Black City Dragon

by Richard A. Knaak

  I’d done everything possible to shield our presence from Galerius, but somehow it hadn’t been enough. I was more glad than ever that I’d prevented Claryce from coming with us.

  The door opened again. The hood who’d left the room returned.

  And then the golem entered.

  He still wore the hat and coat, but he wasn’t the least bit damp. Four easy steps brought him to where they’d hung me.

  Suddenly, we were joined by another figure, this one forming out of thin air near the golem.

  Galerius. He was only an illusion, but the strength of the projection meant the true Galerius wasn’t far away.

  I found it oddly satisfying that he didn’t look very pleased.

  “Where is it, Nick? Where is the card?”

  I’d been struggling against the black silver all the while, but without success, so all I could do was grin despite my still-intense pain, and answer, “Far from you, Galerius. Far from you.”

  The golem instantly crossed the remaining distance between us and tugged on the black silver. I screamed.

  As he pulled back, I saw that the one hand now smoked. The smoking didn’t last, though. The hand healed up nicely, in great part, I knew, because of the intense cold the golem radiated.

  I remembered how the one Triple Man who’d caught Fetch had also made use of extreme cold. I wondered if they’d been well aware of Galerius’s use of the foul stuff.

  “Let us try again, Nick.” Every time he said the name, I could hear Galerius’s mockery. Knowing as he did its origins, it probably amused him that I’d chosen it. “The card. Where did you put it?”

  “Where you can never get to it, Galerius,” I managed without a moan of pain. “Sorry to disappoint you again.”

  “‘Again’? Oh, do you mean the little swim I provided you? That was a test for both you and them. They were called the Triple Man, isn’t that amusing? You know how the cards can alter perception and reality? He carried it with him so long, dwelled in its power so long, that sometimes . . . when things changed . . . parts of him from before that change stuck around.”

  I’d pretty much figured that out. What worried me even more was what else had changed.

  Galerius chose that moment to laugh. I didn’t like the sound of that laugh at all. It was as if he was laughing at a huge joke of which I was the center.

  “All right, Nick. I can be magnanimous and give you a little more time. I’ve waited sixteen hundred years for this. I can wait a few hours more.”

  “Going to have to wait a lot longer than that.”

  “I doubt it. A few hours is all she’s got left. Unlike you, I don’t believe she can hold her breath more than a few minutes.”

  My first thought was to try to rip his throat out—an idea the dragon enthusiastically agreed with—but then something managed to get through my pain and anger. I was happy to see Galerius frown at the sudden shift in emotions.

  “You’ve got even less time, don’t you?” I asked. “All the work . . . it’s not for anything long term. I was told this ship’s been carrying supplies for construction. Not this time, though, right?” The more I warmed to the subject, the more I was able to tolerate the black silver. Oh, it burned badly, but my satisfaction helped me. “The trick you pulled on Joseph Sperling and his crew with the Wingfoot Express didn’t go completely your way, did it? You only managed a partial victory. The power they sought, you got, but not enough. It kept you going, at least until now.”

  “You have a vivid imagination, Nick. You always did.”

  “My imagination didn’t build complex patterns on top of various structures since after the Wingfoot disaster and make certain that they all line up just perfectly. I’ve seen Joseph’s original calculations. Those—” There was a surge of agony. I swallowed hard, fought it down, then continued. “—those were based on the need for everything to fall into place that very day. Lines of power tied to the Gate, to Feirie, and to elements in the mortal world. It had to happen that day. Otherwise, things would have to be recalculated and there might be a wait for decades, centuries even.”

  At this point, I wasn’t just talking for his benefit. The dragon had gained from my strength and now he was working to give us the power that might help free us. I didn’t know just what he had in mind, but I knew he wanted to be free as much as me. That made us safe allies for a while.

  “But you’ve had a piece of luck . . . luck like a double-edged sword. What was his name? Sebastian Tremaine. He convinced Joseph to do some more calculations . . . just in case. Calculations you really needed, because while you were confident you had it all planned right, you needed to have something in case the work went wrong.”

  “Bits and pieces, Georgius. Nothing more.”

  “Then why’ve you stopped calling me ‘Nick’?”

  A metallic groaning sound echoed through the ship, as if some tremendous force was trying to twist the Frank O’Connor in two. Gale-rius’s goons looked concerned, but he seemed intrigued.

  “Ah . . . the tides of power are shifting. The realities are correcting.” The illusion grinned again. “If I need to, one card must suffice. I have you. That’ll make all the difference.”

  “What’s your plan then?” I asked, trying to keep his attention. “Make yourself a Dacian Empire like you always threatened?”

  I didn’t expect the laugh that followed. Even the golem radiated mirth. I tried to figure out why what I’d said would be so humorous. I knew it didn’t bode well, whatever the reason.

  “Sixteen hundred years ago, something so mundane would’ve been my utmost desire, Nick. Now, that hardly seems worth all the trouble, all the distraction.”

  I had to admit it, he had me curious. I’d be damned if I was going to ask, but I really wanted to know.

  The ship groaned again. I knew then that we were on the move. At the same time, I began to feel energies gathering . . . some very familiar energies.

  The Gate . . . the dragon blurted. Eye feel its pull. . . Eye feel it as Eye have not. . . since we became one . . . since we died. . . and became one . . .

  I wasn’t as certain about that as the dragon was, but it did feel awfully familiar.

  “You should really be thanking me. After all, I’m just correcting history to what it used to be and freeing you from all those burdens the Gate thrust upon you by mistake!”

  “You’re not making any sense now, Galerius.”

  “Do you want sense?” The golem stepped up and spun me around a few times. When he finally did stop me, it was to show me an old coin. “I’d hoped that she’d remember and so really turn your existence upside down, but I’m more than happy to break the truth to you. It’s an interesting coin, isn’t it, Nick? A striking image of me, isn’t it?”

  “Looks more like Caligula or Nero. I’d say Caligula. Suits you better.” I was still going through a lot of pain but damned if I’d show him.

  “I had this on me when the shift happened,” he added unhelpfully, as the golem continued to thrust it in my face. “Maybe because I also had the card by then, it stayed unchanged.”

  The faceless creature flipped the coin around so that I could get a close view of the other side. At first, the struggle I’d had against the black silver even despite the dragon’s aid only enabled me to make out a blurry shape on a horse. The horse was rearing over something.

  I blinked. The image coalesced. A dragon struggled beneath the horse, struggled because it also had to deal with a spear wielded by the rider piercing its chest. I was very familiar with the image. I’d seen variations of this display of my exploit on coins, medallions, and more.

  Only . . . this time it wasn’t me on the horse. It was a figure clad in flowing garments. A woman.

  One woman in particular.

  Some of what Michael had last told me came back. I tried to deny it all, but Galerius, of course, was having none of that.

  “You died that day, Nick. In Silene. You died wounding the dragon. She took up your spear and throu
gh sheer perseverance managed to put an end to the struggle. She, not you . . . that is, before my use of the card for my own sake twisted history and made you the bloody saint!”

  I didn’t doubt his words one bit. They made what Michael uttered very clear. I’d perished fighting. I’d never become Saint George and I’d never then been made the guardian of the pathway between our world and Feirie, the Gatekeeper.

  That last mantle had been thrust on another. The original choice.

  Cleolinda.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Saint Cleolinda and the Dragon. It has an interesting ring to it, doesn’t it? The ring of truth.”

  I looked away from the coin.

  “That was my ultimate goal with her,” Galerius murmured almost thoughtfully. “Stir the truth. See if she could remember everything she did to become keeper, so that I could emulate it as necessary.”

  I only partly heard him, my mind still struggling to accept what he’d revealed.

  Both the illusion and the golem abruptly straightened. The illusion glanced over its shoulder . . . then faded away. Immediately after, the golem turned and abandoned the chamber. After a moment, two of the guards followed suit. We were left with two uneasy hoods who fidgeted at the slightest noise.

  I continued to try to digest all Galerius had revealed to me while at the same time trying to find an escape from the black silver. I could barely sense the dragon’s presence and had no idea what he was doing, if anything.

  I must’ve flinched a little, because one of the thugs walked up to me and promptly put an automatic to my head.

  “You’re supposed to keep still,” he warned.

  “Sorry. I’m itchy. Mind scratching my back?”

  He snorted. “You got both hands back there. Use ‘em.”

  The two goons shared a laugh. I smiled.

  And Fetch suddenly leaped on the one holding the gun on me. The thug easily went down, his head slamming against the floor.

  The other hood fiddled with his automatic. I realized he’d left the safety on. He was too stunned to yell for help, but I knew that piece of luck wouldn’t last long.

  So did Fetch, thankfully. No sooner had the first guard’s head hit, then Fetch threw himself at the second. He brought down the gunman by slamming him against the wall behind. The two dropped together.

  Fetch seized the guard’s wrist in his jaws. He shook the gun free . . . and then did what I’d warned him never to do again.

  He tore the goon’s throat out.

  It happened in barely a second. Fetch lunged and bit. It was over like that.

  With flattened ears and a guilty look, Fetch headed toward me. He silently circled behind.

  I tried to see how he’d managed to free himself. The strands of black silver lay scattered around where Fetch had lain, which told me only that he hadn’t bitten through them.

  “Easy, Master Nicholas,” Fetch whispered. “Almost there.” He didn’t speak after that, his mouth and mind at work on my bonds.

  A couple of minutes later, he had me free. I dropped to my knees and gasped for air, only then understanding just how much pain I’d been going through.

  Fetch came around front. He still looked guilty as hell.

  “Forget it, Fetch. I know you had no choice. Thanks for freeing me, too. How’d you manage that trick with your own bonds?”

  He looked uncomfortable . . . which made me feel uncomfortable. “Master Nicholas, surely ye know that it was himself that did it?”

  “Him?”

  You are so very welcome . . . he commented snidely . . . but also weakly.

  Yeah. Definitely thanks.

  He didn’t respond to my honest gratitude. He’d surprised me. Unable to deal with our more complex and stronger black silver bonds, he’d worked on the lesser ones used on Fetch. Even then, it had to have been a Herculean task.

  I assumed there’d be guards outside the room as well, but a cau tious listen at the door revealed no sound. I’d thought we’d just been fortunate that they hadn’t heard the struggle, but it turned out that Galerius had only left two to watch me. That wasn’t entirely a surprise; black silver generally worked well in such situations.

  That brought up the matter of just how Galerius had gotten his hands on so much of the stuff, since it originated in Feirie, but I shoved those thoughts aside with the hope I’d have a future in which to contemplate them. All that mattered was finding a way to prevent Galerius from doing whatever he planned. It still wasn’t very clear, but I gathered he wanted to use the card to adjust reality to his preference. I knew the cards could do that to an extent, especially if all were together, but he seemed to think he could do it with just one.

  Which brought up the question of why the card he already had hadn’t proven sufficient.

  The ship continued to rock as if moving. I wondered why I didn’t hear an engine and then came close to slapping myself on the head. Apparently Galerius had more than one use for the monster. It had to literally be carrying the Frank O’Connor to wherever Galerius needed it.

  Again, a powerful resource he could only have attained from Feirie.

  I heard voices from somewhere above deck. Part of Galerius’s human crew. I was curious as to whether or not they understood that he was likely to sacrifice them in the process.

  Fetch and I continued along the corridor. We passed several old sections Galerius had seen no reason to repair. Most of the Frank O’Connor was rust and rot. In the deep cold waters of Lake Michigan, it would’ve stayed more intact. He had clearly moved it several times as he’d tried to adjust for all the needed calculations.

  More and more I could sense the essence of the Gate. Galerius was nearing the location he needed to be at in order to achieve the culmination of his plans. I cursed Joseph for all he was responsible for, then suffered a wave of guilt for my condemnation of Barnaby’s son. Barnaby had helped me a lot since we’d met. I’d known few men like him.

  Of course, I’d also known few men like the Joseph Sperling of old, thankfully.

  A guard had the misfortune to come out of a side compartment just then. I grabbed him, covered his mouth . . . and, with no other quick and quiet choice, snapped his neck.

  Peeking into the compartment, I didn’t spot any more trouble. With Fetch behind me, I dragged the body into the room and set it in a corner where it wouldn’t immediately be seen.

  I was just about to leave when we both heard a sound in the corridor. Signaling Fetch to back away, I cautiously took a glimpse outside.

  At first, I saw nothing. Then, I noticed a crumpled pile on one side of the passage.

  It looked like cloth. In fact, it looked like a coat.

  It looked like my coat.

  The cheese is set. . . the dragon commented. Are you now the mouse?

  There was no good reason under the sun for my coat to be there. Everything screamed trap, just as the dragon suggested.

  But that was also the reason why I hesitated to leave it behind. It was too obvious a trap. I doubted even Galerius thought I was that naive.

  So what was going on?

  I was saved from the decision by Fetch, who darted out and raced to the coat. Snagging it in his mouth, he proceeded to drag it back to me.

  I kept watch, but nothing happened. Fetch pulled it into the room, where I immediately took hold of it.

  It was mine. Someone, presumably Galerius, had clearly rifled through the pockets. They must’ve been disappointed not to find the card. Now it was my turn. I didn’t know if Galerius could breach the sword’s hiding place, but if anyone could, it’d be him.

  A tremendous sense of relief filled me as my hand gripped the hilt. I drew Her Lady’s gift just to make certain everything was okay, then replaced the sword.

  “Thanks again,” I told Fetch.

  “Everything okay with it?”

  “Seems to be. You smell anything out there?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing but old faint traces of men and fish. And mostly fish.”<
br />
  He wasn’t kidding about the last. It made even the best noses pretty useless at anything more than immediate surroundings. We would have to proceed blindly.

  But at least I had the sword.

  I got a bit more of a glimpse into the original fate of the Frank O’Connor. There was no way that Quiet’s brother, let alone anyone else, could’ve survived if they’d been in here. The fire had torched everything. I felt bad for him and no longer regretted leaving him behind. This wasn’t his battle anymore.

  We finally came to a stairway leading up. I was encouraged about one thing—Galerius didn’t have a huge gang aboard. Judging by the condition of the wreck, that was likely due to stability as much as anything. Still, none of that mattered if he figured out what to do with his lone card.

  I crept upstairs, Fetch right behind. The stench of fish and rot grew stronger. Something else now bothered me. The weather on the lake had been worsening, but since I’d woken up it’d been oddly calm other than the ship’s movement. I didn’t like that. It meant Galerius was already able to draw some of the forces he needed.

  I carefully stuck my head above deck . . . and found no one. No matter what direction I looked, there was no sign of a single guard.

  But what I did see was the ghost ship crashing through high waves as the monstrous strength of the aquatic beast carried it deeper onto Lake Michigan. I couldn’t see the tentacles, but I knew they had to have the Frank O’Connor held tightly to keep it from capsizing.

  The fact that the ship had arrived at Chicago from under the waves raised more questions, especially as it seemed that Galerius had every desire now for it to sit atop the surface, not below. If he hadn’t minded it below before, then that meant that the vessel had to stay above in order for his plans to come to fruition.

  I climbed out. As Fetch joined me, we got a better look around. In the process, we saw the reason for the calm sea and sky. A hazy shell of magical energy encompassed the Frank O’Connor, utterly protecting it from the elements. More work from the Clothos card. I shuddered to think what repercussions that might have on the mortal plane.