The Dragons of Argent and Silver (Tales from the New Earth #6)

by J. J. Thompson

  The mage light rose and grew brighter as it traveled, lighting up the thick smoke rising from the burning grass and brush.

  “I can't see a damned thing,” Simon said as he leaned against the top of the wall, straining to catch any signs of movement.

  “Kronk, where are the other earthen? Do you know?”

  “Yes master. I can feel them through the stone,” the little guy replied. “They are returning now. Have you given them permission to pass through the warding?”

  “I did, yes. I'll want a full report from them when they get back.”

  “Of course, master. I shall go and meet them.”

  Kronk tapped away and Simon heard him hopping down the ladder.

  “Aeris, can you see anything? Anything at all?”

  “Nothing yet. I'd be happy to go over and check it out though.”

  Simon glanced at him and smiled at his obvious eagerness.

  “Fine, but stay out of reach, okay? Take no chances.”

  The elemental began to rise up.

  “Yes Mother. Will do.”

  The wizard snorted and Aeris laughed lightly as he flew off.

  “I've taught him some bad habits,” Simon muttered.

  He pushed the hair out of his eyes, rested his staff against the wall and watched the distant scene closely.

  “Wish I'd brought my mirror with me.”

  The night had grown eerily quiet and Simon wondered whether his hearing had been damaged from the shockingly loud Lightning Storm spell. He touched his ear and examined his fingertips. Blood. Not much, but it was disturbing.

  Whoever had invented that spell was a maniac, he thought. When the hell would you even use it except in an extreme situation like he had just been facing?

  His mage light was becoming clearer as it shone down on the field. The smoke was slowly dissipating. He'd be able to get a better view soon.

  “Master!” Kronk shouted from behind him.

  Simon squinted at the ground behind the wall but it was too dark to see.

  “Damn it,” he said irritably and conjured another globe of light. He sent it back toward the tower and it lit up the inner yard.

  Kronk was standing there with two other earthen. In the uneven light the three looked like small animated piles of coal.

  “What is it?” he called down to them. “Where are the others?”

  Before Kronk could answer, the wizard heard Aeris calling from outside the wall.

  “Simon! Seal the wards! Seal them now!”

  Aeris hardly ever used his name and when he did, it was usually to get his immediate attention.

  The wizard spun around and saw the air elemental streaking toward him, glowing brightly as he burned across the distance from the field.

  “What's wrong?” he shouted as he grabbed his staff.

  “Master, he's right. Seal the wards. Now!”

  Two things happened simultaneously. A muted thump shook the wall as if something had exploded underground and the crater, which he could finally see again, boiled over with undead clawing their way to the surface, pushing aside the remains of the others destroyed by his spell.

  And from overhead, a piercing shriek, like the cry of a huge eagle, shook the air. Simon looked upward and gaped in shock.

  Something huge was diving down at the tower, something surrounded by purple flames. But it wasn't a dragon. There were no scales, no leathern wings to catch the wind, none of the savage beauty that even his draconian enemies had always had.

  Instead, an impossible creature was on the attack. Bones, sinew and eye sockets filled with violet fire. A dracolich.

  Chapter 21

  Simon stared at the descending monstrosity, frozen with shock and fear.

  What could he do to counter something like that?

  “Damn it, wizard!” Aeris yelled as he got closer. “Get to the roof and seal the wards!”

  The roof? Simon blinked and tried to focus. The roof. Right.

  He looked up at the tower, raised Mortis de Draconis and concentrated.

  “Gate!”

  He stumbled as he appeared in the center of the roof, next to the pedestal that held the two ward stones. He risked a glance up at the attacking nightmare and wished that he hadn't. The undead dragon looked huge as it dropped from the black sky wreathed in nightmarish flames. It would be on them in seconds.

  Simon put his right hand on the wards, grounded his staff and, for the first time since he had trapped the green dragon, sealed his tower off completely.

  An opaque shell, similar to his personal shield spell but surrounding the entire tower and grounds out to the outer wall, appeared with a loud crackle of static. The wizard looked up in time to see the dracolich veer off with a scream of rage and he shuddered with relief.

  “Well, that was a close one.”

  The wizard glanced at Aeris as he wiped his forehead off on his sleeve. The elemental had flown up and over the edge of the roof to join him.

  “No kidding. Where the hell did that thing come from?”

  “The city, obviously. This necromancer is more powerful than I would have thought possible. Few of his ilk have ever been able to raise a dragon from the dead.”

  They both watched as the undead monster began to slowly circle the tower, occasionally bellowing its rage.

  “I wonder where he found the bones?” Aeris added.

  “At a guess, I'd say it was the remains of the primal brown. The size is about right.”

  “Really? But you killed that beast far to the south.”

  Simon leaned on his staff, feeling his body's weakness now that the shock had passed. He looked at the elemental grimly.

  “So? If I can Gate from one place to the next, surely that guy can as well. And if he's working for the dark gods, they could have easily guided him to the body, or what was left of it.”

  “That's possible, I suppose.”

  The trap door leading inside rose with a squeal and Kronk and the other two earthen popped out from below.

  “Master, you sealed the wards in time!”

  “Fortunately, yes.”

  Simon frowned at the little group.

  “The others?”

  “Gone, my lord,” one of the earthen answered. “Destroyed. There are wraiths directing the undead. We did not know this until it was too late. They overwhelmed our brethren.”

  “Wraiths?” Simon looked at Aeris. “What's a wraith? It sounds familiar.”

  “Oh, come now, my dear wizard. You must have read about them when you were researching the undead, no?”

  “Just remind me, Aeris,” Simon replied with exasperation at the elemental's superior tone. “I've done a lot of reading about those things lately.”

  “Fine. Wraiths are undead, but they are different from those animated corpses and bones below. They are damned souls brought back by dark magic. They retain some of their native intelligence and often act as lieutenants for necromancers. They have a material core but are essentially horrific spirits rather than actual physical creatures. Ring a bell now?”

  “Vaguely. So they've organized the walking corpses? Lovely. Guys,” Simon said as he looked at Kronk and the others. “I am so sorry for your loss. If I'd known how dangerous it was, I never would have sent you out there.”

  “There is no need to apologize, master,” Kronk told him. “We serve you and, if necessary, die for you because we choose to. My fellows, if they were still here, would say the same. We mourn their loss, yes, but we are proud of their actions.”

  Simon rubbed his irritated eyes carefully; they felt swollen and gritty.

  “So am I, Kronk. So am I,” he replied solemnly. “If you two are up to it,” he said to the surviving earthen, “I could really use you back down on the wall, patrolling. If you want to, that is.”

  “We are honored, sir wizard,” one of them answered proudly.

  Both earthen bowed in unison and jumped down through the trap door.

  “Thank you, master,” Kronk said
. “It pleases them to serve.”

  “I know, bud. And I'm lucky to have them.”

  “Okay then. Can we conclude this love fest and address our immediate problems please?” Aeris asked with his usual lack of tact.

  Simon glowered at him and the air elemental returned the look.

  “Don't scowl at me,” he said and pointed at the enormous dracolich still circling the tower. “Focus on that and,” he gestured below, “them. You know that with the wards completely sealed, you will run out of oxygen in a few hours. You'd best come up with a plan before that happens.”

  Simon looked down and felt a swooping sensation in his stomach. More undead were streaming out of the crater; a lot more.

  “My God, how many did he raise?”

  “No idea, master. He must have been at it for months. There can't be an undisturbed corpse within many miles of the city.”

  “All for me? I suppose I should be flattered.”

  “Don't be,” Aeris told him. “You may be their first target but you aren't their only one. I'm sure our bear-human neighbors are on the hit list as well as any Changlings that they can find. Perhaps you should take a minute to contact Nottinghill Castle? Warn them?”

  “Good idea. I'll go in and do that. Do me a favor and keep an eye on that bastard, would you?” Simon asked and nodded at the undead dragon.

  “I intend to. And you do me a favor in return and think of a way out of this. I'd hate to see you brought low by the remains of a dragon that you've already killed. Somehow it lacks...dignity.”

  Simon had to laugh at that absurd statement and made his way inside and down the ladder. Kronk followed him and they hurried to the study.

  The wizard lit all of the candles with a flick of his power and left Mortis de Draconis leaning against the wall. He sat down at his desk and picked up the mirror.

  After he'd cast the Magic Mirror spell and was waiting for it to make the connection with Tamara, he looked down at Kronk who had hopped up on to the desk.

  “I know that we're in a bad situation here, and this may sound a bit nuts, but could you do me an enormous favor and make some tea? It's weird, I know, but it helps me think. Plus I need a little caffeine. The body's getting a bit tired.”

  “Of course, master. I should have thought of that. But perhaps coffee would be better in these circumstances? There is more caffeine in coffee, isn't there?”

  “Ah, that sounds lovely. Make it coffee then. Thanks Kronk.”

  “You are welcome, master. I will be back shortly.”

  The mirror cleared as Kronk left the room and Simon focused on the view.

  He was looking at Tamara as she paced the high outside wall of the castle. The scene was lit weakly by the approaching dawn and people were running around in a frantic but still organized way.

  The mage was wearing a long cloak over her robes and the wind was blowing the black garment around her like an angry cloud. It matched her expression.

  “Man the bloody ballistae,” she shouted furiously. “Move your asses! Those things don't care if you're half asleep; they'll kill you just as dead.”

  What the hell was going on, Simon wondered fearfully.

  He waited, not wanting to interrupt the woman as she barked orders to her people. He smiled involuntarily as Malcolm and Aiden appeared and hurried up to Tamara. The three conferred for a minute and then the men ran off in separate directions.

  As she stood there, hands on hips, Simon decided to make contact.

  “Tamara? Can you hear me?”

  She barely quivered as she recognized his voice.

  “Simon. Yes, I hear you. What is it? We're a little busy here.”

  “What's going on?”

  “A moment,” she said and cupped her hands around her mouth.

  “Don't wait for the perfect shot, you fools! Shoot and reload, shoot and reload!” she yelled at someone out of sight of the mirror.

  “Go ahead,” she continued as she trotted over to the edge of the wall and looked down with a scowl.

  “Who's attacking you?” Simon asked quickly.

  “The undead that you warned us about, the ones in London. Apparently the necromancer running the show moved them under cover of darkness almost to our gates. For dead people, they must run like deer. The sun is coming up though, so the attack won't last much longer.”

  She smiled coldly as she saw something below that pleased her.

  “Did you know that the old ways of defending a castle work well against ground-based attackers?”

  “Such as?”

  “Boiling oil. The skeletons melt like snow when soaked in it. Follow along and I'll show you. Or you could, you know, Gate over and give us a hand.”

  Her voice took on an edge and Simon shook his head at her sudden temper. She was a hard woman to like sometimes.

  “I'm under attack myself, Tamara,” he told her.

  She stopped abruptly and stared straight into his eyes. Apparently his image had appeared near her.

  “You are? By whom or what?”

  “Same as you. Undead. Lots and lots of undead. My wards are holding them back for now but dawn is hours away here. And they aren't the main problem anyway.”

  “Meaning?”

  A shriek echoed from the mirror and the mage spun around, whipped the wand off of her belt and shot a volley of magic missiles at something that flew past overhead.

  “What the hell was that?” he asked wide-eyed.

  “Use your damned mirror and see for yourself,” she snapped. “I'm not a tour guide!”

  He adjusted the spell and the mirror's view pulled back from the wall and soared up over the castle. Glowing purple shapes were soaring and dipping around the walls, streaking down to attack and then veering off as the ballistae shot their missiles at them.

  “What are those?” he asked, still in contact with Tamara. “Birds?”

  “According to my learned brother, they are, or were, wyverns. Now they're just flying skeletons. How nuts is that? A mythical creature attacking would be bad enough, but we have undead mythical creatures attacking. If they hadn't carried off three of my people, I'd be tempted to laugh.”

  The wyverns looked the way Simon imagined huge eagles would look, if the flesh was stripped from their bones. They were disgusting and fascinating at the same time.

  “Our arrows and ballista bolts are enchanted, so they can harm the things. But they move so bloody fast that it's hard to hit them. I think they'll be retreating soon though. The sun is rising. Now, what else is attacking you?”

  Simon returned the mirror's focus to Tamara and it zoomed down toward her so quickly that he felt his stomach clench.

  “Believe it or not, the tower's under attack by a dracolich.”

  “A dra... What the hell is that?”

  “An undead dragon. In this case, it's an undead primal. I believe it's the body of the primal brown dragon. It's circling the tower and the only thing keeping it out are my wards.”

  He tried to loosen his shoulders and sat back, taking a deep breath.

  “Unfortunately the wards are locked so tightly that not even air can get through. I'll have to drop them in an hour or two and that's long before dawn.”

  “Oh. Crap. Sorry, Simon. Forgive my snarkiness. It's easy to forget that others are having troubles too, when your people are being attacked.”

  “Nothing to forgive. You care about the inhabitants of Nottinghill Castle. So do I. And if I could help you right now, I would. I just called to warn you, but since that's obviously redundant, all I can do right now is to wish you luck.”

  “Same to you, my friend.”

  Tamara ducked as a flash of white obscured Simon's view of her for a second. A quivering scream made him jump and then he watched as the mage unleashed more magic missiles at the attacking wyvern.

  “Keep in touch,” she shouted and then raced off toward a group of guardsmen who were waving frantically at her.

  Simon watched for another moment, shook his
head and canceled the spell. He put down the mirror and glowered at it.

  “If Tamara and her people can take on a dozen undead wyverns, surely I can cope with one stupid dracolich,” he muttered.

  He stood up and snorted at his own statement. Ridiculous thing to say, really.

  As he left the study, staff in hand, Kronk called up from below.

  “Coffee is ready, master.”

  Drinking coffee in the middle of an attack. Well done, Simon, his inner voice said sardonically. How about some biscuits to go with it?

  “How about you shut up?” he told it as he hurried downstairs. For some reason, that voice always sounded like one of his old bosses.

  He trotted across the room to the counter, took the cup from Kronk and sipped it.

  “Ah, wonderful. Thanks, Kronk. I really needed this.”

  “My pleasure, master. What news from Nottinghill?”

  Simon told the little guy about the attack on the castle as he drank the coffee. He burned his tongue a bit but felt more alert and grounded when he was done. He left the cup in the sink and both he and Kronk hurried back up to the roof.

  As he climbed outside, a screech of mindless hatred shook the air.

  “Hey, it spotted you,” Aeris called out. “Mister Popularity, that's what we should call you.”

  “Do you mind?” Simon said as he joined the elemental. “What's it doing?”

  “Circling, watching, being all ugly and stuff. The usual.”

  Aeris' bantering tone changed and he became serious.

  “What is happening at Nottinghill Castle?”

  “They're under attack as well. The castle's walls are holding back the horde for now, but they have their own airborne threats. Undead wyverns, if you can believe that. Tamara and her forces are fending them off and dawn is breaking there, but they've lost some people. Damn it.”

  “So this is a coordinated attack on both you and Nottinghill?” Aeris asked in surprise. “But that means that the necromancers are in contact with each other. Oh, that's bad.”

  “Worse than this?” Kronk asked as he hopped up on to the parapet and pointed at the circling monster.

  “I'd say so. Remember, we've seen at least a dozen groups of undead gathered in cities around the world. If the necromancers from Ottawa and London are on the attack, that might mean that the others are as well.”