The forbidden side of the fence looked exactly like the rest of this part of the DFZ. Every direction he looked, it was just more of the same cracked asphalt streets, sagging, abandoned houses, and overgrown lots like you’d see anywhere else in this part of the city. Of course, Justin had knownthatjust from looking through the fence, but after all the build-up, he’d expected something more dramatic. A giant illusion covering a portal to another dimension maybe, or a hidden army of spirits. So far, though, Algonquin’s Reclamation Land just looked like…land. Justin couldn’t even tell what she was supposedly reclaiming. He could, however, feel the heavy magic coiling around him like an angry snake, followed by the unmistakable sense of being watched.
Good,he thought, pulling himself taller as he resumed his march through the tall grass toward the nearest street. Let them watch. Let themfear. Dragons had been too cautious for too long, and Algonquin’s hold on this place had solidified as a result, but he was different. Julius and the others could cower all they liked, but Justin was going to make history. When he brought home Vann Jeger’s dripping head for his mother to hang in her collection, all the world would learn what it meant to challenge the Heartstrikers, and he would finally earn his rightful place at the top of the clan.
As always, that thought brought a smile to his face. He was so busy going over what he’d say to Julius and Chelsie when it happened, he didn’t notice the fog rolling in until he was neck deep in it.
Justin froze with a curse, readying his sword. Fog wasn’t normally a problem for a dragon with his nose, but this was no ordinary water vapor. It was magic. Wild, cold magic that drenched everything with the scent of rain and rotting leaves. He couldn’t even smell the crumbling asphalt under his feet, but it wasn’t until Justin looked down that he realized this wasn’t because of the fog, but because the street he’d been following into Reclamation Land wasn’t there anymore.
Ten steps ago, he’d been walking through the same dilapidated neighborhoods that surrounded all of Restoration Land. Now, he was standing on what could only be described as loam. Dense, soft leaf litter, the sort you only found in deep forests, covered the ground at his feet. Likewise, the shadows in the thick fog were no longer the shapes of rotting houses and abandoned cars, but trees. Massive, gnarled, ancient trees as thick as Justin was tall. One trunk was actually right next to him, its heavy bark saturated with water from the fog as though it had always been here, and Justin was the one who’d moved.
With that realization, a cold sensation that might have been fear began to creep up his neck before Justin banished it. There was no point in getting spooked. He’d come in expecting something like this, and given the amount of magic in the air, a suddenly appearing forest was actually pretty mild. He wasn’t sure what kind of trees he was looking at, but given their size, they were obviously older than the sixty years since Algonquin took this land, which meant either the forest was magically created, or he really had stepped through a portal and hadn’t noticed. Either way, he was in too deep for caution now. But just as Justin was about to say screw it and change so he could fly up and get a view of this place from the sky, his ears picked up an unusual sound.
It was rhythmic, regular, and deep. Almost like a drum, but not, because it was also getting rapidly closer, each beat vibrating the ground under his feet. It sounded like something he should know, but Justin was so unfamiliar with horses, he didn’t actually recognize the sound of charging hoof beats until the rider burst through the fog directly in front of him.
Justin jumped back with a growl, sword ready. But even before he knew what he was looking at, he knew it wasn’t human.
The rider in front of him was eight feet tall, seated on a horse made of what appeared to be nothing but water. His shape was that of a large, menacing man, but his skin was the color of deep water and his beard was the glossy green of sea kelp. He wore his long seaweed hair braided back from his face like a Nordic warrior, and his huge body was covered in thick-shelled muscles, which he wore like armor. But while the long dragon spear in his hand was as good as an engraved announcement, what really gave him away was the scent. Even through the heavy fog, the warrior in front of him smelled of salt water and dragon’s blood, and Justin lifted his sword with a triumphant grin.
“Vann Jeger.”
The spirit looked down on him with utter disdain. “You know my name, and still you trespass here.” He tipped his huge wooden spear forward, pointing the dark stained tip at Justin’s chest. “You must want to die very badly, wyrm.”
Justin ignored the weapon in his face. “I could say the same of you for daring to speak to me,” he said proudly, pulling himself to his full height. “I am Justin Heartstriker, the dragon who attacked the Pit, and we have unfinished business.”
Vann Jeger’s black eyes went wide. “You?” He threw back his head in laughter, showing a mouthful of flat, yellow teeth. “You?” he cried. “Impossible! I saw the green fire in the distance with my own eyes. The dragon who attacked the Pit was clearly a powerful scion of the Quetzalcoatl himself, one of Bethesda’s best. You are ababy.”
“I am the Fifth Blade of Bethesda,” Justin snarled. “A Knight of the Mountain!”
The spirit’s laughter cut off as quickly as it had begun. “Do you think me a fool?” he said angrily, his black eyes dropping to the sword in Justin’s hands. “That is Tyrfing. A fine blade and a legend, but not a Fang of the Heartstriker.” He sat back on his horse. “If you’re going to lie, serpent, at least make it believable.”
Justin’s jaw twitched. “I don’t need my Fang to defeat an old has-been like you,” he growled, stepping into position. “Fight me, and we’ll see who’s lying!”
“Me? Fight you?” Vann Jeger’s lips curled in disgust. “Do you know who I am? I am the Death of Dragons, the one who has dedicated his immortality to ending your kind. You’re a braggart who can’t even manage to show up with a suitable weapon.”
Justin bared his teeth in fury, but the spirit was already turning away. “I challenged the dragon from the Pit because I wished to fight against a Fang of the Heartstriker,” he said as his horse began walking back into the fog. “You have no such weapon, therefore, you are beneath my notice.”
“What the—You’re not going to fight me?”
“Of course not,” the spirit said without looking back. “My weapons are treasures, the lost masterworks of their age. To use them on a baby like you would be an insult to the brave heroes to whom they once belonged. But fear not. Just because I do not wish to waste my time or blades on insignificant insects doesn’t mean you’ll leave this place alive. I shall send my human team to grant your suicide wish.”
“Then you’ll be sending them to their deaths!” Justin roared. “I came here to killyou!”
Vann Jeger looked back over his shoulder with an expression of absolute disgust. “Kill me? A pathetic creature likeyou?” He turned back away again with a snort. “Impossible. You couldn’t even kill my boredom.”
That was the last straw. After a month of being looked down on by everyone in his family, being condescended to by his prey was the absolute end of Justin’s patience. He didn’t care that he was facing Vann Jeger’s back, he didn’t even care that the spirit had not yet accepted his challenge. He simply attacked with a roar, swinging Tyrfing as hard as he could.
The tiny sword wasn’t meant for dragon magic. It bucked in his hands, actively rejecting the power Justin forced into it. But Justin had practiced this strike until it was a part of him, and he pushed it through anyway, sending a slice of magic sharp as his fangs and hot as his fire flying straight at Vann Jeger’s back.
The attack cut through the tree trunks like wire through butter, setting the chunks of wet wood ablaze as they fell. It cut through the fog, incinerating the choking, wild magic until the forest was clear. And when the strike reached the spirit, it sliced him, too, going through Vann Jeger like a scythe through grass. It sliced his horse and spear, too, dividing each into neat halves.
Justin froze, staring at his enemy, whom he’d apparently just cut in two. Surely it couldn’t be that—
Before he could finish his thought, the sundered spirit and his horse collapsed, pouring to the forest floor in a cascade of water only to instantly reform—horse and rider, both whole and uninjured—directly in front of him. That was all he had time to see before the spirit grabbed him around the neck and lifted him bodily off the ground.
“You will pay for that,” Vann Jeger rumbled, his huge hand squeezing the dragon he was dangling like a caught fish in front of him.
“Sounds like someone’s a poor loser,” Justin gasped, dropping Tyrfing so he could use both hands to pry the spirit’s hold from his neck. “What’s the matter, water drop? Did I break your stick?”
He glanced pointedly over Vann Jeger’s shoulder at the giant wooden dragon spear, which, unlike the miraculously re-forming spirit and his horse, was still lying in two pieces on the ground, and the Hunter began to growl. “Do you know what you have done?” he snarled. “You’ve disgraced a treasure!”
