The Dragons' Graveyard

by James E. Wisher

  “May I help you?” A man who looked more like a butler than a guard stood just inside the gate leading into Alchemy Supplies’ compound. He carried a notebook and charcoal cylinder in a wood holder.

  “We’d like to speak to whoever’s in charge,” Yaz said.

  “And who might you be?” the butler asked.

  “My father is the chief of Dragonspire Village. We sell you dragon scales and dung. Some issues have come up and we may have trouble meeting our next scheduled delivery. My father sent me to explain things to his buyer and arrange a new time for pickup.”

  The butler flipped through his notebook and nodded. “I have it here. Your village is one of our most reliable suppliers. Mr. McAdams is in his office. He handles acquisitions. I’m sure you will have no trouble working something out. Head to the main building and tell the young lady at the front desk what you told me. She’ll take you the rest of the way.”

  The butler pointed out the correct building, it was the only one that didn’t have huge pipes coming out the roof. Yaz offered a slight bow from his saddle. “Thank you very much.”

  He nudged his horse into motion and guided it toward the indicated building. As they rode he tried to imagine how much they must pay their workers to put up with such a stench, then gave it up as hopeless.

  When they were out of earshot Silas said, “Production problems, huh?”

  “What? Everyone getting kidnapped is certainly going to make it hard to produce, don’t you think?”

  Silas just grinned and shook his head.

  “It is kind of a funny way to put it,” Brigid said. “Though I guess you can’t actually tell anyone why we’re really here.”

  Silas chuckled. “I can imagine how that conversation would go.”

  “So can I.” They stopped outside the building. Yaz dismounted and tied his horse to one of half a dozen ornate iron rings attached to the front of the office. “Let’s focus on the matter at hand. I’m the representative, Brigid is my secretary, and Silas is my advisor. I doubt anyone will ask, but it’s good to be prepared. I’ll handle all the talking if possible. Okay?”

  They both nodded and he led the way to the front door. Inside it very much resembled the Scriveners Guild only less ornate. There was a little area with four wooden chairs, and beyond them a desk with a haggard young woman seated behind it.

  She looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes. “Yes?”

  Yaz gave her the same spiel he’d given the butler earlier and asked, “Is Mr. McAdams available?”

  She gave a long-suffering sigh and stood, revealing a tunic that ran to mid-thigh with nothing but bare legs below it. “Wait here while I check. What was the name again?”

  “Yeager, from Dragonspire Village,” Yaz said.

  “Right.” She walked down a short hall and turned right, out of sight.

  Silas watched her walking away and when she was gone said, “Bet I know how she got her job.”

  Brigid swatted him on the shoulder. “She might be a really good secretary. Just because she’s showing more leg than average doesn’t mean anything.”

  Silas nodded, clearly unconvinced.

  Yaz didn’t care if she was the worst secretary on the planet as long as she got them in to see McAdams. The sooner they were out of here the better.

  After five minutes that felt like an hour she returned and waved them back. Yaz and his friends fell in behind her and made the short walk to an open office door. Once they were all inside, she closed the door behind them.

  McAdams’s office was spare and functional, a nice change from some of the people they’d visited lately. A wide desk held neat piles of paper, an inkwell and quill, and an oil lamp. The man himself rose as they approached. His gray tunic was cotton, not silk, and still held several small stains from the gods alone knew what spattering him. Clearly, he was more than just a paper pusher.

  “Mr. Yeager.” McAdams came out from behind his desk and held out a hand which Yaz shook. “Always nice to get a visit from one of our best suppliers. My secretary mentioned there were some problems with your production. I hope there’s nothing wrong with the dragons.”

  “No, the dragons were fine when I left. The problem is everyone in the valley was kidnapped and sold for slaves in Port Steel about six weeks ago.”

  McAdams’s eyes went wide. “Gods! That’s terrible. Did you speak to your liege?”

  “No, Dragonspire Village has always been a freehold. We pay no taxes and answer to no lord. Unfortunately, that also leaves us vulnerable.”

  “Surely the dragon knights—”

  “No. We were betrayed from within and the dragons drugged. The only reason I’m free is because Brigid and I were out of the valley at the time.”

  “That’s horrible. I take it then we shouldn’t expect any more dragon scales from you?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Yaz said. “Though there is something you can do for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You see, thirty of our people were purchased by your group. If you’d be kind enough to set them free and turn them over to me, that would be wonderful.”

  McAdams’s expression clouded. “We purchased them legally and at considerable expense. While I feel for your situation, simply handing over such valuable property would be too big a loss for us. You understand?”

  “I do understand.” Yaz grasped the hilt of his dagger and slowly drew it. “In fact, that’s exactly what I expected you to say. Our friends and family are property now, not people. You wouldn’t hand over thirty draft horses, so why would you hand over thirty slaves? Not reasonable at all.”

  Yaz took a step forward and McAdams took a step back. This continued for ten feet, until his back struck his desk and he could retreat no further.

  “The problem is, I’m not in a reasonable mood. My parents are among those taken. Imagine it was a member of your family.” Yaz tested the edge of his dagger. “What would you do to get them back?”

  McAdams’s throat worked as he tried to swallow. “Anything.”

  “Exactly. I’m pleased you see my position so clearly.”

  “I can’t just hand them over. They aren’t even here. Our operation only uses slaves in one place.”

  Yaz nodded. “Do tell.”

  “Our biggest source of revenue comes from processing dragon bone. The company was created when our founder located a dragons’ graveyard. Our slaves work to extract the calcified bone. It’s hard, nasty work and they don’t tend to last long.”

  “Where can I find this graveyard?” Yaz asked.

  “That’s the company’s biggest and most valuable secret. I can’t—”

  Yaz grabbed McAdams’s wrist, forced it flat on the desk, and slammed his dagger between his middle and index fingers. He ripped the blade free along with a chunk of wood.

  “I won’t miss a second time. Understand, I don’t give a shit about your business. Feel free to dig up all the old bones you want. But I need to free our people. Don’t make me ask again.”

  They locked gazes for half a minute before McAdams finally looked away. “There’s a wagon path northeast of this compound. Illusion magic hides it from anyone that doesn’t already know the path is there. The pit is twenty miles away.”

  Yaz nodded and let him go. “You did the right thing. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t have much choice. I truly am sorry about your people.”

  Yaz sheathed his dagger. “I believe you. If by some miracle we can rebuild the village, I’ll be in touch about resuming sales.”

  McAdams bowed a fraction. Yaz and the others left, walking out past the secretary who didn’t even look up.

  When they were outside Silas said, “A dragons’ graveyard. I’d heard rumors about them, but never dreamed they were real.”

  “Do you think the villagers are okay?” Brigid asked.

  “They should be,” Yaz said. “They haven’t been working for that long.”

  Yaz really hoped he was right. The more people
they rescued, the better the chances that someone knew where his parents had been taken.

  Chapter 22

  When Yaz and his friends reached the end of the hidden trail only an hour of daylight remained. That suited him fine since he wanted to have a good look around before deciding the best way to attack the mine. Yaz reined in at the edge of the forest and dismounted. Beyond the woods was an oval of burned and blackened earth probably five miles across. Sneaking in on foot would be a much safer way to go though they’d still be obvious to anyone keeping watch. The only hope Yaz had was that the mine overseers were too focused on their workers to worry about uninvited guests.

  As he tied his horse to a handy tree, Brigid asked, “Do you think they’ll send anyone after us?”

  “Unless they were hiding soldiers somewhere,” Yaz said, “it didn’t look like they had anyone to send. Beside, McAdams isn’t going to want to advertise this place exists by sending any old mercenaries. The company will have to bring in their own soldiers, people they can trust. We’ve got at least a day or two I figure, but we won’t want to fool around.”

  “They must have at least one powerful wizard at their disposal,” Silas said. “That illusion spell was potent. I couldn’t manage it and I doubt my master could have either. Neither of us are illusionists I admit, but this was well beyond a basic spell.”

  “Great, something else to worry about.” Yaz swallowed a sigh. “Before we get too worked up, let’s have a look at the mine and see what we’re dealing with.”

  Yaz set out with Brigid and Silas behind him. Silas took Wicked out of his pouch and the little undead flew up to keep watch. A gravel path wide enough for a wagon led through the blackened earth away from the forest edge. In the distance the faint sound of steel on stone filled the air. That had to be the miners at work. If he could hear them already, the mine must be close.

  Crunching down the gravel path felt awfully exposed. Not that there was much choice. No cover existed for miles in every direction.

  They continued on, deeper and deeper into the wasteland. With every step the sound of mining grew louder. Near the center of the blackened earth a pit had been dug. Yaz crouched and moved right off the path. They inched up to the edge of the pit and looked down.

  Scores of people moved around at the bottom probably eighty feet down. Others hammered away on scaffolding that looked like it had been built in five minutes by ten-year-olds. No wonder they needed so many slaves. Their mine was a death trap.

  Probably half the people carried buckets filled with rock away from the scaffolding where it accumulated. They must have been heavy since it looked like they could barely shuffle around. The bucket carriers went up a ramp on the opposite side of the pit where they dumped the buckets into the back of a waiting wagon.

  Silas murmured something then pointed down into the mine. “Gods’ blood! Those aren’t people, they’re zombies, some of them at least. The ones hauling the buckets for sure. Looks like the ones hammering into the side of the pit are still alive anyway.”

  “If they have zombies, why do they need slaves?” Brigid asked.

  “Zombies aren’t good at fine work, only carrying and mindless digging. Or crushing your enemies to pulp. I count fifty-seven undead down there. If we hit the mine to free your people, we’ll have to fight our way through them and that won’t be easy, not for three people.”

  Yaz grimaced. He’d been counting on the freed slaves’ numbers giving them an advantage. “Can you use your magic to turn them against their masters?”

  “At my best I couldn’t control more than five zombies. I don’t know who’s running the show down there, but they’re a far stronger necromancer than me.”

  “I’ve seen enough,” Yaz said. “Let’s head back to the horses and find somewhere to make camp. We need a plan.”

  Yaz hurried away from the pit, eager to put some distance between them and the zombies. Of all the possibilities he’d considered, scores of undead hadn’t crossed his mind. How in the world were they going to free everyone with those things in the way? He had a good mind to go back and crack McAdams upside the head for not mentioning them. Of course, that would accomplish nothing beyond making him feel better.

  He looked up from the blackened earth as they neared the forest. Was that someone standing at the edge of the path?

  “Do you see that?” Yaz asked. “Someone’s waiting for us.”

  “How could someone be waiting for us if no one knows we’re here?” Brigid asked.

  That was a damn good question. Yaz tightened his grip on his staff. One against three was way better odds than three against fifty-plus zombies. If whoever it was wanted trouble, they’d get it.

  They were ten yards out and whoever it was hadn’t made a move one way or another. The figure stepped out of the trees’ shade and into the last of the light.

  “I didn’t expect to run into you three again so soon, or ever for that matter.”

  It was Tonia, the bard they met on the barge. What could she be doing here? Yaz relaxed a fraction. Whatever she wanted, he doubted it was a fight.

  “We were about to make camp and have dinner,” Yaz said. “Would you like to join us?”

  “I would. There’s much we need to discuss.”

  Yaz didn’t like the sound of that. She probably had bad news. That seemed to be the only kind they got lately.

  Yaz, Brigid, and Silas sat on one side of the fire and Tonia sat alone opposite them. Her magic was directing the smoke away from anyone that might detect it and by extension them. Yaz assumed they were deep enough in the forest that the dense trees would block any light. A stew bubbled away, but they had a good hour before it would be ready. He intended to use that hour to get some answers.

  “So,” Yaz said. “You said you had some things to tell us.”

  “I suppose I should just begin after I left you at the warehouse.”

  “Actually,” Yaz said, “I think you should start with what your missing bard is doing here.”

  She sighed. “Fair enough. I told you one of our bards ran away. One of Rend’s agents tracked her to this secret mine. You saw the zombies?”

  They all nodded.

  “Well, that’s Mel’s gift. Her power allows her to raise the dead. She can control twelve with her song directly and set up to a hundred to perform a simple task without her constantly keeping watch over them.”

  “There isn’t a necromancer down there after all,” Silas said. “That’s a relief.”

  “Don’t be too relieved,” Tonia said. “I’ve been observing the mine for over a week, trying to figure a way to grab Mel or failing that eliminate her. Getting past her zombies would be simple with my wind magic, that’s why I was selected for this mission, but there’s a problem. The mine does have a wizard overseer, just not a necromancer. I believe he’s an alchemist as well as an artificer. He’s got a number of magical items he carries at all times and I don’t know what they do. I just know confronting them on my own was too risky.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised Rend has spies in Carttoom,” Yaz said. “I’m sure Carttoom has spies in your kingdom as well. I couldn’t care less. It seems working together is in our common interest. Assuming you defeat your former comrade, will the zombies collapse?”

  “If I kill her, they will, but if she’s only knocked out then no, they’ll keep doing whatever she last commanded them to do.”

  “Are you willing to kill her?” Yaz asked.

  “Yaz!” Brigid said.

  He knew Brigid wasn’t going to like it, but he’d come to the conclusion that refusing to face the hard choices only led to more problems down the road. To do what they had to, people were going to die. Yaz finally made peace with that in Port Steel. Brigid clearly still hadn’t. And that was okay. Her innocence was part of what he loved about her.

  “It’s a fair question,” Tonia said. “I would prefer to convince her to come back of her own will, but I’ve seen her with the alchemist. Whether he’s con
trolling her or she’s with him because she wants to be, it’s clear they’re in love. Mel didn’t have friends back home, so I doubt I’ll talk her into leaving him. I will do what I must to complete my mission.”

  “Fair enough.” Yaz turned to Silas. “Do you think you can hold off or better yet defeat the alchemist?”

  Silas ran a hand down his face. “That’s tough. Alchemists are the most versatile wizards. Depending on what he has prepared and what the magic items do, I might defeat him easily or I might be killed in five seconds. There’s no way to know before the battle starts.”

  That wasn’t terribly encouraging

  “What will we do?” Brigid asked.

  “We,” Yaz said, “will have to contend with the zombies. As long as they focus on us, the slaves should be okay, but if they attack indiscriminately, we’ll need to protect everyone.”

  They discussed options long after the stew was eaten and when they finally settled on a plan everyone tried to sleep. For Yaz, it was a long time coming.

  The group decided that the best time to attack the mine would be at dawn with the sun at their backs. Yaz and Brigid were in position directly above the scaffolding where the slaves already toiled away, chipping stone away from bone and separating the good from the garbage. Silas and Tonia were going to attack from a different direction in hopes of drawing the enemy’s focus away from Yaz, Brigid, and the slaves.

  Yaz flicked a glance at Brigid. She grasped her staff so tight her knuckles were white. He reached out and stroked the back of her hand until it relaxed. She turned her head and smiled. With the sun shining in her hair she looked like an angel, a tired, nervous angel.

  He wanted to say something to reassure her but feared to draw attention before they were ready. Instead he tried to send all his goodwill through his hand on hers. It wasn’t much, but for now it was all he could do.