The Might of Magic Read online

  The Might of Magic

  In the Eye of the Dragon Book Six

  N. M. Zoltack

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Epilogue

  Other Books By N. M. Zoltack

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2021 by N. M. Zoltack

  ISBN: 9781727163674

  Cover Artist: Joewie Aderes

  https://www.deviantart.com/loztvampir3

  Typography: Covers by Julie

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/JMNARTcoversbyjulie/

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Created with Vellum

  For all those who believe in the fantastical.

  1

  The One True Queen Rosalynne Rivera

  Rosalynne Rivera was the Queen of all of Tenoch Proper, the only queen in all of Dragoona, yet all she felt was fear as the sight of the three dragons breathing fire and attacking Atlan Castle filled her eyes.

  “So much fire,” Aldus murmured.

  The queen turned to eye Advisor Aldus Perez—former advisor, she should say. She had not trusted the man for a long time, even before she had learned that he had had a hand in her father’s failing health toward the end of his life. Her father had suffered from terrible grief and had turned to food for comfort. Aldus had encouraged that to the point of gluttony, and her father had barely been able to walk at the end.

  And then, Sabine, her father’s third wife, the one who was only three years older than Rosalynne who was nineteen years of age, had given her husband, the king, poison on the night he choked and died. The poison might not have killed him, or perhaps it had. Either way, Sabine was no longer the ruling queen.

  Rosalynne was.

  Which meant she had to uncover a way to save the castle and her people.

  Her heart raced, and she controlled her breathing. Aldus’s approaching her had greatly unnerved her, and she had just decreed that he was to be her jester—something she did not entirely know for certain if she meant as a jest or not.

  The young queen, struggling to regain that sense of knowledge and control she had before Aldus had plagued her, turned to her guards. The alure or wall walk would be the best place for the warriors, would it not? Yes, she decided.

  “Have all those with weapons bear arms and head to the towers, to the alure. All others are to head to the dungeon,” she ordered.

  “The dungeon?” Aldus cried. “But if the castle is to collapse—”

  “If the castle falls, we will all die regardless,” she remarked. “Do not question me, or would you prefer to not merely be in the dungeons but in a cell?”

  Aldus nodded. “As you wish.”

  She scowled at the infuriating man and narrowed her eyes. He refused to address her with the proper level of respect her position dictated, and normally, she would not care about titles, but he acted as if he had far too much power, and that she could not and would not abide.

  Several of her guards left, but two lingered, two of her most trusted ones.

  “My queen, will you come to the dungeons as well?” Wilfrid Frye asked.

  She glanced from one blond-haired, blue-eyed guard to the other and focused her attention on the taller, thinner one. “Thorley, I wish for you to go to Sabine. You are to be her guard once more.”

  “For Sabine?” Thorley Everett questioned. “I do not mean to speak out against the queen, and I will do as you ask, My Queen, but we have heard the rumors.”

  “And the rumors are?”

  “That she is no longer queen.”

  “What you heard may or may not be true, but do as I say, and be mindful to watch her closely. She is dangerous, and she still has power and influence, and she’s seeking knowledge that might well undue her, but she says…”

  Claims, Rosalynne thought, wondering not for the first time if Sabine endeavoring to be an alchemist would prove to be a most unwise choice.

  “She wishes to help see Tenoch remain standing,” Rosalynne finished. “Go to her.”

  Thorley bowed, spun around, and left.

  Rosalynne scowled at Aldus. The tall man with overly large dark eyes remained. She flicked her wrist at him to banish him.

  “If I may,” he started.

  “You may not.”

  “Very well.” He dipped his head and withdrew from the throne room.

  “Wilfrid, stay with me,” Rosalynne murmured.

  “Very well, My Queen. Are we to stay here?”

  “For the moment,” she said, her gaze turning to the nearest tall decorated rose window. The sight of the dragons three was truly terrifying, and Rosalynne feared not only for her life but the lives of all those within the castle walls.

  2

  Princess Vivian Rivera

  Rage. That was what drove Vivian to race home as quickly as her horse allowed. She could not recall the last time she had something to eat. Yes, her stomach churning, but she could not tell if it was from hunger or fear.

  She must return to Atlan Castle at once.

  But the horse she rode was faltering, tiring, and she had no choice but to stop at the next traveling post.

  The man in charge there eyed her dusty, worn mount, but she just glowered at him, daring him to give her a difficult time.

  A woman approached then, into the small overhang that was beside the stable. Sh
e carried a bit of bread and fish, most likely the man’s midday meal, but she took one look at Vivian and wordlessly handed it to her.

  Vivian shook her head. “I must have a horse and be on my way.”

  “Take it,” the woman ordered, her voice as gruff as the man’s appearance.

  The man huffed a sigh and moved slowly to unharness her saddle.

  “I can ride bareback if need be,” Vivian said. “I’m—”

  “Do you want to arrive at your destination and fall off the beast dead?” the woman asked. She nodded sagely. “That’s liable to happen, you know.”

  “Not liable, and it won’t,” Vivian said.

  “Just eat while you ride then,” the woman said, gripping the man’s arm.

  “A horse,” Vivian said desperately.

  The woman slapped the man upside the head. “You have to forgive my husband. He’s not quite what he used to be.”

  “Eh?” the man grunted. He had silver hair on his head, a bit thin, but the hairs growing out of his ears were white.

  “Nothing, dearie,” the woman said in as sweet of a tone that her gruff voice could handle. “You’re making the princess wait.”

  Vivian started. She hadn’t thought anyone would be able to recognize her.

  The woman nodded sagely again and then glanced over toward the stable. “No, not that… Get out of the way, you big oaf.”

  The woman brought out a fine horse, far finer than Vivian would’ve expected for this remote locale.

  “Thank you,” Vivian said warmly.

  “May the Fates be kind to you,” the woman called, but Vivian was already riding away.

  She choked down the bread and fish. The fish hadn’t been cooked, and the bread was a bit stale, but that wasn’t why she had to force herself to eat it. The princess wished to ride as fast and hard as possible, and with riding bareback, she needed to lean forward and guide the horse more with her body as she had no reins.

  Worse than that, however, was the terror she felt each time she closed her eyes even though only for a blink. Each time she did, visions of the castle going up in flames came to her, and she had to fight back many sobs.

  Would she have a castle to return to? Would her sister be dead? Would the dragons attack the castle? And were the visions merely a manifestation of her fear? Or had the dragons sent her the visions so as to torture her? Because it felt very much like torture, and Vivian could scarcely breathe.

  Nothing, however, not even the visions or the need to be sick from the food, would stop her. She must return to the castle, and she must speak to her sister at once. What Rosalynne would be able to do with Vivian’s knowledge, the princess did not know, but Tenoch’s future might well rest upon the queen’s action.

  Or, rather, the future of the people of Tenoch.

  No, not merely Tenoch.

  All of Dragoona.

  3

  Sir Edmund Hill

  The Tranquil Wolf Hotel. It had been all Dudley Hill had wanted for years. Honestly, Sir Edmund Hill thought that his brother had loved the hotel and even before that, the idea of the hotel, more than he loved his wife.

  Tatum Whittemore. Nay, Tatum Hill.

  The knight hated himself for having fallen for the woman his brother had wed, and now, Edmund hated himself even more for the fact that his brother was dead.

  Killed in his own hotel.

  It had all happened so quickly, yet Edmund could recall every second of the horror. Dudley had been willing to give away Tatum to a man for some time upstairs in one of the rooms, and everyone knew what those rooms were meant for. They weren’t meant for people who needed a bed for the night.

  Edmund had been disgusted, but Tatum thought it a joke. Perhaps Dudley had meant it a jest as well, but the man whom Dudley seemed to owe coin did not think it a ruse, and he grabbed Tatum. She slammed a mug onto his head. Edmund’s mug it had been. Had the mug shattered? Edmund thought so, but he couldn’t be sure.

  If only the blow had knocked the man unconscious! Instead, he fought Dudley.

  And Edmund just stood there. The people had crowded around to see the fight, but Edmund had been close enough. He could have tried to intercede, but it had all happened in the blink of an eye.

  In the wink of a dagger.

  The dagger shoved into Dudley.

  Only then had Edmund found himself unfrozen and able to move.

  Now, the place had been cleared out. Dudley’s body had been moved to one of the rooms. Edmund had hoisted his brother over his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to be dragged.

  Tatum was staring at the bloodstain on the ground. Edmund approached loud enough for her to hear him and not be startled. He wished to touch her, to console her, but he feared that wasn’t his place, that it wasn’t his right to be there for his brother’s wife.

  Although in ancient times, in ages past, after the initial bloodshed surrounding the deaths of the three dragons, there had been times when brothers were expected to step up and take care of their brothers’ wives by marrying them.

  The thought made Edmund’s heart squeeze. He didn’t want to marry her out of a sense of misguided loyalty like that. Edmund hadn’t been loyal enough to Dudley. He had thought his brother lazy and unmotivated. For a time, Dudley had actually been that. Whereas Edmund had fought to earn his shield and to become a knight, something most commoners could only dream about, Dudley hadn’t even wanted to work with their parents to help cobble shoes.

  But then Dudley married Tatum, and he sought to save up for the hotel, and the place had been thriving somehow despite the war between Tenoch and Vincana, the continent to the south.

  Somehow. Even now, Edmund was still downplaying Dudley’s success.

  No, Edmund didn’t want to marry Tatum because she had been his brother’s wife. No, he wanted her to marry him because she loved him, because she wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

  But she had to have realized his feelings, even before she had wed Dudley, and although she and Dudley had not the perfect relationship, she still made vows to his brother.

  Vows that lasted until one of them died.

  Tatum had screamed as loudly as the others during the fight, but once Dudley died, she had said not a word, and she hadn’t needed to. Edmund saw to it that everyone left the hotel, and he had barred the door.

  As he watched, Tatum sunk down to her knees. She looked so perfectly tragic, in that pose, her slightly rounded belly protruding out some. He hadn’t realized she had a cloth in her hands, a white one that promptly turned red from soaking up the blood on the floor.

  “Allow me,” he said, bending down.

  She ignored him, maintaining her silence yet, and Edmund felt at a loss. How could he help her?

  Could he even help her?

  Still feeling worthless, he walked around to the back of the counter. There were a few pouches that should have held coin from those who ordered drinks but perhaps the serving ladies, the ones who would sometimes… assist… a man upstairs had helped themselves to the coins inside before they had rushed out of the place along with the others.

  Drinks had been spilled on the counter, a bottle on its side, no longer drippling out any of the amber-colored liquid inside as it had been all but emptied already.

  Edmund righted it, shrugged, and swallowed the last three gulps before finally locating what it was he sought.

  More cloths.

  He grabbed the entire stack of them and settled in to clean everywhere else in the place. The number of broken mugs, glasses, bottles… It was ridiculous. Chairs had been broken too. Had another fight broken out too? And tables overturned…

  For the better part of two hours, Edmund worked to shove the furniture along the walls, placing the chairs upside down on top of the tables. Then he found a broom and swept up the broken pieces right out the front door. There was more blood to be removed yet, from various spots, and the bristles of animal fur and quills that made up the broom soon became matted down. It
would have to be cleaned. Later.

  Next, he addressed the other spots of blood from everything but Dudley’s body, and once that was done, he finally returned to where Tatum was, still pushing the same white, now-red cloth over the bloodstain. Most of the blood still remained on the floor.

  “Do you want me to finish up here?” he asked.

  Still silent, she abandoned the cloth in the middle of the blood. Her hands on her knees, she pushed up to standing. Her movements were a bit jerky as she marched behind the counter. Edmund hadn’t realized there was a door in the floor until she slowly descended out of sight. Within minutes, she returned carrying a pale of paint and a brush.

  Edmund trailed her as she left the hotel. She slashed a blue line across the sign to the hotel. On the door, she wrote “Closed.”

  “You’re shutting down the hotel?” he asked even though that was clearly what she was doing, and of course she would. Tatum had her own business to run. She was a female alchemist even if there was a rumor to the extent that said all female alchemists were cursed to be their own downfall. The first one had betrayed someone or some such nonsense. Edmund couldn’t be bothered to recall all of the specifics at the moment.