by Jack Heckel
Charming led the horses to the side of the road and tied them to a fence. Will dismounted in a haze. He wondered if even the people of Prosper had joined the Dracomancer, then remembered how he had basically accused the entire town of being no better than thieves when he left, and came to the conclusion that probably most of them were quite enthusiastic Dracolytes. With a start, he realized the danger that his presence here represented. Even if the average citizen of Royaume had never seen him, anyone from Prosper would recognize him in an instant. All it would take was one of his disgruntled former neighbors to spot him, and they would be captured before they ever had a chance to get to the Dracomancer.
He drew his cloak over his head and whispered to Charming, “I think we should try not to draw any attention to ourselves. Too many people here in Prosper could recognize me.”
Charming glanced down at his clothes and, frowning, also drew his own hood over his head. “Excellent suggestion, Your Majesty. I can’t imagine the embarrassment if anyone saw us looking like this. I mean, the Royal Tailor would throw a fit. He might even refuse to work with me again.”
“This isn’t about the clothes, Charming. It’s about finding the Dracomancer without getting caught.”
Charming nodded knowingly to Will. “It’s fine. I understand that you wish to spare me the harsh truth, but I’m quite aware that my appearance is tragic. The chafing is a constant reminder of my humiliation. As for being recognized, I would not concern yourself. No one sees a king when he’s in commoner’s clothes.”
Will’s eyes darted about the crowd, looking for faces he knew. “The problem is that the people of Prosper remember me when I was a commoner.”
Charming cocked his head to one side as though considering this for the first time. “How inconvenient it is that you were once poor,” he said with a remarkable lack of self-reflection.
Will wisely said nothing and instead focused on maneuvering them through the growing crowds. As they got closer to the central square, the press of people around them became overwhelming. They were jostled and pushed, and the tide of humanity caught them in its motion and seemed almost to carry them toward the stage ahead. Onstage, four men lit four different braziers positioned at the corners of the platform. Flames roared to life, rising high into the evening air. There was a roar of cheering. Someone at the very front of the crowd began shouting “Dracomancer,” and others joined in. As more people added their voices, the shouts changed from random cheers into a steady chant. A robed man with a long white beard and clutching a gnarled staff of blackened wood climbed up onto the stage. In an instant, the chant was transformed again into a frenzy of cheers, this time even louder.
The Dracomancer stood, smiling, basking in the adoration of the crowd, then swept up his hands. Immediately, a silence fell.
“What the hell is he doing up there?” Charming shouted in the sudden quiet.
The man beside Charming pushed him, and said, “Shut up, and show some respect.”
Charming started to say something, and Will put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in tight. He whispered, “Are you mad? You are going to get us killed.”
“But, Will,” he said in a hushed voice matching Will’s own. “I know, the Dracomancer. He was my tutor in dragon lore. He’s a decent academic when it comes to dragons, although his theory about Agorak the Black, the ancient sleeping dragon, is poppycock and well, we both know about the prophecy. What I never liked about him was that when he didn’t know an answer, he always made up some drivel like, ‘A wet dragon never flies at night.’ Anyway, my point is he doesn’t have any mystical powers. Why would anyone follow him?”
Before Will could utter a response, the Dracomancer spoke.
“People of Royaume, once again, we are plagued by the most terrible of monsters, a dragon. But King William”—there were derisive whistles from the crowd at the mention of Will’s name—“King William, the man who promised to protect us, has gone into hiding. He has shown us his true colors.” Someone yelled “yellow” and the Dracomancer smiled. “The King will not save us.”
There was a roar of agreement from the crowd.
“You should speak up,” Charming muttered.
“Not yet,” said Will. “We need to hear him out.”
“But will we be dismayed?” the Dracomancer continued his speech. “Will we to turn our backs on the people of this land as our King has?”
The crowd roared a lusty, “Nay!”
Beside him, Charming was quivering with outrage on his behalf, but Will kept a firm grip on his shoulder as a reminder of the need for patience.
“No! We choose to stand and fight the menace. We will not stand by idle while this new monster savages our brother and sisters. I call on all of you”—he pointed his staff out over the crowd—“my Dracolytes, to answer the call of the Dragon Spirit! The salvation of Royaume will depend on our actions in the coming days. On the deeds of each and every one of you assembled here will the fate of this land and its people depend. I can lead, but I need you, my army of believers, to answer my call. Will you do that? Will you pledge your hearts, minds, and bodies to serving the Dragon Spirit through me, his humble servant?”
A roar of assent echoed through the crowd.
Will had to admit that the Dracomancer was a compelling figure, and he began to wonder if he would be able to turn the tide of passion the man had stirred in the people.
“Our course ahead will not be easy. All around us the agents of the dragon will conspire and plot against us. Some will be obvious to our eyes, as was the monster we faced and vanquished on our hard road to Prosper. But some will be subtle. This day, my Dracoviziers tracked down and imprisoned the witch formerly known as Princess Gwendolyn Mostfair for the crime of draconic conspiracy.”
There was a hiss of anger from the crowd and even calls that to “burn the witch.”
Will’s heart sunk. He couldn’t consult Gwendolyn if she was under guard of the Dracomancer. His plan, which had seemed so hopeful before, appeared to be crumbling before him. It was beginning to sink in that he might very easily lose everything.
The Dracomancer spread his arms. “No, my friends, we do not slay the nonbelievers, but treat them with compassion. The minds of these apostates have been twisted by the dragon. It is our charge and duty to try to guide them back to the light of the Dragon Spirit. As I myself have been doing for Lady Elizabeth Charming, who has been my guest and patient for some time now.”
Charming’s head snapped toward the stage, and his eyes blazed. Will felt a cold fear in his heart. The Dracomancer has Liz?
“Although I had made great progress in reforming Lady Charming, as we have moved closer to the dragon, its pull on her mind has become too great for her will to resist. For her own safety, I have had to send her away!” The Dracomancer’s body wilted, and he sadly shook his head. “Perhaps I failed her . . .”
“No! No!” came shouts from the assembled masses. “It was her! She’s a fool like her brother! The Picketts are all mad!”
The Dracomancer pulled himself back upright. His face set with determination. “This should be a reminder to us all that the power of the dragon is great. Its evil lurks everywhere, and any doubt in our cause or in the power and wisdom of the Dragon Spirit may give that evil a foothold on our souls.” He raised his arms high in the air. “Gird your belief. Arm yourself in the surety of knowledge that only through the Dragon Spirit shall we be delivered!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd. Will felt anger boil up inside him, not at the Dracomancer, but at the jeers directed at Liz. He was reminded again of how she, how they, had been treated by the people of Prosper when they had lived here.
He was about to speak, when Charming gave voice to his thoughts. “How dare they speak of the Lady Elizabeth in such a fashion?” He pulled away from Will’s arm and began forcing his way forward through the crowd, a hand on t
he hilt of his sword.
Will’s own anger turned to fear as he realized that, unless he stopped him, Charming would likely call out the Dracomancer and maybe the entire mob in order to defend Liz’s honor. Now was not the time to let their passions rule. There was too much at stake. He grabbed Charming’s sword arm.
“Please, not now, Charming,” whispered Will. “We must first find Liz. Perhaps he will tell us something of where she is.”
Charming nodded and steadied himself, dropping his hand from his sword. “I will agree to a delay, but mark my words, Your Majesty, he will face my wrath, and, when the time comes, let no man stand between me and my retribution.”
Will swallowed at the anger he saw boiling in Charming’s eyes. Part of him actually pitied the Dracomancer—a very, very small part of him.
The Dracomancer spoke again. “We turn to the task at hand. The Great Dragon of the North now lairs in the Dragon’s Tower. The nightmare has returned! A time of suffering and fear is at hand if we do not act. I leave it to you, my brother and sisters, my Dracolytes, who would you have come to your aid? Who would you have come to save you?”
Someone, who to Will’s ear sounded a bit like his former girlfriend, Gretel, screamed, “You, Dracomancer!”
Chants of “Dracomancer, Dracomancer” filled Prosper. The Dracomancer held his hand up to his ear, and the volume increased. He pointed to one side of the stage, then the other, with the chants increasing with his attention.
After several minutes of sustained chanting, the Dracomancer raised his hands again for silence, and the crowd settled. He placed a hand to his heart and bowed his head. “I humbly accept the duty that you have thrust upon me. I pledge the power and knowledge of the Dracomancer to the cause. I pledge my life for you, the people of Royaume! And I bring you hope. For through my studies and communications with the Dragon Spirit, I have recovered the one weapon in all the land that can be used to slay the Dread Dragon! Dracoviziers, attend me!”
The Dracomancer clapped his hands. Two men in dark robes appeared, carrying between them something long and heavy, covered by a black wrap. The crowd murmured to each other, and the Dracomancer let the tension build.
“There are those,” he began quietly, “who have questioned my commitment to facing the dragon.” There were many protests from the crowd at the suggestion, but the Dracomancer held up his hands for quiet. “Who have said that I didn’t immediately go to face the dragon because I lacked the courage and fortitude.” More denials erupted at this, and, again, the Dracomancer had to silence the crowd. “There are some who have even said that I am no better than that human peacock, the former Prince Charming.” Outraged shouts erupted at this notion. The Dracomancer smiled patiently and waited till they’d settled. “The reason I have delayed my meeting with the dragon is that I know the truth of how to defeat the dragon. Only one weapon in the all the world has the power to slay a dragon like the one we face now. A weapon forged in the very heart-flames of a dragon. I give you . . .” he paused dramatically, “the Pitchfork of Destiny!”
The Dracomancer attempted to remove the covering in a dramatic flourish, but the cloth got caught on the tines of the pitchfork, and it would not come. The Dracoviziers stepped in and began tugging and pulling. Audible grunts and curses could be heard from the group as they fumbled with the draping.
As they waited, Charming leaned over to Will, and whispered, “You didn’t tell me that your pitchfork was forged in the heart-flames of a dragon. If you had, I wouldn’t have thought that you were so much of a fraud when we first met. I mean, that’s actually pretty amazing.”
“It wasn’t,” Will said irritably. “It just sort of melted after the dragon impaled itself.”
“Oh. Fair enough,” Charming said, disappointed. “Some advice for you, though, Will. It sounds more impressive if you go with the story the Dracomancer is telling. Use that one for posterity.”
Will almost replied, “To hell with posterity,” but just at that moment the Dracoviziers managed to pull the cloth away with a great tearing noise.
Panting from the effort, the Dracomancer said in triumph. “I give you the Pitchfork of Destiny!”
A gasp spread through the crowd as the Dracomancer held a pitchfork high in the air. Everyone fell to their knees with the exception of Will, who was too shocked to move, and Charming, who Will noted was shaking his head in disgust.
Will stared at the pitchfork, and without thinking, stepped closer to the stage. The first thing that he noticed was that the haft wasn’t blackened and burned, and that his name wasn’t visible where he had whittled it on that summer afternoon in the field so many years ago. The tines were also much sharper than he could ever recall their being, and not a point was bent. The metal practically gleamed in the firelight.
The Dracomancer gestured widely with his free hand toward the kneeling crowd. “Tomorrow, I march to Dragon Tower to face the dragon and end his reign of terror. Who among you will join me in my righteous quest? Rise if you will march with me to Dragon Tower to rid our land once and for all of our enemy. Rise if you stand with the Dracomancer!”
As one, the crowd jumped to its feet and roared their assent. The Dracomancer let the people cheer, and when they had calmed, said, “Not all of us will make it back. Many may fall, but our quest is righteous, and we shall prevail. With the Dragon Spirit on our side, and the Pitchfork of Destiny in our hands, nothing can stand before us!”
The crowd erupted once more, and chants of “Dracomancer” began echoing again through the streets of Prosper. Onstage, the Dracomancer urged them to higher states of frenzy by stalking back and forth across the stage, waving and thrusting the pitchfork into the air.
Will’s face grew pale. He had thought the Dracomancer would take only trained troops up to face the Dragon, but the maniac meant to take anyone who would follow, men and women, possibly even children, whether they could hold a weapon or no. How many would die? Would anyone survive?
“Charming,” he said firmly, pulling his hood away from his face, “It is time we made our appearance. Clear a path.”
“With pleasure, Your Majesty.”
Charming lowered his hood and, projecting his voice as only he could, shouted, “Make way for Lord Protector of the Realm, His Majesty, King William! Make way! Make way!”
The crowd fell quiet and turned to stare at Charming and Will, but no one moved.
“I said,” Charming shouted again, “Make way for His Majesty, King William, or face his swift and sure judgment!”
For emphasis, Charming drew his blade, and the light from the fires around the stage caught on the edge of his sword so that it gleamed as though aflame. A circle of space grew around them. Will squared his shoulders and marched toward the stage with Charming at his side, the crowd parting like wheat before him.
The Dracomancer watched them approach with a smirk as he leaned on the pitchfork. When Charming and Will finally climbed atop the stage, the Dracomancer gestured at them, and said in a lazy, sarcastic drawl, “People of Prosper, brothers and sisters, we welcome King William who has finally revealed himself after his long sojourn in parts unknown. Pray, dread King, to what do we, your people, owe this great honor? We so rarely see you outside of Castle White or in places where the need is greatest. Have you run out of amusements in the court or simply grown tired of running?”
He punctuated his speech with many exaggerated facial expressions and rolls of his eyes. The people laughed. Out of the crowd came derisive shouts. “Down with Cowardly King William!” “We don’t want the Yellow King!” “Go back to Castle White, we don’t need a false dragonslayer!”
One of the Dracoviziers behind the Dracomancer yelled, “Ding Dong the King is gone! We want the Dracomancer!” The crowd suddenly burst into a chorus of “Ding Dong the King is gone.”
Someone threw a tomato at Will, and it hit him in the side of the fa
ce. He did not flinch but wiped the remains away with his sleeve. An apple followed, but it never reached its intended target as Charming’s sword smoothly speared it from the air. He stepped in front of Will, his face white with anger, his eyes flashing a challenge. The song faltered, and the chants stopped.
With deliberate slowness, Charming pulled the apple from his blade and took a bite. His face grimaced and he spit out the fruit. “Rotten!” he shouted. “Like this town. Like this Dracomancer.” He threw the apple back into the crowd. “So, you, people of Prosper, and you . . .” he sneered, “Dracolytes, would choose to follow this . . .” he sneered again, and this time, it was even more pronounced, “Dracomancer? Let me tell you what I know of him.” He moved to the side and gestured at the Dracomancer with his sword, letting the tip dance up and down in the air as he spoke. “You call him Dracomancer, but his real name is Delbert Thistlemont, and when I was a child, he would put on puppet shows for the children. That is the man in whom you have chosen to place your faith. An entertainer. A fraud. He pulls your strings, and you dance for him.”
Shouts of defiance rang out from the crowd, and behind him, several of the black-robed Dracoviziers stepped forward, their own blades drawn and at the ready.
Charming spun in a circle around the still-unmoving Will, slashing his sword back and forth, the firelight still somehow catching on the edge of his blade so that it shone and danced in the night air. “Let any who call me a liar say it within reach of my sword. Let any who dare insult King William come and face me!”
Several Dracolytes, men with sewn-on dragon patches of various designs on their tunics, robes, and cloaks, all started shouting and pushing their way through the crowd toward Charming. However, while the more distant Dracolytes were pushing forward, the Dracolytes and Dracoviziers on the stage and in the immediate vicinity, those who could see the eagerness in Charming’s eyes, all began to back away.
The Dracomancer, his own face flashing with anger, suddenly produced a dragon sock puppet from beneath his robes and began screaming in a high-pitched voice, “He hasss been corrupted by the dragon. Dessstroy Prince, I mean, the Charming who wasss Prince. DESSSTROY HIM! THE DRAGON SSSPIRIT COMMANDSSS IT!”