by Brandon Mull
Kendra winced as Savani reached into the glowing coals and retrieved two in each hand. “Baga Loa is upset,” intoned the caretaker of Crescent Lagoon.
“So we noticed,” Andromadus replied.
“A thief tried to steal the Everbloom from her depths,” Savani chanted with little inflection, rolling the coals against her palms, fingers caressing them.
Kendra had a sick feeling. “Was it Seth?”
“Your brother did enter Baga Loa,” Savani said. “He approached the Everbloom but caused it no harm. The thief came afterward and was consumed by lava in the act of treachery.”
“How safe is the Everbloom now?” Andromadus asked.
“The bloom was damaged but will be renewed,” Savani said. “Baga Loa is one of the Earth’s mightiest chimneys, and she remains in a state of distress.”
“How bad will the eruption get?” Kendra asked.
“My people, the firewalkers, are performing the rituals to pacify her,” Savani said, replacing the hot coals into the brazier. Without the coals in her hands, she assumed a more conversational tone as she turned to face them. “I believe we will succeed if the volcano receives no further provocation.”
“Our enemies would rejoice if Baga Loa exploded,” Andromadus said. “Guard her well.”
“As always, we will do our duty,” Savani said. “Tell me of the war.”
Andromadus sighed. “Frosted Peaks has fallen. It happened quickly. Celebrant grows bolder. He is organizing the dragons from the fallen preserves. The remaining sanctuaries are besieged, whether they know it or not. The wizards of the Small Council have openly joined Celebrant.”
“Openly?” Savani asked.
“They have declared war alongside the dragons,” Andromadus said.
“What is the Small Council?” Kendra asked.
“Wizards have never been great in number,” Andromadus said. “We tend to operate individually, but the Major Council of Wizards forms when we need to work together or take disciplinary action, and every wizard has an equal voice. The Small Council, on the other hand, has long been an unsanctioned group of dissidents among us. Most of the wizards who joined the Society of the Evening Star were members of the Small Council.”
“You’ve learned a lot about wizards in a short while,” Kendra said.
“I have consulted with some of the others,” Andromadus said. “Most of them were young dragons or not yet hatched back when I was the Dragon King. In fact, they have asked me to oversee the Major Council and to lead Dragonwatch.”
“You accepted?” Kendra asked.
“I pledged to do my best,” Andromadus said. “You know I didn’t want any of this. My longtime attempts to withdraw from world events have utterly failed.”
“We’re grateful for your aid,” Savani said.
“The Small Council formed to champion the rights of dragons,” Andromadus said. “I applaud their original mission, but their intent has evolved from protecting the rights of dragons to promoting their darkest ambitions to the detriment of all. The Small Council has now shamelessly joined the fight to help dragons destroy humanity.”
“What can the Small Council do?” Kendra asked.
“All kinds of mischief, unfortunately,” Andromadus said. “Several members have official access to certain sanctuaries and preserves. One of them was responsible for the dullions that attacked this sanctuary today.”
“Aren’t the wizards mostly against the dragons?” Kendra asked.
“Do not misunderstand,” Andromadus clarified. “None of us are against dragons. We all were once dragons. Our ancestors, our families, our descendants are dragons. But many of us are against the unnatural desire for dragons to combine into a society and raze their hunting ground. Dragons are solitary by nature. Do we hunt? Almost anything. Do we hoard? Everything of value. Do we wreak havoc? On occasion, especially if provoked.
“Before now, we had never sought to rule. We had never tried to organize a nation. And only once had we sought the level of destruction that would leave the world in ruins.”
“The dragon war,” Kendra said. “After they lost, the dragons were put into sanctuaries.”
“I fear this new war is more deliberate and better organized,” Andromadus said.
“Do all the dragons want this war?” Kendra asked. “Or mostly Celebrant?”
“I believe this way of thinking originated with him, largely as a reaction to his incarceration,” Andromadus said. “How deeply the other dragons have been indoctrinated, how truly they desire this new pattern of behavior, I cannot guess. But I believe that Celebrant is exploiting our innate desire for dominance to extremes that harm our best interests.”
“What chance do we have against them?” Kendra asked.
“Celebrant has organized a hunt for the five legendary Dragon Slayers,” Andromadus said. “It is a vulnerable time for those retired heroes—they have essentially been in hibernation since the dragon war. Nobody knows where to find them. Some or all of them might be asleep to their true identities. But the dragons remember them well and wish to eliminate those ancient foes before they can regain their former stature.”
“We have to find the Dragon Slayers before they do,” Kendra said.
“Just as we must recover the talismans hidden in the dragon temples—the Sage’s Gauntlets, the Emperor’s Shield, and the Harp of Ages. All dragons fear these items for good reason. And of course, at all cost, we must protect the Sovereign Skull, which augments the unbelief of mortals to potently repel dragons. If those deterrents are lost, Celebrant will ravage the globe.”
“Are you ready to fight for us?” Kendra asked, knowing that Andromadus had always been committed to pacifism in the past.
“I will stand with you,” Andromadus said, “for as long as dragons are determined to pursue a course harmful to their kind and to all the world.”
“Will you fight?” Kendra repeated.
“You know I am a pacifist,” Andromadus said. “I recognize that there are times when even the peaceful must defend themselves from the violence and aggression of others. I cannot commit to physically harm my kind, but I commit to aid in your fight.”
Kendra considered the wizard. His direct willingness to help represented progress. “I don’t want to fight dragons,” she said. “I don’t want to fight anyone. But I can’t let evil harm those I love.”
“I understand that you intend to visit Titan Valley,” Andromadus said.
“How did you hear that?” Kendra asked.
“I was talking to Tanu,” Andromadus said. “He informed me about Seth.”
“I have to find him,” Kendra said.
“There is strategic value in you going there,” Andromadus said. “For one, Titan Valley is the most secure of the dragon sanctuaries.”
“By deplorable means,” Savani said.
“What do you mean?” Kendra asked.
“The Giant Queen does not respect the creatures in her care,” Savani said. “She doesn’t serve them. At best, she views them as resources she controls.”
“Few caretakers approve of her methods,” Andromadus said. “And no wizards do. But we may need her aid in the war. And it works to our advantage to keep her sanctuary standing.”
“How did she become the caretaker?” Kendra asked.
“By treaty, long ago,” Andromadus said. “Appointing her to the position made the giants less of a threat and granted them a homeland. It did not go well for the dragons in her care. Before this war, if there were any sanctuary where I might have aided a dragon rebellion, it would have been Titan Valley.”
“But you want me to go there?” Kendra asked.
“You are close to the Fairy Queen,” Andromadus said. “That is an extraordinarily rare relationship. We will need her help in the upcoming conflict. Kendra, you killed the Demon King, and you wore the crown of the Fairy Queen.”
“You heard about that?” Kendra asked.
“Yes, and it is plain to see to those who can pe
rceive such things,” Andromadus said. “You are also the former caretaker of a fallen dragon sanctuary. There is a chance you could curry favor with the Giant Queen. Win her to our cause. She has not shown much initiative in protecting anything besides her sanctuary.”
“And I need to find my brother,” Kendra said.
“Her help could simplify that task,” Andromadus said.
“Then of course I’ll try to make friends with her,” Kendra said.
“I cringe to think of Kendra in company with that tyrant,” Savani said.
“I do not wish it for her either,” Andromadus said. “But these are desperate times, and Kendra has business at Titan Valley because of her brother, and it is one of the last secure strongholds where members of Dragonwatch are still welcome.”
“It makes sense,” Savani said.
“Do you have a way to get there?” Andromadus asked.
“The Fairy Queen will allow me and some companions to travel through her realm,” Kendra said.
“Almost unbelievable,” Andromadus said. “And most fortunate. Kendra, you must preserve that relationship. Assistance from the Fairy Queen could prove vital in the coming conflict.”
“It has saved me in the past,” Kendra said. “Can’t you teleport us there? Would that be simpler?”
“Sadly, the increase of power that comes with being a newborn wizard has abated,” Andromadus said. “I wish I could have done more while at the zenith of my strength, but I was still learning what needed to be done. Even at the height of my power, I could not have sent you all the way to Titan Valley. There are other methods to get you there, but using the Fairy Realm is a simpler, more direct option.”
“When should I leave with my friends?” Kendra asked.
“Soon,” Andromadus said. “With all the trouble in the world, I have other places to be, but I will see you safely on your way.”
“What about Knox and Tess?” Kendra asked.
“They are welcome to remain here for now,” Savani said. “I believe the eruption will subside.”
“They can stay here or go to Titan Valley,” Andromadus said. “Both locations have their dangers, but few places are safer in these war-torn times.”
“We can talk to them about it,” Kendra said. “But I need them out of harm’s way.”
“We will do all we can,” Andromadus said. “Come. Titan Valley awaits.”
Are you sure this is the right way?” Seth asked.
“Not far now,” Hermo replied.
“I thought you’d never been here before,” Seth said.
“Never,” Hermo agreed.
“Have you memorized a map?”
Hermo gave a disgusted chuckle. “No map. That slow. This easy.”
“Hermit trolls are rumored to have special gifts for finding things,” Calvin said from Seth’s pocket. “And for hiding.”
“Me have gift for everything,” Hermo said. “Eat much food. Win prizes. Ride in fish. Jump far. Make speeches.”
“That’s a lot of gifts,” Seth said.
“You second best,” Hermo said. “You win when lucky.”
“I won that game with the potatoes more than I lost,” Seth said.
“Potato bad shape to throw,” Hermo said. “Good shape for loser.”
“It feels like we’re roaming blindly through the bushes,” Seth complained, pressing through some thick undergrowth. “Does your sense of direction ever lead to a path?”
“Road dicey,” Hermo said. “Big guys see us. Eat you.”
“I think we passed that tree before,” Seth said. “Are we going in circles?”
“First time that tree,” Hermo said. “You see tavern soon. Stop yapping.”
Seth held back a reply, but he used his knife to carve a little mark on the tree. Next time he would have proof.
A few paces ahead, Hermo crouched between a pair of dense bushes. He pointed beyond the foliage. “Come see.”
Seth came up beside the hermit troll and gazed across a clearing to where a huge structure sprawled beside a road. The haphazard edifice looked like it might have started out as a general store, but then various builders began adding wings, porches, balconies, beams, gables, cupolas, attics, weather vanes, chimneys, and towers without a comprehensive plan. The result was a disjointed monstrosity composed of wood, stone, brick, glass, clay, and thatch, surrounded by seven water towers on stilts of varying heights.
“Troll Tavern?” Seth guessed.
Hermo sniffed, wiping away a tear. “More beautiful than in stories.”
“Should we go knock?” Seth asked, stepping forward.
Hermo grabbed his elbow and tugged him back. “Go knock? A human? If anybody knock, they never let you in. In Troll Tavern, you must belong. You my slave. Only way.”
“I have to pose as your slave to get in?” Seth asked.
Hermo nodded. “Be my slave to get in. To stay inside. And to stay alive. Only way.”
“The tavern is just for trolls?” Seth asked.
“Only trolls and slaves,” Hermo said.
“How do we sell it?” Seth asked. “Do we need a rope?”
“You follow me,” Hermo said. “Obey and serve.”
“You don’t want me to call you master?” Seth checked.
“Good idea,” Hermo said. “But no talk much. Bow sometimes.”
“I’m not sure I like this plan,” Calvin protested from Seth’s pocket.
“Little bug say nothing,” Hermo insisted.
“I’m not a bug,” Calvin griped. “And Seth is no slave.”
“Little bugs wait outside if no help,” Hermo said. “This only way in.”
“Let’s play along,” Seth said. “If they have good info here, it’ll be worth it.”
“Another option would be for the little guy to sneak inside,” Calvin offered.
“No sneak,” Hermo said. “Little bug get squished. We talk trolls. Ask questions. Get gossip.”
“Do you know why we’re going in there?” Seth checked.
“Legendary rabbit stew,” Hermo said, licking his lips.
“No,” Seth said.
“Win at cards?”
“We need info about Humbuggle,” Seth said. “Where to find him. How to beat him.”
“Don’t forget Serena,” Calvin added.
“Right, we need info about a nipsie called Serena,” Seth said.
“What a nipsie?” Hermo asked.
“A little person like me,” Calvin clarified.
“And I need to find Humbuggle,” Seth said. “I want my memories back.”
“I want memory of rabbit stew,” Hermo pouted.
“How about we do both, Master?” Seth asked.
“Deal, Slave,” Hermo said, spitting on his palm before shaking Seth’s hand.
Seth immediately wiped his hand on his pants. “Should we head inside?”
“Yes,” Hermo said. “You walk behind. You need slave name. Dirt Face good one.”
“Anything to please Master,” Seth said.
“I can’t stomach this,” Calvin said, his tone conveying legitimate suffering.
“Small price to pay if the info is good,” Seth said. “Help us succeed.”
Seth followed Hermo out into the clearing. He wondered how believable it would be that he was the slave of a stumpy little troll. Hopefully, if he played the role right, he could sell it. As they approached the tavern, Seth wondered if his shadow charming skills could prove useful. He reached out with his senses, trying to perceive any undead, in case he could mine them for information or perhaps gain an ally. None seemed to be in the area.
The road beside the tavern was empty. A squeaky sign swung in the breeze, and several wooden wind chimes clattered. The broad steps out front led to a door so tall Seth would need a ladder to reach the top. He wondered about the size of the trolls inside.
Hermo opened a smaller door to the left of the tall one and entered without a backward glance. Seth crouched to follow his temporary master.
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Just inside the door loomed a thick-limbed troll who would have to duck to get through even the tall door. A pair of tusks jutted up from his lower jaw. The troll hunched forward to peer at Seth, making a rumbling sound in his chest like a dog about to attack.
“Him slave,” Hermo said, jerking a thumb at Seth. “Him Dirt Face.”
The hulking troll backed off, though he kept an unwelcoming eye on Seth. Snugly shuttered windows muted the daylight, and a sparse assortment of candles and torches provided uneven luminance while slowly blackening the rafters and ceiling with soot. Many obstacles limited lines of sight in the expansive room, including wooden beams, potted plants, heavy curtains, and booths built around tables. Niches and alcoves laced the edges of the room, with many doorways and halls leading elsewhere. Stairways climbed to murky galleries and lofts, and others curved down to unseen cellars.
Seth tried not to fixate on any of the occupants of the shadowy booths huddled in hushed conversation. The variety of trolls astonished him. Most were reptilian in their scales and features, though some were hairy, a few were porcine, and a couple had feathers. The trolls came in varied sizes and builds, though none stood shorter than Hermo. Seth noted sharp claws, crooked fangs, intimidating tusks, gill slits, webbed fingers and toes, mottled markings, horns, spikes, and warty bumps in endless combinations. The trolls dressed simply, with few sporting more than a vest on their upper bodies, and none wearing footwear. Most carried weapons, and a majority displayed sparse items of jewelry—an earring here, a pendant there, an anklet on another.
Seth noticed many trolls stealing glances at him or slyly following him from the sides of their eyes. Trying not to let his gaze rove, he kept his focus on Hermo and waited for chances to show his devotion as a slave. Thanks to his gift with languages, the murmured conversations around him sounded like English, but he could tell the trolls were actually speaking Duggish.
“Why you here, Dog Breath?” challenged an accuser.
Seth saw another hermit troll waddling their way. He was almost as short and stumpy as Hermo, his head too big for his body, wide nostrils flaring.
“Me visiting,” Hermo shot back. “Why you out of hole, Snot Lick?”