There was another thud and a more violent shudder shook the ground.
“I think we're about to have company, sir wizard. If we are leaving, now would be a good time.”
“I agree,” Simon said hurriedly and chanted the incantation for the Gate spell again.
He pictured the town hall in Nottinghill as well as he could and was about to invoke the word of command, when a scream of incredible volume echoed down the tunnel.
Ironhand's candle was snuffed out as he dropped it and all that Simon could see were a distant pair of flaming red eyes. They were huge and looked down on them from the height of the ceiling.
“Now, wizard. Now!”
Simon heard a great sucking sound and knew that the dragon was drawing in a huge breath to blast them with fire.
“Invectis!” he screamed just as a wall of flame, as bright as the blazing sun, shot down the tunnel toward them.
He fell back and he heard Ironhand gasp with pain as the two collided. When he looked up, expecting to see the raging maw of a dragon dipping toward him, Simon instead saw the puzzled face of Clara.
Above her, the opening in the roof of the hall let in beams of bright, cheery sunlight. They had made it.
“Simon?” Clara said as she bent down to help him up. “What's going on? You look like you've been rolling in soot.”
The wizard got up with her help and turned to look down at Ironhand. The two of them exchanged a glance and then burst out laughing.
“By the gods! Shandon! What's happened to you? Have you been digging coal or something?”
Simon understood why the cleric was saying that. The dwarf was coated in black dust and he suspected that he was too. The burnt dust of the tunnel that had shot ahead of the dragon fire. It had been that close.
Both of them laughed until they ran out of breath. Simon guessed that it was simply the relief of escaping from certain death that had set them off, but for whatever reason, the laughter had felt wonderful. It was good to be alive.
Clara and another young woman, whom the cleric called her apprentice, helped treat Ironhand's wounds. She set the leg first, confirming that it had been broken, as well as two ribs and a finger. Then she used her powers to heal his dislocated shoulder and his many cuts and abrasions.
All Simon needed was a basin of water and some privacy to get cleaned up. Clara gave him a clean robe, deep blue and very soft, and told him to keep it as a gift. It was a nice change from his usual gray clothing.
After getting cleaned up as well, Ironhand joined the wizard and they were served a hearty meal of fried chicken, fresh rolls and other delicious home-cooked staples.
As they ate, Clara peppered them with questions. Simon sat quietly and let Ironhand do most of the talking. His own part had been minor at best.
When she heard about the loss of the stronghold and the deaths of so many dwarves, Clara paled with shock.
“So it was a concerted attack,” she said, somewhat dazed. “The gods of Chaos truly want us all dead.” She looked at Simon, who was sipping some tea. “If you have a chance to speak with the elves, you should tell them about this. They have to be a target as well.”
“I suspect that the elves know about all of this,” he told her quietly. “Their scryers apparently keep a close watch on the goings-on in our world.”
“Aye, that's true enough,” Ironhand said gruffly. “For all that we aren't on the best of terms, the dwarves know that elves see more than most others. Who knows, maybe they will stir themselves and aid the mortal races for a change, instead of holding back and gazing down on us from the elven realm.” He grimaced. “But I doubt it.”
The dwarf stretched and leaned toward Simon. He'd been given a white tunic and leather breeches and looked a lot better than he had two hours earlier. When he grinned at the wizard, the cleric's power of healing became obvious. His smile was wide and even and all of his missing teeth had been replaced.
“When I'm fully healed and the smith in town repairs my armor, I'll need to get in touch with my people and tell them that I still live. You have done so much for me, sir wizard, and rest assured that I will repay you one day.”
“There's no need for that,” Simon protested. “I'm just sorry that I couldn't do more for your people.”
“Bah, a dwarf always pays his debts,” Ironhand said sternly. “Your rescue allowed me to live to fight another day. And, if the survivors from my home meet a tragic end before they reach our capital city, I will at least be able to tell my people what happened and prepare them for the war to come.”
He looked around at Clara and back to Simon.
“And make no mistake, my friends. We are now at war. I speak for all dwarves when I say that the dragons are now our mutual enemy. The wrath of the dwarves has been roused and that has not happened in many ages of men. We will fight them now to the last, in memory of those we have lost.”
He stood up and limped around the table to stand next to Simon, who scrambled to his feet.
The dwarf held out a hand and Simon took it in his own. Ironhand shook hands with him gravely.
“You are now kin to the dwarves, Simon O'Toole. We will answer your call if and when you need us. No more retreating from the dragons. No more standing back and letting others fight in our stead.”
He released the wizard's hand and reached into a pouch that he had slung over his shoulder. Then he presented Simon with a piece of metal, smoothed and etched with symbols. It was inlaid with some black mineral that glowed from within.
“Take this, my friend. If ever you meet another dwarf out in the world, show them this token and they will recognize you as kin and will aid you as needed.”
Simon was deeply touched. He knew how proud and self-sufficient the dwarves were.
“I thank you, Ironhand. And you know that if you need me, I will be there.”
“Aye, I know that now.”
He winked at Simon and returned to his seat.
“How are you going to reach your people?” Clara asked him curiously.
Ironhand grinned slyly.
“We have our ways, lady cleric. Best to leave some dwarven secrets to the dwarves. Suffice it to say that they should be here in a day or two. So I won't be a burden to you for very long.”
Clara laughed lightly.
“You are far from a burden, my friend. But I'm sure you want to reach your people as soon as possible.”
“Speaking of reaching people, my two friends back home are probably getting anxious about me,” Simon said with a rueful smile. “I left them a bit abruptly when I went to help Ironhand, so I think I'd better get back.”
Clara stood and waited while Simon and Ironhand exchanged warm farewells. Then she led him back through the hall and outside.
“You've made a great ally today, Simon,” she told him as they stood in the late afternoon light.
The wizard smiled and shrugged a bit self-consciously.
“If that's the case, it was entirely unintentional. I just wanted to help.”
The cleric squeezed his shoulder gently.
“I know that. I'm certain that Ironhand does as well. You have a good heart, my friend. Follow it and it will never leave you astray.”
“Thanks, Clara. Call if you need me. And take care of Ironhand. He's a tough one, but he's been through a lot and he lost his entire community.”
“I will. The gods of Justice have taken a great interest in the dwarves, which I am sure they won't appreciate.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement.
Simon laughed.
“Maybe not.”
He slipped Bene-Dunn-Gal off of his back and chanted the incantation for the Gate spell.
“Talk to you soon.” he said to the cleric, who nodded and waved.
Simon invoked the spell and gratefully headed for home.
The general relief that Kronk and Aeris showed Simon when he returned home was quickly surpassed by amazement when he told them what happened.
“The dragons destroyed th
e dwarven stronghold?” Aeris asked in amazement.
“Leveled it, according to Ironhand,” the wizard said as he brewed some tea. Evening had set in and Simon wanted to sit by the fireplace and run through the events of the day. He felt drained and doubted that he had enough energy left to light a candle.
The elementals' were waiting next to his chair and, as he sat down with his tea cup, each one moved to one of the chair's arms.
“Did the dwarf know how many of his people survived, master?” Kronk asked, his voice thick with sympathy.
Simon sipped his tea and felt his body slowly relax.
“No, he didn't. I could tell that he was anxious to find out if they had made it to the capital, wherever that is.”
The wizard looked from Aeris to Kronk.
“I hadn't realized just how many dwarves there were down there. By the way that Shandon spoke, there might be dozens of cities below ground, not to mention their capital.”
“They are an ancient race, master,” Kronk told him thoughtfully. “When they retreated underground, back when the magic was withdrawn from the world, they became very secretive. No one knows what they have been doing since then, or how large their population has grown.”
“I would guess that it isn't as large as you might imagine,” Aeris added. “They were never a very prolific race. But I have no doubt that now that the dragons have stirred their anger, they will become an intractable enemy.”
His smile was almost cruel.
“That attack on the dwarven stronghold might be one of the biggest mistakes the dark gods have ever made.”
Simon considered that, looking deeply into the flames in the fireplace.
“You know, that's a very good point.”
He stood up, picked up the token that Ironhand had given him off of the kitchen table and returned to his seat.
“Shandon gave me this and said that I am now kin to the dwarves. I wonder what that means, really.”
He handed it to Kronk, who turned it over in his small hands and then returned it. The little guy looked impressed.
“I do not know as much about the dwarves as some others do, master, but I do know that they take great pride in family. For Ironhand to, I suppose, adopt you into his clan, is a very great compliment.”
“It's much more than a compliment,” Aeris averred as he took the token from Simon and stared at it. “It means that you have the right to call upon the dwarven race to come to your aid in battle.” The air elemental's eyes brightened. “Can you imagine it? An army of dwarven warriors, clad in their enchanted armor and wielding their mighty axes, fighting alongside you against the dragons?”
Aeris sounded almost awestruck and Simon looked at him humorously.
“You seem impressed by that thought,” the wizard said with a grin.
“Of course I am. As you should be. The handful of dwarves, including Ironhand, who aided you against the primal black dragon were nothing compared to thousands of their people fighting for your cause. If it comes to the point where you need their aid, the very Earth itself would tremble beneath their army's tread.”
Simon felt a twinge of excitement at the idea, but it was excitement muted by caution.
“I wouldn't want to be seen to be using them, Aeris,” he told the elemental. “I took up the quest to destroy the dragons by myself. If other want to help, I'll welcome their aid. But I won't coerce or trick people into a fight that they may not want to engage in.”
“Begging your pardon, master,” Kronk said diffidently, “but I have to agree with Aeris.”
“You do?” the air elemental said in disbelief. “That's a new one.”
“No it isn't,” the earthen snapped at him. “I agree with you when what you say is sensible, which it usually isn't.”
“Guys? No fighting, please.”
“Yes, master.” Kronk gave Aeris a final glare and then looked at Simon. “But he is right in a way. The dwarves, through Ironhand, have now vowed to fight the dragons. Your battle is their battle. You will not be tricking them if you call them to fight by your side.”
There was a subtle rumble that shook the tower slightly and Simon looked at the window, where the sky was darkening rapidly.
“Your fellow earthen have arrived to patrol the wall, by the sound of it,” he told Kronk as he stood up, grabbed a candle and lit it from the fireplace.
“Yes, that is them, master. Right on time.”
“I admire their reliability.”
Simon lit several candles around the room, made himself more tea and sat down again.
“Speaking of being reliable, I wonder how your brethren are doing out in the world?” he asked Aeris.
The air elemental shrugged casually.
“Fine, I'm sure. It should be several weeks before any of them return to report, so we won't know until then.”
“Hmm.”
The wizard relaxed and stretched his feet toward the fire. His thoughts flitted in all directions. What was the next move of the dragons? What would the dwarves do when Ironhand reported back to them? What was really going on out in the world?
He sighed heavily.
“There are forces moving now. Forces that may roll over us unless we take action first. But I can't do anything until we learn where the primal dragons are situated.”
He watched the dancing flames, imagining bestial faces peering out at him, snarling and scheming.
“Are you still determined to attack them on your own, master?” Kronk asked quietly.
“Do I have a choice? The gods are moving against us. All signs point to it.”
He held up a hand and ticked off points on his fingers.
“The assault on us by those two dragons earlier this year. The attack of the undead on Nottinghill. The rogue wizard roaming the country slaying surviving humans. The destruction of Ironhand's stronghold.”
He dropped his hand and then pushed back his hair.
“I think the dark gods are becoming impatient. They want this world and they want it desperately. If I can take down another of their draconian servants, it will be a major setback. It may slow down their advance, give us some breathing room. Then we can try to organize aid from other Changlings world-wide.”
Aeris looked skeptical but remained silent. Kronk made a noncommittal sound in his throat.
“I know, I know. The odds are ridiculous. But just imagine it. There must be others like myself out there, wizards who even now are honing their skills, knowing that the dragons will hunt them down one day. If they could be gathered together, focused into a force and launched at each primal dragon in turn, we could stop the gods of Chaos in their tracks.”
Simon's imagination took off at the thought of a group of wizards, mages, witches, whatever, taking on the dragons together. It was almost intoxicating.
“Calm yourself, my dear wizard,” Aeris said dryly. “You forget that all those possible spell-casters are probably under attack at this very moment just the way that you were. It is quite likely that, unlike you, they weren't successful. There may be few if any allies out there now.”
“You really are a negative Nelly, aren't you?” Simon said as he leaned back and turned to stare at the air elemental.
“Negative Nelly? That's a new one.” Aeris said with a snort. “And it's not negativity. It's common sense. If you are bound and determined to pursue this foolish course of action, at least do so with a realistic attitude.”
Simon stared at Aeris for a very long moment, and the elemental squirmed a bit but held his gaze.
Finally the wizard couldn't help himself. He threw back his head and burst out laughing. He laughed until tears rose in his eyes and just as he calmed down, he saw Aeris' expression and started to laugh again.
When he at last ran out of breath and was holding his stomach painfully, he watched as the air elemental looked at Kronk and rolled his eyes.
“He's finally descended into madness,” he said. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”
“Of course I have,” Simon said, still chuckling. “This entire situation is nuts. Haven't you realized this by now? Our chances of winning this thing are so impossible, you have to laugh.” He became sober-faced again. “Or cry. But what's the point of that?”
Aeris' look of irritation was replaced with a reluctant smile.
“All right, my dear wizard. I concede your point. I will be cautiously optimistic and hope that my fellow elementals find at least some hopeful signs.”
“Big of you,” Kronk said dismissively. “Master, you should get some sleep. You have had an exhausting day.”
“Mother hen,” Aeris muttered.
“I will,” the wizard said as he stood up slowly, a little light-headed. “But I have a chore to finish first.”
He crossed the room, picked up Bene-Dunn-Gal and brought it back to the fire. He sat down and rolled the staff in his hands.
“What chore, master?” Kronk asked, ignoring the weapon. He didn't like it and refused to look at it whenever possible.
“I have to recast some spells on to Bene-Dunn-Gal. I've used a few over the last little while and I don't want to take a chance of running out.”
He rested the staff on his knees and looked at his palm thoughtfully. There were multiple dimples in the flesh where Bene-Dunn-Gal had taken its payment of blood. Simon supposed that if he wanted to, he could count them to see how many spells he'd used since acquiring the staff.
He shrugged indifferently. What did it matter? He needed its power and that was the price he had to pay.
Kronk hopped off of the chair.
“I will join the others on the wall, master. Try not to over-do it with that...thing.”
“No problem, my friend,” Simon told him as he ran his hands along the staff. “Have a good night.”
“I'll join him,” Aeris said and rose up to float across the room to the door. “He has a point, my dear wizard. Don't depend on that relic too much. If you do and it is lost, you might be as well.”
With those grim words, the air elemental left the tower, closing the door behind him.
Simon grasped Bene-Dunn-Gal in both hands.
The Dragons Revenge (Tales from the New Earth #2) Page 31