Doomraga's Revenge Read Online Free

distraction. Was it too much to hope that this ongoing feud could occupy the dragons so fully that they would forget about their obsession with the dwarves’ flaming jewels?
    Passing over a line of volcanoes, Basilgarrad searched for any sign of Merlin. Through the sulfurous fumes and eruptions of boiling lava, he spotted a troop of marching gobsken. A field of sizzling hot lava pools. A forest of dead ironwood trees, their trunks and branches blackened by flames.
    But no sign of the wizard.
    He turned slightly, skimming over the craters of an old volcano. The fetid clouds that clogged the air made his eyes burn, but he stared at the fire-scorched terrain. Something about those craters didn’t seem right. Almost as if . . .
    There! Topping a ridge on the volcano, he spied a new eruption of flames. But this wasn’t the fire of molten lava. No, it was the fire of dragons . A whole circle of them, directing their deadly flames at one person who stood in the center.
    Merlin!
    Standing on the rim of a crater, the wizard hurled blasts of lightning from his staff and golden balls of fire from his free hand. Constantly whirling and spinning, while dodging the attackers’ blasts of flame, he looked more like a dancer than a warrior. But this was no mere entertainment. He was fighting for his life.
    Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen dragons ! Basilgarrad’s mind whirled. How could one man, even a wizard, have held off such an overwhelming force? And how should he, as the lone dragon on Merlin’s side, best help his friend?
    He slowed his flight enough to scan the scene as he drew closer. Lit by the flaring volcanoes as well as the stars above, the attackers showed all the colors of Fireroot’s dragons: red, orange, and amber. And yes—among them was a huge scarlet dragon Basilgarrad recognized.
    Well, well, Lo Valdearg , he said to himself. Feeling strong enough already to fight again? He snorted, nostrils flaring. How unlucky for you.
    Focusing on the wizard, Basilgarrad noticed right away that Merlin’s face looked unusually haggard. His thick black beard had been singed, the hem of his cloak torn. Suddenly the dragon saw, hidden inside the crater, another figure.
    Hallia! Though he recognized her, this huddled figure barely resembled the woman who had won Merlin’s heart long ago, whose grace and kindness and ability to transform herself into a deer were famous throughout Avalon. Wrapped in a tattered blue shawl, she leaned against the crater’s rock wall, dodging stray bursts of sparks and flame. Her auburn braid was coming apart; her eyes, as large as a doe’s, were filled with fear.
    Something stirred within the crater and moved toward her. Another person! Basilgarrad strained to see through the volcanic haze—then recognized who it was: Krystallus, the son of Hallia and Merlin. In recent years, he’d grown into a strapping young man. As tall as his parents, with a mane of pure white hair, he seemed quite regal—despite the fact, to Merlin’s disappointment, he showed no sign of magical ability. As the dragon watched from above, Krystallus took his mother’s hand, trying to comfort her.
    Basilgarrad then noticed something else about the crater. It held, in its center, a cluster of green flames—not the fire of battle, but the same magical fire that burned in his own green eyes. The fire of élano, the most powerful magic of all, the essential sap of the Great Tree of Avalon.
    A portal , he realized in awe. Here in the remotest part of Fireroot! Had Hallia come here through that portal? Surely Merlin wouldn’t have brought them here intentionally—to this scorched wasteland where no one lived besides warlike gobsken and wrathful dragons.
    Just as he shifted his wings, preparing to land, Basilgarrad understood why the craters on this ridge seemed so odd. Unlike the craters he’d seen elsewhere, they were perfectly round. Circular—as if they’d been . . .
    Carved , he realized. Hollowed out—by people with the