by J. B. Garner
I wriggled enough to catch hold of Aelfie’s hand. “Don’t do it, Aelfie. He can’t have the stone.”
“I would prefer to take my chances in a world with another Dragon than a world in which you are dead.” The Elf’s hand squeezed mine. “Master Sinclair, I will give you the stone and myself but only if you let Lady Stone go free, all the way to my father’s custody.”
I knew what Aelfread was trying but it was a bum deal no matter what Sinclair said. Oh, I figured he would let me go but he needed a Dwarf to finish his plans. Why wouldn’t he find a way to track me down, someone he knew had the power to make his dreams come true? Sinclair was smart. He would find a way to do it.
Besides, it was a sure death sentence for Aelfread. I had seen what his day in chains had done to him; I knew this time that Sinclair would simply watch as the Elf wasted away. After all, he wouldn’t be dead by the Drake’s hand, not directly, and that would be a good enough loophole for him.
But what could I do to stop it?
Sinclair lowered his claw and the beams backed off enough to let us move in tight, cramped motions. “That would be agreeable. It would be a crime to see your bright future snuffed out, Lady Stone.” He gestured towards Aelfson and that’s when I could tell that Sinclair was far more hurt than he let on. Every movement tested his ability to keep control of his pain, his muscles and brow twitching with the exertion. “Let me see the stone, touch it. I will brook no further trickery.”
Aelfread let out a sigh of resignation and nodded, digging into his waistband for the small fragment. If only I had a runeword to send the stone away or to make a powerless duplicate or … anything!
That’s when I realized what an idiot I was. Maybe I didn’t have one of those words, but I had something else, something special, an unknown but powerful runeword all ready to go.
As Aelfread pulled the stone out, as Sinclair’s emerald eyes lit up at the sight of it, I flipped my notebook, up to that point pressed tightly against my chest, open to the marked page and the mystery runes scrawled across it. Sinclair saw what I was about to do before Aelfread did but he was too late, too late by a mile. His magic needed motion and my magic had already been woven. All it took as a solid intent and the proper focus. Both of mine were strong and clear.
Keep Aelfread and the stone safe.
The crackling light of a dozen forges blazed forth from the page, covering the Elf and his prize with a molten shroud. It lasted for only a moment before the glow, Aelfread, and the stone were simply gone. The love rune had found its focus and the runes of fate had split our paths. Though I could only guess as to where Aelfread had been whisked off to it, I knew deep down that he was safe where he was.
I, on the other hand, was in deep, deep trouble.
Maybe Drakes were truly related to Dragons because the anger that replaced the awe in Sinclair’s eyes was breath-taking in its extremity. At the cusp of victory, after all he had gone through, he had his prize snatched out of his talons. All he had left now was one little, trapped, exhausted Dwarf to vent on.
There were worse ways to die than right after saving your love from execution, I suppose.
32
CHALK UP ANOTHER point for Sinclair’s resolve that he didn’t strike me down on the spot. Instead, he stalked towards the cage, his voice booming, “You have had your last jest at my expense, Dwarf! If I will not have the stone, I will have you and your magic instead.”
At the edge of the deadly beams, he raised up a claw and hissed more strange words beneath his breath. Blinding light began to coalesce into a ball dancing in his talons. “Give me the book and then kneel.”
I was drawn to the ball of impending death but I managed to pull my gaze away from its terrible gravity and down to the open notebook in my hands. Sinclair didn’t fully understand the runes, sure, but he knew more than he should. Aelfread said he had a bracelet that could trigger a runeword and Sinclair likely had that bracelet now. What would the Drake be capable of with that bracelet, this written alphabet of runes, the several functional runewords written inside, and all his other resources?
More than that, I just wasn’t the kneel-in-subjugation type.
Not that I wanted to see my death coming but I couldn’t risk closing my eyes for this last act of stubborn defiance. I tossed the notebook long ways into the lasers, giving it a nice side spin for maximum wreckage. There was only a faint, clean crackle as the intense heat vaporized lines through the binding and pages, scorching into black ash what wasn’t cut into bits.
Sinclair’s strangled screech was a little unexpected, sounding more like a cat whose tail had been stepped on than a show of draconic fury. Maybe no one had ever defied him before, not in so blatant a fashion, but whatever the reason, he hesitated, claw twitching and laser ball dancing. It was all the time I needed for one last, desperate act.
I snatched the hammer out of my bag, drawing it as if I had practiced the move a thousand times over, and hurled it at Sinclair’s head. Though the hammer was horribly balanced for throwing, built as a tool instead of a weapon, it performed admirably, spinning through the air as it maintained a perfectly vertical position. It slipped between the blazing bars and hurtled onward, cracking the Drake square in the snout.
My prison wavered slightly as Sinclair’s nose dribbled blood and his head recoiled. He staggered back a step, giving me a smidgen of hope before his foot talons dug into the stone itself. Despite all the injuries the Drake had sustained, the tough S.O.B. still had more to give, it seemed. That little bit of hope popped; I wasn’t feeling my cheery oats but that was still a good enough throw to give any normal person a concussion and a half.
“I don’t suppose a heartfelt apology would mean anything, would it?” I ventured.
Sinclair’s head snapped back to face me. His jaws opened wide to give a show of deadly fangs as the roar returned, spraying me with spittle tinged with blood.
“I guess that’s a no.” Go out with a witty remark; that’s the carnie way.
I feel no shame about flinching away and closing my eyes when Sinclair’s glowing claw thrust out at me with its promise of a laser lobotomy. When I didn’t immediately die or collapse from searing pain, I kept my eyes shut to be on the safe side. I only snuck a peep when I realized that Sinclair’s roar had turned into a muffled growling. When I saw dimly glowing emerald chains holding his maw tightly shut, I figured it was safe to take open my eyes the rest of the way.
Yes, I wasn’t hallucinating. Those chains were real, well, in a magical sense and Sinclair’s doom ball had evaporated, his claws now trying to wedge into the links of the chain. A twinkling green orb of high magic lit the tunnel behind the Drake. In that light, two familiar figures stood. Well, technically, one was bounding down the tunnel and the other was doing magical-type gestures.
It was Bunny’s fluffy form that was eating the distance to Sinclair, handcuffs in both paws. To my relief, she looked completely untouched, at least her fur and her body did. Her clothes, on the other hand, were punctured, slashed, burnt, and in even worse shape than Sinclair’s suit. What fabric was still clinging on for dear life was saturated in dried blood. The contrast between Garou and clothing was more frightening than the burning red light in her eyes.
My other rescuer gripped a silver-handled cane like a pistol or fencing foil, pointing it at Sinclair as she chanted in a melodious voice. I almost didn’t believe my eyes at first but I couldn’t deny the evidence of my ears. That was Siofra for sure, dressed in a stylish, red velvet jacket and khaki jodhpurs tucked into leather boots. Her fabulous hair pulled back into a tight, elaborate braid, the Elf looked like she was just about to go on a mounted hunt. What caught my eye the most was the gold pin that was on her left breast, some kind of badge or coat of arms. I couldn’t tell from where I was.
“Let the Dwarf go,” Bunny commanded, “and surrender by order of the Dragon’s Eye!”
That sounded important, a suspicion confirmed by Sinclair’s tenseness as he spun to face t
hem. Despite that tension, he didn’t immediately back down or dispel the cage around me, managing to break a few links of the chain despite his weakness. Sinclair’s jaw started to come free as the spell dissolved but not in time to get out some magic before the wererabbit was on him.
Bunny snapped a cuff a piece over Sinclair’s wrists in a slick move I could barely follow. Skidding to a halt, she tried to use her momentum to drag the stocky Drake off balance so she could lock his arms together but he held his ground, legs spread wide and tail rigid against the floor. Talons screeched on stone as the pair spun and struggled for advantage, coming ever closer to the laser cage. I knew how strong Bunny was and the fact that Sinclair could resist that strength in his condition was frightening.
Frightening or not, I had to try to do something. It sounded like Siofra was putting together a big magical whammy with how long she was chanting so we just needed a little time. I considered drawing a runeword in the dust at my feet but that was overruled the moment I saw the little scrum whirl right up to the lasers. The Drake wrestled to a momentary advantage, forcing Bunny’s fuzzy wuzzy tail and all that was attached towards the beams. Maybe Sinclair was protected from them, likely he was, but Bunny would get cut into rabbit rump roast.
There was no choice. I set myself as solidly as I could with the space and short notice and then thrust my stubby arms through the bars. The ends of my hair and beard sizzled as they dangled into the lasers and I had to bite off the yell of pain that wanted to burst out as my forearms started to burn. Pain equaled gain, though, as my palms planted firmly on Bunny’s bottom.
Sinclair was impossibly strong, high on anger and pure adrenalin, and I almost lost my balance. Before that happened, I shifted my feet wider, the edge of my boots starting to smolder as they came dangerously close to the cage’s edge. Instead of sliding back, I held firm and so did Bunny, my weight and muscle counterbalancing the advantage of Sinclair’s tail. Once the scales were even, Bunny was on top now, inexorably twisting the Drake’s wrists closer and closer together, almost in reach of the opposite chains.
“It’s not worth it,” I cried out as I strained and pushed. “Think of the good things you’ve done! You can’t do those in chains!” It was a long shot, appealing to Sinclair’s better side, but I knew it was there deep down.
Maybe I did touch on something as it felt like Sinclair started to relax his struggling. I couldn’t be sure, what with my only view being laser death beams and Bunny’s butt. Not that it mattered in the end as Siofra let out one final magic word. An intense burst of minty green light spilled out from behind the struggling fighters and overwhelmed my senses for a second.
All combat immediately ceased and as my eyes cleared, the cage was gone as well. I felt a surge of peace and calm flood up inside of me as if I had spent the day soaking in a contact high at a Grateful Dead concert. From the slightly baked look on Bunny’s face, I knew she was feeling it too while Sinclair only seemed to return to his normal, calm, focused state, that unholy fury purged from his eyes.
“Enough of this uncivilized behavior,” Siofra tutted as she moved towards us, gliding with the inhuman speed I had seen from Aelfie. “You know better than to go against the orders of an Eye, Master Dragonsong.”
He looked between the three of us before turning towards the Elf, straightening a tie that only existed as a charred knot around his neck. The dangling handcuffs jingled as he moved. “My apologies, Watcher,” he said, his slit eyes flicking towards the badge on her chest. I could make it out clearly now, a silver shield with an open eye front and center, a serpentine dragon curled around its circumference. “The Rage had overtaken my senses.”
“You were about to murder me, you arse!” I might be able to recognize Sinclair’s good side but I sure as heck was going to call him out on that. “Crime of passion or not – “
“Please, Lady Stone, be silent for now,” Siofra smiled at me, showing just a hint of her previously bubbly persona. “You are among allies now.” A coldly professional mask dropped back down as she refocused on Sinclair while Bunny snapped his handcuffs into place.
He didn’t struggle or resist. “Considering your concealed presence among my employees and your revelation as a member of the Drachenreich’s spy network, I assume that you have been watching my governance for some time now?”
“Astute as always.” Siofra tapped her badge. “Your excessive ambition has been a concern of the Great Northern Dragons for over a year now. It was able to be overlooked until this latest, destabilizing scheme.”
Bunny growled as the happy spell faded. She cinched the chains extra tight. “Let us not ignore that your deputies attacked a Huntress in the pursuit of her duties, as well as any repercussions the Lightbringers might ask for after assaulting one of their paladins.”
My painfully red forearms were an afterthought at that. “Bunny, is Polly all right? What about Didymus?”
Sinclair was about to interject but Bunny put a paw over his snout. “Yes, no thanks to this collar’s goons. They were both roughed up but nothing serious.”
Siofra lightly wrapped Bunny on the knuckles with her cane. “Do not lay hands on the Governor unnecessarily, Huntress Kincaid.” She relented reluctantly and stepped back from Sinclair, Siofra taking her place. “Now, your plans are unraveled and the truth exposed. Do you have anything to say in your defense before we drag you off to Detroit for processing?”
Ugh, Detroit. Truly a fate worse than death.
Sinclair smiled and my stomach turned. “I only implore you to consider what evidence you have or, more precisely, do not have before you consider raising the ire of our mutual masters with a false accusation.”
“What desperate ploy are you stabbing at?” Bunny challenged, almost pushing past the Elf to get right into Sinclair’s face. A raised hand from Siofra cut her off.
I contemplated doing the same but I had the sick feeling that somehow Sinclair had us behind the eight ball. Instead, I settled for a hard, accusatory glare.
“Well, Huntress, let me explain the extent of this situation for you.” He was slick and certain. He didn’t even blink (assuming he could). “While I will not argue with the proposition that my ambition is quite large, everything I have done over the past days that you think is against the law is actually well within my powers and duties as governor of this region. Or perhaps I should say that there is no definitive proof to the contrary.”
Siofra’s cane flicked threateningly close to Sinclair’s neck. “Explain but be quick about it.”
“So be it.” He cleared his throat carefully, showing respect but no fear of the Dragon’s Eye. “By my reckoning, the only crimes that you have the authority to report to the Dragons would be capital murder, disruption to the natural order by ascension, and unlawful possession of cultural artifacts.” Bunny was about to butt in again but he cut her off. “While I am alarmed to hear that some of my men misunderstood their orders and dared to lay hands on the Huntress and a holy woman, they did not do so under my orders, did they?”
Bunny growled low, her ears flat back against her head, but she begrudgingly admitted, “No, you did not say as such.”
“But you did tell your goons to attack Aelfread and me,” I yelled, my voice echoing through the tunnel. “And you were about to kill me right here when I didn’t give you what you wanted.”
Siofra’s eyes narrowed as they danced from accuser to accused. “Governor?”
“I truly apologize for my actions right before these goodly public servants intervened but I believe the Watcher can vouch that I was in the throes of an unnatural bloodlust.” There was a hint of regret behind those cold eyes but I wasn’t sure if I believed it or not. “It is an unfortunate condition my species suffers from, a byproduct of our draconic heritage.”
“While I will confirm the first, I will speak nothing of the second,” Siofra nodded. “Whether Drakes and Dragons are truly related is not important, though.”
“And that lets you out of the colla
r just like that?” I threw my hands up in disbelief. “I can’t believe it!”
“Oh, there will be recompense made, Lady Stone, but to treat my disability as if it were true intent would be the same as putting a mentally incompetent human to death for a similar crime.” Sinclair smiled toothily at me. “Truly an injustice, don’t you think?”
I scowled, knowing I was caught for now. “Fine, sure, I won’t disagree there, but what about Beaks and Blythe?”
“My men and I were in pursuit of a known criminal, a grifter who had stolen an important artifact from the Spaces Under The Lakes. If I recall, we even gave him a second chance under your auspices after which he stole off again with it.” He turned his slick smile over to Siofra. “Which brings me to those final charges. As I have no means to ascend to Dragonhood, you surely cannot take me to judgment for thoughts and wishes. Besides, you must realize I sought out the Cornerstone in an effort to reclaim the lost item for the Elven King and restore good relations with our northern neighbors. The Dragon’s Eyes are often forced to use deception to good ends, yes?”
The Elf and Drake were locked in a staring contest now, powerful wills at work, but I already knew how this would play out. We might have stopped Sinclair from getting Aelfread, the stone, and my magic, but he had covered his tail in every way. After a long moment, Siofra frowned and flicked her cane away from his neck, tapping the manacles. With a green spark, they unlocked of their own accord and fell away.
“Watcher!” Bunny cried but Siofra cut her off with a look.
“Huntress, please range down this section of tunnel to the river. Ensure that there are no unauthorized personnel or other undesirables within the Drachenreich.”
Bunny growled low in her throat but relented. “Yes, Watcher,” she muttered before loping past me and into the darkness.
“Is this what you Figments call justice?” I argued. “Where I come from, this is called – “