The Dragons of Bone and Dust (Tales from the New Earth Book 7)

by J. J. Thompson

  “Very well then; off you go. As for the rest of you, you are free to leave.”

  Simon saw the looks of disappointment on the faces of the other elementals and hastened to reassure them.

  “I do have all of your names listed and, if it isn't too much trouble, maybe I could call upon you in the future if I need more help? I wouldn't want to impose or anything, of course.”

  The translucent group of faces all lit up and Simon realized that he'd used just the right tactic to cheer them up.

  “Oh no, my lord,” one of the elementals said quickly. “It would be no imposition at all! Please call on us at any time; we would be honored to be of service.”

  “Thanks, folks. I will remember that. Take care.”

  The seven elementals bowed in unison one last time and all of them disappeared with a whoosh of air, making the candles on the table sputter and dance.

  Quiet at last, Simon thought to himself with some relief. The air elementals were amazing people but they could be exhausting in groups.

  He gathered up the notes into a bundle and took them and his empty plate with him as he headed downstairs. As he started to descend, he met Aeris coming up.

  “Oh, is the meeting over? I made tea.”

  “Thanks Aeris, I'll drink it in front of the fire,” Simon told him as they went back down together. “Is Kronk back yet?”

  “Yes master,” the little guy called out.

  He was standing in the fireplace sorting out the burning logs.

  Simon winced and looked away. No matter how many times he saw that, it always made him uncomfortable.

  Being burned alive by a dragon will do that to you, his inner voice whispered.

  Thanks for the reminder, he replied to it. Jerk.

  Chapter 22

  Simon decided to pass along the information about the hidden cave to Tamara and the other leaders the following day. It just seemed too important to sit on until they contacted him. He was actually surprised by their reaction.

  “Interesting,” Tamara said when he told her the news.

  “Nice,” was Malcolm's comment.

  “Good choice of shelter against the monsters,” Liliana told him.

  All three of them were in Tamara's home when he reached them with the Magic Mirror spell. It looked like they were discussing the upcoming assault on the dark tower, with maps and slips of paper scattered across the round table they were sitting at.

  For a change, Malcolm wasn't wearing armor or a sword. He was dressed in a simple brown tunic and leather pants with a dagger on his belt. Even without armor though, he still looked far too large for the chair he was sitting on.

  Liliana wasn't wearing her full armor either, but did have a chain-mail jerkin on and a short sword at her hip.

  Tamara wore her standard robe and mantle, one a bright blue and the other a muted green.

  The entire group seemed surprised at Simon's call and stared wide-eyed at his ghostly likeness standing across the room from them.

  “Simon? What is it? Is there a problem?”

  “Hi Tamara, folks. Nope, no problem. Sorry if I'm interrupting.”

  “You are never interrupting, my friend,” Liliana reassured him with a warm smile. “We just didn't expect your call. I thought you were going to wait for us to send word when we were ready for the attack on the tower.”

  Malcolm sat back in his chair, crossed his heavy arms and winked at Simon silently.

  “Well, I just thought that you'd all be thrilled to hear that there are at least a few other humans that have survived out in the world.” He looked at each of his friends and added hesitantly, “Apparently I was mistaken.”

  “Oh Simon, you weren't mistaken,” Tamara told him with a trace of irritation. “It's just that we're in the middle of preparing for what will likely be a life and death struggle in that tower and, while your news is amazing, it's a bit distracting right now.”

  “Distracting? Wait, you think that hearing about other survivors is distracting?”

  “Easy there, my friend,” Malcolm rumbled as he motioned for calm. “Maybe distracting isn't the right word. Speaking for myself, I'm thrilled at the news. But Tamara is right about the battle ahead. It sounds like the humans your scout found are doing all right on their own, at least for the moment. If they were in any kind of danger, I'm sure that we'd all be eager to help. But as long as they're okay, don't you think that we should concentrate on the problem at hand?”

  Simon had started to become angry, but the big man's rational, matter-of-fact statement eased his irritation.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's true. Sorry, Tamara. I was just so excited at the prospect of finding more of our people that I got a little side-tracked.”

  The mage smiled and nodded her understanding.

  “I know that. And I agree with Malcolm. If those people were in distress, we'd jump at the chance to help. And we will, just as soon as we've cleared out that tower.”

  “I too agree,” Liliana added firmly. “When we are done with the source of the undead abominations that roam our world, we will aid those survivors in any way we can.”

  Simon heard a sound at the doorway of his study and looked over to see Kronk standing there holding a steaming cup. He smiled at the little guy and waved him over.

  “Okay folks. That's all the news I have. I'll be waiting for your call whenever you're ready. Take care.”

  “You too, Simon. And thanks for the update. We'll pass the news on to the rest of our people. I have a feeling that it will cheer them up immensely. We'll speak again soon.”

  Simon broke the connection and reached down to accept the cup from Kronk.

  “Thanks,” he said as he sat back in his chair and sipped the hot tea. “I needed this. Did you hear any of that conversation?”

  “I did, master. Some of it.”

  Kronk hopped up on to the desk and moved to the center of it. He picked up the mirror, flipped it over and put it down again, the reflective side down.

  “They weren't excited by the news of the cave-dwelling survivors, master?”

  “It's hard to say. I think so, but it looks like they are so caught up with the planning of the tower attack that they don't want to be distracted. Tamara's words, not mine.”

  “Ah I see. Well, master, I do not wish to be argumentative, but I must agree with them.”

  Simon stared at the craggy face in surprise.

  “You? Agree with Tamara? My God, it's the end of the world.”

  The earthen laughed, his deep voice shaking the desk slightly.

  “It is rare, I know. But while I find the mage rather cold and stern, I cannot fault her logic in this, master. You must all be ready for the attack. Anything can happen. You will be facing hostile creatures and black magic and, in such a battle, a wizard's greatest weapon is his intelligence.”

  “That's an interesting perspective,” Simon said.

  He put down his cup and leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm. He watched the little guy with interest.

  “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “Only that I remember those wizards whom I served long ago speaking of such things, master. They too battled monsters and other spell-casters. I recall witnessing a visit between wizards once. My master at the time was a very old, quite venerated wizard; not a bad sort really, considering what many others of his kind were like. He welcomed a rather famous colleague who was renowned for his prowess in battle. The visitor was expounding on his many victories and being a bit of a braggart. My master listened attentively and finally interrupted the boastful man.

  “'What would you say was your greatest skill in combat?' the old wizard asked. “'Oh, that's easy,' said the visitor. 'I'm very good with lightning. In fact, it is my main weapon. Every foe I have ever met and defeated has fallen to my bolts.'”

  “And what did your old master say?” Simon asked, caught up in the story.

  “He smiled, master, and said 'I see. So what happens when you are face
d with a water elemental?' The other wizard looked confused and had no answer. 'Ah, now do you see? You must be ready to adapt to every situation. If I was an enemy of yours and knew how much you depended upon your lightning spells, I would summon water elementals to battle you.' Then he smiled and added, 'Or I would simply douse you with water. A soaking wet wizard cannot cast an effective lightning spell. Didn't you know that?'”

  “What did the visitor say to that?”

  “I do not recall, master. It was the advice that I remember. But I do recall that the visiting wizard was killed not long after he spoke with my old master.”

  “How? With water?”

  Kronk grinned.

  “No master. Someone dropped a rock on his head.”

  Simon burst out laughing and the earthen joined in.

  “Lesson learned, my friend. Always keep my wits about me, right?”

  “Exactly, master. Skill is important for a wizard, of course. But adaptability is the key to survival.”

  “I'll remember that. Thanks.”

  Simon took Kronk's advice to heart. Instead of just digging up old spells or concentrating on his favorites (fireball was his go-to spell), the wizard decided to challenge himself with a series of tests.

  So he began heading into the forest every day for a few hours. He crept through the undergrowth, ducking and rolling from tree to tree and casting spells randomly at imaginary foes. He began to use the skills he'd learned from the elves again, going so far as to fashion a crude bow and arrows to practice his archery. He climbed trees and swung from branch to branch, working to hone his hand/eye coordination.

  Aeris found the whole thing both hilarious and rather demeaning.

  “What exactly are you trying to prove, my dear wizard?” he asked.

  Simon had come back to the tower after a practice session covered in sweat, limping a bit and scratched in several places.

  He was only wearing a pair of shorts and some sturdy boots. He gave the elemental a hard look as he left his bow and quiver by the front door and grabbed a towel he had left there.

  “Survival,” the wizard replied shortly and he turned around and left, heading for a swim.

  “What in the world is up with him?” Aeris asked Kronk, who was brushing cold ashes out of the fireplace.

  The earthen swept the ashes into a dustpan and stopped to look up at the air elemental.

  “He wants to live through the upcoming battle. Why is that so difficult for you to understand?”

  “He's a wizard, Kronk, not a warrior. All of this physical exertion is pointless. He needs to practice his casting, not waste his time pretending to be something he's not.”

  The little guy emptied the dustpan into a canvas bag and left it beside the fireplace. When it was full, he would scatter the ashes around the garden.

  “Have you never heard of a wizard who was also a warrior?” he asked Aeris as he placed logs in the now-clean grate, ready to be lit when needed. “I remember several, so you must have known at least one.”

  The air elemental frowned in thought and floated down to join him.

  “Hmm, yes, there might have been one or two. But warrior-mages were much more common. Wizards are just so much more powerful, most of them never had time to work on any physical skills.”

  “That is true,” the earthen agreed.

  He adjusted the fresh logs until they were arranged in just the right way.

  “But our master spent time in the elven realm, without his powers. He's learned to use at least some types of physical combat. I think that it is wise for him to want to be ready for anything.”

  Kronk gave the fireplace a last inspection and then headed for the front door. The garden needed his attention.

  “After all,” he said to Aeris just before he left the tower, “he doesn't want to end up soaking wet, does he?”

  The air elemental stared after the earthen with a puzzled expression.

  “Now what does that mean?” he muttered.

  A few days passed and Simon's new blisters began to heal. The bow that he'd made was fairly rough and hard on his hands, not to mention being too heavy and wildly inaccurate. That didn't matter though; he planned to ask for a real bow and arrows from the folks in Kingstone when they called again. They could bring them along and give them to him before the battle began.

  He wondered what the others would think of such a request and smiled to himself. Knowing Tamara, he doubted that she would be very impressed.

  Evenings were now spent with Kronk and Aeris, and occasionally Brethia. He asked all of them to describe battles they had heard about back when they'd served the ancient wizards. One thing Simon had learned was that, with some gentle encouragement, elementals had phenomenal memories. He ended up taking pages of notes about situations and encounters that he never would have thought of on his own.

  “Really? Goblins don't like bright lights? Now that's interesting,” he said to Aeris on one such occasion.

  “Well, they do mainly live underground,” the air elemental replied. “But unlike the dwarves, they do not adapt to daylight very well. I remember one wizard who spoke of a battle where she simply conjured up bright flashes of light whenever goblins would attack and they would be left dazed and vulnerable.”

  The normally cynical Aeris had become quite enthusiastic about the nightly meetings. He enjoyed telling stories, as all air elementals did, and drawing upon old memories that he had thought useless seemed to invigorate him. It didn't hurt that Simon was grateful for every story.

  “Good to know,” Simon said as he jotted that fact down. “I have no idea whether or not we'll face many goblins in there, but I'm sure that it's possible.”

  “It works on trolls as well, master, at least for a moment or two,” Kronk piped up.

  Aeris glared at him and the little guy stared back, puzzled.

  “Well, it does,” he added defensively. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what? I was just going to say that. But he is correct, my dear wizard. Trolls also aren't fond of bright lights; they are only dazed for a short time. It is, however, a good way to interrupt an attack.”

  “Also good to know. Thanks guys.”

  Brethia had been the servant of a particularly famous old time wizard named Sheila. When Simon had heard that, he'd laughed.

  “Why is that funny, my lord?” the elemental asked with some confusion.

  Simon was quick to reassure her.

  “Sorry Brethia, I'm not laughing at you. It's just that Sheila is such a common name, or at least it was back before the world changed. I would have expected a legendary wizard to be named Merlin or Gandalf or whatever, not Sheila.”

  “You mean, like Simon?” Aeris asked slyly.

  The wizard laughed at the dig.

  “Touché,” he said.

  Brethia and Aeris were floating above the desk in Simon's study. It was late and only a few candles were lit around the room. Kronk had left earlier. He'd started checking the outside gates every night to make sure they were properly sealed, but he couldn't explain why. 'Just a feeling' was his only answer every time Simon asked.

  The wizard was sitting behind the desk, pencil in hand as he listened to the two air elementals. Their stories seemed endless and he had gotten into the habit of jotting down anything of interest that they said in passing. Now he wrote down the name 'Sheila'.

  “So what exactly was she like, this great wizard?” Simon asked.

  Brethia hesitated and glanced at Aeris.

  “Did you ever hear of her?”

  “Hear of her? My goodness, who hasn't? Sheila was...”

  He paused and gestured as if reaching for something.

  “Amazing. Spectacular. Supreme.”

  He seemed to run out of superlatives and shrugged at Simon.

  “There are no words that properly do her justice. I had no idea that you knew her,” he added to Brethia.

  “I rarely speak of it,” she replied simply. “It so
unds too much like boasting, and I dislike braggarts. Besides, the memories have been of no real use to me until now.”

  “Well, I have a feeling that they'd be of use to me,” Simon told her encouragingly. “Could you share a few, please? Start with why you both make her sound so incredible. Was she powerful? Innovative? What exactly did she do that made her such a legend?”

  “I would be happy to, sir wizard.”

  Brethia landed on the desk and sat down gracefully. She tucked her legs underneath herself and looked thoughtfully into the distance. Simon was still intrigued at how feminine the elemental looked and acted compared to Aeris. Since the elementals didn't procreate, he still couldn't understand why they appeared to have two sexes. And the few times he'd brought up the subject, it seemed that they had no answers either.

  “Sheila was just a regular person when she first summoned me,” Brethia began. “A young wizard in training. In fact, I was her very first elemental servant. Perhaps that was why she became fond of me and kept me around for so many years. She had a gift for magic, of course, as any aspiring wizard must have. But it was more than that. Her magic was instinctive, reactive. She became the first wizard ever who was able to use spells without incantations. Such a thing was unheard of and set her apart from all of her fellows.”

  “Just a minute, Brethia,” Simon interrupted. “I'm sorry but was it really that rare? I mean, I can do that.”

  “Yes, my lord, I know that. You are the only other wizard that I have known who has had that ability. I have heard of others, but met only the two of you personally. You and Sheila are similar in many ways, I think.”

  Aeris stared at Simon, wide-eyed.

  “By the Four Winds, that never occurred to me! She's right. Goodness, has my memory failed me so much that I took that skill for granted?”

  “Well, you are a million years old,” Simon teased. “Anyone that ancient would start to have memory lapses, don't you think?”

  Aeris looked at him sourly and then grudgingly smiled.

  “Touché indeed,” he murmured.

  “Please go on, Brethia,” Simon said.

  “Yes, my lord. Sheila was not just a natural at using magic, she was an innovator. She discovered and developed many spells that became standards for wizards and other spell-casters. The Meteor spell was one of them, as was a spell she rather humorously called Mud.”