The Angel and the Dragon

by Pearl Goodfellow

  My head couldn’t answer those questions. But my heart showed its feelings by just how heavy it had become.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once again the opening session of the Custodian (and friends of the Custodians) meeting broke out in undisguised pandemonium.

  Styx Werelamb was a new addition to the group tonight. I could see the teen was uncomfortable standing there among the more senior members of the society. He kept his head down and stared intently at his feet.

  Portia Fearwyn strode into the middle of the room, between the gesticulations and rabid gabble.

  “Please,” she said, holding up her hands. “Let’s all just settle down. I’m hopeful we can get this meeting wrapped up by eight a.m tomorrow, at least.”

  The chatter fell away, and it was Jet who broke the silence. “Uh, yep, sorry, lady … but did you just say tomorrow? You want us to stay here until morning? Nope, nope.” Jet waved his head side to side in protest.

  “Ah, you don’t want to stay until morning then?” She questioned all of us.

  Carpathia let out a gushing breath. “Portia, sweetie-darling, first of all, there’s a very nasty draft in here,” she said, spinning toward the bank of small windows. And, secondly I have so much to do, I couldn’t possibly stay the whole night.” The vampy vamp frowned. “And you know what a drag it is for me to get caught in daylight. I didn’t think to bring my aloe-soaked bandages either.”

  “Uh, me too, Miss. Fearwyn,” Dilwyn mumbled. I have to get back tonight to feed the Chimera’s.

  Millie Midge nodded, indicating that she also had better things to be doing with her time this evening than hashing it out with a load of potential saviors of humanity.

  “Well then,” Portia said, drumming her fingers against her upper arm. “Exactly as I thought. We’d all like to wrap this up. You think I like my household filled with a load of random bodies?” We each gave the Witch Fearwyn a respectful shake of the head.”Okay, let us please start with Mr. Caves’ work on the cat armor.”

  I stood forward. “Actually, Portia, I think David and I need to share our news from Mag Mell, first. I have other news too, but I can wait my turn for that.” I looked at the Witch Fearwyn and responded to her stern gaze with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, but trust me, it’s … “ I swallowed. “Time sensitive.”

  The Witch Fearwyn gave me a curt nod, and with a heavy heart, I told everyone about the conversation with Ankou and the fact that the dragon would be out of the faerie’s hands and onto Cathedral’s soil by tomorrow.

  I let everyone have their turn at gasping. “I understand this gives us a narrow margin, but let’s just remain calm and see what comes up in this meeting, shall we? We can formulate a plan once we’ve all had a chance to speak.”

  Millie Midge tossed her fiery hair over her shoulder. “I think that sounds reasonable.” My assistant looked around the room, her almond shaped eyes brimming with hopeful light. “I’m sure at least a few of us will have something we can work with, right?”

  “It’s in the Goddess’ hands now,” Thaddeus Peacefield said, folding his own hands before him.

  “Word, Rev,” Shade said, rubbing a cheek against the holy man’s leg.

  Okay, so there were a few people sporting some anxious looking expressions, but I have to say I was pretty amazed at how calm everyone was after hearing the news. Do I smell a delayed reaction?

  Portia cleared her throat, and, keeping the meeting on track, the old witch gestured for Artemus to take the floor.

  But the man stayed rooted to the spot and shuffled uncomfortably.

  Fraidy groaned.

  Artemus grabbed for Gabrielle’s hand. “Folks, I don’t know what to say. Carpathia will tell you, getting the math to play ball for the head measurements … it’s like we’re dealing with shifting sands.”

  Another soft moan from Fraidy. Elongated and relatively dramatic this time.

  “And the body armor?” Eclipse asked, licking an extended nail.

  Carpathia breezed into the middle of the room. “Darling, mystery-kitty, we have all the ingredients right, but the forging? Master Orville must have been using magic to get that steel to solidify.” She raised the back of her wrist to her brow and swooned out of the circle.

  Portia looked at me. “Hattie? I believe you’d like to share the second batch of news?”

  I looked at David in question. The chief gave me a ghost of a smile and nodded, and I joined Portia in the middle of the floor. “Nebula Dreddock, Spithilda Roach, Druida Stone, Millicent Ponds, Aurel Nugget, Morag Devlin, Barnabus Kramp.” I took a breath. “And … Orville … Nugget. Their murders were all on purpose and all orchestrated by Gideon Shields.” There. No beating about the bush with that one. I saw my friends and colleagues faces fall one by one. Millie wiped furiously at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater to stop the flow of insta-tears.

  Hinrika Jonsdottir glistening eyes stared at me, her blackened lips working silently. “It’s all on an external drive of the governor’s computer,” I said gently. “I’m sorry, Hinrika, but it’s true.”

  David cleared his throat. “I’m having my men collect the drive this morning. We have the evidence.”

  A hissing sound seethed between Portia Fearwyn’s lips. “I knew it,” she said. “I knew these murders were connected somehow, and I suspected the governor, but I just didn’t know how or why. Or what, when, where or anything else for that matter.” I rubbed the old witch’s arm, and she looked at me with misty eyes. “Tell us how the governor did it.” Her words sounded strangled.

  I took the floor and filled everyone in about how each of the murderers had their own kind of motivation for wanting their target dead, and how Shields had merely played to those baser levels of all sentient beings. I also told them about the ‘payload’ drive, and how Sparky was still trying to gain access.

  Hinrika, with at least three of my kitties dangling from her lemon-yellow taffeta ballgown, rocked on her heels and moaned, trying to reconcile all the talk of the dead. Midnight made biscuits in the Faerie Queen’s tangle of snowy curls. I wasn’t convinced the mad fairy found this calming, but she did nothing to rid herself of my kneading cat. “So technically we have enough to put this greaseball in Steeltrap until he kicks it,” Midnight said, his eyebrows knitting into a severe swoop as he stomped.

  “Yeah, and the governor knows it,” Gloom said. “But he’s nonetheless not the least bit concerned. Jackass.”

  “Gloom,” I cautioned my potty-mouthed cat.

  “He thinks he’s invincible. It’s disgusting,” Carbon said, swatting his tail against the floor.

  Onyx hummed. “I would imagine it’s because the governor believes that a) he is going to flee this planet, head for the stars, and evade all charges, or b) Shields is going to kill everyone who isn’t on his side. Which is, sadly for us, us.”

  “I agree with this cat … which cat is this?” Portia said, eyeing O with mild curiosity.

  Onyx offered a formal bow, finishing the move off with a flourish of his paw. “I am Onyx of the Lemniscate, and it is my honor to offer any help I can, Lady Fearwyn.”

  “Alright, Shakespeare, tone it down,” Gloom sniped.

  “Onyx is right,” Portia said, taking the center of the floor once more. “Which means we need to do all we can to make sure our names aren't added to the governor’s kill list.” She clapped her hands. “Our imminent deaths aside, what’s next?” She spun toward Reverend Peacefield, Gabrielle, and Millie. “Are we any closer to finding a branch of ancient magic that will disable the dragon?”

  Millie took a step backward, which left Reverend Peacefield in the line of Portia’s intense gaze.

  Thaddeus made a dance with his hands. “There are things we’re looking at, of course,” he said. “But, I wouldn’t say we have anything meaningful enough to share with this meeting,” he confessed.

  “Very well, Mr … uh, Rev … Thaddeus, thank you for your honesty.”

  David stepped forward and told ever
yone about the forest fire out by the Mwyrdwen cliffs, and how his department was still out looking for the drifter, Typhon Jyldrar.

  “So you both believe that Typhon carries the Elder Code?” Gabrielle asked. “We need to track the fire-starting drifter?”

  David gave a half-shrug. “It’s as good as we’ve got, I guess. Although, right now there’s no proof that Jyldrar started the fire.”

  Portia looked around the room, urging the next contributor to share intel, and Styx Werelamb shuffled his feet again. Dilwyn nudged his son forward. “Go on, son, don’t be scared.” Werelamb senior’s voice was tender. “Just tell everyone what you heard today.”

  “Um, yeah, okay,” Styx started. “Well, I was just having a bite at the Moon, you know? And that grumlin … the same one I told dad about, the one that was trading illegally in black diamonds, he was there, and he was selling some goods.”

  “Okay,” David said. “And?”

  “Well, after his customers left, I took a seat at his table and asked him a few questions.” Styx looked at us from underneath his scraggly hair. “I asked about the secret tunnel into Burning Peak.”

  David looked at the teen over the rim of his glasses. “Alright, you’ve got our attention.”

  “Well, I’m not as good as pa at grumlin signing, but the upshot is … is the grumlin swears there’s a tunnel. It’s what he uses to smuggle the gems out. Said he used it just this morning. He has a regular customer from Glessie, apparently.”

  I put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you sure, Styx? Did the creature give you the access point?”

  “Well, not with pinpoint precision or anything, but, yeah, the little fellow gave me an idea of where to get in.”

  “Show us,” Portia said, flicking her wand at the surface of the oak table and murmuring: Cartavellum. From a spot just above the table came a faint rustling sound; the whisper of unfurling parchment. The air trembled momentarily, and from the rippling airwaves, an antique map popped into existence. It lowered itself gracefully to the table and stretched out flat.

  The landmasses on the map’s surface swirled and morphed across the golden parchment.

  Portia leaned over the chart and spoke to it. “Waterfall, Burning Peak, Glimmer Mountains, Cathedral Isle, Coven Isles.”

  “Ms. Fearwyn is giving the map a location,” Onyx explained. “It should narrow in nicely with those refined coordinates.” Onyx sounded almost proud of Portia’s instructions to the map. He was a strange cat at times.

  The landscapes and contours of the map shifted again and then seemed to zoom out of the page, only to snap back to the surface of the paper as a fully rendered map. I recognized the base of Burning Peak, and the waterfall off to the left.

  Styx stepped closer to the chart. He traced a finger along the cliff face until he came to the falls. Portia shook her head. “No, we checked there. Or rather, a couple of those daft cats did. The scaredy one got his head stuck in a …” Portia’s eyes narrowed. “What did you see in there, whiskers?”

  Fraidy looked blank. “Huh? I didn’t see anything. I had my eyes closed the whole time.”

  “Good grief,” Gloom muttered.

  Styx kept tracing his finger slowly along the contours of the rock face.

  I remembered the sound of rock falling onto solid ground when I managed to free Fraidy on the rock face. I tapped my kitty. “Sweetie, when you were shouting for me though … when you were stuck in the hole… did you hear an echo? Or feel a draft?”

  “Well, yeah, of course,” Fraidy said.

  “Of course what, buddy?” David question. “You heard and echo, or you felt a draft?”

  “Both.” My cat stated simply. “It was hell. There are lots of things in hell that mess with your head biscuits. Drafts, sounds, rocks ...it was basically a torture chamber. It was a fight for my sanity, you know?”

  “Your head biscuits were cooked a long time ago, brother,” Carbon said, twirling his paw at his temple.

  Styx tapped the map with a meaty index finger. “I think this is it.” He kept his finger on a spot to the left of the waterfall, just below a narrow ridge that stretched out like an old rope near the top of the cliff. “See this dark fold here?” He stabbed at one spot on the image until it came into full and defined resolution. The teen let his thumb hover over the shaded anomaly within the cliff face. “It’s like a blind crease. You can’t see it from down below, or even if you were staring at the rock face directly, you wouldn’t notice it. This entrance folds back on itself, so it looks like it’s flush with the cliff.” Styx looked at Fraidy. “But I think your kitty might have had his head stuck in a small part of this system today, from what dad told me. Look at the trajectory here.” Styx once again tapped his finger on the ultra-defined image and traced it slowly from the hidden entrance to the point where Fraidy’s head had gotten stuck. Fraidy pressed a firm paw on top of Styx’s hand. “That’s quite enough,” he said, his voice wavering. “I’m traumatized enough without you reminding me of my time spent in the maw of hell.”

  “Can you believe this, clown?” Carbon said, jerking a furry thumb at his dramatic brother.

  Portia let out a harsh little snort. “Well, we’re going to need to find the start of this tunnel before Shields has his dragon delivered --”

  “Tomorrow,” Gloom finished.

  “Yeah, as long as we can get there before Ankou makes the drop,” Midnight said, his little head swinging from face to face as we huddled around the map.

  “Which is tomorrow,” Eclipse said, backing up his sister’s earlier observation.

  Aha, the penny is dropping.

  “Maybe we should go over what we’ve got so far,” Midnight said, not really asking, but telling us. My sleuthing kitty took to the floor. “Okay, to fight this dragon and Warlock-fricken-Maniac, Shields we have a hazy idea of where a possible secret tunnel into his lair might be, and a hunch that this joker, Typhon, is our Wyrmrig … and, what else… what else ....” Midnight paced, holding one paw tucked behind his back while he scratched at his chin with the other.

  “I think that’s it, bro,” Eclipse said, sitting motionless at the far end of the room, staring into the huddle. “I think us knowing the rough whereabouts about a potentially fictional tunnel, and a few of us having a sneaky suspicion that some random homeless dude is the Elder Code carrying Wyrmrig, is what we’ve got right now. If you need more floor time, you’re gonna need to list what we don’t have.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I would have to agree with our brother, Midnight,” Onyx said. “The things we don’t have would make an almost inexhaustible list.”

  Midnight scratched his head. “Right,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, as he ordered his thoughts. “Well, as of yet we don’t have any magic that could contain or disable the Warlock Chief’s dragon. We don’t have our cousin, Ankou, on our side, we don’t have any suitable armor against dragon-fire, the latter of which is undoubtedly going to be fired upon us tomorrow, we don’t have CPI Trew up to his usual one-hundred percent capabilities, and we haven’t yet found a way to put the killer Warlock behind bars.”

  “Woah!” Shade said, pulling his head back flush against his chest. “I didn’t realize we had it that bad.”

  “Yep!” Jet shouted out of nowhere. “Yep, the ‘nip’s just hit the fan, yep.”

  David waved a hand over the map. “We should post some bodies at the estimated location of this tunnel.”

  “No, CPI Trew, that isn’t a good idea,” Portia said. David opened his mouth to object, but the Witch Fearwyn raised an ‘I will have silence’ finger. “All we have is the approximate location for the entrance of this passageway. We absolutely cannot afford to lose this chance. I will not risk drawing the attention of Shields’ goons. Right now this entrance is an unknown quantity on alien terrain. We go to this opening only when the Wyrmrig makes his move. If nothing else, we will give the governor the element of surprise.”

  “And it might give him the jitters that
we’re all just going about our business on our own little isle,” Shade suggested.

  Portia nodded. “That too.”

  David rubbed his eyes. “Makes sense,” he admitted. “I’ll have my men along the coast of Glessie. I’ll stay up at the Mwyrden Cliffs. We’ll intercept whoever tries to leave this isle.”

  Fraidy sucked in a great gulp of air, and Portia eyed him suspiciously. She flicked her gaze toward me. “Is this little fella going to freak out again? Because there isn’t time enough to administer to his panicked fancies.”

  “What’s this ‘time’ you speak of?” Gloom’s voice oozed like a lazy river of sarcasm. “We don’t have any time. Didn’t you hear what Hattie and the chief said? The dragon is being delivered to Burning Peak tomorrow. TOMORROW, people. And Middie’s pretty much summed up what we have right now to combat the threat. Which are two vague assumptions and nothing else.”

  Fraidy hadn’t yet expelled his enormous gulp of air. The little guy puffed out his cheeks. His eyes crossed until he stared intently at his nose in frightened surprise. Hinrika jumped into action, grabbing Fraidy into her arms, and gently applying pressure on Fraidy’s back and chest. She muttered soft elvish words to my little lovebug, and I felt a flood of relief when Fraidy finally drew in a breath. He looked up at the Faery Queen as he lay on his back in her gentle embrace. Hinrika smiled down at him, and I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes as I witnessed a lone tear roll down the faerie’s cheek. She smiled down at my kitty, and gently bopped his nose with a careful finger.

  To be honest, I was a little envious of my cat’s coddled attention. I felt the impact of the truth of our situation just as much as he did. I wanted nothing more than to lie in the arms of a person I loved, and trusted; to just look gratefully into their eyes and feel content in the knowledge that I was safe.

  Portia sighed, and turned to Gloom.“Look, we all know we don’t have … much time.” She struggled to find the right order of words; words that might offer us even the smallest sliver of hope. “But we need to keep our resolve. It’s essential that we keep our resolve, and keep our focus sharp,” she finished.