Tales From Thac

by F P Spirit et al.

  The dragon-girl wandered around, gingerly stretching her burned back.

  “This room is safe enough,” Ruka commented with one hand on a damp wall. There were two tightly shut doors and a large square opening of water in the floor. The room seemed formed of solid stone blocks of a uniform dark grey color.

  “Uh-huh,” Merry was dubious, but her mind was still reeling and everything seemed unreal. She was trying to figure out if this normal-seeming young girl could really be a dragon.

  “You swing a mean club.” Ruka went on rubbing her shoulder. “You should be able to handle yourself.” It was a pretty obvious lie to Merry.

  “But, just in case…” Ruka drew a strange-looking sword from a sheath at her belt. The handle was carved like a dragon’s neck, the hilt was made to resemble gaping jaws, and the blade was its tongue or its breath. The whole sword was formed of a hammered bronze that seemed to glow with an inner light and blue sparks traveled continuously up and down the blade. “This is Inazuma, the lightning blade. He’ll protect you.” The last was said sternly, and as if to the sword itself.

  Ruka spoke several strange words, again to the sword. It sounded similar to the language that the great dragons above had used to roar their challenge to each other. An odd-sounding male voice responded in the same language. The dragon girl's eyes seemed to glow amber for a second as she slammed the sword several inches into a crack in the stone floor with one mighty strike.

  “Where are you going?” Merry started, but she already knew the answer. “You can’t! The huge dragons are battling!”

  Ruka grinned at Merry, but there was a deadly intensity to her eyes.

  “Precious members of both our families are out there. And I’ll do whatever it takes to save them all.”

  2

  Dragon Fight!

  Theria grappled the storm dragon with both foreclaws, and let loose with her fire. Her opponent responded with a lightning strike. The weight difference was better than Theria had guessed; the slender bronze might be half her mass. She easily pulled her opponent off the curved breakwater and toward shore. Through the cove, it was half the distance than it would be to go around the rocks, but immediately Theria began to regret it. The storm dragon didn’t resist initially but pulled Berikarth in after them with her rear claws.

  By the fifth head, this upstart sea dragon angered her! Didn’t she realize that Theria could care less about that useless, blue-scaled idiot? If he wasn’t totally underwater, she’d fry him herself! She gave a savage heave toward shore, which forced Vestiralanna to release Berikarth and dig her own claws into the sandy bottom.

  Theria loosened her bite on the bronze throat and called out, “Irovnia, get Berikarth out of here! Yiglelot, after the little one!”

  The small storm dragon had struck earlier from the ocean side of the rocks and had little choice but to continue on to the cove side when Theria had released her, so she should be somewhere in the cove with the humans. Perhaps she was drowning them, just to ruin Theria’s snack. She would deal with that one later—first she needed to put an end to the one she had in her grip.

  The sleek, streamlined form and smooth scales of bronze offered little purchase for her claws, but Theria’s powerful muscles constricted like iron bands around the slender body, and she pulled inexorably toward shore.

  Theria's main handicap was ensuring she kept her head above water—there was so much of it, her scales couldn’t boil it off. And grappled as they were, neither could effectively do more than bite. But even so, the storm dragon’s bite was trivial to the damage that Theria’s massive jaws were doing. At this rate, she might not need to get her foe all the way to shore.

  A lightning bolt blasted up out of the water a short distance away, catching foolish Yiglelot full-on.

  “There’s a huge hole in the center!” the black dragon yelled, as he flapped once again toward shore. Theria noticed his flight was ragged and he barely stayed aloft. The weakling was almost taken out by a few lightning strikes. Theria was sure he wasn’t coming back until the fight was over.

  The darker shadow in the center of the cove could be anything to a fire dragon’s eyes, but it was large enough to swallow her. One little slip was all it would take to put her underwater and shift the balance in a water dragon's favor.

  She had almost been tricked right down that hole; her adversary was dangerously clever! Theria pulled savagely away from the hole but found little good footing. The ocean surged in a sudden powerful wave that was clearly tinged with dragon magic.

  Vestiralanna was no longer weak and ineffective. In the rising rush of surf, her body slammed into Theria’s, pushing her inexorably toward the now-swirling black opening. It was a struggle just to keep her jaws above water.

  A sudden panic struck. There is no path to the Fiery Halls through water! She bit and clawed savagely at her foe, more in terror now than fury. And then cold exploded around her.

  Theria had thought the waters of the cove were cold before, but that was nothing. She felt dangerously chilled as her back claws finally found purchase against a mass of solid ice.

  Irovnia had completely blocked the eye of the cove with ice and nearly froze them all solid in the process. To be tricked by a vile storm dragon and then saved by an idiot cold-wyrm was too much. Her fires exploded with her anger!

  She used the flames to immolate herself and boil as much of the surrounding water as possible, burning and scalding her grappled foe in the process.

  Vestiralanna’s head came up, looking obviously exhausted and desperate, then her eyes began glowing like green orbs.

  Another foolish lightning bolt would be nothing to the strength of a Dragon of the Flames, Theria thought. Time to show this wretched sea creature the true power and might of dragon spirit! She gathered her breath. With her anger building, her fires would be fully back in another moment.

  The bronze jaws breathed out a white fog, like steam from her fires. But it was not pleasantly scalding like steam; it was uncomfortably cool. Theria was caught inhaling and felt she was drowning in the ocean depth, the taste of salt and smell of seafoam overpowering her. She couldn’t get her breath! She felt herself going under, the warmth and light fading as she sank deeper. She had to get out of it!

  When Theria looked around, she was flying high over an old, ruined keep on a hill. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. The warm sun was burning the last of the chilly grip of the ocean from her mind.

  May the five-headed lady have mercy on me, she prayed but knew she didn’t deserve it. She had forgotten that storm dragons had another form of spirit breath, the fog of despair.

  As Theria descended to the cove a second time, she quickly cast a glamour against both lightning and enchantments on herself. She didn’t expect to find her bronze-scaled adversaries there, but when next she met them, she would be ready.

  Yiglelot, that cowardly swamp dragon, was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding in some stream or pond inland. Irovnia had pulled Berikarth onto the beach using an ice float. Theria wondered briefly if the stupid ice dragon had frozen him to death in the process, but she saw Berikarth beginning to stir.

  The cove looked quiet; Irovnia’s icy bolder still covered the center hole but was looking smaller and beginning to float. And her original ice mound that had blocked the inlet was floating down the coast, almost out of sight. And there was no sign of fishermen or children.

  All in all, it was an utter failure.

  Theria landed by the breakwater, grabbing the largest boulder she could move. She hauled it to the center of the cove and placed it on the ice. It held the icy plug down, firmly covering the hole again. And when the ice melted, the boulder would plunge down, crushing anything below. Then she settled on the scorched slab of rock, where she had so recently fought.

  There at the end of the breakwater, with water almost all around, steeled herself in the vain hope for a rematch. But nothing stirred in the waters and it was time to report in.

  Closing her eyes to
focus, Theria reached back along the psychic leash that tethered her to the dragon shard. The shard was farther than she would have thought; if the airship had followed the pursuit at full speed, it should have only been a few dozen minutes behind her. Also, the link was weaker, more tenuous than she ever felt it before. What are they up to?

  Our quarry has escaped to the sea, she projected through the shard to the princess. The link seemed to waver and flicker as she listened for a response, and it took so long she began to think the message hadn’t been heard. Theria was just about to try and send more forcefully when she heard the faint reply.

  Wait there—the strained voice sounded like the faded remnants of a shout echoing up from a distant cavern—we are coming.

  The princess was losing control!

  Theria had no idea what could have caused this, but this was her chance. The spirit link that tethered her to the shard was frayed and weak. Slipping those bonds would be trivial now, even for little Scorch. She just had to grab him from the ship, and they would both be free.

  She would play this game just a little longer.

  As she settled in to wait, Theria couldn’t help blowing puffs of eager smoke through her wicked, fanged grin. Finally, her luck was turning.

  Wexel Hookwright was practically numb with fear—or it could have been cold. Even in the bright sun and summer sea, the water near the huge boulder of ice was frigid. He looked over toward his brother-in-law, Hevik Fichgotz. Ever since the sea dragon had whispered to him that his children were safe, he seemed drained. Wex had to physically restrain him in the cove when they saw that crimson fire dragon with Merry and Gully. He was certain he had saved Hevik’s life, and he was equally certain he had a black eye as thanks for it.

  Most of the ice was well under the water, and beneath that, their mysterious dragon ally was carefully pushing the frozen boulder further down the coast. He must be getting used to dragons, for this smaller beast beneath the waves evoked no fear in him now.

  When the dragons flew over the cove, he was in awe—it was like a wonderful dream come to life. He recognized the first dragons from his grandfather’s stories, the great bronze-scaled storm dragons. Old sailors’ tales were full of them. They were sometimes punishers of the foolish or wicked, but usually, they were depicted as protectors of the good, and saviors of sailors in trouble.

  The second dragon actually spoke to them; he thought it was inviting them to swim out to sea with them before it dived into the ocean. A foolish notion, but he was tempted.

  Then the dream suddenly turned to nightmare.

  A huge, crimson fire dragon swooped down and landed on the south breakwater opposite them. A white ice dragon descended like an arctic wind and began freezing the ocean right outside the cove. And then with a thunderous clap, a large blue-scaled dragon shattered the Foam Lady’s keel with a blast of lightning.

  In just a few moments, the pleasant cove was transformed into a death trap.

  “Gully!” Hevik screamed when they saw what looked like a ragdoll in the huge crimson claws. They dropped their nets and began to swim that way. What they would have done, Wex had no clue. But all strength seemed to leave them as they saw the blue dragon come around directly toward them for another pass. Its great mouth opened and a clap of thunder echoed across the cove.

  Not only did the bolt miss them, but it seemed to arc and ricochet off the waves to hit a black-scaled dragon that had just entered the cove. The gods themselves must be protecting them! As he tried to blink the spots from his eyes, not quite believing the miracle, he thought he saw a girl in the water making a very unladylike gesture at the dragons. He blinked again, and the image was gone.

  From down in the water, he couldn’t see where the blue dragon had flown off to, but he heard a great roar and splashing from the seaward side of the breakers. Then all became silent for a few moments as each of the dragons stared out to sea, their horrid visages unreadable.

  In that brief silence, a faint but familiar sound came from across the cove, one that both men had heard a thousand times—Merry was yelling Gully’s name. Both men strained to see and were dumbfounded by the vision of little Merry swinging an ax at the dragon. And then a second miracle happened—the huge crimson-scaled dragon released Gully and backed away from Merry's onslaught.

  In a flash, the children were gone from sight, a bronze-scaled form in their place. Multiple bright lines of electricity, like from storm clouds over the ocean, arced up from the bronze body into the crimson dragon that had pounced on it.

  And then they witnessed the fire.

  “No!” Hevik had yelled, but his voice was lost in the infernal roar. Unlike the quick lighting strikes, the fire seemed to go on for an excruciating eternity, although it could only have been seconds. Wex grabbed his brother-in-law as he tried to swim by. They flailed at each other briefly and went under.

  When they surfaced, their struggles ceased, and their eyes went wide at what they saw. Two elemental beasts of legend faced each other. The terrifying fire dragon, its eyes aglow and smoke still streaming from its mouth, faced a new adversary. Its bronze scales glistening with sea spray, the waves crashing with unnatural vigor at its back, a mighty storm dragon had come to challenge the interloper in its domain.

  The two dragons roared at each other in some ancient language of a forgotten time. The challenge seemed to echo with the crash of wild ocean storms, and the response burned with the fires of the deepest pits.

  The heavens themselves resounded with the clash as the two dragons collided; the air alternately sparkled and burned. A great wave hit them as the beasts had driven themselves off the rocks and began writhing in the surf of the cove. As they righted themselves, Wex saw a lightning blast erupt from the waves of the cove to strike the black dragon that tried to return to the fray.

  The surf of the cove surged and they were briefly caught in the flow. The errant current moved them away from the center, where the dragons fought, and deposited them against the ice blocking the cove mouth. And then the waters receded, leaving the two of them knee-deep in an area that would normally be well over their heads.

  The icy dam behind them creaked with the weight of the ocean behind it, and angry surf splashed over the top. The ocean itself was coming to battle at the storm dragon’s call! It was like Gran’s old stories.

  Hevik grabbed Wex and hauled him forcefully to the side as the giant boulder of ice shifted inward to where they were just standing with a resounding crack. A torrent poured in around the bolder and over their heads, and they found themselves again upended at the mercy of raging surf.

  A small mountain of water raged away from them, rising toward the center and driving the combatant beasts toward the cove eye. Even the massive fire dragon could not stand against that watery onslaught and was slowly being forced along. It was only a matter of moments before both beasts were over the plunge.

  An arctic blast from the white dragon struck at the rising surf of the cove. The waters over the center eye quickly froze solid, blocking the hole. The ice spread outward, stopping the motion of the two grappling dragons and coating them with a thin veneer of frost. Then the small ice dragon flew raggedly back to shore, landed with a thump, and lay there panting from its effort.

  A roar of rage and a pillar of fire burst from the fire dragon. It melted the ice around it into hissing steam and left the two dragons in an almost dry crater with icy walls. The surf of the cove went still, and the bowed neck of the storm dragon showed its exhaustion. The bid to drown the fires of its enemy had failed.

  The smoke from the fire dragon’s maw started to flow inward as it prepared another blast of its infernal breath, but its fires were slow in coming after that last blast. The storm dragon’s head also came up, exhaling only misty vapor.

  A glistening white fog seemed to envelop the thrashing beasts, obscuring them briefly. When it cleared, the fire dragon was flying west over the hills, rapidly dwindling from sight. The sea dragon leaped over their heads in a gra
ceful flying dive, only broken slightly by its rear claw striking the original ice boulder behind them. Then the bronze scaled form vanished into the waves of the open ocean.

  The ice struck by the dragon’s passing creaked backwards, then settled a little more seaward, no longer blocking the inlet completely. Another quiet seemed to settle over the cove as the two men tiredly tread the now calm but cold water, unsure where to go. There was no sign of Merry and Gully, and little chance that they could have survived that battle.

  As he scanned the shore, Wex wondered what had happened to Hevik’s younger brother Perovich. He had supposedly gone into the woods to look for sweet roots, which usually meant he would dig up a few and nap. The thought that the loafer had slept through the greatest disaster in Hookwright or Fichgotz history was almost amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that Merry and Gully were now gone. And they were liable to follow soon; there was still an ice dragon on shore and a black-scaled one somewhere nearby.

  Oddly, a small seal was making its way out from under the new center ice isle. Wex watched it bemusedly, thinking it was odd for it to be in these waters in the summer. He was remembering some of the other stories his gran had told, about seals and selkies.

  It swam right up to them and stopped. Floating in the waves next to them, it seemed to survey the shore the same way they were. The poor thing must have been caught in the dragon fight; the fine fur on its back was blackened and singed off in some spots.

  The seal waved to them like it wanted their attention, then put a flipper to its mouth in the same manner a person would indicate silence. It made a series of odd gestures with its head and swam a short distance around the icy boulder in the mouth of the cove. When it popped back up again, it was obviously waving for them to follow.

  “What is that thing doing?” Hevik wondered, his voice distant and unfocused.