"If I had any magic talent, it would have shown up by now." Gil insisted.
"Not if you're trying to repress it." Dylan observed. "Along with your most painful memories."
"Are you sure there have been no signs?" Calatin asked, his keen eyes turning to Gil. "How do you know that your magic abilities did not lead you to this quest, or lead this quest to you? Do you suppose we have all been assembled here by chance, or have our powers converged by design? Now I am curious, Gil; how did you manage to meet Aiovel?" Calatin wondered.
"I was working in the Pegasus Inn." Gil replied, shrugging.
"You were there in Gyfen all that time, right under my nose!" Calatin cried, amazed. "I do believe that Prince Cormac was right. I should get out more often. To think that I may have seen you in the market had I gone! But there is no time now for what might have been." He sighed. "I followed Myrddin here for the same reason that he came. It is time for us to act against the Dark Wizard."
"Why do you care so much about stopping him?" Lilia asked.
"Why?" Calatin echoed incredulously, as though the answer were obvious. "Because I love Arcaendria. It saddens me to think what damage Galadon has already done by dividing this continent, and for once I'm willing to do something about it— before Galadon conquers Vilna, and the magic gate at Ligri." Calatin paused thoughtfully. "I do hope we get a chance to make up for the lost years, Gil," he said, turning to Gil. "But if not, at least I know that you are alive."
"I'm still going with Aiovel to the Tower," Gil said, tight-lipped. Even if Calatin was his grandfather, Gil was not going to let anyone leave him out of the action this time!
"Then it's a good thing I came." Calatin smiled kindly. Gradually, Gil realized Calatin wasn't going to interfere in his decision, and he relaxed again. Calatin opened his mouth, but his lips moved mutely; whatever else he was saying had been drowned out by a loud peal of thunder.
Dylan's eyes darted over to the tavern's western window; lightning bolts sizzled around the tower in the distance.
"What's going on?" Dylan shouted when the thunder abated. The tavern's patrons continued drinking as though unaffected by the brewing storm outside, but Dylan thought their mirth seemed a bit strained.
"It seems that toad Omierdin Brae has made fast work." Myrddin observed.
"Why do you say that?" Lilia said, nervously shivering.
"I'll wager that Galadon created that storm to gather his reinforcements." Myrddin declared.
"Huh?" Mygdewyn's nose wrinkled in confusion.
"I think Aiovel just ran out of time." Myrddin went on. "My guess is that Omierdin Brae knew who Aiovel was the moment she entered the tavern; she is rather unmistakable. Galadon's dragon allies are, no doubt, already on their way."
"How could he have gotten word to them so fast?" Lilia wondered.
"The same way he has always contacted them." Calatin said. "Myrddin and I are not the only wizards to possess a crystal ball. The various magics of the ancient creatures in the wilderness usually interfere with magical sight through and beyond the wilderness—they scramble the images we receive through the crystal ball. However, crystal balls are effective even in the wilderness when you know exactly where the person you want to reach is. And of course, Galadon already knows where to find Scathaechir."
"But Myrddin isn't a wizard—" Lilia protested.
"In a manner of speaking, he is." Calatin countered. "A wizard of Natural magic, the most ancient and powerful magic of all— that is what a High Priest is. Sometimes, there is little distinguishing between wizards and High Priests. But we have no time for these explanations now!" He broke off.
"I thought Galanor said that the dragons had abandoned Galadon." Dylan objected.
"The Fire Dragons will come just for the opportunity to wreak havoc in the valley." Calatin explained. "No doubt, Galadon has promised them an entire city to plunder and devour. And I suspect Scathaechir will take little persuasion. He seemed already quite angry at Aiovel for interfering in his affairs."
"The storm!" Gil realized suddenly. "They'll be able to see the tower from miles away!"
"How are we supposed to defend ourselves from dragons?" Lilia wailed.
"Indeed." Myrddin said. "We'll have to hurry to the tower— and hope we get there first."
XVII: Battle
The sun slipped behind Dun Rigor, and the sky erupted in crimson. Rutilant beams tinged Aiovel the dragon's golden skin russet as she banked and landed on the top of the wide hill in the vast courtyard, in front of a high black gate with iron reinforcements. The Tower spanned easily a hundred feet across and rose more than a thousand feet high.
Gil stole a glance over at the outer wall at the base of the hill. Just inside the wall, a dark sea of vile beasts swarmed, pressed against the outer ramparts. As Aiovel landed, the monsters turned back toward them in surprise; Gil judged that if they did not break into the tower soon, they would be trapped by the hordes of creatures now charging up the hill.
"Are we planning to move any time soon?" Dylan said. At the speed the monsters were coming, they had only a few minutes left to avoid them.
"I'm working on it," Aiovel said, delivering a jarring blow to the gate with her tail; worn-out hinges squeaked and dried wood splintered in protest, but the gate held fast. Still, there wasn't any other alternative to brute force; the gate was protected from magical spells.
"Well, at least we avoided a siege," Dylan observed, looking into the distance. "That outer wall would deter an army."
"Your father's army, certainly," Lilia said facetiously. Dylan bridled at the comment, smiling wanly back at her.
"Why are you here, Lilia? You know you didn't have to come." Mygdewyn asked, shaking his head.
"Are you kidding? I wasn't about to leave you all!" Lilia said, shrugging. "Just try to keep me out of the action!" She cried, rolling up her sleeves, then tried a ferocious grin that ended up being cute. "Besides, can I lose?" She added. "If things start to look bad for us, there's always my shadow hood."
"Your shadow hood?" Myrddin asked, pursing his lips.
"She can keep it." Calatin gave a dismissive wave. "But I'll have my wand back." He had already reclaimed his staff from Dylan, who had found it in Inverlen's Magic Guild, and had promised him one magical favor in return for it, to be arranged at a later date. In any case, the staff would not suit Dylan's style in battle, so he had easily relinquished it.
"Okay," Lilia chirped, eyeing the waiting wizard. "It wasn't working anyway." She added, shrugging, rummaged in her cloak and pulled out the charred branch, then handed it back to the wizard. Having passed over several other items in her search, she suddenly remembered the wand Aiovel had given her.
Joy leaped in her eyes, and she grinned broadly.
"What is it?" Dylan asked suspiciously, but Lilia refused to disclose what it was she was thinking about. No doubt, she was pleased about getting to keep her shadow hood cloak, he thought.
"Tell me, Aiovel, how did you manage to break the spell surrounding Grainnewyn?" Calatin wondered as Aiovel drew back for yet another blow. He had lost precious time on a detour to that city, but couldn't help wishing that he'd arrived there a few days earlier. Imagine! They'd been to his storeroom— but no one could have withdrawn the object he wanted most.
"Actually, it was Gil." Aiovel replied, surprised at the question. But she didn't have time to wonder about it; turning back, she whacked the gate with her tail again. This time, they heard a crackling noise, followed by a low shudder of warped wood. A few more hits, and it seemed certain that they would breach the gate.
"Gil?!" Lilia narrowed her eyes.
"It wasn't really me," Gil objected, arms raised. "It was the scepter." He said, and hunted inside his cloak. He pulled the golden instrument from his belt and held it up to the wizard.
"You found
it!" Calatin cried, taking the scepter from Gil gingerly. "I thought my scepter was buried in Argolen!" He paused a moment to caress the object suitably, then turned to Gil with a scrutinizing gaze. "But this proves what I suspected—if Gil was able to use my scepter, then he does indeed possess magical talent."
"Your scepter?" Gil echoed, stunned.
"Could you move it along there?" Dylan forced a smile, nervously watching the charging deluge as thousands of brubachwycs and other creatures swept over the field toward them. He grimaced apprehensively; thousands might have been a conservative estimate.
"Wait a minute, Gil used that thing?" Lilia demanded. "Where was I?"
"Look out!" Gil cried suddenly. A horde of brubachwycs had appeared from around the other side of the tower. The brubachwycs were crossing the narrow strip of field between them, fanning out and converging upon them from two sides. Gil abruptly realized their peril; if the brubachwycs detained them long enough for the rest of the monster army to reach the tower, they could give up on the idea of ever meeting the Dark Wizard face to face.
Gil hurriedly drew his sword; nearby, Mygdewyn hewed at the creatures with his axe. One of the hideous beasts rushed at Dylan, horns lashing with murderous intent, but the prince deftly leaped aside and whirled about, lopping off the monster's head with one crisp blow. The head tumbled to the ground; the body twitched, fountaining blood, then fell with a heavy thud.
Gil looked away, sick to his stomach. But this was no time for hesitation. Even Lilia fought bravely; at least he assumed she did. She had disappeared with her shadow hood, but several knives sailed through the air with deadly accuracy.
Aiovel thrashed her sinuous tail as the brubachwycs sallied forth, knocking several of them aside. But the brubachwycs drew back, undaunted, and regathered to renew their attack. Dylan hacked left and right, while the dwarf continued to chop them with his axe.
Ronan looked around the hollow circle. Lilia had disappeared, but a knife flew through the air, striking a brubachwyc poised to devour him. Ronan drew back from the fray and closed his eyes in concentration to summon a spell. He felt the powers rushing round him, and snapped his eyes open, just in time to release the tornado onto an onrushing brubachwyc. The winds carried it high above; Ronan abruptly cut off the spell, sending it crashing to the ground below. The creature fell on a troop of charging monsters in the middle of the field, killing more than just the brubachwyc itself.
"Good idea!" Myrddin exclaimed, dodging a brubachwyc's blow. He extended a hand toward the creature, and the beast erupted in flames, howling ferociously. In its agony, it collided with another brubachwyc, sharing its fiery doom. "I'll leave these brubachwycs to you. I'm going to try to hold the rest back," Myrddin said— and vanished.
Myrddin stood instantly in the middle of the field, halfway between the gate and the monster army. Now more lightning cracked from his fingers and surged forth into the monster horde.
Gil finished off a brubachwyc that had broken through their circle and looked around fretfully. Calatin was gone. Then on the other side of the field Gil caught sight of him. Calatin stood poised on a small mound above the slope, his arms raised. A bright ball of fire grew in his hands. He hurled the fireball down with a powerful stroke; the flames crashed between a far-off group of brubachwycs, rowdynchods, and chamaelaeons and burst into a thousand sparks of light. A dozen creatures fell writhing to the ground.
Gil stared in amazement at the two great figures standing between the companions and the monster ranks; he knew he would never see such a sight again. Was this how the battle at Argolen had been, so long ago? With but a few holding off so many?
Meanwhile, Aiovel continued to pound the gate. Gil was startled by a sharp crack behind him. Aiovel beat the doors two more times with audible force; at last Gil heard the unmistakable snap of splintering wood. With the tip of his sword, Gil lanced a chamaelaeon that had charged him, then he turned around. Aiovel had already transformed back into her Elven form and was heading through the gate alone.
"Wait—" Gil called frantically.
"Don't try to stop me, Gil." Aiovel warned, turning back briefly.
But he couldn't let her face the dangers of the tower alone! Granted, she had taken care of herself for longer than he could even imagine and had managed to defend herself until now, but what if this proved to be the time she ran up against something she couldn't handle?
"I'm going with you!" Gil shouted firmly, dodging a charging rowdynchod. He turned abruptly as the beast loomed above him, but a sudden blast of lightning dispatched it.
"Hurry!" Ronan advised, and Gil nodded gratefully.
"No, Gil!" Aiovel called, waving Gil back as he ran toward her. "I never expected any help— nor do I ask it now from you." She shook her head. "If you come with me this way, you aren't likely to come back out again, Gil, and I can't let that happen to you. When I've been gone a few minutes, I want you— all of you— to get out of here."
But Gil wasn't listening. Sensing this, Aiovel held a hand up against him; Gil was running full speed when the blast of air hit his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. With effort, he took another slow step; as Aiovel disappeared, he felt the force holding him dissipate.
Gil shook off the last of the holding spell's effect and made ready to follow her, despite her warning.
Without warning, Gil felt a hand clasp his shoulder. He whirled about, ready to strike. It was Dylan.
"Don't try to stop me!" Gil shouted. "I'm going after her!"
"I have no intention of it." Dylan said calmly, raising his hand and the sword in it in protest. "I'm coming, too. The others can take care of themselves," he added, looking over his shoulder. "But Aiovel's foolish if she thinks she can defeat the Dark Wizard alone."
The crash of battle behind them seemed to have temporarily diminished; as the others fended off the last of the surprise attackers, Dylan and Gil plunged into the aperture.
Mygdewyn watched as Dylan disappeared. Several brubachwycs stood between him and the sundered gateway; in a minute, he had cleared the area. Just like the others to rush into things! he thought darkly.
He made it within a few steps of the hollow entranceway when a snarling vulpex leaped before him from the tower above, barring his way. The giant lupine creature moved with surprising dexterity; Mygdewyn eyed the slavering canine teeth distastefully for a moment.
Then, axe raised high, he charged it furiously. Caught off guard by Mygdewyn's fearless attack, the creature slashed back with claws sharp as knives. Mygdewyn ignored the burning sensation in his side and hacked at the thick, furry hide.
The creature's claw caught on his cloak, jerking him to one side abruptly, but Mygdewyn dug his heels into the ground. He heard an agonizing tear in the fabric; irate, he swung his axe around hard, striking the creature soundly on its head.
The tension in the claws ripping his cloak subsided, and Mygdewyn came free. Blood dripped onto him as the creature slumped to the ground, grazing his chest with its massive head. Mygdewyn pulled the cloak up to examine the six-inch tear; as he watched, the loose threads writhed of their own accord, twisting together and pulling tight. In a moment, the cloak was whole once again; Mygdewyn stared, agog. What magic was this?!
A heavy sound in the air forced him to look up; in the distance, he saw the dark, serpentine shapes of black dragons and red dragons, sending swaths of flame up into the darkening skies.
Mygdewyn swallowed hard, then held his axe up defiantly. His eyes locked on the sinuous black creatures gliding the skies, and rage welled in his heart. It was time to give a little retribution, in the name of the dwarf King Agar.
Dylan and Gil would just have to find Aiovel on their own.
* * * * *
Inside the twisting corridors, all was deadly quiet. Gil and Dylan had yet to encounter a single guard or sentry, though the light of endless torche
s illuminated their way; the Dark Wizard didn't seem to be expecting company, but Dylan still kept on the alert.
They passed through a long hall, their footsteps now echoing hollowly on cold stone. Dylan felt ill-at-ease, but they continued without being attacked. At an intersection, Dylan stopped to examine the floor, carefully surveying the swirling patterns of dust.
"It looks like someone went that way," he said, pointing left toward a spiraling staircase, grateful for Brastigus' many lessons. Though not the best tracker in the world, Dylan could detect recently made footprints on a dusty floor reasonably well. They followed Aiovel's trail up the winding staircase; the climb seemed interminable, until at last a flat-bottomed stone roof appeared above.
"No guards?" Gil wondered as they passed into another wide hall flanked by dark passageways; the chilling quiet was worse than in the ruined Elven mines. He felt the sensation that eyes were watching him, but there seemed to be nothing there. And there was no sign of Aiovel.
"I guess Galadon doesn't need any." Dylan shrugged. "He probably assumes that no one would want to come in here. And I have to say, he'd be dead right."
Gil licked dry lips, nodding weakly. But if that was so, why all the lit torches? Of course they might burn magically, but—
Gil leaped back reflexively as a figure jumped in front of them from a dark doorway.
"So we meet again, Prince Tattercloak." The warrior said, straightening. He was a tall man, wearing immaculate chain mail complete with a plumed helmet; either he wasn't an experienced swordsman, or he just didn't like rusty, well-seasoned armor. Dylan hoped it was the former but had a suspicion the latter was true, as the stranger brandished a blood-stained broadsword that gleamed silver in the dim torch light.
Wait a minute—Prince Tattercloak? Dylan narrowed his eyes; anger smoldered in them, but he bore himself with regal composure.
"Defend yourself, Omierdin Brae," Dylan grated, tight-lipped.
"Very perceptive, Prince Patchwork." Omierdin admitted snidely. "Of course, I'll be happy to oblige you." He added and slashed at Dylan, but also pressed forward toward Gil. A loud clang ensued; Gil leaped back, his ears ringing, admiring Dylan's self-possession. Dylan didn't even flinch.
Curse of the Dragon Kings Page 27