Cloak & Dagger: Book II of The Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Carey Scheppner

  Upon entering the lagoon, the ship slowed, gliding gracefully through the clear blue water. A dock appeared on the shore ahead of them, with several green figures scurrying about in preparation for the newcomers.

  “Skink warriors!” exclaimed Della in delight.

  Some nearby sailors heard the comment and fingered their weapons nervously. But when they looked at Rubin, he shook his head. This was no place to do battle.

  A sailor cried out and pointed to starboard. Other sailors followed his pointing hand and their eyes widened in disbelief. Swimming in the lagoon were many alluring and gorgeous ladies. Most of the women had long, beautiful hair. There were red heads, blondes, brunettes, and even a few with coal black hair.

  As the ship drew nearer, the sailors discovered the most interesting feature of the women. Glistening in the sunlight beneath the water, instead of legs, were silvery tails. They were mermaids!

  Rubin’s entire crew jostled for position along the ship’s rails to get a better look. The mermaids smiled and waved, calling to the sailors in enticing tones.

  “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried a voice suddenly from the far end of the dock. A heavy set woman, dressed in a brilliant blue robe, huffed and puffed as she pounded along the dock toward the approaching ship. The dock bounced so heavily that several of the skink warriors lost their balance and splashed into the water.

  By now, some of Rubin’s sailors were getting ready to jump overboard to respond to the lure of the mermaids. Once captured by a mermaid, a human male would never return. The mermaid would use the man for mating. Then he would disappear forever.

  The blue-robed woman ran right to the end of the dock, her arms flailing wildly as she narrowly avoided plunging into the water after the skink warriors. Seeing the sailors about to jump from the ship, she gasped, “Oh, no! Don’t - oh never mind!” With that she rattled off a magical chant and swung her arm in the direction of the Griffin.

  Up until now, Kazin had watched events unfold with an amazed detachment. Now, a sudden wave of fatigue smashed into him like a whiplash. All of the sailors aboard the ship collapsed into crumpled heaps on the deck of the Griffin. Kazin himself staggered under the blow, falling to his knees and nearly passing out. Only his mental discipline, taught to him as a mage in the Tower of Sorcery, allowed him to remain conscious. As it was, he could only watch with blurry eyes as the blue-robed figure on the dock used her magic to guide the ship into position before the dock.

  “Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!” lamented the woman numerous times. She chanted another complicated spell and levitated herself from the dock up to the level of the ship’s deck, floating gracefully through the air. She saw all the sailors lying there fast asleep and exclaimed, “Oh, dear!”

  Kazin groggily tried to rise to his feet and the woman spotted him immediately.

  “There you are!” She floated over to the mage and helped him to steady himself. “Are you all right?”

  “I - I think so,” said Kazin, shaking his head. “Your ‘sleep’ spell sure packs a wallop!”

  “I’m sorry!” wailed the woman. “I saw those sailors trying to jump and - oh - it’s useless!” she lamented in exasperation.

  Kazin let go of the woman to stand on his own. He was O.K. now. “It’s O.K. Martha. There’s no harm done.”

  Martha started. “You remember me?”

  Kazin smiled. “Of course! How’s Adriana?”

  Martha gestured with her hand. “Oh, as boring as ever. She’s absolutely no fun at all! The treemen are more exciting.”

  Kazin laughed. “You sound lonely.”

  Martha harrumphed. “I wish we had more visitors. This reclusive lifestyle gets tiresome after a while. At least the plants and wildlife provide some amusement.”

  “No doubt,” said Kazin.

  “I’ll take you to the tower,” said Martha. She looked at the mermaids nearby. “If it wasn’t for those treacherous mermaids, I could wake everyone, but it’s better they remain asleep until the ship has left again.”

  “I thought you had more control of the mermaids,” Kazin commented.

  “We used to,” admitted Martha, “but Adriana and I have been rather busy lately. We need our energies for other things, as you will soon find out.”

  “Is Amelia -?” began Kazin.

  Martha shook her head sadly and put a hand on Kazin’s shoulder. “She is at peace, Kazin.”

  Kazin nodded. The last time he was here, the eldest druid, Amelia, had sent him on a strange errand with his companions. Amelia had claimed to know things about Kazin and the others, and he had never had a chance to question her about her strange ability to see into the future. Now he would never know.

  Kazin cast a quick glance at Della, who lay nearby fast asleep. Rubin lay a few feet to her left. “I wonder if I should wake Della and Rubin.”

  Martha sighed. “I’m afraid if we do that, we may alter the sleep spell I cast and some of the sailors may wake early. As it is, I know they will sleep for the duration of your visit.”

  Kazin grimaced at the thought of Della’s wrath when she awoke, but he didn’t want to interfere with Martha’s magic. Druid magic was unpredictable from his standpoint. If Martha said not to interfere, he would obey. He would also tell Della the same thing when she awoke. If the elf didn’t like it, it wasn’t his fault.

  “Let’s get going,” urged Martha, interrupting the mage’s thoughts. Without waiting for an answer, the druid held Kazin’s hand, chanted her levitation spell, and she and Kazin floated over the rails of the Griffin to land on the dock below.

  By now, the skink warriors were all safely standing on the dock. Several were still shaking water droplets from their water-resistant skin.

  Skink warriors were an ugly looking species to behold. Once, their ancestors were lizardmen, just like their counterparts in the mountains. But many generations ago, a dispute between magic users and non-magic users caused a rift within the lizardman population. The non-magic wielders became proficient with long range weapons to combat the long range magic of their counterparts. The magic users eventually prevailed, and banished the non-magic wielders, but not before turning them magically into skink warriors.

  The non-magic lizardmen had their appearance changed drastically. Their faces were transformed from pinched, sinister snouts into wider lips and larger mouths. Their faces became more reminiscent of frogs than lizards, with eyes protruding rather than squinty and small. Their clawed hands and feet became webbed, enabling them to swim with great speed. Gills ran down the sides of their necks, allowing them to breathe under water. Spiked red fins also ran from the tops of their heads all the way down their backs.

  Although not considered trustworthy, a pact with the Tower of Hope permitted their race to move somewhat more freely among the humans. Nevertheless, they still preferred to stay within their realm in North Lake, much to the dismay of the mermaids, who considered their presence an intrusion. At some point, the druids had stepped in to keep the peace between the skink warriors and mermaids. The peace was not liked by either side, but they obeyed the druids because the wrath unleashed by the druids was fearsome to behold, should the druids become angered.

  Now Kazin and Martha walked past the skink warriors on the dock and entered the woods beyond. There was no trail, but where they walked, trees uprooted themselves and moved aside. When the druid and mage passed, the trees moved back into place again. Martha playfully slapped the trees as they moved stiffly around them, encouraging them and passing small bursts of magical energy through her fingertips into their trunks.

  Kazin had experienced this sort of thing before, but was awed just the same. The command the druids had over nature was something to behold.

  The druid and mage continued uphill, wending their way around rocky formations and through a dense jungle that didn’t impede them in the least. Around a final bend, the trees stepped aside to reveal what Kazin immediately recognized to be the Tower of the Moon.

  The Tower
of the Moon was cylinder shaped, with slitted windows at various locations all the way up the side. Vines grew up the walls, but amazingly grew around colourful flower arrangements that lined the windows. The vines were so thick that one could hardly see the stone walls beneath. The roof, with crumbling turrets, gave one an indication of the tower’s age. It was then that Kazin came to a strange realization. It was not the walls that held up the vines; it was the vines that held up the walls!

  Martha led the mage to a set of enormous wooden doors that swung inward of their own accord, swinging silently on shiny brass hinges.

  Kazin followed Martha down a short hallway and looked into a room on his left with an open doorway. What he saw caused him to stumble and he bumped into Martha, who was directly ahead of him. He steadied himself and looked into the room again as the druid turned around.

  In the room were several cots, and each contained a mermaid. Unlike the mermaids in the lagoon, these mermaids were not smiling enticingly and beckoning. Most of them were asleep, but those who were awake were coughing and shivering and some of them were varying shades of orange or yellow. One mermaid turned to the doorway and saw Kazin. She instinctively tried to smile but a sudden pain caused her to grimace and turn away in shame.

  “What -?” began Kazin. He was unable to complete the sentence.

  “Oh, dear,” moaned Martha. “You weren’t supposed to see this yet.” She put her arms around the mage and directed him to another room at the end of the hallway.

  The room had comfortable chairs and a cozy fireplace. Covering the floor was a lush, lavender carpet. The walls were adorned with paintings and banners depicting scenes of dragon battles that happened a few hundred years ago. The paintings were similar to the ones hanging in the Tower of the Stars. A large painting seemed to have pre-eminence over the others, hanging by itself over the fireplace. This particular painting illustrated an old mage with a long white beard who battled a fierce looking dark object. The determined eyes and clenched jaws of the mage was a testament to the power of the spell being cast. It sent a shiver down Kazin’s spine.

  “I’ll go and fetch Adriana,” stated Martha.

  “No need,” said a serious voice behind them. In the doorway stood Adriana. She was taller and more slender than Martha, and her countenance was serious. Her sharp nose and shrewd gaze gave the appearance of someone to be reckoned with.

  “Hello, Adriana,” said Kazin lightly. “It’s good to see you are well.”

  Adriana gave a stiff nod of her head. “Welcome. We have been waiting for your arrival. You must assist us immediately for there is a plague that has been unleashed upon us with dire consequences for all life in the world.” She paused to let the words sink in, and then continued. “Amelia gave me her dying instructions to summon you when this situation should arise.” With some distaste she added, “She knew it was going to happen, too.”

  Martha knew Adriana didn’t particularly like Amelia, who was an oracle as well as a druid, but chose not to bring up the subject, knowing that Adriana was upset about the current plague situation.

  “Tell me what you need me to do,” said Kazin seriously. “I will do whatever is in my power to help.”

  “Let us hope that is enough,” Adriana answered, looking distractedly above and past Kazin as she spoke. “Follow me.” She turned and left the room with Martha right behind her.

  Kazin was the last to leave the room, but he paused to look where he had been standing. What was Adriana looking at a moment ago? The only thing she could have been looking at was the painting of the wizened old mage.

  Something about the mage’s face seemed familiar. What was it? Then a realization struck the young mage. The hair on his neck stood on end. It couldn’t be, could it? He shook his head and hastened after the druids. He had more important things to attend to right now.

  Chapter 10

  Vera wandered the winding trail carefully, taking care to avoid washed out areas. The path was not well used, and certainly not maintained. Indeed, there was no reason. Few people if any had traveled this route in a long time. The only reason she chose this path was its proximity to the last of the paralyzed people that Cyril had left behind. Fortunately, none of the cyclops’ victims were seriously paralyzed like the gardener. Vera patiently unparalyzed each of them as she encountered them, apologizing for the cyclops’ actions. Most were ungrateful and cursed the cyclops for his unprovoked assault. This saddened Vera, but not as much as the sickness and disease the villagers were experiencing. The further north she went, the worse the conditions were.

  Walking along one section of the trail Vera counted as many as twenty heads of cattle which had perished. Others lived, but looked like they were near death themselves. Even farmers and their families were ill. On more than one occasion Vera was hailed by distraught people who saw her as a potential cure for their suffering families.

  At first, the cleric was pleased to offer her services, confident that she could help. But one failure after another had caused her to question her clerical abilities. She had helped numerous people in the Tower of Hope, with moderate to exceptional success each time. But now on her own, she was unable to help the suffering of a single person.

  Some desperate villagers, seeing her lack of success, went so far as to call her a fraud, angrily sending Vera from their houses and slamming their doors behind her.

  Vera was uncharacteristically demoralized by the actions of these people. She blindly followed the trail of paralyzed people, tears blurring her vision. Despite her despair, she still stopped to un-paralyze Cyril’s victims, but no longer gave an explanation, preferring to continue on her journey without communicating with anyone. She stopped only occasionally to check abandoned wells to see if the water was pure. Many wells were still free from contamination, but Vera was not one to take chances. She tried to inform villagers that their water was impure, but they chose to ignore her.

  The last well Vera visited was still pure and she filled her water skins completely, not certain when she would encounter fresh water again. The cleric’s other supplies were adequate for many days; she had stocked her pack thoroughly in a community near the tower.

  With the Old Dwarven Mountains before her, Vera realized where Cyril had gone. The seclusion of the mountains was a logical place for him to go. There were no more paralyzed people to lead her now, since human settlements were all behind her. She had to pursue the cyclops with intuition and guesswork. The odd, freshly snapped twig on the path indicated the recent presence of a large traveler, and Vera could only hope that it had been Cyril.

  Over an hour on the trail brought the cleric to an area that had recently been used as a campsite. Still smoldering ashes blew loosely in the breeze. The smell of some sort of meat still lingered in the air.

  The cleric was about to continue on her way when she noticed some markings on the ground near the fire pit out of the corner of her eye. She bent closer to examine the markings. A circle had been drawn with an oval within its confines. A couple of hastily drawn lines bisected the circle and its oval. Vera scratched her head and was about to put the matter aside as nothing important when an idea occurred to her. She checked the markings again and immediately realized what the symbol was all about. The circle was a representation of a head and the oval was the eye. Cyril had probably drawn it! His anger with his disability had probably made him scribble it out, explaining the haphazard lines through the eye!

  Excited, Vera stood up straight. The cyclops was not far ahead! She had to catch him before he entered the mountains. With renewed vigor, Vera half stumbled and half ran toward the mountains.

  Almost immediately, the cleric reached the base of the mountains. Large boulders and rubble from high above littered the area. Looking up, Vera saw an array of sheer cliffs and rocky outcrops. She suddenly felt very small standing next to the Old Dwarven Mountains.

  The cleric experienced a moment of despair as she surveyed the scene before her. Where did Cyril go? Did he climb up t
he mountain, or did he walk along the base to find a better location to climb up? How far ahead of her was he? It was starting to get late and the cleric had come a long way only to experience a warm trail go instantly cold.

  As if in response to her thoughts, a momentary flash of setting sunlight reflected off something on the mountain face above her. Vera squinted her eyes and spotted the source of the light. It was Cyril! The sunlight had reflected off his smooth, bald head!

  Vera cried out to the cyclops as loud as she could, but the cyclops continued to climb, unaware of her presence. He didn’t hear her! The cleric watched helplessly as the cyclops climbed over some large boulders and sprang nimbly into a dark opening. He had just entered a cave!

  “No!” cried Vera. She thought momentarily of her budding career in the Tower of Hope and then remembered her failures since leaving there. She also thought about her close friendship with Cyril and the suffering he was going through. The tower didn’t need a cleric who couldn’t heal people, but Cyril needed a friend. Vera was not about to abandon him.

  Her fear and despair were suddenly transformed into determination and courage. She boldly climbed past the first few boulders and began her ascent, using her pure white staff for support. No mountain was going to stop her from finding Cyril. She might have failed the sick villagers, but she was not going to fail her friend. Vera vowed to find Cyril at all costs. Her sense of honour demanded it. If she let her friends down, she could not rightfully stand with her fellow clerics to help total strangers either.

  * * * * *

  Unaware of Vera’s presence below, Cyril stepped into the tunnel, huffing and puffing from the exertion required to reach this location. He paused to catch his breath and peered into the gloomy tunnel, his lone eye quickly adjusting to the dark interior. He had half expected to enter a tunnel with sharp corners and narrow gaps, but instead was surprised to see a tall, wide passageway stretching in a straight line for quite some distance before him. The sound of the wind whipping past the entrance was amplified down the entire length of the tunnel. Eerie though it was, Cyril felt at home here.