Mad Dragon of Chaos (Forgotten Gods #2)

Shey Thrudesh-Vo

ONE

Shey gripped the metal railing of the ship so hard, he was afraid his fingers would become embedded in it.

The sky was black. Not from thick clouds, but an absence of the sun.

No stars. No moon. Only a bleak darkness that tried to swallow up all light.

And the closer they got to the Isle of Stone, the worse it was growing.

The trip from Bellcairn had been a disaster from the moment they’d set out.

Storms had plagued them the entire route north to Caspagir, forcing him to use his gifts to calm the winds and carve out a somewhat safe passage.

They’d landed in Sirelis, intending to stay one night and leave again with the morning tide, but a new storm had moved in to delay their departure.

Kaes was throwing a tantrum. Tyche had told him off, and Shey hadn’t jumped at his offer to take him as a mentor so he could grow even more powerful.

Tyche had groaned that Kaes needed to pout.

And possibly make the God of Luck hurl. While the crashing waves and lurching ship didn’t affect Shey much, Tyche had spent most of the voyage curled in a miserable ball with seasickness. Adrian had been slightly better.

Angry waves crashed into the side of the ship, and an ominous creak rose from the boat’s belly, sending a chill through Shey.

Saltwater caught on the wind pelted him in the face and stung his eyes.

His heart hammered. It was impossible to gauge how close they were to the dragon’s island home.

By their estimates, they should arrive within the next hour, but there were no lights to break up the endless gloom.

It wasn’t unnatural—it had to be the effect of Yesuntei’s magic slipping out of Haru’s control.

Footsteps thundered down a set of nearby stairs, and Shey twisted enough to see Adrian’s haggard face faintly lit by some lights set about the ship.

It was more like a fancy yacht that had been outfitted with a couple of heavy guns and half a dozen trained sailors.

Queen Noemi hadn’t wanted them to leave completely unarmed when they might run into ships from Damardor or New Rosanthe.

However, it wouldn’t look good if the first Caspagir ship to ever approach the Isle of Stone was a warship.

In the end, Shey had chosen this one for its speed.

They had defensive capabilities, but the primary focus would be its ability to outrun anything New Rosanthe and Damardor might throw at them.

“Captain has cut the engines to a quarter. He says we should be damn close to the shore, but spotters can’t see shit.

He’s afraid of running us aground.” Adrian grasped the railing along the stairs as an enormous wave pounded the starboard side of the ship.

Despite bracing, Adrian’s left shoulder still slammed into the wall.

Shey grunted, naturally moving with the ship so that he kept his balance. Caspagir had always had a powerful navy, and with Sirelis positioned on the water, he’d grown up on ships. Rough seas didn’t bother him. “Makes sense.”

“This darkness doesn’t.”

“It’s Haru.”

Adrian released a rough breath and glanced away from Shey, but the prince still spotted the worry in Adrian’s eyes.

The man had barely slept or eaten for the two weeks they’d been apart from Haru.

It wasn’t just that he was worried about the dragon.

He was terrified for him. Haru had been quite forthcoming in his intentions toward the Erya royal guard, but Shey had wondered if Adrian’s feelings ran as deep.

The past two weeks of constant fear showed that if Adrian’s feelings weren’t the same as Haru’s, they were on the fast track to getting there.

“Maybe we should see if Tyche has any ideas on how we can fight this. He at least has some understanding of Yesuntei’s powers,” Shey suggested.

“Then maybe he should have kept them.” The words came out as a snarl, barely hidden beneath his exhale.

“You can’t keep blaming Tyche. He was stuck in a bad situation, and he was only trying to protect all of Thia. Besides, Haru agreed to this. Tyche didn’t force it on him.”

Adrian squeezed his eyes shut, lines cutting into his brow. The muscles in his jaw jumped and twitched as if he were grinding his molars together. “I know. Sorry. I’m tired and worried. And I want to blame someone…”

“It’s okay. You can blame me.”

The God of Luck was a ghastly shade of pale green. His red hair was messy, and in the bright overhead light that bathed the inner corridor his eyes had a glassy quality.

“Hey. Ty. Sorry.”

Tyche lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Don’t be. You care about that big, crazy lizard.” He got Adrian to almost smile before shifting his eyes to Shey. “I noticed we’ve slowed down.”

Shey nodded. “We’re close to the Isle of Stone, but there’s a problem.”

Tyche’s lips quirked in a weak smirk as he climbed the stairs to the main deck. “Let me guess—a nightmare world.”

Shey and Adrian stepped back from the stairs as Tyche reached them and gazed around. There wasn’t much to see. Just a landscape wrapped in black nothingness, but that was the problem. There should have been a beach, trees, and distant mountains. A sky and ocean waves, at the very least.

“Is there anything you can do about this?”

Tyche’s head snapped to Adrian, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “No. Not at all.”

“But you helped me with the nightmare in the prison. You gave me the trigger to break out,” Shey countered.

“Yeah, but that was your own personal nightmare. Yesuntei’s magic simply pushed you into a nightmare that you made and ultimately controlled.

” Tyche lifted a slightly trembling hand at the darkness.

“This is Yesuntei’s powers gone wild, fed by chaotic dragon magic.

There’s nothing I can do about this. I doubt any god could. ”

He’d barely finished speaking when something slammed into the starboard side of the ship, sending them all grasping for support to keep their feet.

“What the—”

Adrian was cut off by another hard hit to starboard and an answering one from port.

Whatever was hitting their ship, it was clear there were now two of them.

Alarms sounded throughout the ship, and feet pounded on the deck as the sailors who’d been brought along to protect the prince hurried to check the hull and gather arms.

An icy wind whipped up, carrying with it the heavy scent of rotting fish guts. Tyche gagged and covered his nose with his hand.

Shey pushed away from the railing he’d been holding and carefully walked to the center of the deck, his eyes narrowed as he tried to peer into the nothingness.

The sound of water hitting the sides of the ship had dulled to a whisper while the wind picked up, tugging at his clothes and shoving its chilled fingers through his hair.

Could it have been a dragon sent to deter them from getting too close to the island?

Waves crashed, and there was a wet slapping sound before two massive great white sharks leaped out of the water from the starboard and port sides to land on the deck not more than ten feet in front of Shey.

The ship rocked and pitched wildly under their sudden weight, nearly sending Shey to his ass.

He fought to keep to his feet, his eyes locked on row after row of sharp teeth that chomped at him.

Shey retreated and drew the gun that he’d kept at his hip since they’d boarded the ship leaving Sirelis.

He also kept a long sword on his back, ready for any kind of attack.

He hadn’t expected it to be a shark attack, though.

The yacht was enormous—no shark should have been able to launch itself onto the deck.

But they weren’t dealing with a normal world any longer.

This was a dragon-fueled nightmare world that apparently included sharks bigger than elephants.

Joined by several sailors who’d run out on deck, Shey fired at the sharks.

Somehow, the bullets bounced off their smooth flesh as if they had been made of bulletproof armor.

“Son of a bitch!” Adrian snarled as he ran up to stand beside Shey. His silver throwing knives flashed in the faint light as they sped across the deck at the sharks. But like the bullets, each one bounced off their pale hides.

The sharks thrashed and chomped through their attack.

Their tails rose and fell, causing the yacht to bob wildly in the water.

The deck slanted toward the sharks, and Shey slid closer on the wet deck.

Ominous creaks and groans rose from the bowels of the boat as if it were in danger of snapping in half.

A cold chill ran down Shey’s spine. He had no problem swimming. He was practically half fish. However, he had zero desire to drop into icy, man-eating shark waters with no idea how close they were to the shore.

The gun in his hand clicked, announcing that it was now out of bullets.

He had another magazine on him, but there was no point in wasting the bullets.

With a snarl, he shoved the gun into the holster on his hip and drew his sword.

His heart leaped into his throat and lodged there while his eyes locked on all those teeth waiting to shred his flesh.

As he slid closer to the shark on the left, he slashed his sword so that it clanged on teeth. Putrid breath slammed into his face, churning up a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He swung his sword again, but it only thunked into hard flesh without breaking.

A dragon roar echoed like thunder across the sky, and orange light illuminated the sky.

Shey chanced a glance up to see a black-scaled dragon lit brightly by wings of fire.

But this wasn’t just any dragon. This was Drayce Ladon, royal bodyguard and fiancé of King Caelan Talos.

So, naturally, the man in shining silver and white armor on the dragon’s back had to be Caelan. Perfect timing.