Another Stupid Trilogy

by Bill Ricardi

  As we were helping to shepherd one of the last groups onto the Circle of Transport, Ames suddenly froze. The were-cat’s eyes went distant for a few seconds.

  Then my mate turned to me and said, “That was Divine. She says the dragon has turned. It’s coming this way. I told her that we were evacuating the non-combatants and to get her people under cover.”

  I looked over my shoulder, trying to see past the throng of people. “Max? Max!” I called.

  But when I spotted Max, he was standing very still, much as Ames had been moments ago. When he snapped out of it, he turned to me and said, grimly, “That was our people at the observatory. We have ten minutes at most. It suddenly turned and picked up speed.”

  I suggested, “Let the guards finish the evacuation. We’ll make sure nobody is left outside the South exit, then sneak around to see if we can get eyes on the dragon.”

  Max looked like he was about to protest, but realized that we needed to know where it was if at all possible. We couldn’t rely on more Messages from the observatory. First of all they only had a limited number of them memorised. Secondly, once the dragon dipped low to the ground, they would lose sight of it.

  “Fine. But don’t engage the damned thing. If it spots you, run. Get to cover.”

  Ames grabbed Tara’s arm. “The next group is Ice House. Get your husband, tell the Order of the Snow. Meet us in Braxen as soon as you can get there.”

  Tara started to say something, but then snapped her jaw shut. The cleric probably wanted to argue, but knew that Ames already chose the right course of action. Time was of the essence. After briefly embracing the were-cat, the minotaur made her way through the crowd to join the next outgoing group.

  We hurried towards the South Wing. I noticed that Benno was tagging along. Without using his psychic abilities, my son read my mind. He said dryly, “No. Don’t even bother.”

  I scowled. “Fine. Stay behind us.”

  Ames corrected me by saying, “Both of you stay 5 paces behind me. Damned orcs.”

  There was a skeleton crew at the southern guard post, and they allowed us through without so much as a word. We made our way to the emergency exit and rushed out into the snow.

  Ames took a sharp right, hugging the southern wall of the Arcane University and heading West. Benno and I kept our eyes open for any stray students, but the snow drifts and paths were all clear. Once I was satisfied that only my family was daft enough to be outside during a possible dragon attack, I turned my eyes skyward.

  It took us several minutes to reach the Southwest corner of the University. There wasn’t a hint of activity. There was no sound of wingbeats, no great shadow imposing itself on the ground. I was starting to think that this Stasis Dragon turned again and found itself a new destination.

  But once Ames made the corner, the were-cat made a sharp gesture, paw facing downward. Benno and I fell to our bellies in the snow. The white feline crouched, head and eyes tracking something high and distant. Only when the subject of Ames’ attention was due West did Benno and I get to share the cat’s terrifying experience.

  I recalled that Master Aharon equated the size of this creature with that of a sperm whale. But it wasn’t a fair comparison. Whales don’t have giant teeth and claws. They don’t drift eerily through the sky with an occasional, almost absent flap of their wings. You don’t see a sperm whale from 300 paces away and immediately want to double that distance. It’s the difference between impressive and oppressive; between humbling and horrific.

  The Stasis Dragon was circling low in the western sky, searching for something. I scanned the horizon until I spotted the only thing out in that direction. I was reaching out for Benno even as his fingers found my wrist.

  My son thought, “What is that place?”

  I explained, “That would be The Outpost. It’s where the Arcane Engines are stored when not in use. They used to be stored inside the University itself before they were stolen a number of years ago in a plot against Royal Moffit.”

  Benno started to think, “What does it want to-”

  Just then, the Stasis Dragon dropped from the sky like a rock.

  The dragon plummeted towards The Outpost with wings furled until it was right above the flat two story structure. Then it splayed those relatively small gray wings to arrest its fall, defying gravity itself before lashing out. Claws broke stone. That long, whiplike tail thrashed at the top of the building. Once the structural integrity of The Outpost was compromised, the Stasis Dragon simply landed on the roof, and allowed its weight to completely collapse the structure.

  We watched in terrified silence as the mythical beast scratched around in the rubble, searching for the Arcane Syphons that had already been spirited off to Limt. Soon there was nothing left but rising dust and fallen rubble.

  The dissatisfied screech that pierced the sky sent a chill up my spine. The Stasis Dragon coiled itself before launching that immense bulk back into the sky. Three lazy wingbeats later, and it was gliding towards the Arcane University. The trajectory didn’t take the creature nearer to us. Instead the dragon flew towards the Northwest corner of the University: The clocktower.

  The three of us scrambled forward so that we could all peek around the corner. The mythical beast seemed to hover uncertainly in front of the pale yellow clock face for a few moments. Then it took decisive action. It inhaled, gray scaled chest puffing out for a couple of moments. Then the Stasis Dragon unleashed what looked like a torrent of steam and crystal boulders. Everything that the dragon’s breath touched was enveloped in a kind of shadowed glass. Soon the entire clock tower was encompassed.

  We watched in horror as the Northwest tower seemed to disconnect itself from reality. It started to sink through the ground, as if earth and stone were meaningless barriers to its new, inevitable progression. Soon the entire clock tower slipped under the surface of Panos, taking with it the cocoon of icy untime. All that was left was ragged walls that used to be attached to something, and a gap where the clock tower once was, now existing only in our memories.

  Seeming satisfied, the Stasis dragon circled back to the West, sweeping over the ruins of The Outpost once more. After two slow circuits of the area, the massive beast pointed its great neck and maw South. It seemed to put a little bit of effort into its wingbeats, gaining speed all the while. Soon it moved higher in order to clear the tall mountains, disappearing into the frigid clouds above.

  The three of us rushed back inside to report what had happened. The guard post outside of the South Wing was now abandoned, the gate opened wide. We found those guards and many more taking up defensive positions around the Circle of Transport. Max was with them, receiving a report from the Captain of the Guard. We caught the tail end of the conversation.

  “...no stations are able to communicate on the clairaudient gateway. We can’t read auras from anklets. It’s a mess, sir.”

  I said something that would bring clarity to the situation, “Max, the clock tower is gone. It’s been removed from time.”

  Reactions to this news were varied. The Captain simply didn’t look like he quite believed it. Max clearly believed it, by the way his jaw dropped open.

  But the most curious and poignant reaction came from Master Gideon, who had just padded over to join us. He uttered a single, strangled word: “No.” Then the big were-wolf, a man who never seemed to be phased by anything, fell to his knees as if struck through the heart. The sound he made was somewhere between a lupine howl and the keen of a dog in great pain. We were all taken aback.

  Max hurried to the were-wolf’s side, apparently the only one who knew what in the hells was going on. “Gideon. Gideon, I’ll see what I can do. It doesn’t end here, I swear it. I’ll get into it as soon as this crisis is over. It does not end here.” His ancient hands gripped the lupine’s shoulders.

  The inconsolable were-wolf rocked back and forth on his knees, eyes fixed on the stone floor, paws clenched tightly at his sides.

  Max looked to Benno, and said,
“Go find his daughter, boy. She should be clearing out some things in the Artificery. Bring her, quickly.”

  My son rushed off to find Jess.

  The Headmaster then told me, “We need to revert back to the old system, which means we need Assistant Donnelly. Magical Crafting annex, hurry. Tell him what’s happening, and then bring him to me.”

  Ames stayed behind, trying to help soothe Gideon. I rushed towards the West Wing, passing a number of confused guards and cursing mages on the way. As it turned out, I didn’t need to go all the way to the Magical Crafting annex. Bill Donnelly met me halfway.

  The older psychic looked relieved to see me, “Sorch, what in the blazes is happening?”

  I grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged. “Come on, I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Assistant Donnelly became more pale with every detail that I was able to provide. I pushed him to the edge of his stamina, as we ran back towards the center of the University. He arrived quickly, but sweaty and panting.

  Max wasn’t about to give him time to recover either. He said, “Assistant Donnelly, we need to reestablish the old system. Master Gideon won’t be able to help you. Can you do it?”

  Bill opted for a non verbal response as he caught his breath, nodding his head vigorously. He went over to the greeting area adjacent to the teleportation circle. The older psychic entered the New Students booth and started to rifle through the paperwork within.

  I looked down at my friend and mentor. The were-wolf wasn’t even rocking back and forth anymore, he was just staring at a fixed point on the ground, motionless. It wasn’t until Jess sprinted over that Gideon registered anything whatsoever.

  The younger were-wolf was upset as well, tears streaking her fuzzy cheeks. But she reached down and took one of Gideon’s arms in both of hers. She rumbled, “Dad. Dad, come on. We need to get out of the way right now.”

  Slowly, Master Gideon rose. He allowed himself to be led off by his daughter, seeming completely devoid of his own will.

  I shook my head. “Max, what in the hells was that about?”

  The old mage looked… guilty? But also angry. He kept his voice low, the reply intended for my ears only, “I can’t say, and don’t ask me again. It is a private matter.”

  Donnelly shouted over, “I think I have it, all of the codes and sigils that I need. I’ll need to coordinate with the Guild bank, they keep separate records and everything has to be lined up.”

  Max answered, “I’ll have someone called in. We need you here to read auras, make sure that there are no imposters coming or going.”

  Benno arrived on the tail end of the Headmaster’s statement. He was panting hard. Jess had easily outpaced him once she learned that her father was in distress.

  Ames asked, “What about us?”

  Max heaved a frustrated sigh. He said, “Get to the Southern Tribes circle. Without a ready ship, that’s going to be the fastest way to get to Braxen. You can likely meet up with others who are on their way as well. Be quick. You’re racing a dragon.”

  Chapter 19

  The scene outside of the Southern Tribes’ Circle of Transportation was chaos. It was like someone tried to route a multicultural military parade through town without the proper authority. Locals were keeping their distance as Arcane University mages, elven wolf riders, human soldiers, and confused orcish guards milled about in the middle of the street.

  Hemitath and Shaman were present, but clearly at their wits’ ends. We pushed through the crowd towards them. Shaman caught sight of us and decided to dump this whole mess in our laps by loudly announcing:

  “Here come Sorch of Engine and Great Cat of North. They tell what going on.”

  There was an awed silence from the surrounding crowd of orcish citizens. This seemed to manifest as confusion amongst the assembled ‘army’. Nevertheless, we were ushered forward to stand in the back of the straw cart that Shaman had been using as an improvised stage.

  Now surrounded by dozens of warriors, mages, and clerics… not to mention around a thousand tribal orcs… everyone was looking to us for a sane explanation to this insanity.

  Benno nudged me. My son said, “Speak in Common, I’ll translate.”

  I looked to Ames for a rescue. The feline was the one who spent the last two years learning to be more political after all. The were-cat just smirked at me.

  I drew in a deep breath before launching into an explanation.

  “People of Panos, brothers and sisters of this tribe and all tribes. We seek to repair a great flaw that has manifested in our world. The flaw has resulted in the rise of the ocean, the death of our crops, the spread of the deserts, and less fish in the sea. Some of this was caused by the gods, but some of it was because of the Voodoo Engine and the Arcane Syphons used by the other races.”

  I paused as Benno finished translating that for the hundreds of orcs that didn’t have a great grasp of the Common tongue just yet. Shaman was nodding his approval, silently adding his weight to my message.

  When my son caught up, I continued. “Just as the Voodoo Engine was sacrificed, so must we sacrifice all of the Arcane Syphons. Their time has passed. In this new world, the hands of orcs will join the hands of humans and elves, of minotaurs and were-wolves, of lizardmen and were-cats, of every race who understands cooperation and honor. And our joined hands will build things that will overshadow anything constructed by magical artifacts.”

  The general reception of my message by the surrounding troops was somber. But Benno’s translation had a much larger impact. The surrounding orc population raised swords and spears, frying pans and fists. There was a roar of approval.

  I summed up what was to come, “We ride West to face a great dragon, and who knows what else. Should the battle spill over the hills and into the swamp, be alert. Be ready. Keep the young and the old safe. And remember that we fight for more than our village. For more than our race or our country. We fight for Panos.”

  That got ‘em.

  The orcs howled. My fellow mages cheered. Elves raised their bows. Even the hardened human soldiers beat swords against shields in approval.

  But the most unexpected thing that happened was two arms being wrapped around me. Orc arms. Shaman’s arms.

  I couldn’t recall the last time that Shaman hugged me, if ever. Between two orcs, it was something reserved for mates, for blood relatives.

  The Chief, my friend, the closest thing I ever had to a father, whispered to me. “Proud of you. Go. Be careful.”

  Tears in my eyes, I hopped down from my perch. My speech had the intended effect. The locals were being helpful now. The Jeywafa tribe didn’t have very many horses or mules, but those few that were available were harnessed to carts and wagons. Makeshift troop transports were created. Supplies were offered.

  I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my robe so that I could see what was going on. Ames was deep in conversation with Professor Sevritz. Benno was translating something for the soldiers from the University. Which meant that nobody was there to warn me that I was about be to assaulted.

  Huge paws found my shoulders from behind and applied considerable weight. I was bowled over. I rolled awkwardly onto my back, having to bridge my spine up against a full backpack. I must have looked like a misshapen turtle.

  There was a massive white wolf staring down at me, jaw hanging open in amusement.

  In the saddle on Laoghaire’s back, an already-Reduced Toby was also staring. He said, “Well? Are you running for mayor, or are you coming along?”

  Laoghaire crouched as Toby offered a hand. With their help, I mounted up behind my friend.

  Another familiar voice caught my attention, “Hemitath is going to Teleport a handful of the most heavily armored soldiers directly to Braxen. The mages and druids will speed up the horse drawn wagons. Where’s the rest of your family, Sorch?”

  I turned my head left so that I could properly see the speaker: Jarotath. The golden-blond haired elf no longer sat on the Council of Arbitros, but he
was still quite the inspiring sight. Astride the mighty Zaira, the warrior was dressed for battle. He wore a stylized leather cap, glimmering arcanite platemail, and a sword belt that carried his signature silver longsword.

  I pointed out where my mate and son were. Within minutes, Ames was astride Uistean, seated behind the Reduced Tara. The powerful Zaira carried both Benno and Jarotath.

  Jarotath said, “All of the wolves are doubled up with riders, so it’s going to be slower going today. But don’t worry. We’ll outpace some glorified flying lizard.”

  The elf’s confidence and bravado were inspiring. But I realised that he was likely correct. I didn’t see any of the usual druidic wolf riders. They were probably busy enhancing the horses so that our cart based transports would arrive in Braxen reasonably quickly. But I did spot Yarith astride Teagan, who was loping over to join us. The elven mage’s Haste spell would assure our pack’s swift arrival. Not to mention that the wolves didn’t need to take the path of least resistance. They would go directly through the hills and adapt to the terrain as needed.

  It’s easy to pretend to be nonchalant about wolfriding. When you’re swapping tales with other adventurers, you don’t make a big deal about such things. You look and sound much tougher if you casually mention that you rode a giant wolf to the tavern so you wouldn’t be late.

  But there’s nothing ‘everyday’ about riding a giant wolf. It’s thrilling, and it’s terrifying, every single time. Feeling half a ton of muscle and fang and claw surging below you as the landscape whizzes past is nothing you can acclimate to. One mistake could mean that you’re being peeled off of a tree trunk and talked about in the past tense. Luckily, these great beasts were not known for their mistakes.

  Despite our breathtaking mode of transport, I learned one comforting thing on the journey to Braxen: I wasn’t the only one to carry on one sided conversations with my wolf. Toby, in the front position and crouched over Laoghaire’s shoulders, could often be heard chatting the lupine up. I listened quietly as the minotaur told his mount about his daughter toddling around, and his wererat apprentice driving him insane, and the new responsibilities and powers that Aro-Remset granted him. Laoghaire took it all in stride of course.