Final Quest

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1: The Half Prophecy

  2: War of the Words

  3: The Living Stone

  4: Revenge of the Hunters

  5: Underwater, Underground

  6: The Falling City

  7: In the Green Paradise

  8: In the Temple Precincts

  9: Raising the Unwanted Dead

  10: Mysteries and Secrets

  11: The Wraiths of Wrath

  12: The Long Story

  Also Available

  Copyright

  “Look there beyond those dunes,” the dragon told his rider. “Another fire. Another victory.”

  As Gethwing’s four enormous wings, black and ragged as ripped fabric, lifted him high over the world of Droon, Eric Hinkle forced himself to look down.

  Beneath the twisting plumes of smoke below stood a tiny village cradled among vast dunes of sand. Until it had been abandoned and burned, the village had been the home of the purple Lumpies and their beloved ruler, Khan.

  Eric’s heart ached as they swooped low over the crumbled huts, and then soared high again.

  Beyond the desert village, he spied a range of hilltop settlements sprinkled among the Dust Hills of Panjibarrh. Also in flames, also uninhabited, they were all that remained of the Oobja people’s royal homeland.

  “Good work,” Eric managed to say, nearly choking on the words. “Really nice.”

  “Indeed,” Gethwing said, banking so sharply over a range of pink mountains that Eric had to cling to the dragon’s horns to keep from falling. “A great day shall soon dawn for me, and for you, Prince Ungast.”

  Prince Ungast! Eric thought disgustedly. How I hate that name!

  Not long before, Eric had been wounded, cursed, and transformed into his evil twin, Prince Ungast.

  Though he had been cured, Eric had stayed in disguise, hoping to bring down Gethwing from within the dragon’s beast-filled ranks.

  Now only Ungast’s ill-fitting purple armor stood between him and Gethwing’s terrifying wrath.

  “More fires!” the dragon said, swooping over a string of burning villages. “Our war is nearly complete. Soon, we enter the final day.”

  Gethwing’s ultimate battle against Eric’s beloved Droon was only three and a half days old, but already fires had destroyed its major cities, and heaps of rubble were all that remained of great palaces.

  Knowing that a scant thirty hours remained until the predicted final siege on Jaffa City, Eric was frantic to stop the dragon.

  If Gethwing could be stopped at all.

  In the last few hours Eric had learned that the dragon was not simply a monster possessing power rooted in Droon’s earliest days.

  Gethwing was much more.

  Gethwing was … immortal.

  “And there,” the dragon said. “Let us take a closer look at that lovely … destruction.”

  As if drawing a map of invisible lines from one conquest to the next, Gethwing veered away from the pink mountains to a valley clouded by the densest smoke.

  “Such fine flames,” murmured the dragon. “Don’t you think, Ungast?”

  “Oh, you bet,” Eric said.

  At first, Eric had been stunned to learn that Droon’s enemy could not die. But it made sense. Countless times over his long life, Gethwing had been attacked, wounded, cursed, thought near death, and yet each time the Moon Dragon had escaped his end.

  The reason was simple.

  According to Eric’s genie friend, Neal Kroger, Gethwing could never be defeated as long as his mysterious “wheel of life” continued to spin.

  Fine, thought Eric. So he’s got a wheel.

  Except that Gethwing’s wheel was hidden in a place called the Cave of Night, and no one knew where that was.

  Still worse, Neal had learned that there was an ancient prophecy proving that Gethwing would never die, that he would rule forever.

  As part of his big push to conquer Droon, the dragon had formed his Crown of Wizards — uniting under him the powers of the sorcerer Lord Sparr, the wickedly clever Princess Neffu, and Prince Ungast.

  As long as the dragon believed Eric to be his second in command, the boy could work undercover to defeat him before Jaffa City — and all of Droon — fell.

  All I have to do is discover the prophecy. Stop the wheel. Defeat Gethwing. End the war.

  Not much. Just that.

  Summoning his courage, Eric spoke.

  “So listen, Gethwing, the big battle. How exactly will the whole thing happen —”

  “Hush!” snarled the dragon. “Look there!”

  Gethwing banked over what had once been the diamond-strewn Kalahar Valley — before a hundred thousand beast hooves had trampled it to little more than a barren wasteland.

  “Not bad, eh, Ungast?” asked Gethwing, arching his head back at Eric. “My armies — our armies — are but hours away from complete victory in Droon. If the Forbidden City of Plud will be my new capital, perhaps Jaffa City can be yours. How does … Ungast Town sound to you?”

  Eric’s throat tightened, his stomach turned. Ungast Town! Then he realized something. Plud had long been Lord Sparr’s home. In fact, it was one of the very first places Eric and his friends had ever visited in Droon. If Gethwing now wanted Plud for himself …

  Eric suddenly sensed a second crack in the fearful Crown of Wizards.

  “Plud, huh?” he said. “But what about Lord Sparr? Plud has always been his favorite city.”

  “Sparr?” said Gethwing, soaring up again. “Sparr will join us after he finishes his siege of Zorfendorf Castle. And Neffu will meet us after her victory over the port of Doobesh.”

  Eric tamped down his anger again.

  Doobesh was a city ruled by King Jabbo. The pie-making king was one of many souls — thousands of them — loyal to Droon.

  But good souls were not enough.

  Eric knew that he and his friends could do only so much. His dream had long been to reunite the three sons of Zara, the Queen of Light. Only Galen, Urik, and Sparr together possessed the depth of magic needed to stop the dragon.

  Yet Eric was aware that this was an impossible dream.

  Zara had passed away centuries ago, Galen was missing, and Urik was lost in the sunless depths of time. Bringing them together, uniting them once more, was clearly impossible.

  That leaves only Sparr, he thought. I need to turn him to our side. I have to make him join his magic to ours! We need more magic. We need as much magic as possible!

  The dragon circled a nearby mountaintop and lighted on its barren peak.

  An outcropping below was sprinkled with the remains of a groggle nest. Groggles were the flying lizards preferred by beasts. One old creature lay sleeping there. The others, Eric guessed, had all been recruited for the war.

  “You can see much from here,” the dragon said, tucking his wings behind him.

  Eric slid from the dragon’s scaly back to solid ground. It was difficult to do anything without Gethwing realizing it, since the dragon was as clever and brilliant as he was powerful. Yet Eric wondered if he could wrench a clue from Gethwing without seeming to.

  “So … ,” he began.

  “Ungast,” said the dragon, letting his eyes play over Eric’s face. “Prince … son …”

  The word made Eric tremble, but he caught himself and turned away, lest the quaking of his chest inside his breastplate betray his fear.

  “Dad,” he said with a smirk.

  “You jest,” said the dragon. “I do not. These next hours will cement our lordship over Droon. There are secrets about me that no one knows. Neffu and Sparr are essential to this attack, yes —”

  “Sparr,” said Eric, seizing on the name and removing his helmet. “I’ve been meaning to talk to
you about him.”

  “Yes?” said the dragon.

  “It’s just that Sparr has gone back and forth, hasn’t he?” said Eric. “I mean, sure, since we started the Crown of Wizards, he’s been working hard to help us conquer Droon. But sometimes, well, you know, he goes back to them. The kids. He helps them. He’s kind of a question mark.”

  Gethwing kept his eyes on Eric’s face. “Is he?”

  “Maybe I should check on him,” Eric said, averting his gaze. “Make sure he’s with us. For the final attack.”

  Gethwing glanced toward the horizon in the far west. The sun was setting, its final rays as red as blood. “Like a good boy checks on an aging relative. How touching.”

  “I mean, I don’t want to,” said Eric, trying not to show eagerness. “I just think I should fly over to Zorfendorf and see how his siege is coming along. To keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s with us.”

  Gethwing nodded. “Of course, of course. My Crown of Wizards is vital for our victory.”

  For a few moments, as the sun dipped below the sea and the sky flared redder than red, no one spoke.

  “But afterward?” said Gethwing finally. “On the field of victory, some thirty short hours from now? Not all shall remain. I know this because of … because of an ancient prophecy.”

  So? You want to talk about it? Then let’s talk.

  “You’ve never told me about a prophecy,” said Eric, as casually as he could. “So I really wouldn’t know.”

  Gethwing took Eric’s gloved hands in his own enormous claws. “The words were spoken on the night of my birth. They were inscribed in stone that very hour. After centuries, those words are now being fulfilled.”

  The dragon paused, staring into Eric’s eyes. “Five shall pass away, four shall wear the crown, three shall fall, two shall rise together …”

  Silently memorizing the words, Eric waited, but the dragon said no more.

  “Interesting,” Eric said. “But what about the one? Isn’t there something cool about the one?”

  “The five that shall pass away,” Gethwing said, dismissing his question, “are the cycles of Droon’s millennial calendar. Five have come and gone since I first breathed. The four that shall wear the crown? These are the four in the Crown of Wizards — Sparr, Neffu, you, and me. I formed the Crown because of the prophecy.”

  Okay. That makes sense. Go on …

  “Of the three that shall fall,” Gethwing said, “Emperor Ko and Queen Zara are two of them. Ko fell to his death. Zara has long since passed away and lies entombed.”

  Zara! Why you —

  Eric suppressed an urge to strike Gethwing with his sword. “And the two and the one?”

  “Of the one,” the dragon murmured, “let us simply say that it speaks of the end of days, and burning and ashes, and, well, you will know soon, Ungast. The world will know soon. Both worlds! Far more interesting are the two that shall rise together. For they are standing on this mountaintop right now.”

  A surge of excitement coursed through Eric’s veins, but when it fizzled in an instant, he knew that Ungast was truly a thing of the past. “But really. What about the one?”

  Gethwing’s jaws twisted into a smile, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “All will be known when the time comes.”

  Really? thought Eric. Are you telling me that you don’t actually know what the prophecy means? Seriously? That’s like only knowing half of it. Then, good! What happens to “the one” will be a surprise to all of us — especially to you, dragon!

  An icy wind swept across the mountaintop, and Eric hunkered down in his armor.

  “Get used to it,” Gethwing said, his eyes scouring the passes below. “We will walk in a place far colder than this before the final day is over.” Gethwing waved his claws wide.

  A place far colder than this? Is that a clue?

  “Until then, take this,” said the dragon, slipping a studded bracelet over Eric’s wrist. “Use it during these final hours. Use it against your enemies. Including those you think are closest to you.”

  “But I’m only going to see Sparr,” said Eric. “There’s no danger of enemies.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Gethwing, removing his claws from the bracelet.

  The thick band was freezing cold and felt like nothing so much as ice carved into a twisted length of black stone.

  “Stylish,” said Eric.

  Gethwing nodded slowly. “I have used it in the past to alert me to betrayers. Use it even against Sparr, if you must. Remember, only you and I shall rise together. Only we two are essential after this war is over.”

  So you’re giving Sparr the boot?

  I can use that.

  Eric grinned as evilly as he could. “Thanks for the jewelry.”

  Eric turned to the south. Zorfendorf Castle was no more than a speck of white among the far hills, catching the last flickers of daylight.

  “I’ll be back,” he said.

  “I know you will,” said Gethwing. “I know. Until then, find out about Sparr. Let him share his secrets with you. Be his friend. Go.”

  It was the dragon’s last word to him.

  As he watched Gethwing fly off, Eric thought he had held his own against him. Gethwing doesn’t suspect me, does he? I don’t think so. He even gave me a weapon. A magic bracelet. Yeah, well, I’ll turn it against you, Gethwing, the first chance I get. Now … to fool Sparr. In a different way.

  He climbed down to the groggle nest, reached the creature sleeping there, and woke it. Lumbering to its feet, the lizard knew from the evil cast of Eric’s armor to obey his commands.

  Leaping onto the lizard’s rough back, Eric grabbed the long fins on its head and gave it a nudge with his heels.

  The final war? The ashes of the old world?

  His blood ran cold as the creature soared over the smoky plains, beating its wings noisily toward the white-walled castle of Zorfendorf.

  Though the groggle flew high into the icy air, it wasn’t cold that caused Eric to wrap his cloak tightly around him. The trembling in his side came from another source.

  Pushing his hand inside his cloak, Eric loosed the magical Medallion from his pocket. Holding it again, he could not stop its strange story from flooding into his mind, for in a way it was the Moon Medallion that held the entire history of his adventures in Droon.

  Created centuries before by Zara, the Medallion was constructed of four parts, one made by Zara and each of her three sons, Sparr, Galen, and Urik.

  Zara’s base was called the Silver Moon; the Ring of Midnight was crafted by Galen; the Twilight Star by Sparr; and the Pearl Sea by Urik.

  It was when following Sparr to Pesh, the ancient city of the thorn queen, Salamandra, that Eric had first learned the story of Zara. Founder of a dynasty of powerful wizards, Zara was as kind as she was just. Envy of her powerful magic caused the fierce, bull-headed Emperor Ko to enter the Upper World and kidnap her.

  When Sparr escaped from Salamandra through her thorny time portal, Urik followed him and was lost in an endless loop of time. Galen then used Urik’s magical wand to create the rainbow-colored staircase and search for his kidnapped mother.

  It was the discovery of that magical staircase that first brought Eric and his friends to Droon.

  Hiding the Medallion in his cloak once more, Eric knew that in its intricate markings were millions of words that formed nothing less than a history of universal magic.

  How many times since coming to Droon had Eric learned how words and names carried power beyond belief: Salamandra, Pesh, Urik, the Dark Lands, Jaffa City, Doobesh, Gethwing, Zorfendorf, Sparr, Ko, the Forbidden City of Plud, Zara!

  And now more words!

  Five shall pass away …

  Even as Eric’s brain crowded with the vast mystery of all things, his heart ached with uncertainty. What does it all mean?

  But I still have to try to save Droon, don’t I? There are less than thirty hours to discover the prophecy, Gethwing’s mysterious wheel
of life, and the dark secret that will stop him.

  The groggle dipped from the purpling sky, and the boy saw row upon row of red-faced and black-armored Ninn warriors crowding the fields below. Some pushed a giant war tower, while others hauled a battering ram in the shape of a dragon’s head.

  “If only my friends were here,” he said.

  If only. But Keeah, Neal, and Julie were needed elsewhere, fighting one of the countless other battles, doing their best to stave off the final war Eric feared they had already lost.

  He slowed the groggle with a nudge of his heels, and it landed atop a nearby hill. He slipped from its back, scoured the fields below, and saw the man he had come to find.

  Lord Sparr was mounted on a winged black pilka. Mantled in a long gray cloak, the sorcerer gazed motionless at the tumult of battle, the fins behind his ears bloodred in the twilight. All of a sudden, Sparr stood in his stirrups and shouted. “The eastern wall is breached! Ninns, batter the twin gates now!”

  Eric gulped. “This is the guy I’m hoping to bring to my side? I may need this bracelet after all.” He twisted the cold black band up his arm, hiding it inside his cloak. He hoped that Sparr would sense neither it nor the Moon Medallion.

  Leaping down from his pilka, Sparr suddenly called, “Ungast! A surprise visit. Come. Enter the city with us!”

  Eric secured his war helmet. It felt heavier than ever. “Coming!” he said.

  Rushing to join Sparr, Eric spied groups of inhabitants streaming from rough openings in the walls and escaping into the scrubby margins of the nearby woods. There were many small children among them, their little cheeks smudged with the grime of battle except where they were marked by tears.

  He wished he could tell them who he really was. But to these children, pretending to be bad must seem the same as being bad.

  I’ll make it up to them later. I promise —

  Blam! Blam! After two strokes of the battering ram, the city’s white gates fell inward, and the sorcerer leaped through. “Ninns, Ungast, follow me!”

  Together with his warriors, Sparr charged his way into the castle yard. Without pause, he left his troops, raced across the yard, and tore open an iron-studded door with a wave of his hand.