The Quest For the Black Dragon

by D.E. Dunlop

  **********

  A sharp, loud whistle screeched in the corridor but was cut off by a smack and a thud.

  “You better come up with something quick.” James said as he relieved the unconscious guard of his keys. Jessie received the ring of keys pensively.

  “I’ve got it.” He exclaimed and went for the lock. He decided they would play on Angela’s mental state. “Yellow-five, step up.” He ordered as he tried the keys. “We’ve uncovered an assassination plot. You need to be relocated.” He lied. After a moment of analysing the looks on each of the strange men’s faces Angela reluctantly left the cell.

  They snuck quickly down the corridors toward the room where they would re-enter the ceiling vent. They stopped short when they realized the source of their Sittyan uniforms was discovered. The guards they had tied up earlier were now being untied by the next shift and they were wasting no time in telling their tale.

  Jessie, Angela and Jessie’s men threw themselves out of the doorway.

  “Why do servants of the queen hide from servants of the queen?” Angela asked.

  Jessie had to think of something quick.

  “Because the plot to kill you is internal. We don’t know who is behind the plot.” He said.

  “What do we do now?” Joseph asked.

  “How do I know you’re not behind the plot? Or that there is a plot at all? Maybe I should give you away.” Angela threatened, as she looked them up and down.

  “There is no way I could ever hurt you.” Jessie said to her.

  “Why not?” She inquired with a laugh.

  “Because I love you. You are my life.” He replied. “You are my heart.” He added with his hands on either side of her face, lovingly, the way he had so many times before. Before their world was tossed into turmoil and pain. She looked carefully into his eyes for a moment. She felt pleasure in his touch, almost a memory of something lost. It made her feel vulnerable so she chose not to reveal it.

  “That’s foolish.” She said to him. “One cannot be another’s heart. One can only take out another’s heart and you better shape up or those guys are going to take out yours.” She said looking at the guards as they came out and discovered them. One of the Sitts let out a blast on a whistle and before they knew it there were whistles being blown in every direction. Their swords clashed briefly and the fugitives fled with the guards in hot pursuit. As they ran they heard one of the guards say it was permissible to kill an escaped gladiator because they were so dangerous. Angela realized that these men, whomever they were, who broke her out were on her side and did what she could to assist. For the first while she only had her bare hands, but was eventually able to liberate a sword and a shield.

  **********

  Tinne stood at a junction in the hall. He was perplexed and wondered where the Gorchan would be held. In his hand he held three stones, much like the Gorchan only these were used by the Brotherhood for guidance. He cast the small stones on the floor; one obsidian, one gold and one silver and ran off to the left. He did this little ritual a number of times before he found himself at the queen’s chamber, or rather, the king’s chamber, which had been taken by the queen. The walls were hung with tapestries and various works of art. Suits of armour and sculpture of all types guarded the doors and the high windows.

  The queen stood over something in the middle of the room with her back to the door, laughing. Tinne watched through the keyhole as a guard entered from another door at the side of the room. Tinne decided to check out the view from that angle and confirmed his suspicions. She definitely had the Gorchan on the table. He snuck into the large room and behind a large sculpture that had a suit of armour beside it. He stood watching and growing antsy. His dilemma was to figure out how he was going to get the stones within the next few minutes so he could get to the rendez vous. He was also well aware of Katharine’s magical capabilities and his mental faculties were still well enough to fear her, not to mention she was a veteran Story Teller with the Gorchan in her possession. A couple of Katharine’s high-ranking officials came into the room and were waved impatiently into an adjoining study, but she remained with the Gorchan.

  She picked them up and turned them over and over in her hand. She was clearly pleased with her victory. Tinne heard her tell one of the officials that she couldn’t decide if she should use them now or wait for the Telling. Not really understanding what his queen had said, the man wondered if she had said anything at all and put his head back in to beg her pardon. She merely waved him away again. Tinne thought the official looked somewhat familiar.

  “Traitor.” Tinne scowled silently under his breath and between clenched teeth as he recognized Captain Maynard.

  Katharine chuckled to herself some more. “It’s beginning to glow. I’ve done it! The Telling is near and I have the stones! Nothing will stop me now!” She exclaimed.

  **********

  The guard’s hands were shaking as he fumbled through his keys to unlock Ezbieta’s cell. The source of his fear was a glowing image, a featureless aura in the shape of a woman. She said nothing but only pointed at Ezbieta’s cell. Ezbieta was still in a deep trance, staring at the door when the guard entered. The strange, empty look on her face only increased his fear. He had no idea the spectre was her spirit. He thought the ghost of some prisoner of the past was visiting him. Afraid that Ezbieta was gravely ill, he placed his hand on her shoulder. As he did this he also stepped through her projection and the touch shocked her greatly, due the fact she was projecting, and she nearly hit the wall when she snapped back. She stared at the guard with great confusion and then her attention was drawn to a figure in the door. The guard turned around and met Ren’s elbow. By the time Ren and Ezbieta locked the guard in the cell the alarm bells were ringing. They looked at each other and laughed. They both found the stress of the situation exhilarating.

  Ezbieta struck Ren a couple of times. “What took you so long?” She demanded.

  Ren embraced her tightly and her tears of joy and fear flowed copiously onto his shoulder. They grabbed each other’s faces and kissed deeply just for a moment before running off down the corridor.

  “She has the Black Dragon!” Ezbieta shouted to Ren as they ran.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Ren said. “Tinne’s gone to get it back.”

  “He’ll need our help.” She said.

  “Probably, but I have no idea where he is. We’ll just have to cross our fingers and hope he makes it to the rendez vous in time.”

  **********

  When the alarm bells echoed through the king’s chambers the queen made little sign of caring. She left the room nonetheless. Tinne ran for the table, but stopped short when he realized Katharine had turned back.

  “Where did you come from, boy?” Katharine asked sternly.

  Tinne stood motionless in front of the Gorchan and Katharine stood at the door on the far side of the room. He didn’t answer. He calculated his odds. He underestimated the power of the aging beauty and snatched the Gorchan.

  “Drop those stones, you little brat!” Katharine roared as he ran for the door. Tinne skidded to a halt as the door slammed shut in front of him. His eyes darted for an alternative exit. He saw the drapes billowing in the evening breeze, but quickly recalled they were in the upper portion of the tower. His brain scrambled for some magic spell. He wished he had dedicated more time to practice his concentration. His mind went blank from the stress of his circumstance.

  “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, child. Put them back on the table and I will let you live. If you don’t return them your blood will be on your own head.” Katharine said almost soothingly as she made a motion with her hand that caused Tinne to jerk around to face her.

  Tinne muttered something under his breath and vanished briefly with a puff of smoke. When he reappeared a few seconds later he was about ten feet away from where he had been. Katharine
looked at him with a very annoyed look about her. He vanished and reappeared again and again, moving all around the room as he did. The queen watched as he went.

  “Do you even know who I am, child?” She asked rhetorically. “I am Katharine, Queen of Sitty. Perhaps you know me as the Witch beyond the Marsh. I have been practicing magic for nearly eight hundred years. Your petty parlour tricks will succeed at nothing save making me angry. Now stop.” She ordered, but Tinne continued even faster. She watched for a second longer and then launched a bright ball of light. It connected hard with Tinne’s chest as he reappeared and it sent him crashing into a suit of armour and against the wall. She stepped up to the dazed young man.

  “Now give me what’s mine before you get hurt.” She instructed.

  Tinne checked his hand to ensure the Gorchan was still there, clenched his fist tight and vanished again. When he reappeared he hit her in the face with a bright flash of light, which only dazed her momentarily.

  As Tinne ran for the door he sensed something threatening and ducked. A large bronze sculpture ripped past his head and embedded itself in the stone wall; his own Father’s inscription was clearly marked on the base. Tinne thought to return to the vanishing trick, but Katharine seized him with her magic grip.

  “That was the last chance, fool. Now I will take what is mine.” She said and threw him against the opposite wall. He hit the floor and pretended to be unconscious. He lay very still behind a wardrobe and wrapped the Gorchan in his fist with a piece of his clothing that had been torn apart. He heard Katharine approach and vanished again, but she caught him once again. She lifted him high into the vaulted ceiling where she proceeded to squeeze him. He was enveloped in an orb of light that flickered orange and electric blue. He groaned as he felt the pressure. He could feel blood vessels popping throughout his body before he passed out.

  Katharine saw he was turning blue and dropped him. He crashed through the large table to the floor.

  **********

  Jessie, Angela and the others split into several small groups to try to avoid capture. Mayhem ensued. Guards were chasing Ren and Ezbieta. Guards were chasing Jessie and Angela and guards were chasing James and the other rebel soldiers. There were people being chased all over the place and small skirmishes here and there, some fist to fist and some a little more violent with swords and other weapons.

  Jessie and Angela burst out of a single person door to the outside. He slammed it shut and Angela knocked out a support peg that allowed a stack of whiskey kegs to roll down in front of the door. The Sittyan soldiers kicked and pounded and stabbed at the door. Jessie heard a thump at his back and when he turned around Angela was laying unconscious at his feet, her nose and lip trickling with blood. He looked up into Maynard’s crazed eyes.

  “Goin’ somewhere?” Maynard asked.

  “That’s the last straw.” Jessie replied and the two drew their swords and squared off.

  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Jessie.” Maynard scowled as they marked distance.

  “What is wrong with you? How could you betray your own people?” Jessie interrogated. “How could you let this happen to Ange? We grew up together.”

  Their duel went on for some time. They went in and out of stalls and sheds, over troughs and wagons. Every time they locked swords they would exchange words, mostly consisting of threats and insults.

  Each knew the other and his skill so well they were unhindered even in mere starlight. They fought up stairs and down stairs. They occasionally punched or kicked each other or used various stable tools as weapons. Each man’s fury increased and fuelled his onslaught. Jessie obsessed on the harm done to his king, his people and mostly his love, by this man he once called friend. Maynard fumed over the harm he perceived had been done to him and the possible damage to the future he was working so hard to secure. They had each lost their weapons and had resorted to punching, kicking and throwing each other around.

  A broken floorboard, a broken window and Maynard fell, screaming, three stories. There was the peak of a dormer jutting out below the window and Jessie could just make out Maynard’s form sprawled on the ground beyond it.

  “Angela!” Jessie exclaimed, picked up his sword on the stairs and ran back to the place she had fallen, but when he got there she was gone. He fell down on his knees and clutched at the sand and the straw.

  “Angela.” He called. “Where is she?” He whispered, nearly sobbed.

  James came running from behind one of the stables.

  “Come on Jessie, let’s go.” He urged.

  Jessie could only think of his love.

  “They got her.” He moaned.

  “Got who?” James was puzzled for a moment. “No, we got her.” He explained as he realized what he was talking about. “Come on, let’s go.” He consoled as he urged his captain and they ran off.

  **********

  The sun shone through the thin mist in the trees. Earl sat on his rock, leaning against his tree and smoking his pipe. “Good evening, Tinne.” He said with a smile.

  Tinne looked at him with a puzzled expression. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard your call.” Earl replied.

  “But I didn’t call.”

  “Your mouth may not have, but your heart did and I remembered there was some very important unfinished business with us.” Earl said.

  Tinne went about gathering some stones without really listening to Earl. Earl watched him start to place the stones in a circle. Each was about the size of a baseball, so it took a little time to find them amidst the gravel of the creek bank.

  “What is it you’re about, my boy?” Earl asked non-chalantly.

  “A circle.” Tinne said.

  “Yes, I see that. What’s it for?”

  “Twelve stones.” Tinne answered incoherently.

  “Yes, I see that. What for?”

  Tinne appeared to grow agitated. “Why do you keep asking when I’ve already answered?” He said.

  “I want to know what the circle is for.”

  “Protection, of course.” He said.

  “Protection from what?” Earl pressed.

  “Why did you say “Good evening” to me?” He was confused. He just realized the sun was shining. “You didn’t teach me how to fight against a witch. How am I supposed to defend myself against a witch?”

  “What witch?” Earl inquired.

  “The Witch beyond the Marsh.”

  Earl looked up from his pipe with a look that said I already know what you’re up against.

  “It’s too late for that, I think, son.”

  Tinne stood there in the mist looking from the stone in his hand to his long lost great, great grandfather. Remember when we used to sit here all day telling stories, Grumpy Earl?” He reminisced.

  “I do.”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just come back here and do that again?” Tinne suggested.

  “The past is a terrible place to dwell, my boy.”

  He dropped the stone at his feet and looked back at Earl. “What can I do?”

  “It’s in your hand, young man.”

  “Why can’t we just stay here and talk like we did?” Tinne asked as he sat down cross-legged on the ground.

  “You’re not a boy anymore. You have a role to play, a great responsibility.” Earl answered calmly.

  “But what can I do? She’s too powerful.” Tinne complained.

  “You have all you need. It’s in your hand.”

  “Gorchan.” Tinne muttered from the floor of the wagon as it bumped along through the forest.

  “It’s right here in your hand.” Ren said soothingly as he took the package out of Tinne’s shirt and placed it in his hand. Tinne grasped it firmly and passed out again.

  “But it’s too hard.” Tinne complained as he placed another stone in the circle. “I just want to be with you, Grumpy.”


  “We’ll be together again another time. You go ahead, young man. You are fully capable. I have faith in your ability to tell the story.”

  The two looked at each other, Tinne hesitantly and Earl with reassuring confidence.

  “You know what to do, sir. It’s right in your hand and you’ve got what it takes.”

  “My darling! What have they done to you?” A woman’s voice cried. Tinne rolled over and saw toes with nails painted sky blue; soft, tender feet. He followed her legs to find Shayla’s face over him.

  Katharine raised him up again from the rubble of the table, from where she stood in the corner of the room, and threw him against the king’s wardrobe. He smashed right through and lay in a heap of wood and fine garments.

  Shayla cradled his head in her arms, crying. She stroked his face softly.

  “Just give her the stones, Tinne. She’s going to kill you.” She sobbed. “I can’t live if you die, my love.”

  Tinne turned and looked at the warm glowing hearth in Shayla’s front room and back to her.

  “What are you talking about? Give her what stones?” He asked.

  “In your hand.”

  “I’m so cold.” Tinne complained.

  “What’s he mumbling about? It’s frickin cookin’.” Ren remarked.

  “He’s probably in shock. Get his feet up. We need to cover him with something.” Ezbieta said.

  “So take your shirt off.” Ren said to her slyly.

  Ezbieta looked at him with a mischievous smirk and started to undo a button. “Keep dreaming. Oh, you’re insatiable.” She said and then turned around to Jessie’s men. “You guys, give me your cloaks.”