The Saint of Dragons

by Jason Hightman

  Aldric winced as he dabbed his hurt leg with a piece of torn cloth. “I’d love to hear about it, but my son decided to impale me a few times, and the pain has me a bit distracted.”

  Simon felt awful. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Twice. Twice you didn’t mean it,” murmured Aldric.

  The boy could think of no response. He couldn’t have felt more worthless. Everything his father feared about him was coming true. He was almost more dangerous than their enemy.

  Even Alaythia could not defend him.

  Aldric shook his head. “It’s all right. Just take responsibility for your own failures and let’s move on.”

  “The wind took my shot off course,” Simon said, his eyes stinging. He fought hard against the tears.

  “Am I going to get to talk?” asked Alaythia, mercifully pulling Aldric’s attention away from Simon.

  “After I clean up some of this trash,” said Aldric, wandering away.

  Alaythia looked at Simon. “Where’s he going?”

  They watched in curiosity as Aldric crossed to the canal and pulled at a heap of trash, some leftover clothing blown around in the storm. Then they both realized at once it was not a heap of trash, but a man. Aldric was pulling a person out of the canal, one of the henchmen who’d attacked them.

  “Open your eyes, you coward,” warned the Knight.

  Aldric held him firm. The man struggled, kicking back.

  “Dad, your leg,” said Simon.

  “I’m all right,” said Aldric, shaking the thug by the collar. “But he won’t be, if he doesn’t tell us where the Dragon went off to.”

  The thug spoke some English. “I don’t know anything!”

  “How would you like a taste of steel?” said Aldric, pulling out his sword.

  “I not want,” said the thug. “But I have no clue where he go to.”

  Simon decided a bribe might be faster. And more peaceful. From his coat he pulled out a gem that he’d batted away from his face at the jeweler’s shop.

  “How about a diamond in exchange for what you know?” said Simon, flashing a sparkling oval in the man’s face.

  “Stay out of this,” barked his father.

  “Don’t worry—I didn’t steal it. It fell into my pocket,” Simon explained. It was true, but it didn’t sound very good.

  The thug was delighted with the gem. “The master, he gave out word, if anything go wrong, we were to finish the job for him,” he said, “and eliminate the Englishman. We were just following orders. All I know, we get paid from the mansion near the Santa Lucia church.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Alaythia interrupted. “Next to the church where all that supernatural stuff was happening, I found a huge mansion, and when I got close to it, my head started to hurt like you wouldn’t believe. And I started remembering things, in flashes. About my apartment, about the fire. I remember you tried to warn me. I remember seeing something in the fire, an animal, a creature of some kind. I remembered all of this, and then I just got a terrible sense right here in my gut. Something’s happening in that mansion. Something evil.”

  Aldric let go of the man. He plucked the diamond from Simon’s hand and plugged it into the thug’s mouth. They were starting to gather attention from onlookers. Simon and Alaythia followed Aldric in a quick getaway, but the thug stayed there, staring at his captured jewel. He was still looking at it when the police showed up and gave him the blame for the entire jewelry shop robbery.

  Simon, Aldric, and Alaythia hurried down a narrow alley. “The mansion is where the Beast lives,” said Aldric. “The whole operation starts from there.”

  “You’re not going after that thing in your condition, are you?” worried Alaythia.

  “What condition? I’ll be fine.”

  Simon shook his head in disbelief. Alaythia badgered Aldric all the way back to the ship, insisting he get medical help. He ignored her, changing his tattered clothes and replenishing his weapons.

  He ignored Alaythia’s offer to make an herbal remedy, instead taking out a red elixir bottle, which he called a magician’s salve. He spread the red gooey substance on his injuries, and, before Simon’s eyes, they began fading away.

  “That’s amazing—what’s it made of?” asked Alaythia.

  “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he answered. “It heals anything. But there isn’t much left, and I don’t fancy using it up on wounds my own son gave me.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Simon. “I keep telling you, I’m better with a sword anyway.”

  As Aldric shuffled hurriedly around the cabin preparing supplies, Alaythia sat down and regarded the Dragon medallion, waiting for him to notice her.

  Simon watched her grow frustrated. When Aldric finally settled down to lace up his boots, Alaythia tapped the medallion casually. “Turns out it doesn’t say much at all.”

  Aldric looked at her sharply. “You can read it?”

  She nodded.

  “And when did this come about?”

  “I nearly died back there,” replied Alaythia. “I couldn’t get any air. I came out of the water, and…things were just different. I’m not sure how. Brighter in a way, I guess. Anyway, I think I can understand the Dragon language. Parts of it, anyhow.”

  Simon watched Aldric take this in. “It’s not unheard of. A near-death experience can sometimes bring about insights. Amplifications.”

  She looked at the medallion. “It must have helped this time. Some of this actually makes sense to me.” She seemed to realize Aldric was itching to know what.

  He practically shouted. “What does it say?”

  “‘The Mark of the Serpent of Venice,’” she read. “‘Long May He Haunt the Waters.’ Something, something, and then, ‘Token of His Esteem.’”

  Aldric looked less than thrilled. It was useless information. “Well, at least your understanding is growing.”

  Leaving the ship, they crossed town quickly and found their way to the Dragon’s lair.

  The mansion lay across from an old church, near the canal. If there was any doubt that a Dragon was present, a careful glance at the surroundings ended that. The vines and gardens had gone out of control here, choking out sunlight by creeping over the mansion, covering even the windows. Simon looked down. All across the stone street were the brown carcasses of dead beetles.

  There was no question.

  The beast lived here.

  “We’re not going in there without a weapon, are we?” said Simon in disbelief. “We don’t have the torches, and we don’t have his deathspell!”

  “That’s why we have to go in,” said Aldric.

  “But that thing’s too powerful!”

  “Son, don’t you observe anything?” Aldric grumbled. “The Dragon fled from us.”

  “I don’t get it. I don’t see why.”

  “Why do you think? Use your head.”

  “Well, I don’t know—he probably figured, why get his hands dirty with something his lackeys could do for him.”

  “No,” Aldric said, disappointed. “He fled because there was a risk. He doesn’t know we don’t have the deathspells. He was afraid of us, don’t you see? And if we don’t go in there, he’ll know we don’t have a weapon. He’ll come after us, and he’ll wipe us all out.”

  Slowly it dawned on Simon. “We’re playing a game of poker,” he said.

  “By Jove, I think he’s got it,” Aldric said quietly. “We need a look at his lair. We may find out what evil he was planning with the White Dragon.”

  “But what do we do when we catch him?”

  “We see how far we get on steel and courage,” Aldric said thoughtfully.

  The fear in his voice bothered Simon.

  Aldric broke in through a side window and led the others in. There seemed to be no one at home. The place was dark and quiet. All he could hear was the rustling of old leaves from the trees outside, in the breeze left over from the storm.

  Silently they moved thro
ugh a side parlor to the front entryway. The place was a ruin, haggard and falling apart, leaking water everywhere. Ivy had grown in through many a broken window, and dirt and slime slicked the floor. It was clear the place was deserted.

  “We’re too late,” Aldric muttered. “The Dragon has moved on. We shouldn’t have stopped to heal my wounds.” He shot a peevish glance at Alaythia, who stared right back at him.

  They found a set of stairs, down to the lower levels. The dim lights revealed that these halls were filled with water. The mansion had sunk into the canal over the years, and no one had done anything about it.

  “This Dragon gets his power from water,” Aldric told them. “That’s why he was wheezing and sickly when we saw him on land. He breathes water.”

  “He didn’t seem so sickly to me,” whispered Simon.

  Alaythia tried to see into the dark watery hall. “How do we know it isn’t still here?” she whispered. “Waiting for us in the water?”

  “We don’t,” said Aldric. He waded into the water at the base of the stairs. It came to his waist. “Come on,” he urged. “We may find something of interest.”

  “Nothing I would want to see,” whispered Simon, but no one heard him.

  Aldric walked through the water in the hall. Slowly, Simon and Alaythia followed him into the mess. Dragon runes covered the peeling wallpaper. Alaythia was looking at them very strangely. She was about to say something, when the water seemed to touch her in a most unpleasant way. It got colder and rippled over her leg. It occurred to her it wasn’t the water so much as it was something in the water. She sucked in her breath with fear. “I felt something,” she gasped.

  Simon felt it, too. Little waves underneath the surface, on his leg. Ripples that tickled cold and riveled past the skin. A little surprise was squirming underneath the water, or perhaps several surprises.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Aldric said, “they’re just eels.”

  He kept moving forward, so Simon and Alaythia had to nearly run in the water to keep up. No one wanted to be left in the dark with these things.

  Simon felt ill. Alaythia’s eyelids trembled. The light from the wall lamps shone upon the black water. Now Simon could see swarms of eels swirling around his legs. There were so many it was like walking through seaweed!

  Alaythia and Simon moved in close behind Aldric. The eels were layers and layers deep, squirming into the light. The humans had riled them up. Now the water was splishing and puckering with noise as the eels quivered for position. They were green, black, and even white, and they were not in the least bit afraid of people.

  “They’re watching us,” Aldric said, splashing onward through the water. “They’re watching us for him. The Venice Dragon. Whatever they see, he sees.”

  Simon looked down into the eyes of several eels in the water near him. He shuddered, feeling as if the snake-fish were crawling right up his spine. Their eyes glittered with whiteness, with knowledge. They were watching.

  “But if he can see through their eyes,” wondered Simon, “can he give them orders?”

  Aldric half turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe they’re guarding the place.”

  Simon’s remark sent a new chill through everyone. They were surrounded by eels. If they wanted to attack, they would be in a very good position.

  “We’ll move faster,” said Aldric.

  He did not need to say it again. Simon and Alaythia ran as best they could through the swamped hallway, behind Aldric. The eels tickled their feet and legs, and Simon was sure he felt the tongues of several licking above his ankles.

  Aldric led Simon and Alaythia toward a doorway. Several eels poked their heads from the water, watching as they reached the end of the hall.

  “Look,” said Alaythia. She pointed up ahead through the doors, to a flooded study with expensive antiques, old desks, and bookcases half buried in water. The room was water-drenched, like the others, but there were no eels here. They seemed afraid, or perhaps too respectful, to enter.

  “It’s his den,” said Aldric. “We may learn something here.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  THINGS THAT GO SPLASH IN THE DARK

  ALDRIC WENT IN, SPLASHING through the water. The eels were still, though it would be easy for them to slither over the threshold and follow. Simon waded into the cold liquid of the den, glad to be getting farther away from the slithery spies in the hall. He noticed a greenish-black slime dripping from the walls and ceiling. It was soon splattering their faces and their clothes, splashing into the water.

  “Dragonmuck,” complained Aldric. “Common with water Dragons.”

  Some of the dripping ooze hit with a heavy sound. Simon could tell that some other objects were falling with it. In the low, flickering light, he began to see that the walls of the den were lined with jewels and precious metals of every kind. Pearls and diamonds were everywhere. Gobs of gold watches and rings and necklaces, piled and glued madly in place, were so heavy they were plunking down from the ceiling.

  The Venetian seemed to have a thing for gems and trinkets. Simon wondered if these items had been taken from victims.

  Aldric caught some of the gems as they fell, and pocketed them.

  “You’re just going to take those?” asked Simon, incredulous.

  “How do you think I got you into that school of yours?” answered Aldric, catching another windfall. “Spoils of war.”

  The Knight waded across the bilgy water to the old desk. Simon squeezed in to get a look at the desktop. All of it looked really rather ordinary. “Give me room to work, Simon,” Aldric rumbled. “We want to be quick.” Useless again, Simon backed away, picking up a little map scroll to keep his hands busy.

  Alaythia was studying the papers pinned up nearby, the maps and charts that filled the wall. They were written in Dragonscript.

  Aldric asked her what they meant.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” said Alaythia, peering at the water-speckled pages. “It’s not as if I can just look at this and tell you—it says ‘monthly business report of the…’” She gasped. “…‘Italy operations.’”

  She looked up at Aldric, dazzled at herself. “I can read this. I can really read this.”

  Aldric stared back at her with less surprise. “It may come faster now. There are traces of old energy in you, Dragon magic—I’ve seen it before. When your blood pumps harder, you feel it more intensely…. It’s kind of like snake venom.”

  “Don’t mention snakes. Or eels. Or anything else that’s creepy and crawly.”

  Simon barely noticed the discovery. He had roamed to a corner where weird relics were kept: swords and daggers engraved with runes, and iron sculptures that showed humans being eaten by Dragons. Nasty stuff.

  Aldric was becoming annoyed with Alaythia’s quietness.

  She was examining the Dragon’s wall of documents with increasing interest. “Fascinating,” she said to herself, “absolutely fascinating.”

  “What?”

  “It’s very curious.”

  “What is? What does it say?” Aldric ordered, leaning closer, trying to understand the language.

  “Well,” said Alaythia thoughtfully, enjoying her new importance, “it seems to be a list of things that the Water Dragon controls in Venice, a list of criminal activity and how much money it all brings in. He hides his wealth in the jewel and pearl trade—that’s his main business. And, of course, stolen Italian art relics.”

  “Art relics,” repeated Aldric. “That’s how he crossed paths with the White Dragon, I’d imagine.” He glanced at the wall of paperwork. “I’d say this is what they were working on together. But what is it?”

  Alaythia looked over the pages on the wall. The symbols were wet, and the ink ran down the wall eerily like blood. “I can’t say for sure, but they were planning something very unpleasant for all of us,” said Alaythia. “It’s obvious he’s insane; rambling like this, the wall is like a diary. I can’t understand all of it, but it says someth
ing about secret operations, activities in motion, going on all over the world. It says orders are being given. Preparations are being made. It means something like that, anyway. And if you look down here at the bottom, there’s a symbol…”

  “I know that symbol,” said Aldric ominously. “It’s their symbol for death.”

  “No,” said Alaythia. “It’s their symbol for mass death.”

  You could have heard a pin drop. Simon was afraid to hear what she had to say.

  “It means Tremendous Death. Actually, it’s something worse—he’s put together the word for massive death and the word for massive fire. It says ‘Fire Eternal.’”

  “Fire Eternal,” Aldric whispered. “What does that mean?”

  She put her finger on the symbol, unsure.

  “It means a lot of people are going to die,” said Alaythia. “Millions of people.”

  Aldric froze, his eyes locked on hers for a long moment.

  “God help us. The Venetian is going to wipe out a city.” He looked suddenly overwhelmed. “Or worse…”

  He tore the watery banner from the wall and looked at it more closely, as if he could read it himself. He seemed pale, tiring, as if the weight of the paper were enormous. “We don’t know when. And we don’t know how.”

  Worry flooded the room. Their expressions filled with dread.

  Then Simon wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring at the map scroll in his hand. In the dark room, it was clear: Parts of the map were glowing.

  “Simon?”

  Without saying a word, Simon waded across the room to his father and unfurled the map for him to see. Rune-letters all over the continents were aglow, apparently agitated by Simon playing with the map.

  Aldric and Alaythia moved together to look at it. It was an incredible discovery: an old, yellowed map of the earth, covered in unusual lines and irregular grids. Though the words were unfamiliar, Alaythia could tell the markings for the countries were all insults of one kind or another. It was as if Dragons saw the entire human population on earth as a giant collection of insects, or as a disease, a scourge that had gone out of control. A plague.