your parents?! You know who your mother and father would want you to go after. They’d want you to go after the person who killed them! The more servants of Morchad you kill, the better the chance of winning the war.

  Who are you? asked Arek.

  I am Ingharr, replied the voice. I helped your brother, and now I’m trying to help you! Accept my help, Arek! Please.

  The voice was too convincing for Arek. He had made his decision.

  “Send me to Maltonka,” he said.

  He arrived shortly after dawn. It was dark out, and he was scared.

  Where is Maloet? wondered Arek. There were many trees around. He may have seen Arek appear and hid behind one.

  Honoglata was supposed to have sent him exactly to Maloet’s location. Arek started to think the king had lied to him.

  “Arek.” Arek whipped around and stood face to face with the man who had killed his parents. “This is a surprise.”

  “No, it isn’t,” replied Arek. He drew Stabber and pointed it at Maloet.

  Maloet sneered. “Your brother took my sword. I miss its presence in my sheath.

  “But I have a dagger.” Maloet took out a knife from his pocket. The silver, beautiful dagger shined in the moonlight.

  Then Maloet unexpectedly reached to cut Arek’s right arm. It left a bloody gash but nothing serious.

  Then Maloet struck again, going for the head. Arek hit the knife with such force it fell out of Maloet’s hand.

  “A-ha!” exclaimed Arek in triumph. He then slashed at Maloet, cutting his left pinky off.

  He yelled in pain. His finger lay in the grass, motionless. Blood poured out of where Maloet’s pinky finger used to be.

  Then Maloet screamed, “Herthawyeb-bakorelmatuash!”

  Lightning struck Arek, sending a jolt all through him. He fell to the ground and lay there, unmoving.

  Then he saw a blood-red dragon fly out of nowhere and push Maloet to the ground.

  “No one touches my Rider,” said Ejarshöh.

  Arek still lay on the ground, but he muttered, “Thanks, dragon.”

  Then his field of vision turned black, and he passed out.

    

  Satym

  A DECLINED DEAL

  She lay sprawled on the bench, unable to move. Her guard she had tried to convince to let her out, Ullio, was now having surgery. He was new to the jail, after his bookstore in Toage exploded from a bomb set by some of Morchad’s troops. Ullio was having surgery because apparently her grip had dislocated his index finger, but Satym knew he was just a wimp.

  She was tied to the bench in her cell so she couldn’t grab anyone, but she thought she was being treated like a dog.

  The whole reason she was in jail was because of her crimes in her “early years.” She had stolen many things, eve
n made some people steal things she wanted. Her most recent crime was making Mr. Sacvren steal a book she wanted from Arek and Thetra. Finally, the Mthanl Police had tracked her down and thrown her in jail. She had to wait three more years until she was freed.

  She sighed. There was nothing to do except eat (when she had food), sleep, and think.

  The mayor of Mthanl, Ortogo, was coming to visit the prison tomorrow. She would be put in a gym with the other prisoners in her jail, and they had to hold up signs that said “I will never make my mistakes again.” Of course, Satym would make her “mistakes” again, once she was freed.

  It was almost time for her second meal, always bread and water. Her new jailer was a man of the name of Lokapoka, and he had a Hetalic accent.

  When he appeared, he unlocked her door with a key that hung around his neck, and he unchained Satym, letting her stretch her muscles.

  She grabbed her glass of water and took three large gulps. Then she grabbed the loaf of bread and stuffed a quarter of it into her mouth.

  A little unladylike, she thought, wondering if her parents would approve.

  Then Lokapoka said, “I’ll help you, if you help me.”

  “How will you help me? Why?”

  “I can’t free you, but I can give you better food.”

  “And what do I have to do for you?”

  “Take me to Destville.”

  Satym gestured around her cell. “Well, I’m kind of stuck here.”

  “I mean when you’re free. Then you can pay off your debt.”

  “I’m fine with bread and water.”

  “Very well, then.” There was a twinge of sadness in Lokapoka’s voice, but he hid it well. Then he turned around and left, without even chaining Satym back up, but he did close the door and lock it.

  Then a voice boomed on the intercom, louder than thunder, “Satym Loradawdaughter, come to the head office immediately.”

  THE LORD OF THE PRISON

  Lokapoka stopped. Then he turned on his heels and started back towards Satym’s cell. He unlocked her door and barked for her to get out. Satym obeyed.

  He led her to the head office, turning down many long hallways.

  Finally, Lokapoka led her into a room with so much gold Satym’s eyes could have been shining with the reflection of the shiny metal.

  There were trophies, trinkets, coins, golden nuggets, all buried in one enormous pile.

  “Lord Ruetas,” said Lokapoka. “I give you Satym.” Satym stepped forward.

  Lord Ruetas examined her. “This is the pathetic girl everyone has been complaining about?”

  “Yes, Lord,” said Satym. “Yes, it is.”

  “Your voice just hurts my ears!” He grimaced in pain, touching his ears lightly with his index finger. “This meeting was scheduled because of your injury to Ullio, dislocating his finger. That would hurt.”

  “I just grabbed it!” complained Satym. “I didn’t pull hard or anything!”

  Ruetas chuckled. Then he mimicked Satym in a whining voice, saying, “I didn’t pull hard or anything!”

  “You’re too fat to understand,” muttered Satym under her breath, but apparently the guards heard her because they grabbed her arm and one clamped his hand over her mouth.

  “Ah, Satym. Mocking others. What a childlike thing.”

  “I am seventeen!” protested Satym.

  “Well, then you should act more like it!”

  “What do you want from me?!” yelled Satym, wanting to end the meeting. I’d rather be tied to the bench than be standing here in front of this “Lord Ruetas.”

  “You deserve a more...severe punishment. You should be freed in three years, correct?”

  “Aye.”

  “We’re changing that to five years.”

  “What! All I did was dislocate his finger! You can’t be serious!”

  “Oh, but I can be.”

  “I’m lodging a complaint to the Council of Prisons when I’m freed.

  “When you’re freed. You know, that’s a good idea. I could just keep you here forever.” He looked to his side, where Lokapoka stood. Lokapoka nodded in approval.

  “You’re going to court!” yelled Satym as she was dragged away by Lokapoka back to her prison cell.

  “Lokapoka, stop,” said Satym. “I need to talk to you.”

  Lokapoka froze.

  “I’ll help you, if you help me. I’ll take you to Destville when I’m freed, if you’ll talk to the Council of Prisons about this.”

  Lokapoka thought about it, and after a long time, he said, “Very well. I’ll send a message to them tonight in my quarters.”

  “Thank you.”

  Then he locked her up on her bench, and she waited until supper.

  Finally she got food, but it was served by someone else.

  “I am Lokapoka’s cousin, Jordan,” said the woman. “Lokapoka is in his quarters with the door locked, and we are unable to communicate with him, for he is communicating with someone else.”

  The council, thought Satym.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the tray. Jordan backed up quickly when she took it, as if she were afraid Satym would grab her.

  Then Jordan chained her back up and she waited through the night.

  Lokapoka

    

  “Her name is Satym. And Lord Ruetas is keeping her in for her whole life because she dislocated a jailer’s finger. She is only supposed to stay for three years.”

  “And now she’s staying for her life?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well,” said the leader of the council, Korta. “We’ll see what we can do, but Lord Ruetas is rich.”

  “Yes, but if you battle him, he’s not a very good fighter.”

  “True,” said Korta. “Thank you for reporting the issue.” Then she stopped the conversation and Lokapoka flung the communicative control onto his bed. It immediately lit up with a new conversation from Jordan.

  “Are you all right?” his cousin asked.

  “Yes, I am in my quarters. Does Ruetas need me?”

  “No, I was just worried about you because your door is locked.”

  “Oh. I was just—”

  “Talking with somebody?” asked Jordan.

  “No, I”

  “Lokapoka, who were you communicating with?”

  Lokapoka sighed. “Aunt Gorth,” he lied.

  “Is there something wrong with my mother?”

  “No, she called me just to see if I liked my new job.”

  “Oh.” Jordan sighed with relief. “Well, can you come out of your quarters? It’s time for supper.”

  Thetra

    

  SORE WINGS AFTER LONG DAYS OF FLIGHT

  Valao’s memory was healing. He knew who Thetra was, who he was, almost everything except for one thing: who Morchad was.

  “Who is he? He’s a villain, right? What did he do? Does he have a dragon? A sword?”

  Valao was constantly asking questions about the sorcerer, and it was starting to annoy Thetra.

  Finally he yelled, “I don’t know, you dumb dragon!”

  Valao growled and took a step back, looking hurt. “I don’t remember you ever talking to me like that before.”

  “Aye, well think about the present time, because I just did.” Then, Thetra turned around and walked up the beach, toward the troops of the Good Army that had survived the battle.

  When he walked into sight of the soldiers, they all stood up and saluted, “All hail Thetra, the mighty Wandearner.”

  “People of the army,” said Thetra. “I have an announcement to make!”

  “And we do too,” said Hortyun. “But you, the leader, shall make yours first.”

  “Thank you, Hortyun.” Then Thetra began, “Valao does not know who Morchad is, and if he still doesn’t know by the time we battle his army, then he may not want to kill him. Now I ask if you soldiers could help me teach my dragon who the sorcerer is!”

  “We will!” they all re
sponded in unison with pride.

  “Now may I make my announcement?” asked Hortyun.

  “Aye, Hortyun,” answered Thetra.

  “We believe that we shall return to Destville and train on our own grounds.”

  “I thought our training camp was destroyed,” replied Thetra.

  “That was only three portions of the whole base. The majority is undamaged, as our defenses stopped Morchad’s troops.”

  “Very well. We will return once my dragon’s memory is completely fixed.”

  Then the army whooped and cheered and they went to help out Valao.

    

  Valao

  Meanwhile, Valao was wondering what all the racket was about.

  He was mad at Thetra. Dragons were actually very smart creatures, developing battle strategies in their head in less than a second, which was normally the time you would have to develop one in a real battle.

  But he knew they would forgive each other eventually. After all, they had to if they were to win this “final battle” Thetra was going on about.

  Finally Thetra came over the hill, the army carrying him on their shields.

  Oh, what has he gotten himself into now? thought Valao. He surged forward toward the army carrying his Rider.

  He roared, scaring the soldiers so much that they dropped Thetra to the ground.

  “What do you want from us, O Mighty Beast?” asked Hortyun, the soldier that Valao knew was fearless. He was the only one not covering his face with his shield.

  “To give me back my Rider.”

  “And we wish to do something to you,” he responded.

  Valao growled again, backing away. “What do you need, Hortyun?”

  “To teach you who Evil is.”

  Morchad is Evil, said a voice in his mind. He sent those murderers to kill Thetra’s parents. We will fight him in the end, and I swear I will help you win that battle.

  Ingharr, thought Valao. I know you! You cracked my egg open early!

  You did not know that before. Your memory has returned too much, dragon!

  You cracked it open five days early! You’re the evil one.

  I promise to help you in the

  Yes, I know. The final battle against Morchad. Now get away from my mind!

  “Valao?” said Hortyun.