by S. G. Rogers
Mandral’s guests clapped, whistled, and cheered in response. The man seemed to be in continued excellent health, so the other four prisoners drank their own toasts. “To Warlord Mandral,” they said, each in turn.
The first of the newly freed prisoners laughed, nodded, and waved to the crowd. “Good-bye,” he said. “Good-bye and thank you.”
He took two steps toward the huge double doors before he dropped dead. The blanket merchant liquefied before she even had a chance to scream. Bursting into flames, the third prisoner vaporized with a sort of flash-bang explosion. The fourth shrank as he sprouted a thick coat of long, woolly fur all over his body. The fur grew until it brushed the ground. Mandral roared with laughter as he pointed to the hairy, hapless man-beast. One of the cygards put a rope around the creature’s neck and led him from the room.
“That one is my favorite,” Mandral gasped as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “It's poison number four. I use a combination of hairroot and bilsum wax.”
The final prisoner whimpered and trembled, afraid to move.
“Congratulations,” Mandral said to him. “You win the game.”
The prisoner dropped his goblet. It broke into shards as he fled. The warlord leaned over to Rampen Szul and Warlord Gnoam. “He’ll be killed before he gets outside the castle,” Mandral confided.
“What were their crimes?” Szul asked, aghast.
“Crimes?” Mandral repeated. “None that I know of.”
Warlord Gnoam was bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
“They were given the honor of demonstrating my power,” Mandral replied. “These citizens will leave this banquet and repeat what they have seen to everyone who will listen. 'Mandral is cruel and pitiless,' they will say. Not only is it good fun, but it keeps everyone in his place.”
He chortled, delighted with himself. Warlord Gnoam and Rampen Szul exchanged the briefest of glances and pushed away their goblets of wine. Aeltin gripped the table, suddenly faint.
“Loosen up and have food and drink,” Mandral urged his guests. “There is plenty for everyone.”
The warlord signaled the music to resume.
Chapter Twenty-One
An Old Wizard Awakens
The hammocks Quixoran conjured for his visitors to sleep in were remarkably comfortable, but Jon was restless. When Solegra began to peek over the horizon, he crept out of the tree house and made his way down to the beach.
Adam and Eve had flown off to hunt in the early dawn hours. Jon removed his shoes and socks and walked barefoot on the abundant white sand. The sand was so clean and fine it might have been made of sugar. In contrast to his dark mood, the morning was peaceful and serene. Forlorn, Jon plopped down on a dune and stared out at the gentle surf.
Adam and Eve returned and were lolling in the sand next to Jon when Quixoran came to find his grandson. The two of them sat and watched the surf for a few moments.
“Jon, I feel the full weight of your judgment,” Quixoran said, finally. “But there is much you do not understand.”
“You’ve got that straight.”
“Your father’s magic was always unusual, even by Yden’s standards. He was a prodigy and began his apprenticeship much earlier than most. He could mend a dragon's broken wing, cure illnesses, and more. When people discovered what Greggoran could do, they began to seek him out.”
“That's what you meant yesterday when you said our petitions would not be heard? You thought we were here to be healed?”
Quixoran nodded. “It was widely rumored Greggoran could even bring the dead back to life. We were besieged.”
“That's crazy. No one has the power over life and death.”
Quixoran didn't answer for a long moment. “Greggoran came to believe no one should have that power.”
Jon felt a shock run through him as he realized the implications of his grandfather’s response. “Do you mean the rumors were true?”
“Yes. When Efysian heard about a young Dragon Clan wizard with an amazing talent, his jealousy ate away at whatever soul he had left. We knew Efysian was experimenting with dark magic. Elina and I began to be afraid for Greggoran.”
“Is that why you sent him to Earth?”
“Not entirely. There was a kind of frenzy among the warlords as to who was going to ally with Greggoran. Each believed an alliance would make him invincible.”
“I suppose it would have.”
A shadow crossed Quixoran’s face. “Your father had a gentle nature, given to healing. More than one warlord threatened to harm his friends or family if he did not agree to an alliance. When people began to die, Greggoran felt responsible. He turned his back on war, renounced his magical healing ability, and made a solemn vow to never use it again, for any reason. And to my knowledge, he has always kept his vow.”
“So he transported to Earth and you retired here to Dragon Isle?”
“Your father truly believed his absence would restore the balance of power on Yden,” Quixoran said. “And Elina and I hoped it would keep him safe.”
Jon’s knuckles showed white as he clenched his fists. “Dad was wrong. Efysian found a way to seize all the power and now no one can stand against him.”
****
While Quixoran made breakfast, he sent Jon, Fred, Casey, Brett, and Kira to pick fruit from the garden. Juice ran down Fred’s fingers as he bit into a ripe blue plum.
“What flavor is that?” Jon asked.
“I dunno, but it’s good,” he replied. “Tastes like a Popsicle.”
Jon took a deep breath. “Casey and Fred, you came with me to rescue Brett. On that score, mission accomplished. After breakfast I’m transporting the two of you and Brett home.”
Casey, Fred, and Brett exchanged a glance.
“What about your dad?” Brett asked.
“Quixoran and I have a plan,” Jon lied.
Fred guffawed. “Stop acting so noble, Hansen. If you're going to beat Wolf-dude, you need us. Admit it.”
“We're like the marines. We leave no man behind,” Brett said.
“You're stuck with us,” Casey said.
“And me,” Kira added.
“You guys...” Jon got choked up.
Fred slapped him on the back. “You're welcome.”
“Quixoran said the black spell will end when Efysian dies or when he chooses to lift it. That's where we should start,” Casey said.
“Killing Efysian is next to impossible,” Kira said.
“Maybe we can prevent Efysian from getting back to his lair to recharge,” Brett suggested.
“Too bad he's not a vampire. We could dance him around until the suns came up. Then, poof, up in flames,” Fred said.
“Be serious, Fred,” Brett said.
“You know, Fred’s got the right idea,” Jon said.
“I do?”
“Efysian is ruthless, single-minded, and angry. If he wastes enough energy coming after me, he might get so weak my dad could break free.”
“Sounds a little risky,” Casey said.
“Just a little!” Brett exclaimed. “What if Efysian catches you?”
“I agree with Brett. It’s too dangerous, Jon,” Kira said.
“No worries. Jon has us to watch his back,” Fred said.
“One for all and all for one,” Casey said.
“Huh?” Fred said.
“It’s from The Three Musketeers, Fred,” Casey said.
Fred brightened. “Oh, yeah. I saw that movie.”
“And what about Mandral?” Kira asked.
“Kira, I’d like you to fly Adam and Eve to the Nomads,” Jon said. “You'll have proof the Dragon Clan lives and that you've forged an alliance.”
Kira nodded. “With the help of the dragons, the Nomads can remove Mandral from power.”
“The Nomads will neutralize Mandral. We will neutralize Efysian,” Jon said.
****
His throne room was still strewn with debris from the previous night's revelry, but Mandral's good
mood had disappeared. The curtain behind Mandral's throne was open and Aeltin watched, helpless, as the warlord overturned a worktable. Grinding stones, vials, and measuring spoons scattered across the floor.
“How dare you let someone steal my spyball. You should have put a protective spell on it!” Mandral yelled.
Aeltin shrank in fear. “I did, Warlord. The only one who could have breached it is a very powerful wizard.”
Tyrg appeared suddenly. “It was Efysian, of course. He’s the only wizard cunning enough to steal the spyball without being seen.”
“Where have you been, Tyrg?” Mandral demanded. “You were supposed to be at the feast last night.”
Tyrg ignored Mandral's question. “Surely you could conjure another spyball, Aeltin?”
Aeltin's face fell. “I must admit it is a piece of magic beyond my abilities.”
Tyrg gave a heavy sigh. “Oh, dear. You’ve failed the warlord.”
“But I—”
“Cygards!” cried Tyrg.
Aeltin winced as Tyrg's voice echoed throughout the chamber. Cygards burst through the doors and clattered toward the warlord. Tyrg put his hand out to Aeltin. “Your amulet, if you please.”
“No! It is of little use to you!”
Tyrg hauled Mozer from his hiding place under a cloth-covered table and held a dagger to his throat. “It would be a shame to kill your pet. Give me the amulet and your transporter cuff, or this vermin dies.”
Aghast, Aeltin dropped the amulet and transporter cuff onto the table. Tyrg shoved Mozer to the ground.
“Run, Mozer!” Aeltin cried. “Save yourself.”
The child scrambled away from the cygards and fled from the throne room. Tyrg snatched up the amulet and cuff. “Warlord Mandral will keep these until he decides what to do with you.”
While Aeltin was dragged off, Tyrg slid the cuff onto the blade of his dagger and presented it to Mandral. The warlord gave his minister an appraising look. “I didn't know you had it in you, Tyrg.”
Tyrg accepted the compliment with an incline of his head.
“And the amulet?” Mandral asked.
The minister ignored the question. “There are rumors, Warlord...but perhaps I speak out of turn.”
“Speak, Tyrg,” Mandral said. “You know I value your counsel.”
“I didn’t attend the banquet last night because I was walking through the encampment. I overheard talk about a plot against you involving Warlord Gnoam and the Nomads. It could have been idle gossip.”
Mandral narrowed his eyes. “Send for Captain Isore.”
“Right away, Warlord,” Tyrg said.
While the warlord admired the cuff, the minister hastened from the room with the golden medallion secreted in his hand.
****
Efysian materialized onto Wolf Mountain with Aeltin’s amulet around his neck.
“Imps...what wonderful creatures,” he murmured. “Wish I’d thought of them myself.”
He wrapped his fingers around the amulet and concentrated on his ring until they were both glowing. Then Efysian wove a spell.
“As Efysian's Imps ye shall be known,
Quixoran is the prey you seek,
On Dragon Isle he can be found,
Look down from the volcanic peak.”
“Your numbers shall increase by four,
Touch naught except the stony mage,
Quixoran shall be nevermore,
As if ne'er writ upon the page.”
As Efysian spoke, power surged through him. He pulled the spyball from the pouch hidden in his robes and laughed at his own warped reflection. Then he melted into the side of the mountain.
****
Ylan Bay fishermen moved to lash down their vessels in the face of gathering storm clouds. The eldest one pointed at the four dark strands swirling into one large mass overhead.
“Something unnatural is astir!” he screamed.
The mass dipped down toward Ylan, as if the heavens had opened and poured out a bucket of black, clotted blood. When the leading edge swooped near the ground, villagers recognized the Imps. People shrieked and ran for cover. Puledens pulled free of their tethers and bolted in every direction.
The Imps veered away from the village at the last moment and headed out to sea. The trailing edge of the flock split off to descend upon a lone, terrified puleden. As the Imps dipped down to feed, they lifted the beast off the ground with their ferocity. In the next instant, the puleden skeleton clattered to the street, picked clean, and the Imps sped up to catch their brethren.
****
Jon stroked Adam's neck, affectionately. “Take good care of Kira,” he whispered.
Adam trumpeted his agreement while Eve pawed the sand, eager for flight. Quixoran stood nearby as Jon, Casey, Fred, and Brett said good-bye to Kira.
Casey took her hand. “Stay safe.”
She gave him a rare smile in return. Then a glint of steel came into her eye. “Into battle!” she cried, leaping onto Adam's back. The dragons sprang into the air, soaring high into the sky until they could be seen no longer.
“Kira Szul is quite a girl,” Quixoran said. “If only I were forty turns younger.”
The wizard held his hands out toward the beach, and his ring began to glow. He brought a towering wave crashing onto the shore, and in the space of a few moments, he’d conjured a larger-than-life-size sand sculpture of Kira riding Adam.
“Wow,” Jon marveled.
“That's magnificent,” Brett said.
“I'm impressed,” Casey agreed.
“It's silly,” Fred scoffed. “All your work washes away with the tide.”
“Ah, but that's the beauty of it,” Quixoran replied.
“I don’t understand,” Fred said.
Unlike Fred, Jon finally understood. His grandfather might be old and eccentric, but he was also a lot more powerful than he’d let on.
When they returned to the tree house, they found an old man lashed to the base of the vanyean tree by a series of branches and tree roots. Jon recognized him immediately.
“Dorsit!”
“Hello, young wizard. Quixoran, will you kindly ask your wood sprite to let me go?” he asked. “My skin is starting to itch.”
Quixoran stared at him, stunned. “Is it really you, Dorsit?”
“In the essentials I am the same, my friend, but I will admit I have looked better,” Dorsit replied.
Cressidia released the Leopard Clan wizard, who rubbed his wrists.
Jon helped him sit on the stairs. “How were you able to transport back to Yden?”
“Apparently Efysian did not drain me as completely as I thought. I have regained a little power, and I’ve come to help,” he said. “Is Kira here?”
“You missed her,” Casey said.
Dorsit's face fell. “I am always one step behind.”
“Can you transport me to where Efysian is keeping my dad?” Jon asked.
“Jon, we've been through this. You cannot take Efysian on alone,” Quixoran said.
“No, but you can,” Jon replied. “Efysian is coming for me, Grandfather. He's probably already figured out I'm here. You can keep him busy chasing his tail while we rescue Dad.”
Quixoran remained unconvinced. “You cannot free Greggoran unless—”
“I know, but the binding spell diminishes when Efysian is at his weakest. Dad can free himself. When Efysian returns to renew, his energy source will have vanished,” Jon said.
“Then it's game over,” Fred supplied.
“What your grandson says is accurate, Quixoran,” Dorsit said. “There were several times during my captivity when I awoke. Unfortunately Efysian returned each time to stop me from breaking out.”
“When Efysian discovers you aren't on Dragon Isle, he’ll know exactly where you've gone, and he’ll follow you, Jon,” Quixoran said.
“He won't realize I'm not here. You'll be me,” Jon said. He tossed his cowboy hat to his grandfather. “I know you can do it.”
“A simple transformation spell. That could actually work,” Dorsit said.
“What do you say, Grandfather? Will you come out of retirement?”
Quixoran put his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I say this old dragon might still have a little fight left in him.”
****
Kira flew in a northwesterly direction, and except for the strange clouds forming over Ylan Bay, the sky was clear. At long last, the black spires heralding Mandral's castle came into view. As Adam and Eve circled downward into the Nomad camp, soldiers pointed toward the sky. Cries of “The Dragon Clan has risen!” floated up to her ears.