Presenting... THE DRAGON LORD

Hi Everyone!

It's almost DRAGON LORD release day! Eeee!!! We are sooo excited! Hope you are, too. We thought we'd tease the book a little by posting the opening two chapters. We can't wait for you to read the whole story. We think THE DRAGON LORD is Jake's most exciting adventure yet. Enjoy! Wishing you a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy Reading! ~ Eric & Gael (E.G. Foley)

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Purchase THE DRAGON LORD for Kindle

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Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
~Shakespeare

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Prologue: The Usurper

​Nathan, Lord Wyvern, rematerialized from a transport spell in the moonlit field outside the Black Fortress. As soon as his body had fully recomposed from the puff of black smoke he had briefly become, he turned around to take in the sight of his handiwork in the distance and smiled.
 
A quarter mile behind him, across the rolling hills of the English countryside, the Order’s stronghold of Merlin Hall was a glorious smoking ruin.
 
Beneath the black October sky, towering flames consumed the great garden maze that hid their sacred yew trees at its center.
 
He laughed with satisfaction, then slid his wand into its leather sheath at his side. His plan to seize the throne from the sorcerer-king, old Zolond, was moving right along.
 
His attack on Merlin Hall had been brash, but this was a deed that would impress even the most skeptical tribes of the dark world.
 
It hadn’t come easy. His body hurt all over from the six elvish arrows that had pierced him during the battle. Unnaturally tall and powerful of stature, he supposed he offered a large target.
 
He had pulled the arrows out and healed himself quickly, of course, but the flesh was tender, and though triumph pumped in his veins, he was still rather dazed from that last wand blast to the head at point-blank range.
 
Not that he’d dare to show weakness in front of his ruthless followers.
 
Nearby, his top three co-conspirators also arrived in human-sized billows of black smoke. Well, human-ish.
 
Beside him, the beautiful but deadly Red Queen, Viola Sangray, was still gnashing her fangs after the fight, distraught over the loss of some of her finest vampire courtiers.
 
General Archeron Raige, warrior extraordinaire, had been in his element throughout the battle, of course. Herculean of build and every bit as mad as the berserkers in his lineage, the soldier’s camouflage face paint was smeared with sweat and his uniform was torn, but he had enjoyed himself immensely.
 
He laughed as soon as he reappeared and slapped Wyvern roughly on the back. “Smells like victory to me!”

Raige was in a rare good mood, clearly proud of having killed the Order’s head wizard, elderly Balinor, with an expertly thrown magical knife in the back.
 
Wyvern had put the general in command of their gray-skinned, half-troll mercenary troops, some two hundred Noxu barbarians.
 
Raige had already sent the tusked fighters jogging back to the Black Fortress with their plunder from the palace, along with Wyvern’s fearsome pet manticore.
 
Last, but by no means least, came Wyvern’s future bride, Lady Fionnula Coralbroom, a mighty siren-enchantress from the depths of the Irish Sea. Her long, dark hair was a mess and her frilly gown was grass-stained from her wand duel against old Ramona Bradford, but they had won.
 
That was all that mattered.
 
And yet, as the first into battle and the last to leave, the four leaders of the night’s violent festivities opted to land a short distance from the warlocks’ moving castle, requiring a moment to regroup privately before going back inside to resume command of their minions.
 
Admittedly, the last few minutes of the fight had not been particularly…flattering.
 
Especially for Wyvern.
 
In fact, for a split second there near the end, he had believed he’d been truly captured by the enemy.
 
Immobilized in a dreaded Entangler’s Net, Wyvern had experienced a rare moment of dread. He had a horror of being strapped down like that, unable to move a muscle.
 
Perhaps Fionnula realized that, for the moment she returned to solid form again, she turned to him and scanned his face with concern. “Are you all right?”
 
Wyvern bristled at her impertinence. “Of course I am. What kind of a question is that?”
 
She blinked at his cold monotone. “Nathan, you passed out from that wand strike—”
 
“No, I didn’t,” he warned.
 
Fionnula scoffed, failing to take the hint. “Yes, you did! You were out cold when I found—”
 
“I am the half-blood son of a demon, madam, lest you forget!” He lifted his chin, willing away the dizziness. “Nephilim warlocks do not faint.”
 
“Ah.” The sea-witch pursed her rosy lips and looked away. “Whatever you say, dear.”
 
He harrumphed. “I was distracted, anyway. If you had done as I asked and killed Waldrick Everton when he escaped, then that insufferable Peter Quince could not have taken me by surprise.”
 
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fionnula said sweetly, “I was busy dealing with the Elder witch! A far more dangerous opponent—”
 
“Quit squabbling, you two, please!” the Red Queen wrenched out. Wyvern growled, shook off his mild concussion, and ignored his feisty fiancée. “I lost four of my beloved followers tonight! By Dracul’s chalice, I will destroy Janos! How dare he betray the Breed? Turn against his own maker?”
 
Wyvern kept his comments to himself, in no mood for typical vampire drama. His pride was still smarting over the fact that Fionnula was actually telling the truth: she had indeed saved him from the Entangler’s Net that had nearly ruined his night.
 
Just one more reason to despise Sir Peter Quince.
 
It was he, the Order’s second-in-command, who had thrown the charmed rope netting over Wyvern’s head, capturing him for those few humiliating moments.
 
But he’d pay.
 
One day, Wyvern vowed, when all of this was over, when he had successfully overthrown Zolond and ruled the realms of evil as the new Dark Master, he would hunt down that irritatingly cheerful scholar-wizard and send his soul to the netherworld.
 
By the time Wyvern was done with him, there’d be nothing left of Peter Quince but his irksome tortoiseshell glasses.
 
For now, though, Wyvern had bigger problems to contend with. The huge chalk-outline man who’d been etched into the green hillside a thousand years ago—Aelfric, the so-called Long Man, ancient guardian of Merlin Hall—had rallied himself to fight back again.
 
Of course, there was little the Long Man could do. Wyvern had deliberately landed the massive Black Fortress atop his grassy chest, pinning him to the ground, where he belonged.
 
Aelfric struggled against its weight, kicking his legs as best he could and banging on the walls of the Black Fortress with chalky fists as big as stagecoaches, shaking the whole building.
 
The reverberating booms made Wyvern’s head ring.
 
And if that wasn’t enough, there was also the highly annoying fact that his chosen son and heir, Jake Everton, had managed to slip through his fingers again.
 
The lad had put on a most impressive show during the battle, flying up on his pet Gryphon to disable the guns of the Dark Druids’ airship. The Dream Wraith had been raining down cannonballs on the palace until bold young Jakey-boy put a stop to all that.
 
Although the plucky thirteen-year-old had cut short the Dark Druids’ air assault before escaping through a Lightrider portal with his friends, Wyvern couldn’t help feeling proud of his future son.
 
Clearly, there was a reason the Horned One had picked him for the next Black Prince.
 
Once they got the wild lad under control, (which sometimes seemed a very big if), the young Lord Griffon would become Wyvern’s heir apparent after he’d successfully seized the throne.
 
All in due time.
 
For now, it seemed that, along with Aelfric’s temper tantrum, something was going on inside the Black Fortress.
 
Oh, what now? Wyvern thought with a frown.
 
Few things scared the Noxu, but the big, burly half-trolls suddenly began pouring out through the open drawbridge amid frightened grunts and panicked shouts.
 
Even Thanatos, his manticore, ran out of the Fortress, his lion mane bristling, his scorpion tail whipping about as it always did when something had disturbed the beast.
 
Then Wyvern heard roars from inside the great hall, and his eyes widened with startled recognition.
 
Oh, no…
 
“What was that?” Fionnula cried, turning to him in alarm.
 
Wyvern didn’t answer, but narrowed his eyes and stared toward the castle. “They had better not hurt him,” he muttered. Then he glanced at her. “I suggest you all stay back.”
 
“Nathan?” Fionnula and the vampire queen exchanged a puzzled glance, but took his advice and hung back uncertainly.
 
Raige flashed a grin, however, catching on. “I’m going with you.”
 
Wyvern immediately turned and pointed a warning finger in Raige’s face. “You are not to draw your weapon on my dragon. Is that clear?”
 
“Aw.” Disappointment flickered in the hulking warrior’s eyes. “Well, if he gets out of the Fortress, can I help you hunt him? I haven’t been on a dragon hunt in ages. Such sport! They make the most challenging…”
 
Raige’s voice faded at Wyvern’s icy stare.
 
“I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” the dragon lord replied, then stalked on, hurrying to save his pride and joy from harm at the hands of those Noxu brutes.
 
Ever since he was a boy, all dragons obeyed him, but some were special, and his Ruffed Orange Darter had grown close to his half-demon heart.
 
As Wyvern strode toward the open drawbridge, the manticore ran to meet him. He uttered a comforting word to the creature and commanded him to calm down.
 
He did not bother giving the Noxu mercenaries the same reassurance as they continued flowing out. They were now joined by the uniformed bridge crew who ran the castle-ship, along with the dozen white-coated scientists in charge of the absent Dark Master’s experiments.
 
“Commander!” One of the navigational officers rushed toward him. Wyvern believed his name was Lantz. “Oh, thank the Horned One you’re here, sir!”
 
Wyvern glowered at him. “You abandoned your post?”
 
“I-I-I’m sorry, sir! It’s j-just that y-your dragon got out! The chalk man’s raging upset him, and he chewed his way out of his stall! He couldn’t escape through the carriage entrance in the back, s-so he came up through the stairwell, a-and now h-h-he’s running amuck. He’s eating people in there, sir!”
 
“Humph. Anyone important?”
 
“Er—no,” the officer said abruptly. “Just a couple of Noxu so far, but—”
 
“And his fire collar. It’s still on?”
 
“Y-yes, sir.” The frightened navigator bobbed his head.
 
“Good. Then there’s nothing to worry about. Pull yourself together and get back to your post!”
 
“Yes, sir,” Lantz mumbled with a crestfallen look.
 
Raige arched a brow at the man, then followed as Wyvern marched into the vast great hall, where his naughty dragon had caused, well, a bit of a bloodbath, to be honest.
 
The Orange Ruffed Darter was still scarfing down bits of Noxu, gleefully tossing them up in the air and swallowing chunks of flesh amid growls of pleasure.
 
Wyvern winced to note the upper half of a gray half-troll corpse dangling from the round iron chandelier.
 
Tazaroc must’ve flung it there in his vicious delight at breaking free from his quarters.
 
Raige’s smile faded at the bloody prospect of the escaped dragon, Wyvern noted with amusement.
 
Taz might seem rather docile and well-mannered when he was hitched to the flying chariot, but that was only because Wyvern kept him under expert control.
 
The fact was, left to his own devices, the Darter was wilder and more vicious than most people realized.
 
The general’s hand came to rest uneasily atop the horse pistol by his side. “I thought you said he was tame.”
 
“Trained, not tamed, Raige. No dragon is ever truly tamed. It’s part of their charm. Don’t worry. As long as that collar stays on and holds the ruff down, he can’t breathe fire. It’s only then I’d consider him really dangerous.”
 
With that, Wyvern gave Raige an arrogant wink, then sauntered across the black granite flagstones toward his escaped pet.
 
Tazaroc crouched over his midnight snack, his brownish-orange wings spread out across the floor, ready to swat anyone away who tried to come between him and his catch.
 
Not that dead Noxu could taste very good. Wyvern grimaced and shook his head. The beast was even gulping down the half-troll’s sweaty leather armor.
 
That had better not make him sick. Wyvern was a conscientious owner, but in the middle of his coup against Zolond, he did not have time right now for a visit with the draco-veterinarian.
 
Every hour counted, for no one could say how long the old, frail, complacent Dark Master would remain away on his much-needed holiday in the Balefire Mountains.
 
Unfortunately, Wyvern feared his pampered carriage dragon would be vomiting up Noxu limbs by dawn.
 
As a pedigreed Darter, Tazaroc was used to only the best dragon feed on the market—the very blend of dried meats and herbs recommended by the breeder. He preferred meals that tried to escape, of course, but that was not always practical.
 
Ah, but every now and then, Wyvern knew, a well-kept dragon had to taste fresh blood.
 
Make his own kill.
 
They loved the chase.
 
Wyvern would play with him sometimes in the castle’s big, empty loading bay—throwing the dragon’s giant version of dog toys and letting him fetch—but it was hardly the same.
 
He pressed his lips together with a rare flicker of guilt. This is my fault.
 
He’d been so preoccupied lately pursuing his ambitions to seize the Black Crown that it had been months since he’d taken Taz out for a proper hunt.
 
Darters in general were known to be a bit high-strung. They required exercise.
 
They were one of the smaller dragon species, standing about nine feet tall with all fours on the ground, with a long neck, golden eyes, and a twenty-foot wingspan. In every other respect, however, the Darters were the thoroughbred racehorses of the dragon world: fast and sleek, with elegant lines and high intelligence.
 
Temperamental…and expensive.
 
Rather like Fionnula, Wyvern mused as he walked cautiously toward his pet.
 
In any case, Wyvern had had Tazaroc trained for both saddle and harness, but even he took care to keep that fire collar on.
 
A physical restraint infused with magical inhibitors, the collar prevented the headstrong dragon from roasting his caretakers. Tazaroc would never harm him, of course. The clever beast knew his master, understood Wyvern’s commands and always obeyed.
 
He didn’t always like it, though.
 
“Tazaroc,” Wyvern said firmly as he approached. “No!”
 
The Darter was gnawing on a Noxu leg, his tail twitching happily.
 
“You heard me.”
 
The tail went still. The dragon looked askance at him, wickedness in his amber eye with its vertical-slitted, coal-black pupil.
 
“Bad dragon!” Wyvern said. “Put that down.”
 
Of course, the words sounded different to the others cowering around the edges of the great hall, for they left Wyvern’s lips in a language no one had ever taught him.
 
He’d been able to speak it for as long as he could remember, and the dragon knew perfectly well what he was saying.
 
Tazaroc hissed at the order.
 
“Don’t give me that! It’s time to go back to your stall. Tazaroc: Come!”
 
The Darter gave an unhappy growl, turning his sinuous body to face Wyvern, then pushed up with his front legs to a seated position, the brawny Noxu leg still clamped between his jaws.
 
It was all that was left of the half-troll.
 
Wyvern pointed at the floor, never mind that the creature towered over him. “Drop it. Now. Bad dragon! What did you do?”
 
Tazaroc shook his head no and hissed past his prize while his eyes burned with resentment.
 
“Put. That. Down.”
 
Still, the dragon resisted. His tail thrashed, his hiss turned to a snarl, and the edges of the fancy flap of skin adorning his neck fluttered dangerously.
 
“Don’t make me punish you.” Wyvern reached for his wand.
 
At once, Tazaroc dropped the leg with a disappointed look, loosening his deadly jaws and letting it flump down onto the flagstones.
 
“You’re a bad dragon! This is unacceptable behavior!”
 
Tazaroc hung his head and grumbled unhappily, small puffs of steam rising from his nostrils.
 
“Humph!” Wyvern scolded. “You’re happy now, but you’ll be sick by morning. Well, come along, then.” Well aware that the dragon could easily take his arm off if he chose, Wyvern reached up boldly and grasped his dangerous pet by one of his short, back-facing horns.
 
Pulling the dragon’s head lower, he began leading him away. “Come on, back to your stall. There’s a good boy. Somebody clean up this mess!” he added over his shoulder to some onlookers as he headed for the wide stairwell down the corridor. “And let the ladies know it’s safe to come in now.”
 
“Commander?” Lantz, the navigational officer from outside, ventured after Wyvern, keeping a wary distance from Tazaroc. “Do you, er, have any orders for our next coordinates yet, sir?”
 
Wyvern paused halfway across the great hall, considering his options while Taz nuzzled him, nearly knocking him off his feet in an effort to get back into his good graces.
 
It was as close to an apology as a dragon ever came.
 
Wyvern patted the beast. “Don’t worry, you’re forgiven,” he murmured to his pet. After all, it was only a couple of Noxu. They were disgusting creatures anyway. Supremely expendable.
 
Lantz waited for his answer.
 
So did Raige. “We have the Order on their knees, Wyvern.” The warrior stared at him. “I say we stay right here and demand their surrender.”
 
“And what do we do when their allies show up?” Fionnula demanded in a crisp tone, striding in just then with the Red Queen a few paces behind her. “Try to think beyond typical male bravado, Raige. Any minute now, some Lightrider could open up a portal and bring a regiment of wood elves or giants or who-knows-what through to give us more than we’re prepared to handle.”
 
“She’s right,” mumbled Viola, folding her arms across her chest.
 
The sea-witch nodded. “We made our point, accomplished what we came for.”
 
Raige smirked. “If you ladies are too frightened to proceed, just leave the fighting to us men.”
 
Viola bared her fangs and hissed at him.
 
The sea-witch propped her hands on her hips and looked expectantly at Wyvern. “Nathan?” she demanded, tapping her foot.
 
He didn’t answer for a moment.
 
Both his sorceress fiancée and his strongest fighter had made good points. He had accomplished his main goal—simply to strike the Order in a show of strength to demonstrate to all of Dark-kind that he would be a better sorcerer-king than old, frail Zolond.
 
But, on the other hand, Raige had an excellent argument as well. Why not launch a second wave of attacks and finish the Order off?
 
Unfortunately, Wyvern found himself struggling to make the decision as the three waited. It was most unlike him, but the reason was simple.
 
He had a bloody concussion from that final wand blast!
 
He’d managed to set aside the dizziness and pain in order to deal with the dragon, but now that Taz was under control, his head was throbbing so badly that he could hardly think.
 
“Somebody make that blasted chalk man stop pounding on the walls!” Wyvern snapped. The reverberating booms from Aelfric’s fists echoed through the castle and filled his skull with agony.
 
“I’ll enchant him with a song, dear,” Fionnula promised.
 
“Good,” Wyvern growled, then glanced at the others, refusing to show weakness in front of his followers. “I’ll give you my decision shortly. First, I must return this creature to his stall. Then I’ll take a short respite in my chambers and see what Shemrazul wishes us to do.”
 
It was never a bad idea to seek guidance from his demon father. Besides, Wyvern desperately needed a few minutes alone to refresh himself. His clothes were caked with dried blood, and, in truth, the room was still spinning.
 
“In the meantime,” he said to the navigator, “set the coordinates for the Karakum Desert, but don’t activate the jump unless I give you the order.”
 
“Yes, sir!” Lantz saluted him, then hurried off to the control room.
 
At that moment, the upper half of the Noxu corpse fell out of the chandelier and crashed to the floor.
 
The dragon whipped his head around and eyed the corpse hungrily.
 
“Don’t even think about it,” Wyvern warned Tazaroc, then scowled at the blood spattered everywhere. “The rest of you, get busy!” he snapped at the rank and file. “I want this place shipshape by the time I come back!”
 
They scrambled to obey, and Wyvern headed off to take the dragon to his stall on the basement level of the ten-story fortress.
 
No rest for the wicked. It had been a long night, but it wasn’t over yet. Still, as he led the dragon down the dark stairwell, Wyvern savored his victory.
 
His only regret this night was that Jake hadn’t stayed around to see it. No doubt his future son and heir would’ve been impressed…
 
Wherever he was.

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Chapter 1: Through the Portal

​At that moment, Jake Everton, the seventh Earl of Griffon, was hurtling down a brilliant tunnel of light that tracked along one of the Earth’s ley-lines.
 
Seconds ago, however, he had been standing in the midst of the battle raging back at Merlin Hall.
 
Pure chaos had engulfed the palace grounds as the Dark Druids sprang their sneak attack, and Jake was still slightly dazed by all that he had seen.
 
Big, tusked, ogre-like Noxu warriors with axes and spears on the rampage.
 
Wand duels flashing in the onyx autumn night.
 
Billows of smoke choking the air as the great boxwood maze went up in flames.
 
One minute, he was standing on the palace lawn with the world burning down around him, the warlocks’ invading forces coming at him from all sides, and his rugged head of security, Derek Stone, bellowing at him to go; that, after the Dark Druids’ prophecy about him, neither mortals nor magic-kind could afford for him to be captured.
 
Next thing he knew, he was flying through the Grid.
 
As much as he hated being sent away like a child, Jake knew Derek was right. He had to get out of there, or the consequences could be disastrous for everyone.
 
Oh, to be sure, if he stayed, Jake knew he could continue inflicting serious damage on the enemy—like what he and his Gryphon had done a short while ago—crippling the fearsome dirigible, The Dream Wraith, to stop the enemy’s air assault.
 
But creepy, half-demon Lord Wyvern had already tried once before to kidnap him.
 
The Nephilim warlock apparently wanted to claim Jake as his heir, make him the so-called Black Prince of their sinister brotherhood.
 
Deep down, Jake was secretly terrified that Wyvern might somehow succeed in recruiting him over to the dark side, for, frankly, he could not say with a hundred percent confidence that he did not have a bit of an evil streak in him.
 
Especially right now—moments after one of the sky pirates aboard The Dream Wraith had fallen to his death.
 
Jake was trying not to think about the sickening fact that he had just accidentally killed a man.
 
A bad one, yes. The airship’s gunner had been aiming to shoot him and Red right out of the sky. But, truly, Jake had not meant for the fool to stumble overboard and fall to his death. He’d been aiming for the swivel-gun!
 
Nevertheless.
 
When you were only thirteen and had already killed a bloke, it did not bode very well on the moral scale.
 
Especially when you had a prophecy hanging over your head, warning that you might grow up to be the most powerful leader the sinister Dark Druids had ever had…
 
The mere thought made Jake slightly queasy—and the rocketing speed of Grid travel wasn’t helping much with that.
 
Obviously, the best thing that he could do for everyone was to get the blazes out of there, posthaste. He knew the stakes, and understood it was too dangerous to stay.
 
Besides, if anything happened to his friends because he was being stubborn, he would never forgive himself.
 
His cousin Isabelle was already in extremely bad shape.
 
The delicate fifteen-year-old empath was on the verge of passing out, blood trickling out of her ear and nose from all the rage and hatred churning over the palace grounds.
 
Prince Janos, their vampire friend (who secretly adored her), had roared at Jake to get Izzy out of there before dashing off with a snarl to go and dispatch more enemies.
 
The vampire was right. There was no more time for delay. So Jake went, taking the others with him, including his Gryphon, Red, and his best girl, Dani O’Dell.
 
Or rather, Dani was the one taking them.
 
For it was she, not Jake, who had recently been chosen to become a future Lightrider—elite agents of the Order, who alone had the ability to open portals and conduct traveling parties safely through the Earth’s innate energy Grid.
 
Her trainer, the wood elf, Lightrider Finnderool, had ordered the Irish lass to take Jake and the others somewhere safe. With the Dark Druids pressing the attack, no adult Lightrider could be spared for the task.
 
It was now on the shoulders of the dauntless redhead to get them out of there, and she was to choose the place.
 
Dani was forbidden to tell anyone what destination she had in mind.
 
Wyvern and his minions would not hesitate to torture the information out of any captive taken in battle who might know where Jake and the other kids had gone.
 
Whatever happened, Janos had said, they had to keep Jake out of the warlocks’ clutches, or things might get even worse than they already were.
 
It was hard to imagine that was even possible, but Dani had her orders, and so did he.
 
And now, here he was—warping along through the Grid at unimaginable speeds.
 
As per usual with portal jumps, his lean, solid body had dissolved into a loose cluster of shining molecules that somehow managed to keep together in a sort of cloud as he careened toward supposed safety.
 
Not even Jake knew where Dani was taking them.
 
He just hoped the carrot-head knew what she was doing, because she’d only had a few weeks of training so far.
 
Jake knew for a fact that she’d only opened a portal once by herself before—in class, under the watchful eye of the haughty wood elf.
 
Since Jake had no desire to be instantly incinerated inside the Grid, he had balked at going. But when the cutest girl in the world begged you to trust her…
 
Ah well. He was helpless against those big emerald eyes. Lord knew Dani had trusted him enough times in his mad schemes.
 
Even so, Jake could only pray he came out on the other side with all his molecules intact, all his body parts returned to their proper places. He was already enough of a freak with his two talents—telekinesis and the ghost-sight. The last thing he needed was to arrive on the other side of the world somewhere with his blasted arm sticking out of his forehead.
 
Well, it seemed he was about to find out. For as the din of battle and the smell of smoke faded behind him, the glowing circle of the terminus came into view ahead.
 
Jake gulped in molecule form. Here’s hoping.
 
 
 
*  *  *
 
 
 
If Jake was hoping, Dani O’Dell was downright praying, her molecule-heart in her molecule-throat.
 
She’d done a lot of brash, brave things in her many adventures with Jake and the gang, but never before had she been responsible for all her friends’ lives.
 
Crikey, she was barely twelve!
 
But so be it.
 
Guardian Derek Stone (who could be quite scary) had thundered at her to take them away, and Master Finnderool himself had ordered her to do this. If her stern elvish teacher believed that she could do this, then Dani had to think Finnderool was probably right. She had yet to witness any occasion when the princely wood elf had ever been wrong.
 
Probably why he’s so arrogant.
 
And so, whisking across the miles at the back of the line of portal travelers, Dani waited on tenterhooks to see if everyone would congeal on the other side with all their bits in order: arms, legs, heads, hands, noses.
 
Internal organs!
 
She winced at the thought.
 
Jake had led the way, thank goodness. If he’d refused, she supposed there was little hope of anyone else being willing to put their lives in her hands.
 
But he’d gone; he’d trusted her. That meant so much.
 
Red had flown into the portal after his handsome young master, and the aristocratic Bradfords, Archie and Isabelle, had followed, along with Archie’s sweetheart, super-witch Nixie Valentine.
 
At the last minute, Dani had also spotted her new friend from class Brian, a young Guardian-in-training, who was as new to his craft as she was to hers. The tousle-headed American boy had been running around on the palace lawn in the middle of the battle, looking bewildered.
 
Dani had beckoned to him to join them; she didn’t want to leave her friend in danger. Besides, Maddox had run off to fight alongside his Guardian mother, Rayvn, and every traveling party needed at least one Guardian present; those were the rules.
 
Guardians were the Order’s trusty soldiers and bodyguards, gifted with extra-sharp senses and fighting skills.
 
Thankfully, Brian had leaped into the portal without even questioning her (unlike certain blond young earls of her acquaintance).
 
After all of her Grid passengers had filed into the portal ahead of her, finally, it was Dani’s turn to go.
 
With her little Norwich terrier, Teddy, whining anxiously in the satchel on her shoulder, she had stepped into the shining tunnel, closed the entry point behind her, and promptly dissolved into shimmering bits of light.
 
And now, here she was, insubstantial as a plume of sparks popping over a bonfire as she raced toward the terminus with her first traveling party.
 
Just like a real Lightrider.
 
Half of her was proud. The other half was terrified. She could only pray she hadn’t messed up the coordinates.
 
Those long strings of numbers representing places were difficult to memorize or recall even under good conditions, let alone in the midst of a battle.
 
Mother Mary, she’d been so scared back there that she could barely remember her own name, let alone any numbers.
 
But, from the moment Master Finnderool had ordered her to get Jake and the others out of there, Dani realized that it was up to her. So she had racked her brain to think of a good place to bring everyone.
 
A safe place.
 
Unfortunately, she hadn’t many to choose from. At this early stage of her Lightriding career, she had only memorized the coordinates of a few destinations.
 
No matter. Determined to carry out her orders, she had lifted her left arm, where she wore the leather training gauntlet affectionately known as the Bud of Life. It was full of clever gadgets and embedded with a communicating device so the Lightrider-in-training could check in with his or her teacher back at Merlin Hall.
 
With trembling fingers, Dani had dialed in the set of coordinates she was most sure of. The one place in all the world where no one would ever think to look for them.
 
Her favorite place, in truth. The first set of coordinates she’d ever bothered learning.
 
Confident in her choice, Dani had carefully entered each number into the Bud of Life. It had taken her a few tries, but she’d finally got the portal open.
 
Now, as the glowing circle of the terminus grew larger and larger ahead, she prayed she had not misremembered any of those tricky numbers. Otherwise, she had no idea where on the globe she and her friends might’ve ended up.
 
Then the tunnel spat her out the other side, and darkness engulfed her. She went stumbling forward onto the grass.
 
After the dazzling brilliance inside the tunnel, she had to blink rapidly a few times to force her vision to adjust to the night, and the first thing she did was glance down at herself to make sure she was all there.
 
Right. Good. Whew. Beneath her stood her feet in sturdy brown half-boots that laced up to her shins in black woolen stockings; the tidy dark blue skirts of her Lightrider uniform were hardly even wrinkled from the jump.
 
Her arms were fine. Her hands were there, too; she glanced at each. The Bud of Life on her wrist looked unscathed, thank goodness.
 
Briefly clutching her head, she found it firmly perched atop her neck and shoulders where it should be. That was a relief. Her heart was pounding, too, so it must’ve returned to its proper post inside her ribcage.
 
Then she quickly scanned her passengers by the bluish-white glow of the still-open portal.
 
Sure enough, there was Red, Jake’s magnificent scarlet-feathered Gryphon to her left, shaking his eagle head as if to clear it.
 
Jake stood a few feet beyond his lion-sized pet, looking a little queasy from the ruthless speeds of Grid travel. But the boy hero was on his feet, leaning forward, hands planted on his thighs as he strove to steady himself.
 
All his cute parts seemed to be in order. Whew again.
 
Dani looked to her right and saw Archie and Isabelle both intact, each recovering from the jump as best they could. Though both aristocratic siblings seemed a little speed-sick from their journey, Dani saw that they were safe.
 
Poor Izzy had to be feeling at least some relief being a hundred miles away now from all the hate and fury on the battlefield. But she would need assistance.
 
Straight ahead, the black-haired and ever-gothic Nixie Valentine sat on the ground with her hands planted behind her. Her delicate face looked even paler than usual as she strove to regain her equilibrium. But to Dani’s relief, the young witch had also reappeared with all her necessary parts.
 
Brian, likewise, was all in one piece, calm, sturdy, and good-natured as ever. The dark-haired American boy was already on his feet and scanning the area, looking ready to do all the usual things that Guardians did when they were on duty, protecting people.
 
He sent Dani a wordless nod, confirming that all of their conductees had made it safely through the portal.
 
Miracle! thought Dani. But there was one more traveler to check on.
 
While Brian took a few paces around the grassy area where they had landed, assessing their whereabouts, Dani set her satchel on the ground and opened the flap.
 
At once, Teddy scampered out and started running around to all the kids, checking on them in turn and giving each a reassuring lick.
 
When Dani saw her wee dog complete from his twitchy black nose to his waggy stump of a tail, only then did she nearly collapse with relief.
 
I did it! I can’t believe I did it.
 
Her first Grid jump as a Lightrider had been a total success. Her body didn’t care to celebrate her victory, though; her knees were still all wobbly, her stomach churned, and for a second, she thought she might either puke or burst out in hysterical tears after the fact like a cakehead.
 
Instead, a fleeting thought of Finnderool’s usual annoyed frown helped her claw back the necessary businesslike attitude.
 
Tamping down her emotions, Dani turned around and firmly pressed the Close button on her gauntlet.
 
Instantly, the bright, round portal winked shut. The kids were plunged into deep autumn darkness.
 
The first thing Dani noticed was the silence. The only sounds were the chirp of a few surviving summer crickets and the panting of all her friends striving to catch their breath.
 
“I-is everyone all right?” Jake finally asked. Even he still sounded slightly shaky.
 
By the moon-glow, Dani saw her bold young beau straighten up. She couldn’t believe what he had done back there, flying up on Red to battle the airship, armed with nothing but his telekinesis.
 
The boy was an utter loon. Brave, of course, but clearly quite mad. She didn’t know whether to hug him or slap him silly.
 
There were a few grumbles and groans in answer to Jake’s question, but everybody mumbled that they’d live.
 
Jake nodded, took a deep breath, then flipped his blond forelock out of his eyes. That was always a good sign.
 
“Right. Good job, carrot.” He turned expectantly to her. “Where are we, then?”
 
It was always oddly comforting when Jake seemed ready to take charge. Even if he was bluffing, he always seemed to know what to do.
 
Dani gazed at him, still a little in awe of him for how he’d performed back there. She couldn’t help hoping that she’d impressed him, too, with her Lightriding prowess.
 
“Where have you brought us to?” he asked, and waited for her answer.
 
Dani couldn’t help smiling a little. “Don’t you recognize it, Jake?”
 
By the moon’s silver shine, she saw him furrow his brow. He propped his hands on his waist and took a puzzled look around. His gaze followed the wide gravel path nearby. Though it was overgrown with weeds, the path stretched like a pale ribbon in both directions, winding off into the trees of a parklike setting.
 
“Hold on…” Jake lifted his head slightly and squinted toward the distance, where faded pastel turrets loomed above the black trees. They were shaped like scoops of ice cream. “I don’t believe it.” He pivoted to face her, an incredulous grin spreading across his handsome face. “You brought us here?”
 
“Yep.” Dani grinned back.
 
“You know this place, coz?” Archie asked, still sounding groggy.
 
“Oh, aye.” Jake began laughing.
 
Dani laughed too, glancing over at the bespectacled boy genius. “He certainly does.”
 
Then she and Jake exchanged a tender glance.
 
Elysian Springs Pleasure Gardens.
 
The old, abandoned amusement grounds had been Jake’s hideaway back in the days when he was an orphaned pickpocket, roaming the streets of London.
 
He had always been safe here, after all his escapades.
 
Not even the bobbies, like good ol’ Constable Flanagan, had ever managed to track Jake to Elysian Springs, Dani knew.
 
And neither would wicked Lord Wyvern.

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