Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Warlock Apprentice
Black Lake, Book 4
by
R. Mac Wheeler

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The local warlock claimed Paul can reach the ethereal, but the ruling council wants no ogre or commoner from the Range wielding majic. Paul and Morgan join a wizard who has his own issues with the council and are drawn into Northern intrigue when the ancient queen dragon tells them they’re fated to put down a plot that threatens war. The trio defy a death sentence, rogue wizards, and fickle dragons tempted to snack on them. Paul’s majic must mature quickly if he’s to survive. Amid the drama, Paul learns about character, integrity, and family, that all creatures are individuals despite the prejudices he’s been raised to believe.

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Chapter One
Paul

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Not natural, humans livin’ with a pair of ogres, much less the mess of ’em livin’ below a lair where three dragons slumber. Stinkin’ dragons. Cranky ogres.

Can’t fathom why it took me so long to muster the gumption to—

Panic exploded as I slid over the outcroppin’, scrapin’ madly at the rock to find a grip. My shins connected with a juttin’ ledge and that froze me in agony. I closed my eyes against it, but had to continue kickin’, searchin’ for a nitch to wedge my toes. My center of gravity loomed outward and head swam with vertigo. Imagined my carcass tumblin’ for thirty minutes before it hit the plain below. A gust sweepin’ up the cliff face plunged grit into my neck and cheek.

Hands slick with sweat, I lost my grip and dropped another foot. Knees whacked the ledge that already bloodied my shins. But one boot met an agreeable crag. I scrambled to get my other on it before I twisted head-over-arse and plummeted to my death.

I clutched at new handholds and lay my face against sunbaked rock to rest, blew out a deep breath in relief, and thanked God I survived that one. I needed to slow down or I was gonna kill myself. No ogre, witch, or dragon would have to do the honors.

I opened my eyes and looked about. A crease in the granite angled from the right toward me. One more, sheer outcroppin’ to beat and the climbin’ would be easier. On the clear mountain face the dragon might find room to land though. Not that the beast had to land. He could probably swoop down and wrench me cleanly away if the wind calmed. I imagined what the dragon’s talons would feel like penetratin’ my body. The pain wouldn’t last long. Couldn’t survive but a second, surely, bein’ cleaved in two by those jaws.

Hope the wind doesn’t calm.

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and extended a leg for the next step. A hawk screeched. Some varmint hidin’ in the rocks nearby squeaked defiantly in answer. Brave cuss. Not unlike me, runnin’ from a hundred-foot-long dragon snarlin’-snout to slashin’-tail. Twelve-inch fangs. Breath foul enough to scald the hair off a mule’s butt.

Don’t think about the dragon.

I lowered myself to the next ledge, which was wide enough I could turn around. I searched the sky for the first time in ten minutes. Where was the beast? Ah. To the right. He rode the thermals, wings extended like sails. He enjoyed himself, teased, baitin’ me with freedom. But where could I go when I reached the plain below? There’d be no place to hide.

I pressed my back against the rock. Useless. Nowhere to go.

Don’t give up. Never give up.

Three sisters to provide for, a father to find. Can’t give up.

I leapt into the crevasse, eroded angles pokin’ through the worn leather soles of what remained of my boots. Once my father’s boots, handed down, wore them for three years with rags jammed into them so my feet wouldn’t slide around so much.

I gasped hot air. At least it wasn’t as thin as I was used to in the alpine heights, my home since the birth of my youngest sister. How long ago was that? I counted the number of first-of-the-season blizzards. Three. This is my fourth summer. Seemed like twentieth. Am only sixteen years old though. Feel much older.

Focus.

Lungs hurt. Every muscle aches from the four-hour-long race off the peak. The plain below promised freedom. What tipped off the dang dragon? He shoulda been sleepin’, curled inside his lair in his six-foot-deep pile of straw.

I adjusted the strap over my shoulder and pushed back the attached bag containin’ the entirety of my possessions—loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, extra shirt, two pairs of socks, the handkerchief Aedwin gave me, pocketknife from Lucas, harmonica from Ike.

And the bag of gold I stole.

Heat rushed across my face. The ogre should have hidden it, not left it sittin’ on top that cupboard. More coins than my pa ever earned his entire life. If I never found the man, at least I wouldn’t starve.

A twitch in my chest made me look up. The dragon arched north to west. Gold wouldn’t do me any good when the dragon caught up with me. Most folk hang thieves. That dragon wouldn’t bother huntin’ for a rope.

I took another deep breath and continued down the steep, but much easier path within the wedge of the two angled mountain faces, the descent ten times faster since I didn’t have to clamber hand over toehold.

Sweat gushed down my face. That twinge, which often tingles my gullet lately, clenched my spine. Neck cramped from keepin’ track of the dragon.

The terrain leveled. Boulders and loose stones covered the broad plates of bedrock, makin’ my steps treacherous. Boots slid across the debris, scrapin’ and bruisin’ my ankles. A broken leg would end my escape. And my life. Either sweat or blood soaked my threadbare socks.

A whooshin’ sound ripped my mind from my pain. I flinched as a wide shadow crossed my path. The dragon careened in a tight bank. I lurched for stones.

“No! No! Go away!”

I launched my pathetic missiles into the air as though they would ward off the enormous predator. The slate-colored, scarred beast veered north, and away.

Showed him.

But thrown stones wouldn’t put off the dragon for long, nor would the stragglin’ boulders hide me. I shook my head. No place but forward. I jolted into a jog, strugglin’ to avoid head-sized stones that littered the narrow foothills frontin’ the plain.

Sand replaced gravel. Instead of knifin’ spikes makin’ through the thin soles of my boots, the sand snuck in through the holes and ground at my feet.

I pressed into a run. But for what purpose? How far could I run? Outdistance a dragon? Not in this lifetime. A life too short.

A sound like spatterin’ applause, the dragon wingin’ to land, forced me to take my eyes off my path. I stomped to a halt, palms droppin’ to my knees to catch my breath. Three gasps and I reached for more stones to throw. I picked up two fist-sized ones and hurled them one after another at the beast with all my strength. They bounced off the dragon’s shoulder. His hide twitched, like a milk cow thwartin’ flies. He fluttered his enormous wings kickin’ up a swell of dust, double eyelids closin’, as though surprised.

A taloned claw extended.

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