The Dragons Revenge (Tales from the New Earth #2)

by J. J. Thompson

  He was alone.

  It's an attack of some kind, he thought to himself. This must be what Clara warned me about. The elementals must have been returned to their own realms. Simon refused to believe that they had been destroyed.

  He knew that once a wizard had summoned an elemental, all he needed to do to call them back was to say their name. So he backed away from the kitchen table, stared at the place he wanted his friends to return to and spoke loudly and firmly.

  “Kronk, I need you.”

  A minute passed but nothing happened.

  “Kronk! Return to me. Now!”

  Nothing.

  “Aeris? Can you come home please?” he asked plaintively.

  It wasn't working.

  The summoning spell. All I need is the summoning spell to get them back, he thought, feeling the first touch of panic.

  He went through the list of spells in his mind, or at least he tried to. But there was nothing there. It was like reaching for a memory that was simply not there anymore.

  Just like when he'd first begun using magic; his mind was a blank slate. Back then, before the gods of Justice had given him the knowledge of every spell a high-level wizard knew, he had to memorize each spell first before he cast it, and then it would fade from his mind again.

  Simon walked back to his chair and sat down abruptly, thinking it through.

  Was that it? Had the evil gods erased the spells from his mind? That thought worried him but a second thought close on its heels chilled him to the bone.

  Or had they cut off his access to magic entirely?

  How to test it? Maybe if I use Bene-Dunn-Gal, it can boost my power.

  Simon looked across the room to where the staff leaned against the wall next to the door.

  He stood up and quickly walked to the staff. He picked it up and knew at once that something was wrong.

  Sheathed in bronze and made of heavy wood, the staff had always felt as light as a feather in his hand. Now he had to pick it up with both hands just to hold it upright.

  He held up the staff with a grunt of effort, but his mind remained blank. The staff was just an inert length of wood and metal.

  Simon put Bene-Dunn-Gal back in its place. His stomach was clenched with fear but he would not allow himself to panic.

  I need to memorize a spell to see if the magic is still there, he thought. But he was reluctant to try. Without his power, he was, he thought, basically useless. The only reason he no longer missed being the big strong man he'd once been before his Change was because magic made him so much more powerful.

  But now? He was a skinny, weak teenager who probably couldn't even defend himself against a grown man.

  Come on, Simon, he thought. You have to know, one way or the other.

  He nodded to himself and walked hurriedly to the stairs.

  On the second floor, he went into his study and opened the shutters to let in the bright, cold afternoon light. Then he sat at his desk and picked up his spell-book.

  Well, he thought with a trace of grim amusement, I never thought I'd need you again.

  The dog-eared bundle of pages had been fastened together with thick cord and Simon carefully turned each page, looking at the symbols and runes that he had written down each time he'd discovered a spell that actually worked.

  He was tempted to try the Summoning spell at once, but common sense stopped him.

  Try the easiest, least complicated one you have, he thought. The one that uses the least amount of power.

  He turned back to the front of the book and looked at the first few pages. He stared at the simple spell he'd called Sparkle. All it did was create small sparks that were basically useless.

  Except when you used it to get the black dragon's attention, he thought with some satisfaction. But then he'd had Bene-Dunn-Gal to boost his power. Now? Now it was the most useless and least powerful spell he had.

  Taking a deep breath, Simon read through the runes that comprised the spell, firmly locking them into his mind.

  “Okay,” he said aloud. “Let's see how bad the situation really is.”

  He chanted the incantation in a firm voice, with only a hint of a nervous quiver, and then intoned the word of command.

  “Invectis,” he said. And then waited.

  After a minute he sat back in the leather chair, the springs squealing almost in sympathy.

  “I'm screwed,” he muttered.

  Nothing had happened. No sparks. No reaction of any kind.

  He was powerless.

  Simon sat in his chair and stared out at the bright afternoon. His mind was a jumble of disconnected thoughts. What do I do now, was the most prevalent one.

  Finally he stood up, creaking like an old man as his joints had stiffened while he sat, closed the shutters and bolted them.

  The room darkened immediately and he glanced at a candle, willing it to light thoughtlessly.

  Nothing happened and he sighed in frustration.

  No power, Simon, remember? He shrugged and wandered back downstairs to the fireplace. If he couldn't light things with his mind anymore, he'd better make sure that the fire was maintained. It got awfully cold in the tower when it went out.

  He arranged fresh logs carefully in the fireplace, lit several candles to brighten the room and made more tea. Then he sat down to try and organize his thoughts.

  The gods of Chaos had failed in their attempt to kill him using the dragons. But they had succeeded in rendering him powerless. And in this increasingly dangerous world, the result might well be the same.

  Monsters of old were returning to the New Earth. Undead now stalked the night near graveyards, seeking the warmth of the living. And many animals, like some humans, had Changed into something...else. Some were benevolent, like his horses, but others were not.

  Simon sat up with a jerk. The horses!

  He'd been so used to having Kronk around to care for Chief, Tammy and Sunshine, his three horses, that he'd forgotten all about them. They must have been freaking out when the dragons attacked and that was an hour ago or more now.

  He got up and went to a large cupboard next to his cast-iron stove and pulled out his long winter jacket. It was thick and lined with fur and covered him almost to his ankles. It also had a hood to block the cold. Simon hated cold ears.

  He slipped off his simple shoes and put on boots and then headed out into the bitter cold.

  The stable was attached to the back of the tower, on the lake side, and was large enough to house a half-dozen horses. To one side was a storage shed, made of stone like the stable and tower, stuffed with hay laid up for the winter.

  Simon bustled into the stable, the powerful smell of horse manure assaulting his nostrils.

  The three horses nickered as he entered, their heads hanging over the doors of their box stalls. Simon went to each one in turn and patted and stroked them reassuringly. They didn't seem the worse for wear and looked relaxed.

  It had been a while since he'd had to muck out the stalls, but since Kronk was gone, temporarily he thought quickly, Simon took off his jacket, grabbed a shovel and bucket and got to work.

  When he was done and had dumped the manure on the pile next to the stable, he pumped out fresh water for the three horses, made sure they had enough hay for the night and chatted away to all of them in turn.

  Each had Changed since the old Earth days, but Chief was the most striking. His hooves had split and now sported claws, his mane and tail were spikes instead of hair and two horns, one over each eye, sprouted from his forehead. He was an image out of a fairy tale.

  Still a big goof though, Simon thought with amusement as the stallion craned his head up for the wizard to scratch under his chin.

  “You're a big suck, you know that?” he asked Chief with a grin. The stallion just snorted and shoved him lightly with his head, being careful not to impale Simon on his horns.

  “I'm sorry to tell you guys, but Kronk's going to be gone for a while,” he told them seriously. He was
n't quite sure how intelligent the Change had made them, but he did know that they were much smarter than they'd been in the old days.

  All three sets of large brown eyes watched him silently.

  “He's been...” He hesitated and then hurried on. “Called away, I guess. But don't worry. I'm sure he'll be home soon.”

  Simon felt tears rise in his eyes and blinked them away, feeling foolish.

  “Yeah, he'll be home soon. For sure,” he muttered.

  Then he grabbed his coat, waved at the horses and headed out into the cold.

  The sun was dipping toward the horizon as Simon walked back around the tower. He paused to examine the wall where the dragon had fallen. Kronk and the other earthen had repaired it perfectly and, if it wasn't for the shining puddles of frozen water where the snow had melted, he'd never have known there'd been any damage at all.

  He made sure the gate was closed and sealed tightly and then retreated into the tower, shivering. The air was getting colder by the minute as the sun set and the winter night began.

  Simon lit more candles and built up the fire before he made his dinner. Dried venison, a gift from Clara's people, and fried potatoes from his stores in the cellar. He decided to open a bottle of wine as well. Alone for the first time in years, he felt a need for some liquid courage.

  After his meal, Simon sat in front of the fire in his old easy chair, sipping his wine and listening to the flames hiss and crackle at each other.

  It's so quiet, he thought as he stared soberly at the fire. So quiet.

  He'd never been a garrulous person, back in the old days. Just a handful of friends, with Daniel being the closest of them. But maybe that was why he'd depended so much on Kronk, yes and Aeris as well, cranky though he often was, for company.

  Their point of view had always been just different enough to be interesting. He'd appreciated the earth elemental's work around the tower, but it was his friendship that Simon had enjoyed the most.

  But now? He glanced sadly around the room, eyes flicking to the kitchen table where the pair had stood most often when they talked. Now he was alone and there was no way to know when, or even if, he would ever see his little friends again.

  Simon gulped down the last of his wine, thought about pouring himself another glass and decided not to. He was depressed enough without it.

  So what to do now? There were at least two months of winter left to get through alone. He had enough supplies to survive, but the solitude might drive him mad before spring.

  “Don't exaggerate, former wizard,” he growled to himself.

  There was a bigger worry. What would the old gods of Chaos do now? They must know that he was defenseless. Would that satisfy them? One day, when the four remaining primal dragons had finished wiping out humanity in their territories, one or more of them would come to North America with their brood and finish off the remainder of the race, including him.

  The question was, did they hate him so much for his destruction of the black dragon to want him dead sooner?

  Simon closed his eyes tiredly and slumped in his chair. There was no way to know. All he could do was take things one day at a time.

  What he did decide to do, though, was visit Clara and her village. Chief was strong enough to get through the snow-covered forest and he was sure that the cleric was worried about their loss of communication.

  And who knows, he thought. Maybe she'll have some ideas on how he could regain his power.

  He snorted. Yeah, right.

  Simon heaved himself up, rinsed out his glass and blew out all but one of the candles. He checked the locks on the door and windows before taking the candle and walking slowly up to bed, his footsteps echoing hollowly as he went.

  Before he tried to sleep, the wizard secured all of the windows on the second floor and then lay in bed, listening to the winter wind singing its lonely song as it whipped around the tower. And he finally acknowledged something in his own mind.

  You were the best friends I ever had, guys, he said to the departed elementals. I'll never forget you. I hope you don't forget me either.

  And on that sad note, Simon drifted into a fitful sleep, thinking of the empty days to come.

  Chapter 3

  Two days passed. Two days that Simon spent doing chores that Kronk used to take care of. He didn't really mind. It took his mind off of other concerns. But finally, on the morning of the third day, he decided to ride to Nottinghill, Clara's village, and pay her a visit.

  The weather was a bit milder than it had been, but still clear and chilly. He bundled himself up in his winter coat, thick mittens and a long scarf and, as he rode a frisky Chief toward the forest across the clearing from the tower, glanced back once and hoped his home would be okay in his absence.

  Without magic, he'd been unable to lock his door or the gates from the outside. So he'd left the main gate closed and exited from the small rear gate, hoping that if anything or anyone approached, they'd assume the place was sealed tight. It was the best he could do.

  Chief crunched through the three feet of snow with ease, throwing up his head and snorting happily to himself. The horses only got exercise when Simon let them out to run in the snow along the frozen lake behind the tower, and the stallion had boundless reserves that he needed to work off.

  The trip through the forest was easier than the wizard had feared. The wind had scoured paths between the trees where the ground was almost clear and Simon let Chief pick his own way through, just keeping him headed in the proper direction.

  It still took twice as long to ride to Nottinghill as it normally would in the summer and, by the time Simon rode out of the forest and stopped on the low hill looking down on the town, his fingers and toes were tingling uncomfortably and the tip of his nose, deep inside his hood, was numb.

  I hate the cold, he grumbled to himself and then smiled as he caught sight of the small town below.

  The wall that Kronk and the other elementals had constructed for Clara and her people gleaming brightly in the late morning sunlight. Dozens of chimneys sent plumes of smoke straight up through the still air, their roofs covered with snow.

  It looks like a Christmas postcard, he thought poignantly. For some reason, the sight of the idyllic-looking little town saddened him for a moment.

  Simon finally nudged Chief and they slowly made their way down the hill, the snow squeaking under the horse's hooves.

  At the front gate, open during the day, a lone guard stood watch. He, or she, was bundled in furs and carried a spear on their back. As Simon approached, the guard pushed back their hood and the wizard saw a woman's face that he didn't recognize.

  Apparently it wasn't mutual though, and the guard's eyes widened as he slipped his hood off of his head.

  “Good morning,” Simon said as he got within speaking distance.

  The guard nodded and smiled slightly.

  “Good morning, sir wizard,” she said respectfully. “Clara didn't tell us that you would be visiting today.”

  “I'm sure she didn't. I just decided to drop by. It's been a long winter and I felt the urge for some...human companionship.”

  She grinned and nodded her understanding.

  “Yes, I suppose even a wizard gets tired of solitude occasionally.”

  She waved at the gate.

  “Go ahead in. I believe that Clara is in the main hall at this time of day. She'll be pleased to see you, I'm sure.”

  “Thanks very much.”

  He noticed that the guard was shivering slightly and gave her a sympathetic look.

  “I hope that you'll be relieved soon. The cold does get to a person after a while.”

  The guard laughed.

  “Oh, I don't mind. It gives me an excuse to get outside. But thanks. My relief will be along shortly. Enjoy your visit.”

  “Thank you,” he said and urged Chief through the gate.

  There were only a few people moving through the narrow streets of Nottinghill. Like the guard and Simon, they wer
e wrapped in heavy clothing and kept their heads down as they scurried on their way.

  In the center of town, on a little rise, the main hall stood covered in blazing snow and ringed with icicles. Simon dismounted when he reached the main door and then stood for a moment to stretch his legs after the long ride.

  Chief nuzzled the back of his neck and he patted the big horse gratefully.

  As he tied the reins to a post near the door, Simon explained to the stallion that he shouldn't be too long.

  “Don't worry, big guy,” he said quietly. “We'll be heading home in a few hours. Can't leave your girlfriends alone overnight, now can we?”

  Chief snorted and whickered in seeming agreement and Simon chuckled as he opened the door of the hall and ducked inside.

  The hall was about a hundred feet long on each side. In the rear were Clara's private quarters, while the main hall held rows of benches and an open area in the center. A fire pit that Simon didn't remember seeing on his last visit had been dug out and lined with stone in the middle of the hall and was blazing merrily, smoke rising to a hole in the roof directly above it.

  Seeing no one in the hall, Simon put his mittens into his pocket, made his way to the rear and knocked on the door to Clara's rooms.

  “Come in,” he heard her call. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  The room was bright and cheerful. There were several wide windows covered with flowery curtains, colorful throw rugs scattered about and many candles burning warmly.

  Clara was sitting in a long couch to the left as Simon entered, frowning down at a book on her lap and holding a steaming cup in her hand.

  As he entered, she glanced up and stared at him in obvious shock for a moment. Then she put the book aside, set the cup on an end table and quickly stood up.

  “Simon!” she exclaimed and hurried over to take both of his hands. She peered at him closely.

  “This is an unexpected pleasure. After we were cut off the other day, I was worried sick. Unfortunately, we've had a rash of illnesses lately. The flu, some rather bad colds, things like that.”

  As she spoke, Clara led Simon to the couch and sat him down firmly, first taking his coat and hanging it next to the door.