Page 216 of The Discount Damsel

Without answering, Bradley extracted the first of the crystals from his robe pocket and placed it at the sand in his feet. He walked three steps, placed another crystal.

“What are you doing? Stop that at once. Listen to me, peasant!”

Bradley rooted a third crystal into the sand and kept circling.

“This isn’t over!” Gladstone raged. “This isn’t⁠—”

What strength the dark mage had left, he directed at the baby dragon hovering overhead. He flung up his hand, teeth bared in a snarl, and the black gem around his neck flashed red like a stoked coal.

“Egad!” With a whip of his tail, the baby dragon zipped out of the way.

“Vacuo,” Bradley shouted.

The luck dragon’s wind and the sorcerer apprentice’s spell hit the dark mage at the same time. Gladstone’s body snapped back, and the life in his dark eyes winked out. He slumped forward against the sand and lay very still.

“Skin my scales,” Dirk whimpered. “Did I—? I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to defend myself!”

“He’s not dead, Dirk. We just knocked him unconscious at the same time. See? His breath is stirring the sand under his nose.”

Indeed, little beige swirls rose, spun, and drifted away like blown dandelion seeds.

Bradley quickly planted the remaining crystals and spoke the incantation that would confine the dark mage until a grand master from the College could deal with him. Threads of crackling purple light rose from the crystals and fused together to create a dome-like net. The containment field wouldn’t protect him from the elements, so at least Gladstone had had the good sense to fall on his face and protect his nose and cheeks from a vicious sunburn.

The two friends searched the dunes for anyone loitering and contemplating a sneak attack, but the soldiers had all fled. Together, they unearthed Sir Eustace’s camp and were met with an irate ministry official instead of a grateful one.

“Cinders and dragon turds! What is this?”

Dirk glanced at Bradley. “Is he pointing at me?”

“Of course I’m pointing at you, Dragon!” Sir Eustace gestured rapidly up and down. “Explain this immediately. Blue scales, white feathers, all of thirty pounds soaking wet? Since when were you a luck dragon? And a baby one at that. You don’t even have your barbels yet!”

The baby dragon clicked his white claws together. “So, um, I was only pretending to be a Great Red. I had, uh, some magical assistance.”

The incredulity in Sir Eustace’s gaze had Bradley squaring his shoulders. “I’m not his valet. I’m a sorcerer apprentice.”

“Since when is the Prestigious College of Sorcerers outfitting their apprentices in rags? Where’s the white wool?”

Bradley smoothed a hand down the brown homespun. “Uh, this has been the uniform for apprentices for the last half century, Sir Eustace.”

Rather than admit his sixty-year sabbatical in Lagunas had put him behind the times and saddled him with a vice for tangelo margaritas (not that he minded), the Komodo decided to blame the hominid species in general. “Humans,” the ministry official spat. “Always changing customs and traditions as easily as a wind changes direction. It’s no wonder why your kingdoms and empires never endure.”

The ministry official blew a raspberry. “Next you’re going to tell me that princess volunteered to be kidnapped!”

“Not volunteered,” Millie called down from the tower, “but I certainly didn’t resist. I went quite willingly.”

Sir Eustace’s golden eyes ignited with red flame. Literally. “Do you two have any idea what you’ve done? You, Dragon, are not Draco typhonus, but Draco caishen! The Discount Damsel Protocol only concerns princesses properly kidnapped by Typhonus Class dragons, because up until this very moment no Caishen Class dragon would’ve ever dreamed of doing such a thing, which means no ‘going quite willing.’ This whole DDP is void!”

“Aaand that means what, exactly?” Dirk inquired.

“It means that you, Dirk the Deceiver⁠—”

“Just ‘Dirk,’ if you don’t mind.”

“—and you, Princess Psycho, have wasted my time, the Heroes’ time, everybody’s time! You’ve made a mockery of the Ministry of Folklore! It means you’ve lost all your points, Dragon, and you’ve got two black strikes against your name, Princess.”

“How perfectly scandalous,” the princess purred from the tower balcony. “I love it.”

“Gah! I have had it up to here with your shenanigans. I am leaving first thing tomorrow!” The ministry official turned right around and stomped off into his tent to turn every last tangelo on its tree into one giant margarita.