The Horsk Dragon

by A. R. Wilson

  “I’m listening. Go ahead.”

  “Again, I apologize for the late hour. However, Trebor from Corrinor came in asking about Primmitt and Evolni. The more we talked the more, we realized none of us had heard word from either town in ten years. He spoke of disappearances happening in Tutelage Pass. Supposedly, no one has returned from there in almost a decade, and the leaders of Southam are keeping it secret.”

  The creases and folds forming across the man’s face suggested he could not believe it. Jurren paused a moment. When the lines softened into acceptance, he continued.

  “That is not all. Rosamie overheard a wizard from the Great Northlands speaking of a shadow coming across the… the Avian Expanse... into Bondurant. He had visions of an evil coming this way. Between that and what happened last night, plus what Trebor told me, I think something much bigger is going on than a robbery gone wrong.”

  Shevenor set aside the lamp to push both palms against his eyes. After a hard rub, he ran his hands to the back of his head. It was a full minute before he made eye contact.

  His shoulders slumped. “You are sure of this? You believe them?”

  “Why else would I be here?”

  “Give me a moment.” Shevenor repeated his gesture of pressing against his eyes and gripping his head. “Come to think of it, I can’t remember the last time I heard news from Primmitt or Evolni. It’s been at least…”

  “Ten years.”

  “That’s not right. It can’t be right. It’s my job to keep up with the politics of this land. And not just Bondurant, but the lands that border ours. I had to have spoken to someone from there recently.”

  “I haven’t hunted there in almost ten years and couldn’t give you a reason why. None of this makes any real sense.”

  “Runners have already been sent to Southam and the other villages. I fear I may have placed them in danger.”

  “I am at your disposal, my lord.”

  Shevenor nodded as the sleep waxed out of his eyes. “Thank you, but I would rather you be available to me as a last resort in case this doesn’t go the way I hope. Your tracking skills precede you throughout Bondurant and the Great Northlands. Your involvement in this may serve me better if your association is not common knowledge.” His eyes darted back and forth, scanning an imaginary book. “I can’t believe it has taken me this long to see what was right before me.”

  “None of us have.”

  Several moments passed before Shevenor nodded again. “Good night, Jurren. Do me a favor and keep this between us until I send word to you.”

  He hesitated, wondering if it was prudent to ask why. Then again, knowing Shevenor wanted to hold onto him as a failsafe was an explanation in and of itself. “I will await your calling.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Tascana sat leaned back in the shelter of her hideout. High up in a ghostwood tree, far away from any path, with a scroll in her lap, she rested happily. Chance had afforded her the thrill of finding this place the week before her thirteenth birthday. Every day since then it had been her favorite place to be.

  How she wished she could tell her parents about the magic she learned from the scrolls she found here. Yet the secret made it all the more exciting. Besides, she didn’t really care about the laws of the wizards from the Great Northlands. It’s only illegal if you get caught, right?

  So far, she had studied for three years in total secrecy with no one being the wiser. Even her father (the famed tracker) hadn’t figured out where she went. It was perfect! Why would she want to wait year after year, studying book after book, hoping that someday the Grand Wizards would accept her into the Fortress of Erudition as an apprentice? Especially when a cache of magical scrolls happened to be waiting for her in this very tree. It was practically destiny for her to find them and learn how to translate their writing. Almost as if the magic within soaked into her by sheer will of the scrolls wanting to be discovered by her.

  The wall to the left held a series of small shelves carved by whoever gouged out this little refuge halfway up a ghostwood tree. One ledge held a stack of nine scrolls, a testament to the amount of magic she had studied. In her lap lay the tenth scroll with the eleventh one on a shelf by itself.

  This was the hard part. Watching the pile of ‘need to study’ slowly transfer to the ‘memorized’ stack had lost its thrill. Particularly now that the former pile was down to a single scroll. What would she do after she memorized the last one? Sure she could keep practicing, but to what end? Once she memorized the next scroll, there would be nothing else to learn. No one under the age of thirty was ever accepted by the Grand Wizards. Plus, if she did try to further her learning in Erudition, she would have to explain her skills. That was not something she planned on doing. Ever.

  Her hand paused then put the tenth scroll in the ‘memorized’ pile. At least memorizing also meant practicing, and for now, that was still something new. And her father’s rule to stay near the house while he was gone could only really be enforced if he was home. Until he got back from Kovarilos, Mother was powerless to keep her from these morning excursions.

  She poked her head outside and took a long, slow look around. Though her hideaway was only halfway up the tree, it was still a seventy foot drop to the ground. From this height, she could only listen for voices. So far, so good. Nothing more than the sound of chirping birds and insects.

  After the climb down, she was again grateful for the solitude of this place. Today’s practice would definitely require secrecy. This scroll was the one she had waited to get to since she first figured out how to translate the strange language. Each scroll had some aspect that built up to the next. The first taught her how to meditate and to recognize the difference between a dream and a prophetic vision. Next was learning how to interpret those visions. Right on up through simple telekinesis, controlling elements of weather, and now controlling animals.

  Looking left then right, she paused to listen again. Good, still no sign of anyone.

  She picked her way through the trees, tiptoeing as she went to keep from leaving a definite trail. If someone saw a path, they might find her tree, which might put her secret at risk.

  A dragonfly zoomed past her, darted to the right, then hovered in midair. The perfect candidate for a first try. Something small and simple.

  “Chawaefa sosan ohwa wihje.” The foreign words flowed from her tongue as if it were her native language.

  The dragonfly continued hovering. She extended her hand outward, and it rotated to face her. With slow movements, she gestured her hand up and down. The dragonfly mimicked every notion of her will. She turned and rotated her hand. It flew in a tight circle at the same speed as her gesture.

  A smile flashed into her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip to keep from swelling with pride. This was merely a first try. Not to mention she started with an extremely simple creature that had no true consciousness.

  She released the dragonfly with a verbal command and turned to look for something else. Not too big and not too dependent on instinct. Maybe a mouse or a rabbit.

  The sound of squirrels chirping their cheh-cheh-cheh echoed nearby. After several minutes of scanning, she found one leaning over a branch repeating the warning call from the first squirrel. She spoke the same words to it as she did to the dragonfly and got the same response. It sat motionless until directed by the movements of her hands. This time, she took it a step further and tried to use her own thoughts to dictate specific paths up and down the tree. The squirrel followed her every whim. Which was great, but again, it was too easy.

  Previous sessions of trying out a new skill had resulted in some interesting struggles. The hair on her neck still arched with chills when she thought back to the first time she summoned lightning. But that was over a year ago.

  Maybe she didn’t need to be cautious anymore. After all, she did learn this scroll in the fastest time yet. It took a mere three weeks to memorize. Since all the scrolls built upon the previous ones, she might be stronger than she real
ized.

  Yes, that had to be it. She was stronger without even knowing it. And with strength came power.

  Tascana started looking for something else to practice with. An animal with a little bit of cunning. A small bird? No, too much instinct, not enough free-will to give her a challenge. She paused a moment to look around. There had to be something living near here that would work. Going home to try the spell on their livestock was out of the question. Mother was much too nosey.

  A puff of reddish brown fur poked out from under a clumping of ferns.

  Yes! A fox was a perfect candidate. Now where were his eyes?

  A few fronds up and to the left rested the glint she hoped to find.

  “Chawaefa sosan ohwa wihje.”

  The fox sat motionless. Tascana took a few steps forward. Nothing. She chanced a few more. When she was within arm’s reach of the fox, she hunched down to get a better view of its face. Green eyes stared at her, void of any expression.

  Chills gushed through her. Alarm shattered along her veins, surging into her bones. It was as if her soul were reverting out of thought and reason. Images filled her mind that were not from her own eyes. The scent of human was strong, though she did not know how she knew what a human smelled like. Sounds of scurrying mice and twittering birds echoed as if they were right up against her ears. Tension pulsed inside her chest. More images, smells, and sounds came at her like a capsizing wave. She leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands. What was happening?

  A surge in her stomach combined with cold prickling in her cheeks. Something was wrong. The spell was supposed to give control. This was nothing like control. Tremors surged up and down her arms. She dug her hands into the earth, desperate for something to hold her steady.

  I can’t let go! I can’t… let… go! The words choked in her mind, unable to move her lips to form the sounds with her mouth.

  New sounds came into her ears. Something like the movement of feet through underbrush. It came from that way. Or was it that way?

  Tascana pulled hard into herself. If only she could catch her breath to somehow get this stupid spell to turn off. How was she supposed to cancel a spell if she couldn’t speak? The scrolls didn’t say anything about that!

  She pulled back repeatedly in an intellectual tug-of-war, trying from the core of her being to separate herself from the force connecting her to the fox.

  Wait.

  Was that the smell of a wolf?

  She paused her battle. The fox’s ears twitched back and forth. With each swipe, the sound in her ears shifted. Was she hearing through the fox’s ears?

  Its ears moved again, and so did the sound of feet walking through the forest. That was why she recognized the scent as a human and then a wolf. The fox knows these smells. Its mind had filled her own.

  She had to get out of there. Had to get herself out of the fox so she could get to safety. No way was another wolf taking a bite out of her!

  In her mind, she pictured herself shedding the influence of the fox like an old, wet garment. The sound in her ears lessened. She pulled harder and harder into herself, putting as much space as she could between the two of them mentally.

  The tremors in her arms slowed. Nausea faded into a dull ache. With a push of the hands, she staggered to her feet. A ghostwood stood to her right. She leaned against it long enough to take a few deep breaths then started to climb.

  Wolves were a tricky bunch. Though they could not scale a tree, they would wait for hours, even days, for prey to descend from its limbs. She had to get high enough to tuck out of sight. If they could see her, even a flap of her cloak, she would be in for a long night.

  After what happened with the fox, she didn’t dare try this spell on a wolf pack. If a fox could bring her to her knees, she could only imagine what something twice its size might do. Hiding was her only option.

  When she gained a safe distance, she chanced a glance at the ground. Still no sign of the wolves. Hopefully, that was a good thing. Her hand absently rubbed at her ankle.

  She found a place among the branches to position herself so she could see the forest floor through a gap in the leaves yet not be seen when the pack passed by. Had to be able to see the things to know for sure when they came and left. Pressing her cheek against a branch, she took a more detailed examination of the ground, breathing deep to get her lungs under control.

  For several long minutes, she looked around, waiting for the sound of rustling feet to approach. Then she noticed something. The fox was still sitting where she left it.

  What was it doing? Why wasn’t it running for cover too? Oh, that’s right! She never released the fox from the spell as she had the other animals. When the spell went wrong, she retreated back into herself without the words to end the connection.

  Since the fox was the only one of them who could hear the wolves coming, she guessed it might be worth a second try. Much more careful this time. No getting all excited and expecting it to be like controlling a dragonfly. Only a little bit in. Only enough to hear with the fox’s ears.

  As she probed her thoughts forward, a haze fell over her vision. Listening, she heard the thud, thud, thud of feet walking through the forest. How far away were they?

  She had rested in the tree for several more minutes. They may have stopped to rest at the same time. Surely the fox could not hear something advancing from so far away that it would take several minutes to get to them.

  Other images came into her mind, vague entities that gave her an awareness of the fox’s state. Somehow, she knew the fox was a male. She felt hunger. The faint scent of wolf. Then another smell. An odor that caused the fox to hunch down in preservation. A smell she felt she should remember. With less effort than before, she pulled back into herself.

  When the haze lifted from her eyes, she blinked hard then opened them to see someone walking through the ghostwoods. At least it looked like a person. From this angle, it was hard to tell exactly what it was.

  It stood erect like a man, but its arms were covered in gnarled, lumpy, dark gray skin. Long, pointed ears like a deer lay flat against the sides of its head. A thin line of wiry hair grew down the center of its head and neck, hanging down to the middle of its back.

  It walked behind a ghostwood, and she lowered her head to see where it might come out. On the other side, the creature stepped into a clearing that exposed it from head to toe. The bulk of its body was twice the dimensions of a normal man, muscles bulging with every movement. Its arms ended in hooked claws.

  The walking man-thing had claws!

  Thick, black hair grew on the lower half of its body. Were those clothes? Like fur pants? No, she could see how the hair thinned at the ankle. And something like a loincloth hung between its bowed legs. Then her eyes noticed the brownish-gray wolf hanging over its shoulder.

  The man-beast passed behind another ghostwood. Tascana chanced a tiny inhale to steady her clenched hands then waited. The creature passed the tree, took a few steps then stopped. Grayish skin turned toward her as the creature sniffed the air.

  Oh dear! Oh no! Oh, what now? Tascana dared not even move her hands to her head to help herself think. Just calm down. There is a spell in your head somewhere, just calm down enough to think of it.

  “A’n lenthan le trestal.”

  A breeze picked up, drawing air from the direction of the creature toward her. Good, it worked. Now she was downwind.

  With a grunt, the creature shrugged the wolf off its shoulder and turned a little more in her direction. It took several strides toward her. She clamped her eyes shut. Something inside her warned if she saw that thing’s eyes, she would scream.

  Calm down, think of another spell.

  She pushed her eyes far to the right behind clamped lids, then peered through strained slits. Enough details came through to make out that cluster of rocks she remembered seeing right before she spotted the fox the first time. With a telekinetic pull, she scattered the rocks a short distance.

  The creature lo
oked in the direction of the rocks, then back toward her.

  “Teck tuotan la marttey.” Tascana shrank back until her spine pressed into the trunk of the ghostwood.

  Closing her eyes again, she visualized herself becoming a part of the tree, willing the illusion of tree bark to expand around her until she was out of sight.

  She kept her eyes closed. Counting five heartbeats for every breath, she focused the last of her strength into slowing her breathing. Now six heartbeats. And then seven.

  Keep calm and eventually this thing will go away.

  The other smell she noticed when joined with the fox came back to her. A mix of decay and earth. A strangely familiar odor. Without thinking, she opened her eyes to place where it came from.

  At the base of the tree, with its head craned back to take in the full height along the trunk, the yellow eyes of a gray-skinned face peered up. The uneven texture of its features looked as though it were rubbed with poison ivy then splashed with boiling water. A blunt stub of a nose poked out like the stem on a rotted piece of fruit.

  Though she wanted desperately to scream, to run, to look away, all she could do was stare into those yellow eyes. That stubby nose wiggled beneath as he tested the air.

  The creature took a few steps back and stooped down, still looking up into the tree, almost as if he could see through her illusion. He sprang up and landed on the branch where she sat. An over twenty foot vertical leap with no effort!

  Fear clamped her eyes shut, then forced them back open in fascinated horror. What was this thing?

  Even while hunched over to balance on the branch, it looked to be over seven feet tall. Something that big, that strong, could crush her like a crust of bread. No doubt it probably took that wolf out with its bare hands. And those claws.

  The rotting smell was stronger now. A deep, acrid odor that caused bile to build in the back of her throat. With only six feet of space between them, she saw every detail of those yellow eyes. Green flecks mixed with golden tones like leaves at the onset of autumn. The pupils were slits, rather than circles, running diagonally across the eye from the eyebrow down to the nose. They gave a cold, glossy stare straight into her eyes. Not down at her chin, or up above her.