by David Mason
Hugon looked at Kavin, and nodded.
“She is no longer there,” Hugon said in a quiet voice, but with a strange certainty.
“The Goddess said it,” Kavin said. “Returned… to the place from which she came.” He pulled harshly at his horse’s head, swinging the animal around. “There’s no need for me to go back, now.”
“Are you sure, Prince?” Hugon asked.
“I am sure,” Kavin said. He glanced back along the path into the forest, and then away again. “I came to bid her farewell, and she’s been wise enough not to wait.” He spurred his horse, and the other two men rode after him, back up the road
SIX
In the late afternoon, the three men rode once more across the causeway and into the landward gate of Drakonis. For a long time, riding back, Kavin had been silent and gloomy; then, for no reason that Hugon could understand, he began to change, as if the weight were lifting. As they drew nearer to the town, Kavin seemed his old self again, though there was a shadow in his eyes.
“Both of you must think I’m mad,” he said, as their horses clattered on the paved street. “A day’s journey for nothing at all!”
“It’s given me a thirst,” Zamor called out over the noise. “There, now… shall we stop a moment?” He drew up, and the others beside him; a boy came out of the inn and took the reins of their horses while the three dismounted.
“The sign of the Two Dragons,” Hugon said, staring up at the brightly painted board overhead. “Eh, now, it seems a lucky omen.”
Zamor lowered his bulk onto a bench in the innyard and grunted, “Omen me no omens. I thirst, man.” An aproned man, fat and smiling, approached, and Zamor asked for cold wine.
Returning with tall pitchers and mugs, the innkeeper set them down on the table; then paused, looking with round eyes at Fraak, who sat on Hugon’s shoulder.
“Ah… sir?” The innkeeper came closer. “Is… is it truly a dragon? So small?”
“I’m NOT small,” Fraak said firmly, and puffed.
“It speaks, too!” the innkeeper said, amazed. “We have seen dragons here, of course, but only those great ones on their island. May I touch it, sir?” He stretched out a hand.
Fraak uttered a low hiss, but allowed the touch, at Hugon’s warning word.
“Could you think of selling it, good sir?” the innkeeper asked. “An inn that possessed such a curiosity would be known to all…”
“Fraak isn’t a curiousity,” Hugon said, in a level voice. “And it’s he, not it. No, I wouldn’t sell him, not at any price.”
Fraak uttered a scale of notes, pleased sounds, and blew a long plume of fire which caused the innkeeper to retreat in some haste. He spread his wings and whistled gleefully.
“A little calmer, Fraak,” Hugon told him. Then, to Kavin, “I wonder what those great dragons on that island would think of this one? What are they like?”
Kavin sipped his wine. “Those? Few men have spoken with them. I have, a long time ago. They’re wise, and old… and not fond of any closeness to mankind. Man and dragon have a compact in this land… to let each other alone, as far as possible.”
“The warlock said we must go there, to their island,” Zamor said. “If they’re no friends to human folk…”
“It depends,” Kavin told him. “I have been there once. And by custom, certain men go there, to live and learn from the dragon folk. No, if Thuramon says we must go, then we shall go. But whether they’ll aid him in any way… well, they are a strange kind. I don’t know what they’ll do.”
They drained their mugs and went out into the street again. Swinging up into their saddles, the three slowly moved along the streets of Drakonis, back toward the warlock’s house.
“They call this the Street of the Ship,” Kavin said at the next corner. “Look there, at the other end.”
There were white columns, and as the three rode closer, a high marble dome came into view, and columned arcades. Through a great open archway, the interior was visible; a block of stone on which something was mounted, a dark shape.
“It’s a ship,” Hugon said.
“Yes,” Kavin said. “Mine, once. There she is, put up like a monument… and under that great ugly piece of rock…” He stopped and grinned strangely. “Myself. Yes. That’s the tomb of the first King of Koremon, Kavin.”
Hugon stared and shook his head. “I don’t think I’d care to visit a tomb with my name on it,” he said. “Not even if I felt positively sure I was still alive. Let’s ride on, to our magician host, and supper.”
They wheeled and rode away along the last streets toward the house of Thuramon.
The ape servants, swift and wordless, took charge of the horses; within, other servants waited with hot water and fresh robes. In the dining hall, platters of food appeared with marvelous speed. The three sat down and began to eat without waiting for Thuramon to appear; by now, they had grown used to his odd ways.
But they were hardly started when the door opened and the magician entered; he came to the table and sat down, leaning back.
“So,” Thuramon said, looking at Kavin. “You bear it well, Prince.”
Kavin looked at the magician. “You know, then.”
Thuramon nodded. “Your woman… or whatever she was… is no longer here.”
Kavin looked at Thuramon oddly, and then laughed, in a short bark. “So,” he said, “even you are not quite all-knowing, are you, Thuramon?”
Thuramon looked puzzled.
“The gods be thanked, you aren’t wise in all things, not yet, old friend,” Kavin said. “Though you’ve learned much, it seems, since I’ve been asleep…” He watched Thuramon’s face and grinned. “Yes, the woman is gone, as your magic told you. But I have a feeling she’s not gone very far.”
Thuramon suddenly looked nervous, and glanced around the room. Then, frowning, he looked at Kavin.
“As long as the matter’s settled,” he said, “I am content. Kavin… I could have told you that she would vanish again, but you would not have thanked me for the foretelling, would you?”
“No,” Kavin said. He drew a platter toward himself and began to hack off a slice of meat.
“You two,” Thuramon looked toward Zamor and Hugon. “Now, the work begins.”
Hugon fed Fraak a delicate morsel, and scratched the scaly head, watching Thuramon. Zamor ate, silently.
“Tomorrow, we go to visit the Dragon’s Isle,” Thuramon said, slowly. “There, if they will aid us, we can find those things we’ll need for the work we must do.”
Hugon pulled an oar, and Zamor another, as the open boat turned outward, past the harbor mouth. Thuramon, muffled in a dark cloak, sat in the stern with Kavin, while Fraak perched on the rail beside him. The dragonet uttered small, excited cries; he had captured a fish, and was watching for another.
Ahead, shrouded in the morning mist, the gray bulk of the place called the Isle of Dragons looked shadowy and unreal; like an immense whale, drifting on the sea. The two men pulled steadily toward it, as Kavin steered.
“The galley… was easier rowing,” Hugon said, in a strained voice, drawing at his oar in an effort to match Zamor’s strokes.
Zamor appeared to have no trouble; he grinned as his oar beat steadily at the water.
“Your back would have been stronger, after a while, Hugon,” Zamor said. “Stronger, or fishfood.” He chuckled, grimly.
The boatman had been most reluctant, though he yielded at last to gold. But to row them to the Isle of Dragons? No, that he would not do for any amount of gold whatever. And as he had watched them go, his expression said plainly that he did not expect them back.
The dark rock grew closer, looming over them; Zamor and Hugon stopped rowing, letting the boat drift on a running tide that set toward the island; and Zamor narrowed his eyes, studying the rock.
“There’s no harborage, Master Thuramon,” Zamor said. “Not even a beach.”
“If we are admitted at all, we will find an entrance,” Thuramon said,
shortly. Then Fraak exploded with a squealing cry.
A shadow crossed the boat, and returned a moment later. Hugon stared at the broad-winged shape that soared by close overhead, circling silently and ominously. A gigantic triangular head looked downward, and eyes, emerald spheres as large as a man’s whole head, scanned the boat. Fraak, his own wings spread widely, teetered on the rail; he opened his jaws and a horn note came out.
The dragon overhead emitted a tremendous tone, Fraak’s note amplified and lowered in pitch; then, the giant tilted and swept closer in a long spiral, touching the oil-smooth sea as lightly as a gull, though it was twice the size of the boat. It came close, sliding through the water till it was at the boat’s side; the snaky neck lifted, and the monstrous head peered down. Zamor and Hugon sat, tense; each man’s hand moved uncontrollably toward his sword hilt, though there would have been no real use in such weapons.
“Greetings, Thuramon,” the dragon said in an enormous thrumming voice. “It has been long since you last came to us. What is it you seek, wise one?”
“We had an enemy, Arrakimok,” Thuramon answered where he sat in the stern. “That enemy has returned and is at work again.”
The dragon uttered a deep sound like a three-note chord, a sound of pleasure.
“You know me by name, Thuramon,” Arrakimok said. “Few of your kind seem able to do that.” The head turned, and the emerald eyes aimed at Fraak. “And a Small One! It is well that the Small One is not caged and wears no collar, as I see. Are you the friend of Thuramon, Small One?”
“I’m Hugon’s!” Fraak piped, and sprang across the boat to settle on Hugon’s shoulder; his golden eyes stared up, boldly and unafraid, into the emerald ones.
“Oho?” the giant dragon said, and suddenly made a sound, a deep-booming musical phrase; a question, apparently. Fraak tooted back, his tail lashing with pleasure at finding another who could speak his language.
“The Small One is pleased with you, man,” Arrakimok said, his emerald eyes on Hugon. “And also with the black man. He says that you are honest men.” The amused note came again. “He sees much in you… and you are with our ancient friend, Thuramon, also… who seems to have lived a very long time for one of your kind.”
The dragon stared now at Kavin, in the bow, for a long moment.
“Another?” he said, slowly. “You too… you were that Prince who came here with the other, long ago. This is very strange, man.”
Kavin’s eyes were steady. “I am the Prince,” he said.
The dragon hummed. “The gates will be opened, humans. It is certain that our Old Ones will wish to hear more of all this.”
The creature moved away from the boat, the enormous wings spread wide, and Arrakimok shot swiftly up and into the air. Then he swiftly grew smaller, arrowing toward the looming rock ahead.
“There!” Kavin pointed. “The gate opens.”
In the wall of stone, a gap had appeared, an arched space into which the sea eddied. Zamor and Hugon bent to their oars again, and the boat drove through the opening.
Beyond, a stone quay loomed in the shadows under an overarched dome of rock. A single brilliant light, a point of bright gold, hung over the quay, a curious lamp such as neither Hugon nor Zamor had ever seen before. As Kavin jumped to the quay and made the boat fast, the other two stared at the light curiously, shipping their oars. But Thuramon rose, and climbed out, beckoning them to follow.
Fraak was wildly excited now; as the group went forward, he spread his wings and shot into the air, circling and swooping around Hugon’s head and piping musically; smoke trailed from his widely opened mouth as he dived and swooped.
Zamor laughed, looking up. “He must smell his own kind, I think.”
Ahead, a door opened, without apparent help; Thuramon and Kavin went confidently through it, and Zamor and Hugon followed. They felt less certain than the other two; both men kept their hands near their swords, moving watchfully. Here, they walked along a hall that seemed cut out of the rock itself; the strange lamps lit it at intervals.
Then, approaching them out of the distance, they saw a human figure, the first living man they had seen so far in this place. He moved slowly, pacing toward them; and as he came closer, they saw that he was very old, with a face that seemed made of brown leather. But his eyes surveyed them brightly under the shadow of a hooded garment he wore.
Thuramon stopped and waited, the others behind him. The magician stared at the newcomer, with an amazed expression.
“Are you…” Thuramon paused, touching his own beard in a gesture of puzzled thought. “Is it possible that you are… Arastap?”
“I am,” the ancient one said; his mouth stretched in a smile. “And though this body is as you see it, much worn with time and use… I have no flaw in memory. I remember you well, Thuramon, though your beard was shorter then. And this other, the Prince, who once undertook a service for us. It would seem he alone has escaped the work of time…” And the old man chuckled. “Yes, I know much of what has happened. Even something concerning you two.” He looked at Hugon and Zamor. “A black king, and a knight of nowhere…”.
Zamor stared at Arastap, his face stony.
“I am no king,” he said, in a level voice.
“You have a king’s blood,” Arastap said. “Though that makes no difference in this place. But… it may be better not to waste time. The ancient enemy grows stronger. Come.”
He walked away with long strides, and the others followed.
They came now into an enormous circular room, domed, lit by a misty glow of sourceless light. The floor was paved with odd designs, circles and shapes and letters in some unknown language, inlaid in jewels and metal; and the room held only one other occupant.
He lay, curled in a spiral of tail around a huge low table, his mighty head reflected in the black glass of the table’s top as he seemed to look down at it. Then the head swung up, and huge glowing eyes regarded the newcomers; a ripple of movement stirred the blue-gleaming scales, and the dragon spoke.
“Welcome, Thuramon, and these others,” the huge voice boomed.
“Greetings, wise and ancient one,” Thuramon said, stepping forward to face the giant creature. For a long moment, they looked at each other, the small gray beard and the enormous saurian; and Hugon, watching, suddenly was aware of a passage of something between them, wordless, yet real. It was a recognition, he thought. They were alike in some way, the man and the dragon.
“I have long wished to return here,” Thuramon said. “But without invitation it would not be the thing to do. Now…”
“It is most necessary that you speak with us,” the dragon said. “Forgive us our need to be left alone. Few men are welcome here, as the Prince Kavin knows…” The great eyes looked at Zamor and Hugon. “You should also know the reason for our wish to remain alone. We are few, and old, for the most part. Many of our kind have gone away to worlds where we are… more at home. We remain, to teach a few of your folk whatever we can, and to preserve the work we have done in this world… but we have no desire for commerce with mankind.” The huge head bent over the glass table again. “Now, however, we need the hands of men, once again. Our ancient enemy is awake.” The dragon stared down at the glass and the humans came closer, drawn by a silent order.
The black glass of the table was glowing and flickering, as though currents of light flowed deep within the material. As they watched, it cleared into a tiny perfect image of a great city, webs of streets and houses, walls and towers; a glimmer of sea, beyond, and the green hills that crowned the other shore of the Narrows.
“Mazain,” Hugon said, and Zamor echoed the word with a grim look.
There was a lake, a long oval of shining water; reflected in it, the groves and the tall palaces that surrounded it. And in the midst of the lake, the enormous bulk of the Imperial House; tower rising upon tower, over ancient walls of solid rock. Just beyond, at the island’s tip, among the trees, a second dark mass of building stood.
“T
he Temple of the Lord of Night,” the dragon said. “So he has revealed himself to the Emperor, sending him dreams and visions. And the Emperor is now his servant, building that temple which is no temple, but a gate. As you know, Thuramon.”
“I know,” Thuramon said quietly. “I came here because of this. The Egg of Fire…”
“The Egg,” the dragon said. “It is there, in the Imperial House. He has it, and will place it in its position in the silver gate, when the gate is complete. With the Egg of Fire in place, that gate will open to all worlds and places, even the place where Ess now lies.”
“The Egg is a great crystal,” Thuramon said to the others. “There were others like it, once, but as far as I know, there’s but one left here. How the Emperor obtained it, I don’t know, but he has it.” Thuramon’s face was grim. “And he holds the world in his hand with that.”
“There is still time,” the dragon said. “The gate is not yet finished. If the Egg of Fire were gone…”
“Yes,” Thuramon said. “That. Can you aid us?”
The dragon stared at him for a long time.
“We will give you what we can,” he said at last. “It may be that we should not… but you have a Small One with you, and he has given his love to one of you, this one with the fair beard.”
Fraak, sitting on Hugon’s shoulder now, had been very quiet, as if awed; but realizing that he was being spoken about, he preened and uttered a low note.
The giant dragon replied with another sound, like a deep laugh. His enormous mouth seemed to be smiling.
“Small One, would you like to come here to live with us, your Elder Brothers, and learn to be wise?” the dragon said.
Fraak blew a long plume of smoke, and lifted his wings.
“I want to stay with Hugon,” he said, firmly. “Why should I want to be wise?”