by JA Andrews
They considered his logic for a moment and nodded. All except Gustav, who glared at Alaric.
“It does look like the legend of Bone Valley’s dragon has some truth behind it, though,” Alaric said to Brandson.
“Can we please get out of here?” Douglon asked through clenched teeth.
Ahead of them, in the direction of all the bones, the forest lightened.
Brandson straightened. “I’m afraid there’s no way out but through the bones.” He stepped forward, cringing when his foot crunched down onto the eerie bed of bones.
Ayda and Milly picked their way through carefully, discussing the bones they came across. Brandson stepped through, gingerly testing each step before moving on. Douglon followed right behind Brandson, cringing and shuddering with each step.
“It was a dragon,” Gustav said petulantly to Alaric.
“That’s the most obvious answer,” Alaric said. “And it fits with the legend of Bone Valley. But we certainly don’t need to be frightened of a dragon from a hundred years ago.”
Gustav scowled at him and continued ahead. Alaric shook his head. That old man certainly had a love for the dramatic.
The bones ended with the trees. The sun had broken through the clouds, and they stood at the edge of a meadow stretching across Bone Valley, dotted with stands of pine trees. Above them, the clouds were chasing each other on the wind. Snow-covered mountains soared above the western side of the valley.
“We’d better find a place to camp,” Brandson said glancing at the sun, which sat low above the mountains. “Twilight is going to come earlier here.”
“How about away from the bones?” said Douglon.
They struck out along the edge of the trees searching for some other shelter. The sun had dropped behind the mountains by the time they reached a little grove of pines set out in the middle of the meadow. After Douglon inspected the ground for any bones, they set up camp between the trunks.
Brandson carried an armful of wood for the fire. “I don’t suppose you could do that thing again where you see if Patlon followed us?” he asked Gustav.
“Of course, my boy,” the wizard answered. “I was just about to.” Standing up tall and spreading his arms wide apart, the wizard closed his eyes and began to mutter, spinning in a circle.
Alaric watched him, keeping his face bland. He felt Gustav’s wave limp past again.
“We are still alone,” Gustav announced. “That monster did not follow us.”
“He’s not a—” Douglon started, but at Gustav’s glare he stopped. “We’ll set a watch tonight,” he grumbled.
Alaric cast out his own wave without any movement or sound, but his findings agreed with the old man’s.
Gustav ambled over to where Milly and Brandson were setting wood for a small fire. The wizard shooed them away. As he did, Alaric saw a glimmer of silver drop onto the wood. With a flourish, Gustav shouted, “Incende!” and stabbed his staff into the wood. There was a tiny spark and then an explosion as the wood burst into flames. Milly scrambled back and stifled a scream. Smiling in satisfaction, Gustav strode away from the flames, waving them back to the fire.
Alaric knelt to rummage in his pack, trying to hide his smile. Fire powder! The old man had used fire powder and passed it off as magic. Alaric thought for the hundredth time that he should give up everything else and bring fire powder to Queensland. It was prohibitively expensive, but the wealthy in countries far to the south sprinkled the silvery powder in ovens and over wood. A quick rap would ignite the powder and result in what had occurred in their own fire. How had Gustav managed to get ahold of some?
“Amazing, Gustav!” exclaimed Milly.
“Wondrous,” Alaric agreed.
The evening stretched out, perfectly quiet, as the group settled down around the small fire. It was a little eerie that there were so few noises, and Alaric found himself constantly straining to hear something. Anything.
Brandson volunteered to take first watch and ambled to the edge of their small pine grove. Milly watched him for a moment. Seeing Ayda’s encouraging nod, she prepared a plate of food and took it over to him.
“Thanks, Milly,” Alaric could just hear Brandson say to her.
“She’s a nice girl,” Ayda said, following Alaric’s gaze.
Alaric nodded.
“I think Brandson should marry her. I’ve been trying forever to get the two of them together.”
“Marry her?”
“Yes. Brandson is lonely. He has been since his parents died,” Ayda said, her face thoughtful. “I think he needs a more satisfying family than a bunch of misfits.”
“Who are you calling a misfit?” Douglon asked.
“You,” she laughed, stepping over to him and poking another flower into his beard.
Alaric glanced around at the ground but didn’t see any flowers. Where did she find these things?
“Alaric is a handsome man with good prospects,” Ayda said, “and I’m— Well… me. So the misfits are you and the crazy wizard.”
Gustav harrumphed and stood up from the fire, stalking away to sit on the opposite side of the camp from Brandson.
“I’m glad you’re here, Milly.” Brandson’s voice drifted through the darkening trees.
“Me, too,” she answered. “Those trees over there are lovely.”
“The oaks?” Brandson said. “They are. Strange to see a stand of oaks when the rest of the valley is full of pines.”
Alaric looked up and caught Gustav whipping his head around toward Milly.
Alaric waited for a grand announcement from Gustav claiming to have solved the riddle, but the wizard hunched back around and studied his fingernails.
So Gustav didn’t plan on sharing his knowledge with the rest of the group. That was interesting. Alaric settled himself back against the tree. What was the old man’s plan?
For a long time, Alaric rested against his tree, watching Gustav who was busy looking bored. The Wellstone was close. It was past time to let this group know that he knew what the ‘oatry’ clue meant. With that, there’d be nothing to stop them from finding the treasure. Tomorrow morning, Alaric decided, he would tell everyone he was a Keeper. It might not be precisely true, but it was as good of a title for him as anything else. The nagging guilt of lying to this group had become too strong to ignore. It would be a relief to tell them.
One by one, the others fell asleep. When Gustav hadn’t stopped snoring for at least an hour, Alaric allowed himself to close his eyes as well.
It was still dark when Alaric awoke to a shriek. From across the campsite, Gustav ran screeching toward the fire. He reached the group and bunched up his robe, catapulting himself over the fire, white bony legs still pumping in mid-air.
“Dragon!” he yelled as he barely cleared the small fire and landed, legs still pumping as he raced through their grove of trees and toward the grass separating them from the main forest.
Alaric leapt up and searched the clear, moonlit sky with his eyes and mind. The night was quiet and empty.
Then an enormous power burst into the valley. A dragon shot through the night sky. Dark red flashes glittered off its scales in the moonlight. It flew in front of the moon, and for a moment, its thin wings glowed scarlet. It was massive, its wings blocking out ragged sections of the stars as it soared across the sky. It turned and dove, making straight for them.
Gustav, still shrieking, had reached the grassy meadow and ran toward the main woods.
Alaric’s blood thrummed with the energy of the dragon. A dragon!
Milly screamed and cowered behind a tree. Brandson threw his arm around her.
“Gustav!” yelled Brandson, “Get back here!”
But the old man ran heedlessly on.
“Idiot!” Douglon swore.
Alaric snapped into motion, running to the edge of the grove, searching for a spell to protect Gustav.
But the dragon reached the wizard first. The dragon’s roar shook the ground, and the blast of energy crea
ted as it produced its fire knocked Alaric off his feet.
Its massive body hurtled through the air, spraying out a jet of flame, which enveloped the old man. The huge jaw opened, and the teeth snapped shut around Gustav. The dragon spun around, shooting high into the air and leaving behind empty, charred grass.
Chapter 14
A dragon—a real dragon! And Gustav…
But there hadn’t been a dragon in Queensland for a hundred years.
Silence reigned in the valley. The clouds had cleared, and the wet grass glinted silver in the moonlight. Alaric stood with everyone else, frozen, staring at the scorched ground where Gustav had been.
High above them, the dragon roared. The sky lit up with red flames, startling them all into action.
Alaric scrambled to his feet and moved to the edge of the trees, searching the sky. He caught sight of the dark shape spiraling impossibly high before turning back toward them. What were they going to do against a dragon?
Alaric glanced around at the group. Brandson held his knife uncertainly. It was a knife for skinning animals, not fighting a dragon. Douglon hefted his axe, which was a little better. But the two looked small and insignificant. Milly ran to the fire and smothered it with dirt. Alaric gave her an approving nod. Looking around for a weapon, she grabbed a frying pan.
Alaric noticed in passing how clear his mind felt, and he glanced at Ayda. She was focused on the sky.
Don’t fight a dragon, Keeper Gerone would say. Leave that sort of business to warriors. Distract it and flee.
Distract it with what? They were in an empty valley. But they certainly weren’t equipped to fight it. Not this group. Douglon was the only one even close to a warrior. There was no archer. No one even had a sword. Alaric could protect them somewhat, but only from the fire. He had no defense against dragon teeth.
“Any ideas?” he asked Ayda.
“Befriend it?” she offered.
Useless elf.
“If he lands,” Douglon said, “we might have a chance to injure it and drive it off.” His voice didn’t hold any real hope, though. “Stay in the trees until he does.”
“What if he sets the forest on fire first?” Milly asked.
Alaric gathered some energy. He began to weave an invisible shield over the nearby trees, enclosing the group in it. It wouldn’t stop the fire completely, dragon’s breath was too hot, but it would protect the trees from enough heat that they shouldn’t burst immediately into flames. And hopefully, it would stop the flames from reaching them down on the ground. His hands began to burn as he stretched the shield farther. He had guarded Douglon, Brandson, and Milly from the heat and was turning toward Ayda when she flashed him an irritated look.
“I don’t need your help,” she said. “Take care of the others.”
“Sorry,” he said, pulling the shield away from her and anchoring it above the rest of them.
“Here it comes!” Douglon warned.
A rushing sound began high above them, then plummeted down.
Douglon was right. Any chance they had of even injuring the creature depended on it being on the ground.
Maybe a strong wind could ground it. Alaric began to gather energy again, pulling it in as fast as he dared, feeling the pressure of it building inside of him. He wove a web across the space between their grove of trees and the main forest, containing a portion of air. When the web was complete, he drew energy out of the air above it, pulling out the heat, making it colder and colder. The cool air pressed down on his web, getting heavier the colder he made it. He drew out more and more heat until the air was frigid. An erratic wind began to move at the edges of his web, and the trees on either side where he had anchored it bent down toward the ground.
The dragon pelted toward them. An ear-splitting roar cracked the night.
Alaric’s hands were in agony, and his arms burned as he forced more and more energy into the net. He stretched clawed hands forward one more time. The grass at his feet withered as he pulled energy from it to replenish his own. The leaves of the nearest tree shriveled. Alaric reached farther, searching for more strength to put toward his task.
The dragon sped down along the grass. With a surge, Alaric tore his net off the trees and let the cold air plummet down. The dragon, caught in the draft, crashed to the ground. But in a moment, it bunched its legs and launched itself back into the air.
He caught a glimpse of Brandson’s knife as he threw it. It tinked harmlessly off the red scales of the dragon’s belly and tumbled into the grass.
Alaric sank back on his heels, his stomach dropping. His arms were like rocks in his lap, and he had barely affected the dragon. The trees Alaric had protected were smoking, but one more pass would light them like torches.
The dragon roared high above them.
Ayda came over to Alaric. It took most of his strength to lift his head and look up at her.
“I thought you’d do better than that,” she said, looking a little disappointed. “You didn’t do much better than the wizard.”
Alaric stared after her, unable to move as she stalked toward the grass where Gustav had disappeared.
“You stupid elf!” Douglon shouted, watching Ayda walk toward her destruction. “It’s a dragon! Get back here!”
Ayda ignored him and kept walking. With one last look at the sky, the dwarf rushed after Ayda spewing curses.
Ayda shot him a furious glance and flicked her hand at him.
The dwarf jerked to a stop. Thin roots had snaked up out of the ground and wrapped around his feet, growing and hardening over his boots. He shouted at Ayda, waving his axe wildly and tugging with all his might at his stationary feet. He took his axe and chopped at the edges of the roots. For every root he cut through, another slithered out of the ground.
Ayda continued walking into the open grass. Brandson began to run after her, but at another dangerous look from the elf, he stopped and backed up next to Milly.
The dragon’s roar came closer, and the sky lit again. On Alaric’s chest, a flash of light reflected off the flame that Ayda had frozen for him.
Maybe the elf standing in the center of the charred circle of grass wasn’t so vulnerable.
But then the dragon appeared, impossibly huge and fast. The rush of wings grew louder, and the world glowed red. Milly screamed and hid her face in Brandson’s shoulder as the dragon hurtled toward Ayda.
Alaric couldn’t pull his gaze away. With the dragon bearing down on her, Ayda was nothing more than a golden wisp in the moonlight.
Ayda waited, looking up at the descending monster, watching until it was so close that the flames were inches from her face. With a wave of her hand, she cast the flames away, solidifying them and sending them splintering into countless pieces. They landed on the ground near Alaric’s feet with the ringing of a thousand tiny bells. The grass was covered with glinting shards of deep red.
Enormous jaws crushed the end of the flame, which had solidified while still in the dragon’s mouth, and the creature shot back into the sky.
Ayda looked pleased at the pile of hardened flames. “That was pretty.” She crinkled her brow. “I think I’ll make the next set blue. There’s much too much red over there now, don’t you think, Milly?”
Milly, staring with her mouth wide open, said nothing.
“Yes, blue.” Ayda turned to see the dragon approaching again.
This time, the beast dove near to the ground farther up the valley and raced toward her. With its blood-red belly skimming the grass, it waited until it was right on her before spewing out flames. Another wave of her hand diverted the flame, this time, turning it a brilliant blue as it hardened.
Milly screamed as the dragon bore down on Ayda. But the elf, with an exasperated flip of her hand, sent the dragon tumbling over her as though it had caught a clawed toe on a rock. The dragon plunged to the ground behind her, crashing down on its back. The valley shook, and Alaric ducked, shielding his head from the branches and pinecones that rained down on him.
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In a breath, the dragon twisted back to its feet. Crouched with its chin brushing the ground, the beast let out a low, vicious hiss.
Ayda cocked her head to one side.
“You’re not going to try the fire again, are you?” she asked.
The dragon flared its nostrils but did nothing. It seemed to be contemplating the same question. Alaric slowly let out his breath, but drew it in again when Ayda walked toward the beast as though he were an angry house cat who needed soothing.
“Sir Dragon,” she began, “if I may call you that since I don’t know your proper name. I’m afraid that you have attacked a group that would have been better left alone.”
The dragon stared at her with a mixture of hatred and confusion.
“We realize that you are a truly terrifying beast and that there are few who would dare to stand against a beast such as you, but we are among those few.” She had reached the dragon now. Although the dragon’s chin was on the ground, the top of its nose was shoulder height to the elf.
“It’s not just me,” she continued. “There’s a fearsome dwarf warrior in those trees.” The dragon flicked its eyes toward the trees. Douglon, who had been slouched in shock, his feet still frozen, straightened himself up and gripped his axe.
“There’s a young blacksmith who is quite strong and equally determined.” Brandson stood taller. “And there’s a milkmaid with a frying pan. Between you and me, I don’t think she was planning to cook over dragon fire.” Milly hid the pan behind her back.
“And, if you had gotten by all of us, there is still a magic worker in those trees who I had assumed was fairly adept.” She cast a critical look at Alaric.
Alaric felt Douglon, Brandson, and Milly look at him as well. The dragon turned intelligent eyes toward Alaric for a long moment.
Ayda stretched her hand out to touch the dragon’s snout, but its eyes whipped back toward her and narrowed. A loud, threatening growl rumbled deep in its chest.