He was sitting in a wooden chair, his arms secured painfully behind him and his legs tied tightly to the chair's legs. Simon shook his head to clear it and instantly regretted his decision. A lance of pain stabbed into him behind his forehead and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.
As his vision cleared, the first thing the wizard noticed was that he was only wearing his shorts. His robe, shoes and socks and necklace had been stripped from him and, in the semi-darkness of wherever he was, his skinny pale body almost shone in contrast. The sounds that he'd heard as he was waking up had faded away and the air was still and quiet.
“So, you're awake, finally,” a voice said. It was a woman's voice and it sounded irritable.
Simon turned his head toward the sound and found himself staring at a robed and hooded figure standing in the shadows of the room. He assumed that he was in Heather's cottage but he could see very little detail.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with flower pots, watering cans and canvas bags. The air smelled earthy and a bit sour, as if meat had been left to rot just out of sight. A few sticks of furniture were scattered about, made of simple wooden planks.
He watched the woman silently, trying to gather his senses and figure out what had happened.
He'd been knocked out, obviously. He recalled a sweet smell just before he'd lost consciousness and guessed that Heather had used some sort of gas on him. The question was, why?
As he continued to watch her, not yet ready to try to speak, Simon tested his bonds carefully, trying not to draw attention to what he was doing. But it was no use. He was totally immobile, only able to move his head.
The woman stepped forward and made a small gesture with her hand. A light, green and sickly, the color of slime, suddenly lit the room.
“I'm rather disappointed,” she said from within her hood. “The great wizard, Simon O'Toole, caught so easily. Did you really think that the elves would send you to me by leaving you a note? Why wouldn't they speak to you directly?” She shook her head. “Stupid. Perhaps you really are as young and innocent as you appear,” she mused. “Or perhaps you are just dumb. How you ever defeated the great black dragon is a mystery.”
Simon stayed silent and watched her, still feeling foggy and confused.
She raised her hands and lifted the hood off of her head, letting it slip back to her shoulders. The wizard was looking at a pale face surrounded by a mane of dark hair streaked with white. One eye was blue, like chips of ice. The other was urine yellow. As he looked into them, the woman smiled at him cruelly.
“You!” he hissed through clenched teeth. He glared at her, pain and confusion forgotten.
“Ah, so you have regained your faculties. Excellent. You've slept for several hours, little wizard. Apparently my dose of pollen was a bit too potent.”
Simon's eyes narrowed.
“Pollen? You knocked me out with pollen?”
“Of course. I was an herb witch before I was given a wizard's gifts.”
His rage turned to shock as Simon gaped at her.
“Heather?” he muttered in disbelief.
The woman threw back her head and laughed heartily.
“Yes, Simon O'Toole. Heather. Or rather, the former Heather. But that weak, mousy little witch is gone. In her place stands a treasured servant of the gods of Chaos.” She gave him an ironic bow. “Pleased to meet you.”
The wizard could hardly wrap his mind around the witch's transformation.
“How is this even possible? You look nothing like your old self.”
“The body was altered to better conduct magic, much like your own. That is why we bear more than a passing similarity to each other. Apparently this,” she glanced down at herself, “is the right kind of vessel for divine power. Besides, it's more attractive than the old me. I like it.”
Still trying to come to terms with this information, Simon glared at the woman again.
“Why are you doing this? And why have you been killing Changlings? You are one yourself!”
Heather made a casual gesture and a chair slid across the room. She sat down in front of the wizard and tented her fingers together as she watched him.
“Killing Changlings?” she repeated with some surprise. “Don't be absurd. I haven't been killing Changlings. Mutating some, yes, for my own purposes. They are better off if you ask me. But killing them? Never.”
“Don't bother lying to me,” Simon said in disgust. “I've watched you murder dozens of innocents, burn down their homes, ravage the land. I'm your prisoner. At least have the backbone to be honest with me.”
“Yes, I knew that you were spying on me,” she told him with a superior smile. “Considering that you became a wizard sooner than I, it was surprising that you were so clumsy.”
She sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, as if he was some sort of fascinating new type of insect.
“But you did not see what you thought you saw. Everyone that I...eliminated was simply human, mundane and useless. They were remnants from the old world, not Changlings.”
Simon was still trying to loosen his hands as he spoke, but except for restoring some circulation and feeling in them, it was useless.
“That isn't possible,” he said. “There aren't that many mundanes left in the world.”
“There shouldn't be that many left, you mean,” Heather replied, her voice becoming cold and flinty. “But thanks to your interference when you killed the primal black dragon, humanity's destruction is behind schedule. The Chaos Lords are furious with you, little wizard. You are making them wait far longer to return to this world than they expected to.”
The former witch looked at him with something like admiration.
“I have to admit, for a single person to invoke their wrath as much as you have done is quite impressive. We are little more than fleas to them and yet you have caught their attention. Well done.”
“Have I? Good. And I'm just getting started.”
Heather guffawed again and shook her head.
“Ah, Simon, Simon. There speaks the eternal hope of the brave, or the foolish. I'm afraid that your magical career is finished.”
She stood up and walked across the room to a table covered with heaps of odd objects and unidentifiable junk and picked something up, something wrapped in thick cloth.
When she turned back, Simon's eyes widened. By its length, he knew it had to be Bene-Dunn-Gal.
“Where did you get this relic?” she asked him as she sat down again, the staff across her knees. Simon noticed that she was careful not to actually touch it directly.
“It is ancient and powerful. I should very much like to discover its secrets.”
“Yes, I'll bet you would,” he told her. “Why don't you unwrap it and examine it closely. That would be the best way to learn more about it.”
Heather's eyes narrowed.
“Don't take me for a fool, little wizard. This thing radiates power. It is attuned only to you, I suspect. Ah well. Once you are gone, it will be freed of your taint and perhaps I will find a way to make it serve me. No matter.”
She put the wrapped staff down beside her and pulled something out of a pocket of her robes.
“This, I think, is a little more important to us now, anyway.”
Simon squinted at the small piece of metal she was holding up. The green light in the room was not very bright and it took him a moment to identify the object. When he did, he sagged in his chair with a groan.
The witch cackled at his reaction and grinned widely.
“Ah, you recognize it, don't you? Yes, it's your belt buckle.” She looked down at the piece of rectangular brass and ran a finger along the back of it. “And what's this? Could it be...your true name? Why, it is! My, my, how foolish. What a place to inscribe something so important.”
Her laughter rang out, her glee so wicked that Simon was almost sickened by it.
When she had control of herself again, Heather leaned forward and shook the buckle at
him.
“I have you now, Simon. Or should I call you by your true name, hmm?”
“I'd rather you didn't,” he said tersely.
“Yes, I'm sure. No matter. I have you now. Your power is mine, little wizard. I have your necklace as well, with its piece of dragon heart. Oh yes, I know about that. As for that other trinket that you had on that string, that odd piece of metal, what is it? A magical talisman? A ward of some sort?”
“None of your damned business,” he said with a glare. “You have me, obviously. Isn't that enough? Whatever you are going to do to me, get on with it and spare me your crowing.”
“My, my, aren't we touchy?”
She sighed and slipped the buckle back into a pocket.
“Simon, let me explain something to you. You've been a lot more isolated from the world than you know. Much has happened across the Earth in the last couple of years and you've only been on the edges of it. The dragons are clearing out the last of the mundane humans. And when I am done in this area of the country, I shall have enough Changlings under my command to send them west and east to sniff out the rest of humanity in this part of the world.”
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes as she watched Simon.
“There are others like me out there, you know. Many of them. And do you know how many wizards oppose us? Wizards imbued with pathetic powers from your gods of Light? A handful at best. And soon they will all be gone. Like you, they are even now being captured and destroyed.” She sighed again. “It's such a waste. So, let me offer you a way out of this situation.”
She stood up, pushed her chair back and muttered under her breath.
The ropes around Simon's arms and legs dropped away and he almost fell out of his chair as he was suddenly free. He sat still and slowly rubbed his arms and then his legs, trying to restore his circulation.
Heather walked back to her table and returned. She tossed his robe at his feet.
“Get dressed. It is demeaning for even a white wizard to be seen in your state.”
Watching her closely, waiting for some sort of trick, Simon stood up, picked up his robe and slipped it over his head.
As it settled over his shoulders, Heather smiled a little disdainfully.
“That's better. Come outside with me and let us discuss your options.”
As she turned away, Simon looked longingly at the wrapped staff discarded on the floor.
“Don't bother, little wizard,” Heather said as she opened the door of the cottage. “Without your true name, that weapon would do you no good at all. And I wouldn't want to have to stop you from touching it, nor would you.”
Simon shook his head hopelessly and slowly followed her out.
The unnatural stillness was heavy over the field outside of the cottage. Simon looked up and guessed that it was late afternoon, perhaps an hour before sunset. He'd been unconscious for a long time.
Heather led him to the middle of the field and then turned and waited until he caught up. She folded her arms and watched him with a sly smile on her lips.
“I know you hate me for what I've done to the mundanes, Simon. But consider this. They were doomed from the beginning. The gods of Chaos demanded their deaths and, if I wasn't the one to obey their command, someone or something else would. So, putting that aside for the moment, what harm have I truly done to you, personally?”
Simon stared at her in disbelief.
“What harm? Are you kidding me? You're an evil b...”
She held up a warning finger.
“Uh-uh, little man. Let us not descend to name calling here. Put away your emotions for the moment and answer me honestly, one wizard to another.”
Simon glared at her and then took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart and get himself in hand.
“Fine then. Personally, you haven't done a thing to me, yet. Before you became...this, you were a decent neighbor, quietly going about her business, whatever that was. So what?”
She nodded.
“Exactly. I haven't hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. You have power, Simon. Magic that will only grow if it is allowed to. But it is nothing compared to the abilities you could tap into, if you were granted access to true power.”
“Meaning?”
Heather laughed lightly.
“Isn't it obvious? Join me. Swear allegiance to the dark gods. With their blessing, just think how high you could rise in this new world. They don't want to rule the New Earth, Simon; they simply want to conquer it and move on. The Universe is their ultimate prize. This planet is only a stepping-stone, a doorway from the Void into our plane. Once they return, they will select a chosen few to rule in their stead and leave. You could be part of those few, just as I shall be.”
“Really?” Simon tried to keep his voice calm as he listened to the madness that Heather was spouting. It wasn't easy.
“Didn't you tell me that these Chaos Lords of yours hated me? Why would they give me power when they want to destroy me?”
Heather cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as she watched him.
“Oh, I think I could convince them. They want to return, Simon. If turning you into a servant and using you against their enemies, the gods of Light, achieves that goal, so much the better. In fact, I'd say that they'd find such an outcome quite amusing.”
“Yeah, I'll bet they would,” Simon muttered.
“So what do you say? Join me. Your cause is lost, my old neighbor. I have your true name, and so I have your power. Come with me and who knows what heights we can aspire to.”
Her eyes were shining and Simon could see the hunger for power and glory in them. It was sickening.
“Before I make such a momentous decision, I'd like to know a few things.”
Heather's look became suspicious.
“Oh, come on now,” he continued. “Surely you can answer some questions before I make what will possibly be the last decision of my life?”
The former witch nodded slowly.
“Fair enough. Very well then, ask your questions.”
And she folded her arms and waited.
“One thing that I'm curious about. In that fake note you left me, you mentioned the green dragon. How did you know that was my next target?”
Heather snorted a laugh.
“That's one of your questions? Fine then. I knew for two reasons. First, the next most powerful primal dragon in the hierarchy is the green. I assumed that you would want to face them from the weakest first, which was the black, to the strongest. Naturally you would pursue the green next. And secondly, you foolishly mentioned your plans to that insipid cleric in that little town, what is its name, Nottinghill? Yes. Well, I was listening in at the time and you yourself gifted me with that information.”
She shook a mocking finger at him.
“You should never share your plans with others. Trust is vastly over-rated, in my opinion.”
“Clara is entirely trustworthy,” Simon said angrily. “It was my own fault for not realizing that someone could eavesdrop on my conversations.”
Heather shrugged.
“Whatever. But that is how I knew. Imagine how upset my masters were when I passed on that tidbit of information.”
Simon felt a coldness settle in his belly.
“You told them?” he asked faintly.
“Of course.” Heather grinned at his reaction. “After all, you did manage to kill the black dragon, didn't you? I know it was all luck and trickery, but the gods seemed to think that you might be a threat to the other dragons as well.” She chuckled. “Do you know much about the green dragon and its attributes, Simon? I still have some power over herbs and growing things and have some small fondness for the primal green. It lives in deep jungles and absorbs the life energy of plants. Its breath is chlorine gas, potent and deadly. And it was very grateful for my warning.”
Simon took an involuntary step back.
“You spoke to that monster? Are you insane?”
“Not at all. The drag
ons are highly intelligent. Even you must know that. And, as I said, I feel like the green and I have common interests. So naturally I got in contact with it.”
Heather frowned a little and stared past Simon.
“I wish I could say he or she, but only the gold dragon is female. All of the others are genderless. Ah well.”
She focused on him again.
“I suppose I should mention, perhaps as a little incentive, that the green dragon would like to deal with you personally.”
She giggled at Simon's look.
“Oh yes. You have offended it. Killing its sibling, threatening it and its masters? Yes, if you decide to foolishly follow your current course of action, I am to deliver you up to the green. Add that into your decision making process before you say yes or no, Simon.”
Everything that the former witch had told him about the green dragon's nature, Simon's research had already uncovered. But she had failed to reveal one thing; the dragon's only weakness. Either Heather didn't know it, or chose not to tell him about it. Interesting.
“Now then, this little chat has gone on long enough,” Heather said firmly. “I've given you a choice and now is the time for you to make it.”
“Just one more question, please. It will help me to decide my course of action.”
The former witch looked skyward as if in exasperation and then frowned.
Simon followed her look and then stared fixedly at a spot directly above Heather's field.
“What is that?” he asked.
The spot was growing larger, swirling in a circular motion, its edges tinged with green light.
“Oh dear,” she said faintly. “Apparently my ally has become impatient. We're running out of time.”
She looked at Simon.
“Ask your last question, little wizard. The primal green is coming. If you decide to join us, I believe that I can stop it from destroying you. If not, well, at least I won't have to drag you down to South America to meet it.”
Simon was still watching the now enormous round patch in the sky. The center had turned a pale red in color while the edges were now distinctly green, the color of new grass.
The Dragons Revenge (Tales from the New Earth #2) Page 33