A Warrant of Wyverns

by Michael Angel

“That’s fittingly evil,” I said. “To take the bodies of the victors and turn them into the vanquished. But you didn’t do that, did you? Lord Bonecarver unleased you to be hosted by the centaurs, not the wyverns.”

  A coughing laugh. “Hakseeka tough. Take time to host. But we took some of them. Waited to use them. To kill your king.”

  Of course, I thought. The attack during the Spring Tournament hadn’t been something the wild, undisciplined wyverns would have attempted. It had been an orchestrated assassination attempt by the Ultari.

  I pushed a little harder. “You’re waiting was in vain. We destroyed those hosted wyverns. Why didn’t you have time to host the rest?”

  “You come to Keshali. With wizard. You surprise the Lord of the Ultari. He unleash us before you could destroy us.”

  That also made sense. Even with Bonecarver’s quick action, Galen’s magic had destroyed a fifth of the demon lord’s forces. That was all very interesting, but now I needed more pressing information.

  “Why did you come to my world?” I asked.

  “Our Lord dead. Summoned by another. Brought us here. To fuse with flesh.”

  I leaned closer. “Who? Who summoned you? Damon Harrison?”

  No answer at first. I held up the cat’s eye and the man shrank away from it, as pitifully far away as the restraints allowed. I didn’t like doing this, but I was getting tired of the runaround.

  “You know not!” he hissed. “You know not what is to come!”

  I gripped the glass marble in my fingers and held it within an inch of the thing’s skin. Clarke writhed as if I had been holding a red-hot iron.

  “Tell me, damn it!” I shouted.

  “The one who summoned me…is the one who shall come for you!” he spat. The Clarke-thing’s voice rose to a piercing shriek as he cried his next words. “He who sleeps in the Scarlet Crypt shall end you!”

  The demon made the man’s body convulse. He sat up, lunging at my hand. His teeth closed around the marble, missing my fingers by a fraction of an inch. The sizzle of bacon on a hot grill crackled in the air as the smell of burning hair filled my nose. For a moment, it was all I could taste, and I choked on it.

  I pulled the cat’s eye away, out of the thing’s mouth as Clarke fell back limply against the pillow. I cast a worried glance towards the door. Amazingly, no one had come running in response to all the noise.

  A groan came from the bed.

  Ronald Clarke opened his eyes again, and they were simple brown human orbs once more.

  “Where am I?” he gasped. “I thought…I had a bad dream.”

  I put my hand on his forearm, right above the padded restraint.

  “You did,” I said. “Be glad that you woke.”

  Quickly, I tucked the banishment spell away and knocked on the door to fetch the orderly. Clarke had indeed been lucky to wake up at all.

  I only hoped I got to do the same thing at the end of all of this.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ever since arriving in Andeluvia, I’d witnessed amazing magical transformations.

  That said, it still astonished me how a four-lane Los Angeles freeway could turn into a parking lot in a matter of minutes.

  My time at the Beechwoods facility had resulted in a ‘miracle’ cure for Officer Clarke. Only by the time I left, the rush hour had started, stranding me in some of the worst traffic I’d seen in months on the northbound Harbor Freeway. The cars around me inched along in a sluggish nose-to-tail movement until I gave up waiting for dinner and simply wolfed down a breakfast bar I’d stashed in the center console between the seats.

  The skinny rectangle of rolled oats and refined sugar had the same texture as the bark I’d eaten as a fayleene doe. Only without the tasty bits. Still, I soldiered on through my chewing as the sun began to slip towards the western horizon. Not for the first time, I contemplated just pulling over to the side of the road, grabbing my silver medallion, and blipping out for Andeluvia.

  You know, my mind helpfully supplied, It would make things a lot easier sometimes. The only problem is that you’re in Los Angeles. There’s a 50-50 chance that the car would end up vandalized, towed, stolen, or all three. In any order.

  So, I gritted my teeth, chowed down on the last of the bar, and shoved the wrapper deep into the door’s side pocket. Of course, now that I’d sated my hunger, my throat complained about its impending thirst. To distract myself, once traffic came to a complete stop, I got out my phone and made a couple of calls.

  I ended up leaving messages in Esteban’s and Shelly’s voicemail boxes. I’d figured as much, since they would have been dealing with fallout from the bomb scare. I let them know that I’d be heading to Andeluvia this evening and remaining there for the next thirty-six hours.

  The freeway finally released me from its clutches as I approached my designated exit. From there, it was less stop and more go along the city streets before I finally pulled into my house’s driveway. I thumbed the garage door opener, and nothing happened.

  The second and third thumbing didn’t fare any better. When I turned the opener over, the low battery light flickered at me. Great.

  A quick twist of the key, and I shut the engine off before climbing out and looking around. My two-car garage door glowed redly, reflecting the setting sun. To my mild annoyance, the lawn looked a lot better than normal. Ever since I’d upped stakes for Shelly’s, I’d hired a gardening service to take over my at-best irregular watering and mowing of the lawn.

  I became aware of the hair on the backs of my arms standing at attention. Reaching out with my senses, I knew there wasn’t any specific threat. Swallowing hard, I tried desperately to wet my throat as I realized what was creeping me out.

  It occurred to me that this was the first time I’d been back here by myself since that horrible day. The day Esteban had escorted me into the house. The day that we’d found what was left of Maxwell Cohen on my kitchen table.

  I shivered as I looked up and down the street. People in my subdivision were all upper-middle class types with dual incomes, which meant they were either still at work or stuck in traffic. I didn’t see any lights on inside the homes around me. Maybe a couple of cars parked in driveways, but that was about it.

  I shook my head to break the anxiety that had settled upon my shoulders like a wet shawl. Then I did my best to shrug off the feeling that people were peering through their closed venetian blinds as I walked over to the front corners of my property. I nudged out little holes in the loose soil with my shoe and dropped a ward stone in each one.

  Back at my car, I popped open my trunk and shrugged on my shoulder holster. Once again, the weight of the firearm at my side comforted me.

  It was time. Squaring my shoulders, I forced myself to march up the walkway to the front door. The exact same walk I’d made hundreds of times since I’d moved in, each time I came home from the OME. The exact same pavement stones, the exact same side wall of the garage, the exact same tan-and white door waiting to greet me.

  Actually, there were two new things to greet me. The first was a numeric keypad that gleamed bright gold and green from above the doorknob. That was part of a brand-new security system I’d had installed only a couple days ago.

  The second was something taped to the door. A note.

  As least it wasn’t burned into the paper with fresh laser printer ink. Otherwise, I’d have probably run away screaming. The words were large, made with a blue pen, and refreshingly handwritten. The penmanship was feminine, all swoopy swirls, and with a generally friendly look to it.

  If only the note itself was as friendly.

  Dear Homeowner,

  We, your neighbors, cannot help but notice the amount of activity that has taken place at your residence. While we value your privacy, we hope that you in turn will remember that not everyone who lives on this street enjoys coming home to police cruisers, ambulances, and fire trucks. This has impacted the neighborhood’s tranquility and our property values, so it must stop immediatel
y!!!

  You should know that, given the mysterious fire that nearly burned down your house (and the one next to it!), we have informed the police of our suspicions. This neighborhood is no place to make or sell illegal drugs and it is within a quarter mile of a school! You are a monster! If you must manufacture methamphetamine, do it elsewhere!!!

  Very Truly Yours,

  Your Very Disappointed Neighbors

  PS: We have also seen and heard something like thunder and lightning from inside your house. We hope that your exorcisms or whatever you are doing were successful, but please limit the expulsions of demons to Friday and Saturday nights before 10pm!!!

  “You have to be frickin’ kidding me,” I groaned, as I snatched the note off the door.

  Oh, I was such a bad neighbor, causing all this ruckus. Apparently, it was my fault that I was wizard-napped to a fantasy realm populated by the most ungrateful nobles in the universe. I guess it was just a ‘bad choice’ to have a phoenix nearly burn down my house while trying to incinerate me. And next time, I would know better than to invite a serial killer into my house to ‘drop off a few things’ on my kitchen table.

  Oh, and the best part? The fact that I’d actually been following their advice on my exorcisms. The only demon I’d gotten around to expelling had met its end in the afternoon. And all the way out in San Pedro, to boot!

  I disabled the alarm and unlocked the door by tapping in the security code. I pushed my way inside before I gave in to temptation. The childish temptation to turn around and march down the length of the street, giving the middle finger to every house on the block.

  The rage I felt did have one positive effect at least. It blocked out any remaining fear I might have felt as I turned on all the lights and checked out each room in my house. My bedroom and the guest room were as I had left them. The study was untouched. So was the kitchen, especially the now-bare table.

  The house’s rear door was not only locked, it had been replaced by a reinforced version complete with a second keypad. I tapped in the right code and went out back to place the last of the ward stones. I relaxed as soon as I felt the now-familiar shimmy of Galen’s magic wash through the air, telling me that the protective spell was complete.

  Then I went back inside and hunted down some replacement batteries for my garage door opener. A couple of minutes later, when I finally put my car into the garage and watched the aluminum panels of the rollup door slide down into place, my stomach growled. I agreed with its assessment and went to open the fridge.

  I passed over the six-pack of beer I’d picked up, mostly for Alanzo whenever he stayed for the night. Though given how this day had turned out, it was very tempting to crack one open and swig the contents. Heck, I barely drank at all, but right now I was tempted to guzzle down the whole pack.

  Instead, I found an unopened bottle of peach-infused iced tea in the door compartment. I twisted the top off and gulped it down with abandon. The cold tea made my head ache and I could taste the fuzz of the peach on my tongue. I followed that up with a freshly microwaved chicken taquito to blot out the grainy taste of the breakfast bar.

  I wanted to return to my friends before it got dark. So after I finished my meal, I plugged my phone into its kitchen-outlet charger and went to switch back to my Andeluvian clothes. Afterwards, I pulled out the Codex of the Bellus Draconum out of the rolltop desk in the living room. I had a hunch it might help us communicate with Nagura.

  Speaking of hunches…

  An idea struck me at the last moment. I got out my most recently purchased backpack from the hall closet and stuffed the Codex inside. Next, I went into the study and found what I wanted in a pile of old office supplies I’d never gotten around to throwing out.

  Yeah, this might work, I thought. And I know for a fact they don’t have this technology in Andeluvia.

  The main piece was a bit too large to fit inside my backpack, but the strap on the back made it easy to sling over my shoulder and under my arm. Then, as a courtesy to my annoying and ‘very disappointed’ neighbors, I stayed inside the windowless study and closed the door before touching my medallion.

  The transport spell dissolved the world into ozone-scented mist as I returned to the ruined city of Keshali.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The blinding white of transport dissipated, revealing the half-crumbled buildings of Keshali. My nose twitched. The stink of ozone had vanished, to be replaced by the tingle of dust and the strong smell of something herbal. Incense laced with mountain sage, maybe. It cut into the undertone of rotting meat, doing its best to smother it.

  The scent tickled my nostrils and a second breath of the sage made things worse. I stumbled forward as I let out an explosive sneeze.

  “Do be careful,” Galen warned me, as strong centaur hands grabbed my shoulders, steadying me. “I shall presume that falling into the field of bodies is not high on your ‘to do’ list.”

  “It sure isn’t,” I agreed, as soon as I recovered.

  I squeezed the Wizard’s forearm in thanks before he let me go. Looking around, I was more than slightly surprised at the changes wrought by the advancing evening. For starters, small fires stoked with dark green branches sat in the far corners, throwing off the fragrant smoke that had made me sneeze.

  The colors of the courtyard were different as well. The drab sandy colors of the walls and sky had been replaced by dark ochre and rich violet. And to complete the picture, a half-moon hung low in the sky, casting a milky glow over the inner courtyard that competed with the last rays of the sunset.

  But most intriguing by far was the twelve-foot wide, ruler-straight track before us plowed from the ruins’ main entry door out to where Galen and I stood. Wyvern bodies had been carefully laid or nudged aside in the process. Each of the corpses, even the ones I’d autopsied, had been sprinkled with a light coating of dirt. A symbolic burial, I supposed.

  “How did you guys do this?” I asked, indicating the path. “It looks like you conjured up…I don’t know, a bulldozer or something.”

  “I am unclear what a ‘bull dozer’ is,” Galen replied, “but I did not expend any of my magic on this task. This was all done by Queen Nagura.”

  I blinked. “Queen?”

  Galen broke out into a grin. “Yes, that would be her title, the ‘Queen Mother of the Wyverns’. I was first able to puzzle out a way to translate Her Majesty’s writing system into letters we could all understand. Then, I altered my magic a second time to free us from the constrains of her citrine amulet.”

  “That’s amazing,” I said, as I looked upon my friend with more than a little awe. “You really know how to come through in a pinch.”

  My friend’s face flushed with pride. “I merely applied the appropriate forms of magic, it was less complex than one might assume at first.”

  “Well, the compliment stands, but this path still surprises me. Nagura seemed weak, at least when it came to endurance. She must have recovered some of her strength since I was gone.”

  “Indeed, that was the case,” he said, indicating that we should walk the path as we talked. I fell in at the Wizard’s side. His hooves made soft ‘thuds’ in the now-clean sand. “Once Grimshaw was dissuaded from killing the Queen outright, Liam examined her closely while I did my best to communicate with her using my knowledge of runic inscriptions such as those in the Codex. Your premise – that she and her people had been hibernating here for hundreds of years – was fundamentally correct.”

  I considered that. “So, she’s not malnourished. She was just frail from the long time spent asleep.”

  Galen shook his head. “Actually, she was severely malnourished and weak from her long sleep. Wyvern Queens are typically waited upon and fed by the workers as soon as they are awakened, but this was not a normal wake cycle. Far from it, in fact.”

  A horrible thought occurred to me. “Could their waking have been…from the chemical attack on their nest?”

  “It appears so.” Galen reported grimly. “Na
gura’s chamber was below with the others, but given her relatively large size for her species, it was also equipped with a special exit to the upper levels. Once she escaped, she sought after her comrades. Alas, chlorine gas is devilishly effective upon the people of the Hakseeka. She found no other wyverns alive.”

  The news hit me with a shock. “Dear God. That means she’s all alone, isn’t she? I mean, at least so far as the hive in Keshali.”

  “As far as we can tell, she is the lone survivor. And without access to food, or workers to bring her food, she was slowly starving to death here. She didn’t even have the strength to fly out of this courtyard, let alone the twenty leagues to get beyond the wastes of the Hinter Lands.”

  “What about that glowing water I got her?”

  “It’s a magically infused spring that runs deep below the ruins. I was able to widen the crack you found to allow her access. My tests prove that the water does not affect any of us in a significant fashion, but it offers restorative powers to wyverns. It kept her body and soul together until she found us.”

  “Were you able to share any of our supplies with her? Come to think of it, I hope she was able to eat them.”

  “Of that, there is no doubt. Apparently, wyvern stomachs are as iron-clad and bottomless as a griffin’s. We did run short of food after the first evening, but Shaw and I have remedied things. Do come and see.”

  We walked up towards the remnants of the entry door, turning to the right before we went through it. The friendly light of a flickering fire, one not scented with herbs, greeted us as we did so. Just outside the building, a couple of stone pillars had fallen against the outer wall, forming a triangular frame. One of my remaining clean vinyl tarps had been lashed in place over the pillars, creating a huge makeshift lean-to. The scent of cooking meat filled the air.

  A pair of gigantic boar carcasses had been spitted on a long steel pike and laid across the fire. Grimshaw reclined at one end, using his talons to slowly turn one end of the makeshift spit. Beyond him, Liam watched as Nagura drew yet more symbols on a section of flat stone. Their backs were to us, but I could see that the wyvern had recovered somewhat. She still looked badly underfed, but she’d already lost some of the skeletally gaunt look.