The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4)

by C. Craig Coleman

  The duke watched the man elbow his way through a sea of demoralized soldiers and palace staff. Courtiers and servants huddled like a human carpet across the subterranean floors. Eventually, he found a volunteer who would rather take his chances with the dragon than remain any longer in the musty dungeon. The duke shook the man’s hand, applauded his bravery, and sent the volunteer to make his way up through the Hadorhof and around the great plaza to Wizard Hendrel’s home. The rest waited, first shuffling about, hopeful this turn of events might bring relief, then settling back down under a blanket of despair.

  After waiting another day, Jedrac turned to the chatra. “I think we must assume the man fell victim to Magwaddle. Find another volunteer to search for the wizard.”

  *

  Eventually, they located Hendrel and brought him to the Hadorhof. Though a military target, the castilyernov was better fortified than the city homes. Hendrel wanted to bring his family with him, but his wife refused to budge outside the shop’s stone front. He left her and the two boys, Meklin and Hendrel Jr., and went to assist the duke in the city’s defense.

  *

  The soldier led Hendrel to the grand entrance, bowed to the duke, and left to find his family again in the cellars below.

  “Good evening and thank you for coming, Wizard Hendrel,” Duke Jedrac said, meeting him in the deserted audience hall. He decided at the last moment to abandon formality, come down from his throne, and reach out to the wizard personally. He crossed the strangely silent chamber. Only an overturned high back chair by the entrance and bits of abandoned clutter scattered around the floor dispelled the notion of an abandoned museum.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” Hendrel said as he crossed the floor and bowed.

  I suppose he remembers his incarceration in the dungeon before Saxthor rescued him, thought the duke. He shook Hendrel’s hand and held it firmly, putting his other hand gently on the wizard’s shoulder. He led the wizard to chairs at the side of the great hall. An edgy servant, repeatedly glancing about, rushed up carrying a small tray with a wine vessel and two goblets. He then darted away to safety without waiting to be dismissed.

  “What may I do to help your grace in this hour of extreme crisis?” Hendrel asked. “I’m just a low level wizard. I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

  The duke again took Hendrel’s hand and shook it twice, holding it as if afraid the wizard would run away. “We’re in great need of any help you might provide, Hendrel. As I’m sure you’re aware, the dragon Magwaddle vaporized our court wizard. I’ll not pretend otherwise. We need some solution to this dragon’s reign of terror. Will you assume the position and responsibility of court wizard?” the duke asked. He squeezed Hendrel’s hand.

  Hendrel withdrew his hand and stood up, looking down at the still seated duke. A stance both were aware would never have happened were the duke still in control of the city’s fate.

  “Your Grace, I’m but a poor wizard apprenticed to the great Wizard Memlatec of Neuyokkasin. I have no powers that can confront Magwaddle,” Hendrel replied. “What solution can I offer?”

  He’s fearful he’s inadequately prepared for such a task, the duke thought. Hendrel protected Prince Saxthor on his adventure, but to confront a great dragon determined to destroy the city is out of his league. Jedrac stood facing Hendrel. “We respect your reservations, but in this hour of extreme need, all citizens are called upon to contribute whatever talents they may have in Hador’s defense. We only ask that you do what you can to fend off the dragon.” The duke looked Hendrel in the eye. He cupped his arm around Hendrel’s shoulder. “Come with us above to the Hador Pass,” the duke said, his tone more urgent. The muffled sound of crashing stone somewhere in the city pierced the hall.

  “Very well, but I have no idea what I can do to help.” Hendrel walked beside the duke. At the staircase behind the audience hall, the chatra joined them and followed up the circular stairs to the levels above.

  Jedrac stepped silently to the great bronze doors shut tight against the dragon’s flames. With the slightest of pressure, he made one of the pair slide out a tad so a crack appeared between the doors. Sunrise shot through into the dark interior of the great room of Hador Pass. He turned back to Hendrel and pointed through the crack. “Look there on the mountain peak just to the northeast of Hador.”

  Hendrel stepped to the bronze doors and peered through the crack into the morning light streaking over the mountains through the haze. When Hendrel’s eyes adjusted to the light, both looked at the massive, bronze plated Dragon Magwaddle perched atop the mountain.

  The leviathan was waking and licking his wounds from the attacks some days before. Then the beast stopped and stared at Hador. The sight chilled the duke. He noted Hendrel shudder next to him. Apparently not seeing what he was looking for, the dragon returned to his preening and stopped to scratch something that irritated his thick hide beneath the heavy plating.

  “He is quite a monster isn’t he?” Hendrel said rhetorically. “He’s nearly as large as the small mountain he sits on.”

  The duke sighed in agreement. He looked at the chatra, then at Hendrel, but the wizard’s silence offered no encouragement or hope.

  Hendrel stepped back from the cracked door and faced the duke, glanced at the chatra, and then back at the duke. “I could do no more than annoy the dragon,” Hendrel said to the two men.

  The duke closed the massive metal door and stepped away back into the room.

  “Very well, but we appoint you court wizard nonetheless and order you to keep in touch with us in case we can find some use for you.” The duke’s authoritative tone revealed desperation. Then, not wanting to frighten the wizard away, he turned back to him. “Hador, all Hador, needs any help you can offer.” The duke nodded to the chatra, then disappeared down the staircase, leaving the chatra with Hendrel.

  *

  In his new capacity as court wizard, Hendrel remained with the chatra that day, touring the fortress beneath the dragon’s screams. He crept back around the plaza under the cover of darkness after the dragon departed for the night. He’d hoped to make it home before other evil things came out with the night, searching the city for victims. In the shadows, he saw a telltale black vapor in the night wind slip under a dark door. I hope no one is in there, he thought.

  He hurried along and returned to his shop, noting no sound came from his neighbor’s shop-house. Uncertain as to knock and inquire or not, a scream from the next block startled him. He turned to his own shop door, fumbled with the lock, hurried through his door, closed, locked, and sealed the crack beneath, thinking of the wraith he’d just seen. Only then did he light a single candle.

  I hope my family is all right. He turned to the stairs and whispered up, calling for Persnella.

  “We’re okay,” she answered from the family apartment above, where muffled rattling revealed she searched for something. “We were worried sick about you being gone all day. I just knew the duke had thrown you in the dungeon again.”

  Relieved, Hendrel wandered about in the small magic shop, picking up this jar and that box, looking again at each item on the shelves. “Is there nothing here that could help combat the dragon,” he mumbled.

  “What’s that you say, dear,” Persnella responded, looking down from above.

  “I have a vision of the beast waiting for our neighbors to succumb to starvation and hopelessness. I must do something to stop the dragon. I feel so useless.” He scanned the whole room. “These shop tricks are merely for entertainment in more peaceful times.” He turned to the sound of footsteps.

  Stooped to protect her head on the stairs, Persnella came down to the shop from their living quarters above.

  “What’s that you say?” Persnella asked before looking at Hendrel. “I was looking for one of Meklin’s toys. He’s been terrified huddling back in the shadows all day. He needs his stuffed bear he left upstairs somewhere.”

  She looked up at Hendrel looking at her. Silent for once, she crossed the f
loor and entwined both arms around Hendrel’s right arm and snuggled next to him, head on his shoulder. Their two sons slipped down the stairs shortly thereafter.

  Hendrel put his free hand on Persnella, rubbing her shoulder.

  “I’m so angry I didn’t get you out of the city before the tunneling and attacks began. Now I can’t do anything to stop the dragon or help the city.” As he talked with Persnella, Hendrel absent-mindedly watched Hendrel Jr. scratch.

  “Stop that, Son,” Hendrel said.

  “These fleas are eating me alive, Father,” the boy said, protesting the admonishment.

  “Fleas! Persnella!” Hendrel exclaimed, casting a deeply furrowed brow to her. “Fleas,” he repeated, then looked off in thought.

  “What can I do?” Persnella groaned. “We’re trapped in here and can’t bathe the children or really clean this place. What is it? What’s come over you?”

  Suddenly, Hendrel turned and began searching under the counter for some misplaced item.

  “What are you looking for?” Persnella asked but got no response. “Can I help you find something, Hendrel?” Items rattled under the counter in response.

  “Didn’t we have some powdered dragon’s scale here somewhere?” the wizard asked, searching frantically. “I need some powdered dragon scale, if we have any of that,” he replied, still messily poking through the inventory beneath the counter, not looking up.

  “Stand back, dear,” she said, pushing him out of the way before he overturned everything in the shop. She moved several boxes and handed him a dusty, plain canister. On the side it was clearly marked, “Powered Dragon Scale.” Persnella carefully straightened the boxes Hendrel had scrambled to return the shop’s simple order she kept in his absence. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No, except for one of the spell books upstairs,” the wizard replied as he turned and bound up the stairs at double step pace like a child to a treat.

  “Well, he certainly has found something that interests him,” he heard Persnella tell her sons. “Come to bed boys, I’ll tell you about anything you miss tomorrow.”

  Hendrel reappeared with his spell book, a sack of ingredients, and hurried to the shop door, only stopping to kiss his wife good-bye as he passed.

  “Close, lock, and stuff ravensbane branches under the door when I leave. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Should anything happen to me, the duke will take care of you and the children, but try to get to Neuyokkasin and Wizard Memlatec.”

  *

  Persnella stood with her mouth open behind the closed shop door after Hendrel left. She hadn’t even had time to ask what he was up to or when to expect him back. When she recovered from the shock, she locked the door as instructed and put the children to bed in a more secure spot above. She’d grown used to his disappearing in the night without a clue as to when to expect his return. Mother warned me about marrying an apprentice wizard, she thought, shaking her head. I should have listened to her.

  *

  Hendrel made his way back through the city to the Hadorhof and was immediately admitted. Few people venture out in the city now and most of those are never seen again, he thought as the guard pushed the heavy door shut and clanged down the iron shaft across it. He must know I have urgent business with the duke.

  The guard escorted the wizard through the fortress to find Jedrac, who rushed to embrace Hendrel, arms clasping arms.

  “Have you found a solution?” the duke asked. His eyes sparkled; it was the first time Hendrel noted hope in the duke’s countenance.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Your Grace. It’s a long shot.”

  “Well, what do you propose?” Jedrac asked. He squeezed Hendrel’s arm firmly.

  I wonder if he thinks I might try to escape, Hendrel thought.

  Jedrac led Hendrel to a nearby table, motioning him to sit.

  “I really don’t want to raise false hopes. What I have in mind only has a slight possibility of success. I’m embarrassed to suggest it; it seems so ridiculous.”

  The duke shot back in his chair as if afraid of catching something. “What do you mean?” He stared at Hendrel.

  “Will you have someone lead me to the wizard’s workshop? I need a few things I didn’t have at my shop.”

  Jedrac hesitated, then nodded once, his lips slightly pursed. “I’ll have to trust your judgment.”

  Clearly the duke is accustomed to having the facts and making all the decisions. This out-of-his-control situation is new to him, thought Hendrel.

  “Chatra, escort our new sorcerer to the wizard’s workrooms, and put a cohort of soldiers at his disposal,” the duke ordered. His voice firmed with resolve. Jedrac slapped his resolute hand on the table, like a judge a gavel, and rose, leaving to attend to whatever he’d been doing when Hendrel unexpectedly appeared.

  *

  In the wizard’s workroom, Hendrel quickly scanned the room for contents and especially ingredients the unfortunate former occupant might have stored for future use. The room was quite well stocked with two walls of component cabinets and things in jars, bottles, boxes, and buckets around on the floor. Hendrel began to search for something, then stopped to send a soldier, fidgeting at the door, for two things.

  “You there! Find me a bucket of blood, any blood so long as it isn’t human blood.” With one hand on the man’s shoulder, he pushed the soldier out the door.

  “Blood?” the soldier repeated. He recovered and headed down the tower stairs.

  “Check with the kitchen, they may have saved blood for a pudding,” he yelled down to the hesitant trooper. Hendrel turned to the other soldiers, standing by the door.

  “All the rest of you, go door to door, search the city. Bring back any reptiles you can find, you know, lizards, snakes, that sort of thing. Bring them back alive, and don’t handle them too much!”

  The soldiers hesitated, looking back and forth at each other as if hoping someone else could make sense of the order. Then they looked at the wizard, slapped hands on sword hilts, stood at attention, and without a word, rushed off single file down the tower’s spiral staircase.

  Hendrel turned back into the workroom. I’m not used to giving orders to soldiers, and they aren’t used to taking orders from a wizard, he thought. I guess we’re all acting on good faith now.

  “With the men off on their missions, Hendrel busied himself with setting up the cauldron and lighting a fire in the sooty fireplace. Into the cauldron, the wizard tossed the contents of two vials he’d brought with him, several liquids from bottles he found in a cabinet, and various dried animal parts from the cabinets about the room. The fire settled into coals in a bed of ash, and slowly, the cauldron heated with its contents bubbling in a simmer. Hendrel adjusted the pot a bit back from the fire so the brew wouldn’t cook too quickly. In the room’s new warmth, he began scanning the shelves for one spell book he was sure the former wizard would have there.

  The first soldier, his face scrunched in disgust, returned cautiously, watching the required blood slosh in its bucket. He handed it over to Hendrel, who poured the contents into the pot.

  “That looks nasty,” the soldier said. Apparently realizing he was out of place, judging or commenting, he moved back outside the door to await further orders.

  The goop in the pot simmered for several hours before the other soldiers returned with an assortment of reptiles in as varied an assortment of cages. Hendrel stacked the cages, their occupants to await their part in the plan. From the sickened faces, Hendrel knew the sight of the bubbling pot with its black goopy contents disgusted the soldiers, but they stood in the doorway, ready in case the wizard needed further assistance. Hendrel grinned at their sheepishness. He continued working without a word. He’d been grinding and polishing a glass while he waited for the soldiers to return, and now it was about what he wanted. He moved it up and down over a paper, and it magnified the words just as the sorcerer had hoped. He went to the door. “I need you in here in pairs.”


  “Pairs you say?” the lead soldier questioned. He looked back at the others.

  Hendrel grabbed the first man’s arm and led him into the workroom to the massive table. The others followed, reluctant feet shuffling.

  “Each pair of you, one take a cage, the other grab hold of the reptile, being careful not to rub the body. Just hold the animal behind the head.” The soldiers looked at each other. “Using these glasses, search each animal’s skin for parasites, you know, fleas, mites, lice; and using these picks, flick the things in these jars.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” interrupted one befuddled soldier. “Did you say we was to pick them iddy-biddy nasty little things off lizards and snakes and put them in the jars?”

  “That’s right, and don’t harm them either,” Hendrel said. He continued as the soldiers looked at each other and snickered. Hendrel shot them a stern look as he thought a military leader would use to intimidate his troops. “Do it!” His tone was serious.

  The soldiers looked at the reptiles and each other, dismayed.

  “I need the parasites as quickly as possible.” Hendrel glanced at the soldiers watching him. “Quickly!” They’re looking for signs of joking, he thought. After a moment of looking at each other to see who would be the first to fall for the joke, the soldiers split up in pairs. Each took a glass and they passed out the cages to begin their search for the minuscule parasites.

  Hendrel stirred the cauldron, checking to be sure the contents didn’t burn. Then searching, he found the spell book he knew would be there. The first soldier yelled that he’d found a mite. The others crowded around to see what they were looking for.

  “Here, stir this for me,” Hendrel commanded the closest soldier. The man was hesitant, but Hendrel slapped the spoon in his hand and pushed him over by the cauldron. Being a soldier, the man moved a step closer, and shaking his head, began stirring the black goop in the pot. Hendrel took down a mildewed old book from a cabinet’s top shelf and began to read.

  “Do we still have one of the catapults in working order?” Hendrel asked.