The Queen of Fire Mountain

By Erik Christensen

The dragons of Fire Mountain are dying...and it’s William Whitehall’s fault.

Mysterious alien hornets are attacking a hive of noble dragons, and no one knows why. Like all good heroes, William Whitehall has vowed to help defend his dragon allies, but when a nearby group of gold prospectors arouses his suspicions he puts aside his promise to search for evidence of illegal—and possibly traitorous—activities. After a fruitless investigation, William returns to find the dragons decimated by a hornet assault while he was distracted.

Wracked with guilt, he enlists the help of a world-renowned entomologist to find a way to stop the attacks. Before a solution can be found, a jealous research assistant traps them within the massive hornet nest itself, leaving them to die. After a narrow escape, they discover the assistant has fled with a hostage. William searches for the renegade, but only after the captive is rescued does he deduce that the dragons are once again under attack. He races back to find the dragon queen herself near death.

Stopping the attacks is no longer enough. The hornets must be destroyed, and William devises a bold—and dangerous—plan. But before he can finish the job he discovers someone else is after the hornets as well, but for a much more sinister purpose: to devise a powerful weapon to overthrow the kingdom.

Now William is faced with a terrible choice: save the dragons, or save humanity.

The Queen of Fire Mountain is the third installment of The William Whitehall Adventures series. If you like valiant heroes, sassy sidekicks, and majestic dragons, then you’ll love this fantasy novel. Grab your copy today, and join the adventure!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Christensen
• Release date: Apr 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005256289

Book preview

Chapter 1

William Whitehall looked up with eager anticipation at the heavy boots echoing from his front hallway, lurching from his seat as Angus Ruskin’s weathered and worried face appeared in the dining hall doorway.

They’re here, my lord, wheezed Ruskin, catching his breath.

William shot a furtive glance at his two companions before turning back to his barony agent. Already? You said they wouldn’t be here for days.

A brief shrug was the only explanation Ruskin offered. Afraid they’re early, sir. No time to waste.

William, said the figure beside him, with no small amount of chastisement. Looking dainty in a summer dress that revealed her slightly swollen belly, she nevertheless made for an imposing figure when she looked at him that way. You’ve barely touched your breakfast, and we haven’t finished planning the next staff hires with Terrence.

Terrence, dapper in his black livery, turned to William as though to ask for instructions. He had taken over butler duties for almost two months now, but William still couldn’t look at him without being reminded of Oz, his previous butler, friend, and childhood tormentor. Terrence was undoubtedly better at the job than his late predecessor, but William found some of those improvements more invasive than helpful.

Still, he had to admit that the man knew how to negotiate a marital standoff when he saw it, and without forcing William to say or do anything that might harm his status as a husband. Most often, it took no more than a look between them.

Terrence stood and collected his papers from the table. This will wait, my lady.

Indeed it must, said Ruskin with a dire nod. I’ve seen what these things can do, and the sooner we’re prepared, the better.

William jumped up and threw his riding cloak around his shoulders, having learned in recent months to trust his agent’s instincts. In his early fifties, grizzled with a graying beard, he had come to William at the recommendation of a powerful nobleman, revolutionizing the barony with radical changes that left other barons shaking their heads—until they started paying off, that is. Once nearly bankrupt, the operation was now finally turning a profit, and William’s respect for Ruskin’s insight and ability grew daily because of it.

He kissed his wife’s cheek. A maid for household chores—I’ll agree to that much. We can decide the rest later. Melissa, I know the staffing is important to you, but this is urgent.

Melissa sat back and waved her hand at him. I know. I’m just frustrated we keep delaying this. Go. Save the world.

I’ll be happy if we save the orchard. Anything else will be a bonus, he quipped. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Clyde, come with me.

A green dragon rose from the corner where he’d been curled up as inconspicuously as a metallic bear-sized creature can be, and shook off his slumber. After a glance at Melissa and Terrence, he approached William. Me ready, he said in a childlike voice.

William, Ruskin, and Clyde rushed to the manor entrance and emerged into the hot morning sun. Shielding his eyes, William turned again to Clyde. Go get the girls.

Clyde reared and spread his wings. With a small jump he was airborne, disappearing around the corner of the manor. Before William and Ruskin could even mount their horses, Clyde returned with three smaller dragons in tow.

Even under the circumstances, William couldn’t help but smile at the colorful trio. Mango, a bright orange dragon the size of a terrier, was the quietest of the three, though not by much. She flitted about, circling the two men in excitement as they steadied their horses. Diva, a slightly smaller magenta beauty, glittered in the sunshine as she zoomed between them, squealing with glee. And finally, Flea: no larger than a cat, and adorned in the brightest hue of sapphire blue William had ever seen. She bounced between William and Ruskin, landing on shoulder, head, or whatever body part offered the best purchase.

I suppose I should try to calm them? asked William.

Ruskin grinned. We’ll need their energy, answered the older man. They’ll do better if they think it’s a game. Besides, chastising children in the face of disaster leads nowhere. Shall we go?

William kicked his mare into a full run, and together they galloped toward the orchard. The four dragons kept pace easily, Flea swooping about with the grace of a swallow. He noted with paternal concern that the three females hadn’t grown much since they came to live with him forty days earlier—not the way Clyde had months before. For that matter, were they really female? Melissa named them and referred to them all as she from the moment they arrived, and he followed her lead, but would they ever know for sure?

Their mother certainly hadn’t given any indication, but she had been all too eager for William to take over their care, stating that they, like Clyde, were too different from the other dragons to remain at the hive. And so William had found himself raising four dragons instead of one. And as usual, Padma had left him with more questions than answers.

William eyed the rows of trees as they entered the orchard and slowed to a trot, his expression more filled with concern than his usual pride. Tiny green apples and pears dangled from the branches, along with the syconia that encased the young figs growing on his favorite trees.

After a nervous glance eastward, Ruskin dismounted and approached a waiting brazier. With an expert flick of his wrist, he shot a spark from his flint onto the kindling and blew the spark into a flame.

Have the villagers been warned? asked William.

They’re ready, answered Ruskin as he unloaded torches from his saddlebags. We only need to worry about the orchard. Maybe you should say a few words to the dragons. Let them know what to expect…and what not to burn.

Still mounted, William nodded and faced the dragons as best he could. Clyde, girls…we have a serious situation. Flea, please stop tearing leaves off the tree, and come here and listen. You too, Mango. A swarm of locusts—grasshoppers, basically—is about to arrive. They won’t hurt us, but they’ll eat anything in their path and—Diva, please don’t bother the horses. The locusts will eat any plant, so we need to protect these trees. Ruskin and I will do what we can with torches, but your job is to—

Ruskin cut him off. They’re here, sir.

William followed his gaze, his heart sinking. The immense cloud of insects rose from the horizon like a thundercloud, blocking the sun and dwarfing anything his imagination could have prepared him for. The sky was already darkening, and the swarm hadn’t even reached them yet. Around him, the girls zoomed between the trees, oblivious to the approaching menace, and he still hadn’t impressed upon them the urgency of the situation, let alone instructed them in their duties.

His gaze fell upon the calm, green dragon at his side. Clyde, can you speak to the girls? Tell them this is serious, and that they need to burn the locusts, not the trees. We need to save these trees.

Sure thing, Will, answered the dragon as he lumbered to his feet. Clyde emitted a shrieking whistle, startling both horses and their riders. It got the girls’ attention though, and Clyde followed it with a short but stern-sounding series of chirps.

Whatever Clyde said to them worked, as they immediately ceased their frolicking and joined him, facing the oncoming cloud of locusts in a state of readiness. Flea’s wings twitched while William dismounted and tied his horse.

Are you sure they know what they’re doing, sir? asked Ruskin with a raised eyebrow. Fire can kill a tree as easily as any locust.

William grabbed a pair of torches and held them in the brazier. I guess we’ll know soon enough, he answered.

More like right now, I’d say. Ruskin nodded toward the sky.

The locusts landed on them like a blanket, covering everything, and shrouding the sun. William swallowed hard as he recalled how much gold he’d spent on these trees, and how much he depended on their fruit. Remember, Clyde: don’t burn the trees.

Okay, Will, answered the dragon. He chirped at the female dragons and leapt into action, followed quickly by his three smaller companions. All four dragons raced up and down the rows, burning huge swaths of locusts that fell to the ground, the empty air refilling immediately from what seemed like an endless supply.

William and Ruskin ran from tree to tree, setting fire to the piles of wet straw that lay beneath each one, sending smoke billowing into the branches above. The locusts recoiled from the smoke, forcing them away from the trees and into the path of the awaiting dragons.

The insects adapted, avoiding the dragons like starlings swerving around a hawk. Clyde chirped at the girls again, and the four dragons split apart. William was about to yell, warn him to stay focused, but their plan soon became clear as Mango, Diva, and Flea began driving a large ball of locusts toward Clyde, who waited at the crossing of two paths. When the ball reached him, he jumped and incinerated the entire mass with one billowing flame, the largest William had ever seen the young dragon emit. A cloud of ash descended like snow, and the three girls chirped in glee.

You’re doing great! Keep it going, Clyde! urged William. He turned to Ruskin with what almost felt like disappointment. They’re doing everything. I feel useless.

We can keep the straw fires going, I suppose, muttered Ruskin as he stood beside William and admired the flying beasts. All the real work is happening above us.

William gazed up at the lightening sky. Am I imagining things, or is the swarm thinning?

Ruskin sniffed and shook his head in disbelief. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, sir, but it seems you’re right. They either killed off or chased away the bulk of it in just a few minutes. If they keep at it, the orchard will—

Wait, said William, his hand raised to stop Ruskin as he peered toward a nearby fallow field. What’s that sound? Did someone leave a child out there alone?

Ruskin followed his gaze and squinted. Looks like it. Don’t see any parents nearby. Probably busy protecting their crops.

William sprinted for his horse.

My lord! called Ruskin. Leave the child. No harm will come to it. Locusts don’t bite, and the orchard isn’t out of danger yet.

William mounted quickly and wheeled the horse around. Can you imagine what’s going through that child’s mind right now? She’ll have nightmares for the rest of her life if we don’t do something.

But the orchard—

He ignored the agent and waved at the green dragon flying overhead. Clyde, you and the girls keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be back in a moment.

Okay, Will, replied the dragon, who followed his words with a ball of fire, scorching a swirling cloud of insects.

William kicked his horse into a gallop, tearing through the rows of trees, his head low to avoid branches. He covered the distance to the field in a flash. With a powerful leap the mare cleared the surrounding fence, and seconds later William slid from his mount and ran to the girl.

Swinging his torch at the locusts with one arm, he tore his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around the girl with the other. Her shoulders trembled beneath his arm as he pulled her close.

Where are your parents? he asked, waving his torch as the locusts closed around them again.

In the field, mumbled the girl from beneath his cloak.

He looked around, seeing no one else, only locusts gorging on fallow ground cover.

Which field? he asked.

Our field, she answered.

He brushed away an insect from his forehead, wishing he had a straw pile to light, or a dragon to chase away the pests.

Where is your field? he asked.

Where my mama and papa are, came the reply.

William grumbled to himself at the futility of questioning a young child, and looked around in desperation for someone to claim her. Moments later, he spied a woman running toward them, her coat pulled over her head to ward off the insects.

Is this your daughter? he asked as she approached.

Elsie! she shouted. I told you to stay in the house. Why can’t you do what you’re told?

The girl sniffled as she pulled William’s cloak from her head. I got scared.

But you were safer at home, said the exasperated woman.

I was all alone. I wanted to find you and Papa. Elsie pouted at her mother and ducked underneath William’s cloak again.

The woman turned to William with a frightened look. I’m sorry, my lord. I left her in the house so we could protect the barley. I didn’t expect her to get out and cause trouble.

William grinned at her. The locusts are causing trouble, not your daughter, Mrs…

Rowan, my lord. Beatrice Rowan. Here’s your cloak. Elsie, let’s get you home. Papa and I still have to fight the locusts, though who knows what’s left to protect now. Your father can’t cover that much ground on his own.

The woman wrapped her own coat around the girl and hustled her away before William could respond. He stared after them, an emptiness in his gut as they retreated to their cottage. Had he done something wrong, or was she simply too busy to thank him?

Then again, what had he actually done? He’d abandoned the orchard in favor of a girl who really didn’t need rescuing, and whose mother had matters well in hand anyway. At best, a wasted effort. A knot formed in his stomach as he mounted his horse and trotted back to the orchard, crossing his fingers that little damage had been done during his fool’s errand.

He needn’t have worried.

You’re smiling, he called out to Ruskin as he approached. Good news, I hope?

Ruskin practically swaggered as he grinned back at William. I can scarcely believe my eyes, sir. Your dragons saved the orchard. The trees took a little damage, but the smoke kept most of the bugs away long enough for your fire-breathers to annihilate them. They’re just mopping up a few stragglers.

William craned his neck and admired the aerial display above the branches. Mango and Diva took turns chasing each other, blasting a stream of fire at the occasional insect. Flea looped through the air so quickly that William nearly became dizzy watching her, but she too scorched her share of straggling locusts.

Clyde glided slowly down the row of pear trees, landing softly a few feet from him. All done, Will, said the dragon as he ambled toward him.

William knelt and patted the scaly green neck, doing his best to quash his own sense of inadequacy. Good job, Clyde. Tell the girls I’m proud of you all.

Okay. The young dragon gazed back into William’s eyes with what could only be described as devotion.

After a moment, William pulled himself away and turned to Ruskin. What’s next?

Ruskin waved out his torch. Constant vigil for the next while, sir. The locusts could circle back any time, so I’d suggest we remain here until the swarm has moved on. Judging from the smoke rising from the fields, I’d say we’re a long way from being done. We should douse these fires and save the straw in case they come back.

William grabbed a bucket and scooped water from a nearby rain barrel. This was hardly his idea of a battle, though the task was important enough. But he wanted to fight, to face something in armed combat, or else for the danger to be over. Waiting offended him, especially when the battle raged elsewhere.

He laughed at his own discomfort as he poured water over a smoking straw pile. Why tempt fate by wishing for a different sort of crisis? They’d saved the orchard, after all. Or at least kept it safe for the time being, and if the dragons could continue as before the prospects were good that it could survive another locust attack.

And they had plenty of energy left. All four began copying William and Ruskin, darting between barrel and straw pile, collecting water, and spraying out the fires faster than he and Ruskin could on foot. Even Flea, tiny as she was, outdid his own efforts.

He was lucky, and he knew it. Without the dragons his orchard would have been stripped bare, this season’s fruit lost and prospects for any future harvest unlikely. The smoke might have slowed the locusts, but two men on foot would have delayed the inevitable at best.

So why did he still itch for a fight? Hadn’t they won?

He looked toward the fields where other desperate battles raged. How were the farmers faring? With no one else to help them, they would no doubt suffer significant losses. But the columns of smoke had already begun subsiding, and the sky showed no hint of approaching swarms. The worst was behind them.

Hard hoofbeats broke in on his thoughts. He turned quickly to find a rider heading his way at full gallop. The rider bowed in a hurried way as he slowed his mount, halting a few feet from where William and Ruskin stood.

Lord William, sir, said the rider breathlessly.

Roderick, isn’t it? asked William. From Lord Marsden’s barony? Judging from the man’s sweat-matted hair, he’d ridden hard the entire way.

Yes sir, the man replied. My lord sends his compliments, and inquires whether you might spare a man or two to aid us. The locusts have hit us hard, sir, and he fears nothing will be left soon if we don’t get help.

Ruskin answered before William could speak, his graying beard bristling. Lord William has a busy morning, Roderick. All the farmers are in their own fields protecting their own crops, and we can’t spare any house staff.

William turned to Ruskin, his pulse racing. What about two men and four dragons, Ruskin?

Sir, things look calm now, but the danger’s not over, warned Ruskin. We can’t guarantee the swarm won’t circle back. Or that another isn’t following. I shudder to think what might happen if you and the dragons are away if the locusts come back.

Meaning you won’t join us, snapped William, his voice terse. Marsden’s manor borders on my land, so it’s a short ride. Stay here if you must, Ruskin, but I’d rather fight the locusts where they are than wait for them where they’re not, said William as he swung his leg over his mare. Send Jimmy to get us if you see any sign of the locusts.

Ruskin’s voice remained calm, but his eyes chastised William more than words could. Jimmy can’t ride sir, and if the locusts return, I can’t be spared here.

William refused to flinch from his agent’s gaze. This is necessary, Ruskin. I won’t abandon my neighbors.

The look on Ruskin’s face stood in stark contrast to that on Roderick’s. Where the older man practically bit his lip to prevent himself from speaking, the younger was nearly giddy from relief. As for William himself, he was simply relieved to have something to do.

Let’s go, Clyde, said William as he wheeled his horse around. Bring the girls.

Chapter 2

The cool, rushing wind in his hair felt like freedom after the stifling heat of the still, smoky air in the orchard. The thrill of anticipation soon faded though, and his mare, having sprinted three times already this morning, tired quickly, managing no more than a gentle trot. Half an hour later, he rode past Lord Marsden’s manor into the garden.

Marsden himself greeted them, dressed as always in the finest clothes, the sort William himself still resisted wearing. Marsden was older, perhaps around his mother’s age, and like many of William’s noble neighbors sported a decent-sized paunch, no doubt the result of a soft life from birth. He had recently taken over the new barony next to William’s, an expansion resulting from Marshland Crossing’s newfound growth, leaving his old one to a younger brother.

The older baron shook his hand eagerly, and William noted the stark contrast between his neighbor’s clean, white hands, and his own, rough and grimy from torches and water buckets.

Thanks for coming so promptly, Whitehall, said Marsden, falling back on the familiarity used between peers. He rubbed his hands with glee and admired the chromatic spectacle flying around William’s head. And for bringing your dragons. I must admit I’ve wanted to see them for some time. Think they could save my garden?

William’s eyes widened as he surveyed the scene. Rather than the huge cloud of insects he’d expected based on Roderick’s description, all he found was a smattering of insects clinging to a few plants. Possibly enough to destroy a garden if ignored—which was exactly what they had done—but hardly an emergency. A few men with torches could have cleared the field in minutes.

Clyde, see what you and the girls can do, said William in a weary voice as he dismounted.

The green dragon chirped, and all four dragons took wing, zooming along the rows of greenery, jets of flame spurting at frequent intervals. Marsden roared with delight at the antics, nearly doubling over as Flea zigzagged between the tall ears of corn to chase a few elusive bugs.

William himself derived no joy from it. He’d witnessed it before, on a bigger scale and for much greater stakes. He stole a glance at Roderick standing silently beside his master, his head hung low, refusing to meet William’s gaze.

He’d been duped. His only pleasure came from the occasional waft of smoke rising from inadvertently scorched plants as an overeager dragon singed it along with a stray grasshopper.

The show ended in mere minutes. Clyde landed beside William, not even bothering to state the obvious. The girls appeared subdued, Flea landing on his shoulder with an angry bump.

No fun, complained Diva.

Brilliant, Whitehall! Just brilliant! gushed Marsden. I’d gladly endure the odd plague of locusts for a chance to watch that exhibition. Come in for tea. It’s the least I can do.

William frowned at Marsden’s choice of words, but swallowed several retorts that came to mind, opting for a more subtle approach. I’m afraid I must decline, Marsden. Every man must keep his land safe until the danger passes.

Quite right, said Marsden, oblivious to the intended slight. I’ll be sure to send another rider should the need arise.

William clenched his jaw and mounted. I’ll see that he’s given an appropriate welcome. Lord Marsden waved as he departed, his face still flush with amusement, but William ignored him and set his gaze firmly on the road home. His horse exhausted well past the point of even a canter, he limited himself to a slow trot in the hopes that he could reach his orchard within the hour.

The dragons, too, showed their displeasure at the lazy pace. Of the four, Clyde alone showed any sign of maturity, flying ahead to a marshy bog to feed on reeds until William caught up. The girls did the same for a short time, being limited to the same vegetarian diet as Clyde.

It didn’t last for long, though, as they soon ate their fill and became restless. Diva performed aerobatics directly in front of William to gain his attention, or possibly as a rebuke for the slow pace. Flea darted around in circles, startling him with a loud chirp as she buzzed past his ear.

Mango, leave my hat alone, growled William as the orange dragon dove in to snag it from his head, missing her target as William ducked. Moments later, her second attempt caught him unawares, forcing him to dismount to retrieve it. That won’t get us home any sooner, you know, he grumbled at her.

Miffed at his response, she joined Diva in her aerial display until the purple dragon scolded her with a series of screeches for intruding on her exhibition. Mango soared out of earshot to sulk.

Any sign of Ruskin at the orchard, Clyde? he asked while approaching the grazing dragon. Dutifully, Clyde ceased his munching and sprung into the air, his powerful wings lifting him with an ease and grace William had never noticed before. Only a few months earlier he’d been nothing more than a scrawny juvenile too weak to fly. Now he already dwarfed most of Padma’s worker dragons—not yet large enough to carry a rider, but perhaps in time. And who knew…maybe one day he would even rival her drones in size.

King’s wings…Padma! With all the morning’s excitement he’d forgotten he was scheduled to visit the hive today. A drone would be arriving at his manor any time now to deliver him, and here he was, miles away on a horse that couldn’t run.

Ruskin not there, said Clyde as he glided to the ground. His speech, too, was improving, mused William. Not perfect, but better. And he could speak with the girls using the whistles and toots that Padma’s subjects used. Whether it was the same speech, he couldn’t tell, but it was more than he would have believed possible back on that eventful day.

Clyde had arrived on dragon-back, scrawny and too weak to fly, perhaps only days from death. He couldn’t speak, neither human nor dragon speech, or follow any but the most rudimentary instructions. Padma had sent him to William in hopes of finding a cure for whatever ailed him. And cure him he did, but at the cost of William’s own garden. Clyde, hatched and raised by a race of meat-eating dragons, was a vegetarian, a fact no one suspected or even dreamed of. Clyde, however, reacted to the greenery in startling fashion, demolishing every plant in sight before he could be stopped, sating a hunger that had existed since his hatching.

On a whim, William later brought Clyde to the nearby canal then under construction, and coaxed him into eating away the greenery. While his relatives ate meat and rocks, Clyde thrived on plants and dirt, his voracious appetite extending the canal by several feet in a single sitting.

Such prodigious intake could only result in a similar output, and Clyde didn’t disappoint in that area either, though he saved the best for last. Late on his first night at the manor, he surprised William by dropping a small pellet of gold, encased in a clay-like crust. Since then, William had collected the pellets. Not enough to make him rich, but they helped defray costs, as did Padma’s payment for fostering Clyde.

And now he was keeper for three more dragons. Why Padma was producing so many unfit offspring he couldn’t guess, but she paid him in solid iron, and they made life interesting.

Though sometimes too interesting. Clyde, tell Mango to stop nipping at Flea; she doesn’t like it.

Okay, Will.

Eventually they reached the orchard, but as Clyde had already warned him, Ruskin was nowhere to be found. Nor was there any sign of the locusts, and none of the trees showed any additional signs of damage. In fact, the only trace of locusts was underfoot, where the charred bodies made a satisfying crunch under his horse’s hooves.

The straw piles were completely extinguished—Ruskin would never have left a fire smoldering, of that William was certain—but he still smelled smoke. Clyde, can you see where the smoke is coming from?

The dragon flew a few feet above the trees and looked around. A moment later he dove back down, landing hard beside William.

Home! he said.

What? gasped William. The manor?

No. Garden.

He urged his mare forward as quickly as he dared, and as they approached the manor, several columns of smoke came into view, along with several figures running around and waving torches.

A chill ran down his spine despite the morning heat, and he turned back to the dragon with alarm. Hurry, Clyde—the locusts are attacking the garden! Take the girls and go help.

Clyde wasted no time, chirping at the girls and leading them away to the fight, leaving William to follow as best he could. Minutes later, when William finally reached the garden’s edge, the dragons had already dispatched most of the locusts, and were now chasing down the last few.

Where on Esper have you been, William Whitehall?

William froze, bracing for the inevitable. He wore his most contrite face and slid from the horse’s back, keeping the mount between him and his onrushing wife.

Don’t you hide from me, mister, said Melissa as she stormed around the mare. Why weren’t you here? Ruskin told me you rushed off to save Marsden’s farm, and here I am, four months pregnant with your child, running through the garden chasing bugs. And for nothing! The garden is ruined, Will! Look at it!

His stomach sank as he gazed over the ruins. Every plant lay in shreds, some down to the soil, with barely a trace of greenery left aboveground. Lettuce, spinach, kale…all gone. Peas and beans hung from their stakes in tatters, leaves demolished. The root vegetables presumably survived, and might send up new shoots if the weather held, but the yield would be far less than it might have been.

Far worse than the demolition were the faces staring back at him. Mrs. Gracey, his cook, stood shaking her head. Jimmy, the gardener, leaned against the manor wall in tears as he surveyed the damage in disbelief. Ruskin simply stared back with a look that said, I tried to tell you.

William shuddered and turned back to Melissa. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.

Oh, really? she asked, her face blotched with both anger and exertion. Does the great William Whitehall have magical powers? Can you snap your fingers and replace something that took months to grow? Of course not. Now we’ll have to buy our food from neighbors, and it won’t be cheap after all the damage the locusts have done. Ruskin says prices will triple—if we’re lucky. And I don’t feel particularly lucky right now.

I know, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. You have every right to be upset—

You don’t know the half of it. Follow me.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him to the far end of the garden. He knew what waited for him well before they turned the corner, but his heart sank at the sight anyway. Near the front wall of the manor lay the ruins of a flower garden, once the beginnings of a mighty floral display. Roses, peonies, azaleas…others whose names he couldn’t recall. It was Melissa’s pet project, and was nowhere near completion before the locusts hit it, but it had been magnificent even in its infancy, especially the irises, of which Melissa had been particularly proud.

And now it was destroyed, petals of various hues strewn across the ground, stems denuded of leaves and toppled over where the locusts chewed through. Not a single flower remained intact.

Still think you can make things better? Melissa demanded as she glared at her husband.

For several moments all he could do was stare at the carnage, hand on his stomach to prevent his meager breakfast from coming up. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Look, I promise I will. I may not know how yet, but—

You left our home in danger, Will, she answered, her finger poking into his chest. I’d bet the entire contents of our home that Ruskin warned you not to go. But you left anyway, all for the thrill of adventure, and to show off your dragons.

It’s not like that—

Oh, it’s not? she snapped. Then tell me, Lord William, what exactly did you hope to accomplish at Marsden Manor?

He said nothing. What could he say? All the reasons he gave Ruskin, everything he said to himself, disintegrated like insects in dragon fire.

She nodded once, her rage softening into mere resignation that somehow made him feel worse. That’s what I thought. She stomped away, her summer dress swishing in time with her angry steps. It would take weeks to calm her, and the process would be arduous.

He turned to Ruskin to face the easier task. I’ll need a report as soon as possible, he told the agent.

Of course, sir. I’ll need to meet a few people in the village to get the news myself, but it looks like the worst is over. Ruskin’s eyes held pity rather than anger. William wasn’t sure which he preferred.

Ruskin left, as did Jimmy and Mrs. Gracey, leaving him alone with his thoughts and his dragons. He wandered around the garden, searching in vain for anything of value that might have been spared. Clyde kept pace at a distance, not stepping into the garden itself, obeying William’s long-standing order. The girls, too, kept their distance, perching on the fence—even Mango, who was given to sneaking a bite from the garden when she thought William wasn’t looking.

But there was nothing left to look at. Everything was dead or dying. Whatever vines, stems, and roots that remained were already turning brown, the hot morning sun hastening their decay, and no amount of pacing would alter that fact.

William turned his back on the carnage and ambled toward the fence where Clyde had curled up near the girls. Of everything that had transpired, they were the one thing that hadn’t disappointed, the one ray of sunshine in a mind clouded by troubles. The emerald dragon craned his neck upwards as he approached, and William rewarded him with a grateful pat on the spines. You did good work today, Clyde. You and the girls. Please thank them for me.

Okay, Will.

With a last look around, he turned and headed for the front door. He may as well take his lumps now rather than dragging it out like a coward outside, pretending—once again—he was doing something useful.

Clyde followed him in, while the girls headed around the manor to the shelter that Ruskin built for them. Melissa had accepted Clyde’s presence in the house—he had lived there before she had, after all—but she drew the line at having three additional, far more rambunctious dragons bouncing around the hallways, knocking over her art collection. Once was quite enough.

The cold remains of his breakfast waited for him on the dining hall table. Hardly appealing, but his ever-present appetite demanded he eat anyway. Besides, what he wanted now was solitude, not pleasure. He sat down and sipped his frigid tea, spearing a sausage and tearing off a hunk of bread. He jammed a few morsels in his mouth and reached for the large, folded paper that lay on the table. He shook his head at the miracle it represented, a technology recently resurrected from ancient Earth days.

It was a newspaper.

Printed in the hundreds, possibly thousands, delivered from Faywater Port three hundred miles away by stagecoach to Deacon’s Inn at Marshland Crossing, where Ruskin purchased a copy. That he’d contributed toward the printing technology was more interesting to him than the trivial news it conveyed: a fair for modern glassworks would be held in three months’ time in the market square; a total of four hundred and twelve ships had docked in the port in the past month; Duke Vincent was departing for New Athens soon for a meeting of the Council, no reason given.

William skimmed the remaining articles, none capturing his interest, then tossed it on the pile with the others. Most had come from the same city, but a few came from Rebel Falls, and one from New Athens itself that was well out of date by the time it reached his hands.

The front door closed, sending echoes