The Dragons of Styx

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The Dragons of Styx Page 21

by John E. Siers


  “When Lisa ‘went dragon’ as you say, she used a large amount of kaval to do so—and most likely ran the local supply down to nothing for a brief moment. There was none for Ramsey to use, and she was helpless.”

  “One more thing the British Bitch might want to know about—” Mark said.

  “I wouldn’t call her that to her face.”

  “I didn’t. Drones—we’ve been tracked by a couple of micro ones lately. I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t either, but I’ll pass it on.”

  Mark winked in thanks, not believing her for even half a second.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: The Balance

  Venus departed in mid-afternoon. Mark, Lisa, and Sparkling returned to the conference room.

  “That was enlightening,” Lisa said with a wry grin.

  “Not as much as I might have liked.” Mark shook his head. “I still have more questions than answers.”

  “Well, at least we know what Ramsey was.”

  “Yeah, but that unlocked a whole Pandora’s Box. I mean…kaval, gatandis, layers within LEI that we know nothing about. And we learned little we didn’t already know about ourselves—our dragon selves, that is. Spark, did you pick up anything we missed?”

  “No…actually I didn’t. What I found is my so-called talent for learning things doesn’t work very well on a real gatandi like Venus. For that matter—I’ve never mentioned this—it doesn’t work on you two. I can still tell whether I’m hearing the truth, but I can’t see beyond that.

  “As far as the deep, dark secrets of LEI, I honestly have no idea. I’d heard about kaval, gatandis, and these mystical Trashmen, but I only got little snippets. I don’t think even the Western Region wizards—who are apparently not the high and mighty sorcerers they think they are—knew that much about it.”

  “Sorcerers, yeah…” Lisa chuckled. “I think the rough translation of what Venus called them is something like ‘stupid assholes’—obviously not SAD’s first-string team.”

  “Yeah…which kind of fits with my own opinion.” Sparkling nodded. “But honestly, most of that stuff I threw at her was a fishing expedition, and I didn’t learn much in return. Hey…I worked for SAD, and I had no idea any of this stuff existed. Even now, I still don’t know how deep it goes.”

  “And I have a feeling they’re not going to tell us any more than they have to,” Mark said with a sigh.

  “Too late to do any real work today,” Lisa said. “Why don’t we call it a day? Then Sparkle and I can go upstairs and play in the kitchen for a while—see what we can create from whatever’s in the fridge.”

  “So…” Cynthia Witherbot leaned back in the plush leather executive chair behind her desk, “what did you find out?”

  “Actually, quite a bit.” Venus also leaned back in the comfortable armchair that faced the desk. She crossed her long legs and took a sip of the excellent English tea—Earl Grey in this case—that Witherbot favored. “But first…they’re being watched.”

  Venus saw no need to elaborate, and she was right.

  “Let me guess, our Russian friends.”

  “Maybe so, boss; they don’t know anything about that. All Marshall knows is he’s seen a couple of micro-drones disguised as insects, and they picked up a streaming signal from one of them.”

  Witherbot nodded. “It can’t be anybody else. When their invasion at the airfield didn’t work, it probably crippled their plans, whatever they were. And then the demon child, that has to be tied into it somehow, so it stands to reason they’d want to keep tabs on a pair of dragons.” She rubbed her upper lip for a few seconds. “Well, we knew they hadn’t given up, now didn’t we? Nothing more to be done about it now, so tell me what else you learned.”

  “First, I can confirm that the Ramsey woman was what we suspected—a natural, with an extremely strong talent. Unfortunately, she was mentally unstable and would not have been of any use to us. She was a dangerous psychotic and would have had to have been eliminated. Charon’s Ferry did us a favor by taking her out.”

  “So I assumed,” Witherbot nodded. “And the dragons…?”

  “Ah! Now that was interesting. They have cameras everywhere, and they recorded the entire encounter with Ramsey. I actually got to see Lisa Woods transform herself—in high-resolution, slow-motion detail. Much better than the imagery we got of Marshall from the cat in Rome, though I didn’t see her actually use anything but physical force on the target.”

  “Apparently the transformation itself is a significant drain on the local kaval, so neither Woods nor Ramsey would have been able to use it against each other for the first few moments. But when you are a 10-meter-long dragon massing a few tonnes, you don’t need kaval to take out a human.”

  “Right,” Witherbot nodded, “as Loki discovered in Rome. So…based on what you’ve seen, what do you recommend?”

  “I believe what Keel has proposed is the correct course of action, and we should advise him accordingly.”

  “Let sleeping dragons lie?”

  “Ja. If we try to bring them in with us, they must discover The Balance. If they fail, we lose two extremely useful assets. But they are bonded together…very closely bonded. If one fails and the other succeeds, the survivor may blame us and seek retribution.”

  “I’m more concerned with what might happen if they both succeed,” Witherbot said. “We may be faced with something we can’t easily control. As you say, they’re closely bonded, and the two of them together would be enormously powerful.”

  “True,” Venus nodded, “and the djinn cannot be put back in the bottle.”

  “Very well. I’ll advise Keel accordingly. I believe he’s already made up his mind, but he’ll be pleased to know we’re on the same page.”

  “There is one more issue,” Venus told her. “Sparkling Waters. I believe she has talent beyond what anyone suspected—perhaps enough talent to make her useful to our team.”

  “Really? Maybe we should have her tested. The record shows she was given some basic screening when they brought her aboard, but they never went to the next level. If she shows potential, we can consider recruiting her.”

  “Perhaps, but there is another problem. She is remarkably close to Woods and Marshall. Since they rescued her from the chupacabra—which caused them to discover their true nature—they have developed a relationship that is almost familial.

  “When I suggested that Waters was getting into dangerous territory with her questions, Woods became very protective, to the point where I felt the dragon ready to emerge.

  “It would be quite difficult to bring her into the group without involving the dragons—and we’ve just decided we don’t want to do that. So…”

  “I see your point.” Witherbot frowned. “But at the very least, I think we need to keep an eye on her—and maybe arrange to have her tested. Then we can make a further decision on how to proceed.”

  “Useful as they may be, the dragons have certainly complicated things for us,” she said with a sigh. “But so far, they’re on our side and have done good things for LEI in general. And at least there are only two of them, and we know where to find them.”

  Epilogue

  You could have called me! I would have come for you…anytime. Why did you wait so long?

  Sparkling cradled the woman’s still-warm body in her arms and stared down at the dead face, trying to see the features she remembered. Blood still leaked from the brutal stab wound under the armpit, but the flow had diminished when her heart had stopped.

  Her attackers—the man who had been her pimp and another woman from his stable—had been dealt with, their mangled bodies now lying at opposite ends of the alley, their faces reflecting sheer terror at the moment of their deaths.

  Sparkling looked around. It was a neighborhood she had known—San Francisco, not far from Fisherman’s Wharf—but she hadn’t been there in almost a decade. Some things had changed, but the moral character of the area hadn’t improved. If anything, it had gotten worse. So
far, there was no sign that anyone else had noticed…or maybe people in that part of town simply had more sense than to investigate disturbances in the night.

  She looked down at the woman again. You never gave much thought to me back then, but you still remembered…and you called me when you needed me most. Too late, but still you called.

  Huge tears fell from her eyes and splashed on the gold-rimmed purple scales that covered her arms. Even in this form, I can still cry, she thought. She looked down at her hands, holding the body gently, despite the razor-sharp claws that tipped her fingers.

  She felt the dull, double thump as Mark and Lisa materialized on either side of her.

  Sparkle?

  Lisa craned her long neck and surveyed the scene, but made no further comment, waiting patiently for a response. Mark said nothing but stretched his wing protectively over her.

  Who was she? Lisa said at last.

  My mother. Sparkling laid the body gently down on the ground. I thought about her over the years, but I never looked for her. I should have…I could have put Northstar on it. They’d have found her in a heartbeat. I could have…

  Could have, would have, should have…Mark told her. Hindsight is a harsh judge, Spark. She could have looked for you as well, but it’s all past history now. It’s OK to grieve, but don’t let it eat you up. We’re here for you…and now it looks like we really are a family.

  Sparkling looked down at her hands and arms again. She swept her long neck around to look back over her shoulder at the long, metallic scales—deep purple rimmed with gold—that covered her tail and the rest of her body. She flexed her wings.

  Yeah…she said. You guys were right all along…I just hadn’t hatched yet. I guess it takes some kind of traumatic event to wake us up. I screamed for help, and you woke up; now she screamed and woke me up. Only she screamed too late…

  The tears were back. Mark and Lisa tried to comfort her, but the hurt wouldn’t go away. Finally, she gave a mighty dragon sniffle and lifted her head. I guess we’d better go before somebody sees us…but I can’t just leave her here.

  No, we’ll take her with us, Lisa said, gathering up the body. I’ll carry her. I’ve done this before.

  We can take proper care of her back at the Ferry, Mark said. You can have her ashes if you like, maybe put a marker in the garden.

  Actually…Sparkling drew a deep breath as she straightened up. I think I would like to bury her. If it’s not too much to ask.

  Of course, Spark. Mark put an arm around her in a dragon hug. I can do that.

  Hearing a sudden sound like a dull, muffled thunderclap, the old woman—one of the city’s many homeless—looked cautiously into the alley. She saw nothing but a rapidly thinning haze in its depths, but there was a dark lump on the ground not far from where she stood. For a moment the scene brightened with the light of a passing car, and she recognized the lump as a body.

  Not my business, she decided. Leaving the pimp’s corpse for someone else to report, she hurried away. Maybe a night in the shelter would be worth the hassle the social workers would give her.

  About John E. Siers

  John E. Siers is a Viet Nam–era Air Force veteran who spent several decades working as a software developer designing analytical systems for corporate clients.

  An avid reader of science fiction since grade school, John started writing in the late 1970s, mostly for his own enjoyment. He wrote for more than 20 years and produced three complete novels before ever showing his work to anyone.

  Escaping from the overcrowded northeast, John moved to Tennessee in 1997. Encouraged by friends, he finally published his first novel, The Moon and Beyond, in late 2012, followed by Someday the Stars in 2013. The latter won the 2014 Darrell Award for Best SF Novel by a Midsouth Author.

  John’s Lunar Free State series had grown to four novels—with no thought of doing anything outside his own comfort zone—when he encountered William Alan Webb at MidSouthCon in 2019. Bill led John astray…tempting him with visions of other universes—whispering names like Four Horsemen, Last Brigade, and finally Hit World.

  John succumbed to the temptation, and The Ferryman and The Dragon of Styx are the results. He has since entered a rehab program and produced a fifth novel in his own universe.

  John lives with his wife, son, dog, and two cats in west Tennessee. In his spare time (what there is of it) he runs his own firearm repair and service business under the trade name of Gunsmith Jack. Readers can follow him on Amazon, Facebook, or his own website at www.lunarfreestate.com

  * * * * *

  Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”

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  The following is an

  Excerpt from Book One of The Milesian Accords:

  A Reluctant Druid

  ___________________

  Jon R. Osborne

  Now Available from New Mythology Press

  eBook, Paperback, and Audio

  Excerpt from “A Reluctant Druid:”

  “Don’t crank on it; you’ll strip it.”

  Liam paused from trying to loosen the stubborn bolt holding the oil filter housing on his Yamaha motorcycle, looking for the source of the unsolicited advice. The voice was gruff, with an accent and cadence that made Liam think of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets. The garage door was open for air circulation, and two figures were standing in the driveway, illuminated by the setting sun. As they approached and stepped into the shadows of the house, Liam could see they were Pixel and a short, stout man with a greying beard that would do ZZ Top proud. The breeze blowing into the garage carried a hint of flowers.

  Liam experienced a moment of double vision as he looked at the pair. Pixel’s eyes took on the violet glow he thought he’d seen before, while her companion lost six inches in height, until he was only as tall as Pixel. What the short man lacked in height, he made up for in physique; he was built like a fireplug. He was packed into blue jeans and a biker’s leather jacket, and goggles were perched over the bandana covering his salt and pepper hair. Leather biker boots crunched the gravel as he walked toward the garage. Pixel followed him, having traded her workout clothes for black jeans and a pink t-shirt that left her midriff exposed. A pair of sunglasses dangled from the neckline of her t-shirt.

  “He’s seeing through the glamour,” the short, bearded man grumbled to Pixel, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

  “Well duh. We’re on his home turf, and this is his place of power” Pixel replied nonchalantly. “He was pushing back against my glamour yesterday, and I’m not adding two hands to my height.”

  Liam set down the socket wrench and ran through the mental inventory of items in the garage that were weapons or could be used as them. The back half of the garage was a workshop, which included the results of his dabbling with blacksmithing and sword-crafting, so the list was considerable. But the most suitable were also the farthest away.

  “Can I help you?” Liam stood and brushed off his jeans; a crowbar was three steps away. Where had they come from? Liam hadn’t heard a car or motorcycle outside, and the house was a mile and a half outside of town.

  “Ja, you can.” The stout man stopped at the threshold of the garage. His steel-grey eyes flicked from Liam to the workbench and back. He held his hands out, palms down. The hands were larger than his and weren’t strangers to hard work and possibly violence. “And there’s no need to be unhospitable; we come as friends. My name is Einar, and you’ve already met Pixel.”

  “Hi, Liam.” Pixel was as bubbly as yesterday. While she didn’t seem to be making the same connection as Einar regarding the workbench, her eyes darted about the cluttered garage and the dim workshop behind it. “Wow, you have a lot of junk.”

  “What’s this about?” Liam sidled a half step toward th
e workbench, regretting he hadn’t kept up on his martial arts. He had three brown belts, a year of kendo, and some miscellaneous weapons training scattered over two decades but not much experience in the way of real fighting. He could probably hold his own in a brawl as long as his opponent didn’t have serious skills. He suspected Einar was more than a Friday night brawler in the local watering hole. “Is she your daughter?”

  Einar turned to the purple-haired girl, his caterpillar-like eyebrows gathering. “What did you do?”

  “What? I only asked him a few questions and checked him out,” Pixel protested, her hands going to her hips as she squared off with Einar. “It’s not as if I tried to jump his bones right there in the store or something.”

  “Look mister, if you think something untoward happened between me and your daughter –” Liam began.

  “She’s not my pocking daughter, and I don’t give a troll’s ass if you diddled her,” Einar interrupted, his accent thickening with his agitation. He took a deep breath, his barrel chest heaving. “Now, will you hear me out without you trying to brain me with that tire iron you’ve been eyeing?”

  “You said diddle.” Pixel giggled.

  “Can you be serious for five minutes, you pocking faerie?” Einar glowered, his leather jacket creaking as he crossed his arms.

  “Remember ‘dwarf,’ you’re here as an ‘advisor.’” Pixel included air quotes with the last word, her eyes turning magenta. “The Nine Realms are only involved out of politeness.”

  “Politeness! If you pocking Tuatha and Tylwyth Teg hadn’t folded up when the Milesians came at you, maybe we wouldn’t be here to begin with!” Spittle accompanied Einar’s protest. “Tylwyth? More like Toothless!”

 

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