The Dragons' Graveyard

by James E. Wisher

  “Who is this person?” Nicole asked as she glared at Yaz like he was a turd left on the carpet.

  “He knows your father,” Mrs. Saint said. “Sit down, both of you.”

  “Beside your mother, please. That’s everyone?” Yaz asked.

  Mrs. Saint nodded and took her seat at the head of the table with Nicole on her left. “So what happens now?”

  “Now you stay still and quiet. I’ll do what I need to and be on my way. If everything goes well with your husband, you’ll be free in a few hours. Silas! We’re ready. Bring the butler with you, please.”

  “On my way,” the wizard said.

  Yaz shrugged off his pack and pulled out a handful of precut lengths of rope.

  The moment he saw them Jaques leapt to his feet. “What are you about? I’m not going to sit here and be tied up.”

  Silas chose that moment to come in, dragging the butler behind him.

  Yaz gave the unconscious man a meaningful look. “There are other options.”

  Jaques settled back into his chair, a little paler than a moment before. Yaz handed some of the rope to Silas.

  “Everyone put your arms on the arms of the chair and stay still.” Yaz went to Mrs. Saint first and tied her to her chair.

  Silas started with the cook and they worked their way around the table until everyone had been secured. That was phase one, now for phase two.

  Yaz took the lamps from the mantle and unscrewed the tops, exposing the full reservoirs of oil. The first one he splashed all around the room, being sure to soak each of the prisoners. Next, he took a ball of twine from his pack. He unrolled and cut a length for the mother and daughter then set them to soaking in the second oil reservoir.

  “Where might I find a pair of candles?” Yaz asked. “The tall, slender ones that last a few hours.”

  When no one spoke, he shouted, “Where!”

  “The kitchen,” Clara said, her voice trembling. “Top cupboard on the left as you face the stove.”

  “Thank you.” Yaz found the candles where she said along with a flint and steel. There was one more thing he had to do before starting the countdown.

  Yaz drew his dagger and advanced on Mrs. Saint. She struggled as he approached, but Yaz had tied the ropes tight.

  “This will hurt less if you stop twitching.” Yaz put the edge of his spare dagger against her ring finger and neatly severed it. Ignoring her scream, Yaz put the digit and ring on the table. “There, that should convince him of our sincerity. Then again maybe we should take the daughter’s ear along with an earring.”

  As Yaz considered this option Silas said, “Just the earring along with the finger should be enough, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.” Yaz grabbed Nicole’s left earring and ripped it out of her ear before tossing it beside her mother’s finger. “Good.”

  Now to set the countdown running. Yaz tied an oil-soaked string to the mother and daughter before carefully lighting a candle and setting it on the table. He tied the other ends of the strings to the candle three-quarters of the way down. Next, he tied a longer length of string to the candle and ran it to the door. If anyone opened it too wide, the string would yank the candle into Mrs. Saint’s oil-soaked lap.

  Yaz snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. If Jens should wake up early, we don’t want him stumbling around.”

  Yaz quickly bound the butler where he lay on the floor. That done, he collected his evidence and he and Silas left, closing the door gently behind them. Closed but not locked. If some idiot just barged in they might well set the place ablaze early. But how could they lock the door without the key?

  Yaz glared at the lock and something black appeared around it. It looked like the stuff soaking into Wrath from under the sealed door in his mind. Why did it appear now?

  Because he wanted the door to lock!

  Yaz concentrated on that thought and the tendrils oozed into the keyhole. A moment later a click indicated their success.

  “How did you do that?” Silas asked.

  “I have no idea. And we don’t have to figure it out now. The clock is ticking.”

  Chapter 15

  The walk from the Saint’s house to the Scriveners Guild headquarters couldn’t have been more than a tenth of a mile, yet it felt like the longest trip of Yaz’s life. The city streets were mostly a blur. In his mental library Wrath was screaming that they should have killed everyone at the house and only claimed they were still alive. Everyone that took Brigid from him needed to die. Keeping Wrath under control was straining his mind. And Yaz didn’t even want to think about that black energy that came out of him to lock the door.

  Just save Brigid and get out of the city. They had the information they needed so there was no reason to linger.

  “How do you want to handle the door guards?” Silas asked, jogging him out of his thoughts.

  “Directly. We take them out fast and drag them inside. Can you use enough magic to take out one enemy without drawing unwanted attention?”

  Silas chewed his lip for a second then nodded.

  “I’ll take the right, you take the left.”

  Silas nodded again. “Your plan was pretty brutal. Is that why you didn’t tell me ahead of time?”

  “No. There was no point discussing it. My mind was made up. This was the best method I could come up with for guaranteeing either Brigid’s freedom or the guild master’s misery. I need the former, but if I can’t get it, I want him to suffer the most horrible pain imaginable.”

  “What happened to the nice Yaz that spouted random facts and didn’t threaten to burn people alive?”

  “He’s locked in a closet. I am Wrath now. I have no other emotion without her.” Yaz stopped. “We’re here.”

  Across the street a pair of men in shining silk tunics mounted the steps to the guild house. The guards stopped them and a brief conversation ensued. A couple of minutes later the guards appeared satisfied and let the men enter.

  “Customers will make things harder,” Silas said.

  “No, I suspect they’ll be eager to leave when we arrive. Sticking your nose into other people’s business doesn’t pay.” Yaz took a breath to steady his nerves. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Yaz led the way across the street. He strode up the stairs like he had every right to be there. At the top, the two guards held up their hands. Up close they were bigger than Yaz expected. Not so big that a solid strike to the throat wouldn’t put them down, but still big enough.

  “Name and business,” the left-hand guard said.

  “Yazgrim Yeager to see the guild master.”

  Their eyes widened in shock when they recognized his name.

  That was when Yaz struck.

  His staff shot tip first into his man’s throat, crushing his larynx and sending him gasping to the ground.

  Lightning crackled and the second guard landed beside his partner.

  Yaz twisted the knob and shoved the door open. He grabbed his man by the collar and Silas did the same. Together they dragged the two guards inside. This was why Yaz would have preferred a smaller man. It was all he could do to budge the still-thrashing guard.

  When they were finally inside, Yaz looked up to see the two merchants staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Get lost and close the door behind you,” Yaz said.

  They hastened to obey.

  Yaz straightened and had his first real look around. Beyond the door was a waiting room with four fine leather-covered chairs. Further in waited a currently unoccupied desk. A hall to the desk’s right ran deeper into the building.

  His guard finally stopped thrashing which helped Yaz think. According to Silas the guild master’s office was upstairs. Hopefully he was in. It was a place to start looking anyway.

  “I have your tea, gentlemen.” A woman in her early twenties dressed in a crisp, black dress came down the hall with a loaded tray in her hands.

  When she spotted Yaz and Silas the tray crashed t
o the floor spilling tea everywhere. She drew a deep breath.

  Yaz sprinted toward her.

  His hand clapped across her mouth an instant before the scream. “Shh. We’re here to see the guild master. Is he in his office?”

  He took his hand slowly away, ready to slap it back in place at the first sign of another scream.

  “Yes. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I’m going to tie you to your chair and gag you just to be safe. You seem like a screamer. We shouldn’t be long then you can get back to your regular activities.”

  Yaz tied her up with a couple of spare ropes from his pack and stuffed a wadded-up handkerchief in her mouth. That done he led the way down the hall where they found a staircase with a polished hardwood rail. Yaz took the steps two at a time and in short order reached the top. He turned right and went to a closed door.

  Before reaching for the door Yaz took a moment to center himself and make sure he had Wrath under firm control. Satisfying as killing the man might be, it wouldn’t serve his needs at the moment. All that mattered was getting Brigid back.

  “Yaz?” Silas touched his shoulder.

  “I’m ready.”

  Yaz pushed the doors open. Behind them waited a lavish office done in cherry and gold. Ignoring the finery, Yaz had eyes for only one thing, the slim, middle-aged man in red behind a sprawling desk. His gaze locked with the guild master’s.

  He rose and nodded. “You would be Yaz. I knew you’d show up if I held on to the girl. I admit I thought you’d be here earlier. You’re very quiet. I assumed you’d make threats and demand I let her go or else. A complete waste of time I assure you. You may have forced your way in, but you won’t be leaving.”

  “No?” Yaz asked.

  “No.” The guild master reached up and grasped a rope dangling beside his desk. “When I pull this, ten guards armed with crossbows will be here in seconds. It was very foolish of you to come here.”

  “This wasn’t my first stop. See, I had to drop in and meet Mrs. Saint and Nicole. Jens was kind enough to let us in. Jaques was rather put out at having his poetry lesson interrupted.”

  As Yaz spoke, the guild master’s hand began to tremble. “What have you done?”

  “I tied your family and servants up and doused them with lamp oil.” Yaz spoke calmly, as if discussing the weather. “Then I set a candle to burning with an oil-soaked string tied around it. In about an hour and a half, the flame will reach that string, light it ablaze, and turn your family and your lovely home into a funeral pyre. Now, if you let Brigid go, you’ll have plenty of time to rescue them. If you pull that rope, I’ll cross the room, take you hostage, and we’ll all wait together for the fire. The next time you see your family will be when you try and identify their burned corpses. Your choice.”

  “You’re lying, trying to save yourself.” His voice trembled when he spoke.

  “I thought you might not take my word for it.” Yaz tossed the finger and earring on his desk. “Those look familiar?”

  “You monster.” The guild master lowered his hand and touched his wife’s ring.

  “Monster? You sent thugs to attack Brigid and me and when I killed one of them in self-defense you put a bounty on us. Did you think I’d just accept that?” Yaz cocked his head. “Maybe you did. I bet people like you aren’t used to being the victim. Well get used to it. Now, do you want to keep talking or do you want to get Brigid so you can rescue your family?”

  “Let’s go,” the guild master said.

  “Wait. I’ll need a letter stating the bounty’s been lifted. You’ll need to spread the word as fast as possible as well.”

  The muscle at the corner of the guild master’s jaw bunched as he pulled a sheet of paper from a pile on his desk and started writing. When he finished, he sanded it and blew off the excess. “Satisfied?”

  Yaz took the letter, read it, and nodded. “This will do fine. After you.”

  Brigid’s arms felt like they were going to rip free of their sockets. She’d been chained to the basement ceiling for what felt like ages but was probably only a day. Her face throbbed where one of the guards had struck her when she asked for a drink. The bounty hunters that caught her had brought her to this little side room and locked her up before getting their scale and leaving. The guild master had given her a brief examination before leaving without a word. That was the last she saw of the man.

  Despite the discomfort, Brigid refused to let the pain show on her face. She wouldn’t give the bastards the satisfaction. Not that the two guards on duty were overly interested in her. They were sitting at a table playing cards. If hate was enough to kill, they’d have both been dead long ago.

  She’d been racking her brain trying to think of a way to escape, but bound as she was, she had no way out on her own. The only thing keeping her from a complete breakdown was the knowledge that Yaz and Silas would be coming for her. She didn’t doubt that for a second. How they’d break in was beyond her, but they’d do it somehow.

  Someone knocked on the room’s door. It couldn’t be the shift change. The current clowns had only been here for a few hours.

  One of them grumbled, tossed his cards down, and answered it. When the door opened her heart leapt. Yaz and Silas stood beside the guild master and they weren’t in chains.

  “Free the prisoner,” the guild master said.

  “Yes, sir.” The second guard got up and unlocked her manacles.

  Brigid nearly collapsed. Before she knew it Yaz was beside her. “I’ve got you. Are you okay? Your face…”

  “I’m fine.” She put her arm around his neck and together they stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  She limped toward the door. When they passed the guild master he said, “You’re in the clear now. But when my family’s safe I’m going to put the biggest bounty in history on you two. You’ll be dead in weeks.”

  “Silas,” Yaz said. “Could you take her for a moment?”

  Yaz shifted her arm to Silas and walked over to the guild master. He leaned in and whispered something. Brigid couldn’t make out what he said, but the blood slowly drained from the guild master’s face and he shook his head.

  Yaz stepped back. “I’m glad we understand each other. It is my most sincere hope to never have to look at you again. By the way, when you open the door to your home, open it slowly. There’s a string running from the door to the candle. Open it all the way and poof. I recommend you take scissors.”

  “What was that about?” Brigid murmured.

  “He’s been different since you got captured,” Silas said. “Not in a good way. He scared me and I’m not easy to scare.”

  Yaz left the guild master and rejoined them. He took her free arm and the three of them made their way upstairs. A tied-up secretary watched them step over a pair of guards lying on the entry hall floor. Once they were outside Brigid breathed a sigh of relief. She’d never been so glad to get out into the fresh air. Even fresh air as smelly as the air of Port Steel.

  She tried her best not to think about the two hopefully unconscious men she had to step over to escape.

  Chapter 16

  A day of rest did wonders for Moz’s aching body. He sat up and rotated his shoulder, still sore, but tolerable. Dim light streaked in from the lone window in Bernard’s living room. Moz had collapsed on a cot in Bernard’s house after telling the villagers to burn El-Kalim’s body. His bizarre healing ability was something Moz had never encountered. Though he looked dead, Moz had no intention of risking the giant waking up and going on another rampage. If he could regenerate from ashes, they were doomed.

  A delightful smell wafted in from the kitchen. His stomach grumbling, Moz headed that way. Ella stood at the iron stove tending a pan of bacon while biscuits cooled on the counter nearby. She wore a white apron over a blue dress. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun at the base of her neck.

  She looked his way and smiled. “Morning. Did y
ou sleep well?”

  “Like the dead.”

  “If not for you, we all would have been dead.” She nodded toward the small table where she and Bernard no doubt took their meals. “Sit, breakfast is almost ready.”

  He didn’t have to be asked twice. “Where is Bernard?”

  “Overseeing the cleanup. He left at first light.” She plated the last strip of bacon, added a pair of biscuits, and set the food in front of Moz. “There, I’ll get you a glass of milk.”

  She poured his drink from a jug kept in a small wooden box.

  Moz took a sip and raised his eyebrow. “Goat?”

  “Afraid so. We don’t have a pasture for cattle yet. That’s a project for next spring.”

  He ate some more, savoring the salty meat and flaky biscuits. It was the best meal he’d had in days. When he paused for breath she asked, “Will you be leaving soon?”

  Moz nodded. “Soon as I finish eating. I’ve got my own mission and I’m behind schedule.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m glad I could lend a hand. What you people are doing here is a good thing. Whether it’ll make a difference in the long term, I have no idea, but anyone trying to stop the war is someone I want to help.” He ate the last of his food and stood. “Thank you for the meal. I wish you the best of luck. Hopefully the Dark Sages won’t want to expend any more resources trying to drive you out. At the very least, you should be okay until next year.”

  Ella sighed and looked tired for a moment before bouncing back. “It’s always one season at a time. None of us had any illusions about this being an easy thing. But worthwhile things seldom are. I hope you’ll come and see us again. There’ll always be a spot for you at our table.”

  Moz grinned. “If you’re making more of those biscuits, I might just take you up on that offer.”