by David Mason
And as we moved slowly toward the island, coming round in a wide arc, the shape overhead was joined by another, and then another. The men watched, fearfully, as they went about their working of the ship, but there would be little anyone could do if those great beasts dove at us.
“Are these the breed that spit flame, wizard?” I asked Thuramon.
“All dragons do so,” he said, pedantically. “It depends on their diet, of course; given a sufficiency of certain foods, they may spout fire most admirably; or deprived of such, they will barely smoke.”
“Let Tana grant these are not so nourished,” I said, watching. I transferred my gaze to the nearing crags.
The island was like a great, jagged slab of rock on edge in the sea. There seemed to be no sign of any harbor, nor of any life, for that matter. The black crags were treeless, and I could see no sign of houses.
Then I saw a pale light, shining at the tops of the peaks; it seemed to come up as if out of a pit. I called out my orders, and signal fires were lit in iron baskets at our prow. We dropped the sail, and drifted, waiting.
“We’ll give them time enough to think about it,” I said. “Though Tana knows we’ve little enough time, since that black-robed man-beast may have ways of guessing what we’re at. If he sees the ships, and counts one gone…”
“They will respond,” Thuramon said. “Either to drive us away, or welcome us in.”
“No way in, as far as I can see,” I said, studying the white breakers at the cliff’s foot.
I paced the deck, biting my lips with impatience. The stars came out, and still we drifted; the pale light remained on the cliff top, and overhead, a dragon hooted from time to time.
“I wonder where our invisible passenger is now,” I said, glancing along the dark ship.
“I think she has had conversation with your ladies,” Thuramon said, absently. “The men say they hear her speaking, now and again, sometimes in your cabin when you are not there.”
I glanced aft, in surprise. Then I shrugged. “Well, she’s a woman, invisible or not. I would have guessed she’d seek out women, to speak with. Odd that neither Isa nor Samala have said anything about it.”
“Lord, you are still young,” Thuramon said. “The secretiveness of womankind sometimes amazes even me, a wizard.”
“Were I not somewhat busy these days, I’d hunt for the creature,” I said. “Maybe, later… hah, look there!”
Moonlight silvered the black cliff, a thousand yards away now, as we drifted. On the cliff, a bright patch glowed, like a great door opening; and out of it, three shadowy shapes loomed up. One after another, they launched themselves into the air, wings snapping open with a boom like a cannon’s crack. Three dragons, each as large as two of the kind we had so far seen… war-dragons!
The three hurtled in the air, and shot toward us, at mast height, the wind of their coming rocking the ship itself. And as they swooped over, swinging around us in a wide circle, a monstrous voice bellowed at us, loud as thunder, and in an unknown language.
Thuramon, his pudgy face green with fear in the flaring torchlight, stared up at the giant winged shapes.
“They are going to attack!” he said. “They think we are servants of the black robes… they will burn the ship around us!”
And the first of the three swooping dragons opened his enormous mouth, emitting an orange puff of flame, with a sound like death itself.
Ten
“Ang ‘tchaska!” Thuramon shrieked, his face turned up toward the dragon. “Ang ninga noremm!”
And at the last possible moment, the huge beast pulled up and out, shooting away into the air with another shriek. The mast creaked, and the cordage twanged with the wind of it; and the second and third dragons wheeled back, higher now.
Thuramon howled up at them again; and the huge voice boomed an answer.
“Your luck holds,” Thuramon gasped. “They… say… the Masters will see us.” He blew a great breath. “Such a shout as that tears at my throat. I need wine.”
I glanced toward the shore. “How will they have speech with us? Out of the sky?”
“Easier than that,” Thuramon said, hoarsely. He drew a stoppered jar from his belt pouch, and opening it, drank deep. “Phoo!”
“You seem uneasy, wizard,” I said.
He glanced at the dark sea. “I am. These are great and powerful lords of magic, and I… I fear them. Lord Kavin, I am not… not the greatest of wizards.”
“I know,” I said, and grinned. “Nor am I the most powerful of princes. Let’s be our not-quite-magnificent selves, Thuramon, and trust to Tana.”
He nodded, with a slight return to calm. “They wish us to send away this ship,” he said. “Too close to their shores.”
“But how…” Then I saw how. In the darkness, the black shape had been invisible till now: a narrow boat, like a rowing galley, it lay against us, its prow thumping our larboard.
At the rail, I held a torch high, and looked down. The boat was empty; neither rowers nor any other human could be seen in the narrow open shell. Did they expect us to paddle ourselves to their shores, using our hands? There did not seem to be an oar in sight, either.
“We two should be enough,” Thuramon said. “Believe me, prince, armed attendants would be of no use. Come.” And with a speed remarkable in a fat man, he lifted a leg over the rail and dropped down with a thud into the boat.
“Sailing master!” I called, and as he came to me, “Take the Luck back to the anchorage. If we do not return, the lady Isa is your ruler, hereafter. Obey her in all things. Sail to another, safer place, if I should be… well, whatever might happen to me.”
He glanced at the island, and nodded. “I understand, my lord. But…” he hesitated, looking grim. “If aught should happen, as you say… we have our cannon.”
“No,” I told him. “Firedrakes would destroy you all, and there’d be naught left of Dorada. Do as I have said.”
Then I went over the rail, and into the boat.
“Now then,” I said, settling down on a thwart. “Shall we go by magic… aha!” The thing had begun to move, with such speed as to slash a white foampath through the water. I looked toward the bows, and saw a line, taut, and stretched down into the black sea. Thuramon followed my glance.
“Yes,” he said. “One of their… pets. It draws us.”
“A sea-dragon?”
“Not quite that,” Thuramon said. “But the term will do.”
We shot through the water at such speed that the distance seemed to vanish. But now we approached the black crag wall, heading straight for the wave-washed rock at such a pace that it seemed certain we would smash against it like an eggshell. I braced myself for a shock… the boat was barely a few feet from the rock now, and not slackening speed by a hair… and our bow touched the black stone.
And passed through it, as if it were air. I let out a great gasp, of pure startlement… and I must admit, relief.
We were in a high, wide tunnel of black stone, water spraying about us as we sped on. Ahead, bright light suddenly poured out, and the boat slowed, and stopped; the bow line went slack, as we drifted to contact a flight of water-washed steps.
Above us, a door stood open, from which the light came, and a hollow voice boomed at us.
“Come,” it said.
“They’ve learned our language,” I said, climbing out. Thuramon followed, and we went up, and through the door.
“Of course they know it,” he said, trotting close to any heels. “They are… well traveled.”
Now we were in a space too large to call merely a hall; such a space as no builder I had ever known could have hoped to encompass in walls. But it was a hall, in a way.
Overhead, I could see, dimly and distantly, a gigantic dome, from which the golden light poured down. But there seemed to be no definite source of that light; it simply came. And all around, walls of gleaming, polished stone rose to meet it.
Along the walls, in niches, figures stood, man-sized;
at first I took them for guards, but saw they were only statues. The nearest was a rather ordinary looking man, in odd garments, but with no mark of any reason for his honored status. The other statues seemed very like the first.
The floor of the place was an enormous expanse of polished stone, set with a maze of odd designs in colored inlays, all geometric figures—circles, stars, lettered lines. I could see no other doors, and the whole vast place was quite empty.
Then a door opened, and a man came out, and walked toward us, slowly.
He seemed a most unlikely wizard, even more unlikely than Thuramon. He was a man of average height, with a short gray beard, bald, and dressed in a simple tunic of coarse cloth. I had expected some sort of display, I suppose; possibly gaudy jewels, or splendor of costume, at least. Or guards, a gemmed throne, and the like.
And now he was before us, lifting a hand in a bored greeting.
“Prince of Dorada,” he said, grinning familiarly at me. “And your man of art, the apprentice Thuramon.” He chuckled sardonically, and his eyes rested on my face. “I am Arastap, and I speak for all who dwell here. We are the Dragon’s Nephews, to use the old word for our kind in your tongue.”
“You seem to have sharper ears than most, Lord Arastap,” I said, calmly enough. “You know my name and Thuramon’s, and whence we came.”
“I know also that you held friendly parley with the servants of the beast,” he said, still smiling.
“You mean that ice-faced one who calls himself Theodron,” I said. “Then you may also know I made no bargains with him or his Brotherhood.”
“Had you done so, your ships would even now be flaming in the sea,” Arastap said. “That one has always undervalued us, because we let him go his way.” He laughed, pleasantly. “He has never learned enough humility to know why we were so forebearing with his kind.”
“He bars our path,” Thuramon said. “If we should try to make our way across Koremon, he and his kind would probably slay us all.”
Arastap transferred his cool gaze to Thuramon, and looked puzzled at him. “Across Koremon? Why should you wish to go that way? Know you not what lies beyond?” He laughed again. “Why, little Thuramon, I thought you somewhat of a fumbler, but not completely a fool. Come, wouldn’t it be better to be torn by werewolves’ teeth, or drown at sea, than live… under the three?”
Thuramon’s face set. “It is the three we seek.”
“Dragons!” Arastap cried, turning his face to the dome above; his voice echoed oddly, and he seemed to speak to the empty air around us. “Colleagues! The arrows for our bow!”
Out of empty space, a murmur came, the sound of voices, as if a dozen giants spoke together in a rumbling conference. And with that sound, there was also a deep booming music, tones as of distant pipes; the sound of dragons, purring.
Then one of the human voices came out of the general murmuring, more clearly, clanging in the dome around us.
“Now is our time come! Our long waiting is over! Bid these good men welcome, Arastap, and tell them the rest!”
The dragon’s Nephew extended a hand and took mine to grip it firmly. Now his face bore a wide smile of joy.
“You are the enemies of our enemy!” he said. “Good Thuramon, take my apology for my words, about your skill.”
“I’ll consider it,” Thuramon said, looking surprised, and considerably pleased.
“Prince Kavin… there are things better seen than told,” Arastap said. “Come with me, into the ancient halls of this place, and you will see. But know this… you are the first who have ever entered here who are not our craft.” He lifted his hand, and made a certain gesture toward me; I hesitated a moment, and then returned the sign. “You are Initiate in the Mystery, then,” he said, satisfied. “Good. I know you will speak to none outside of anything you may see that should be kept secret. Come… this place is only a hall of audience, where we sometimes speak with outsiders with whom we have dealings.”
He turned, and strode toward the door by which he had entered, and we followed.
“I would you had the time, to see much more of our home than you will see now,” Arastap said, as we hurried along. “If… I mean when… you return from the land beyond Koremon, there may be time then.”
We were going along a handsome arched gallery, lit by the same witchfire that had lighted the dome. It was an artfully built place, fit for a palace. Doors lined it along its columned walls… but there was no sign of any other person.
“Such a place of beauty…” I said, thoughtfully. “Have you no servants? Or is this all kept by magical arts?”
“This?” Arastap glanced around. “Oh. No, we have no servants. As a matter of fact, we… we are the servants, in a sense. We serve our… uncles.” He grinned. “We have ways of having our work done for us, but there would hardly be need for many servants even so. There are only thirteen of us.”
“Thirteen?” I asked. “You mean, thirteen who rule this island?”
“I mean thirteen all told.” Arastap said. “Thirteen… there were many more of us, once… but these are all now. We shall live on here, doing our work, until there are no more.” He sighed, stopping before a carved door.
“Here…”
The room beyond was another palatial chamber, furnished with great carven chairs, jeweled lamps, and a table that seemed to be carved from a single enormous gem-stone. Arastap dropped into a chair, and gestured to us to do the same. He pointed to the wall, and a wine-red drape moved silently aside.
Beyond, there was what at first I thought to be a huge window. It overlooked a vista of forest and hill, from a point high in the air, as if it were a tower. But the scene was in full sunlight, and I suddenly remembered that it was still night, outside this craggy castle.
I leaned forward, studying the scene. Then I saw moving figures, very small, walking along a grassy track, and beyond, familiar walls and a squat tower.
“This is a scene from your journey today,” Arastap said. “With this… window, I suppose you might call it… we can see great distances. Both in miles and in years, if we wish. But only into the past. We do not read the future with this.”
Thuramon was fascinated. “Into the past!” he said, his eyes wide. “To learn so much!”
Arastap nodded. “Too much, for most men’s peace. It’s better to lie about one’s own history, even to one’s self. Most nations do that quite well.” He chuckled dryly. “With this, we caught glimpses of what has happened to you, until today. We saw you approach, in the sea; and we did not know then, that you were enemies to the three kings. Although we knew they must have loosed the evil that struck you… we thought you only… well, barbarians.” He leaned back, and looked at us. “We learned… from another kind of magic… that our only hope of striking at the three would come soon, within a certain time. We could not learn what that hope would be. But when you spoke, we received a new message. Now, we know. You are to be our weapon against these.”
I felt uneasy, listening to this.
“Arastap…” I said. “We would welcome aid… but we are not a tool for another. Your acquaintance, the Abbot, has already offered us such a post if we wanted it.”
“Pride, pride,” Arastap murmured. “Come now… let’s not quibble about an unfortunate turn of phrase. Not tool, then, but ally. Will that do?”
“One thing I do not understand,” I said. “You seem to know of these mysterious three, and hate them. But how could they injure you, masters of magic that you are? And then, too, why should you need alliance with us, a tribe of refugees? Surely your own magic arts should be enough.”
Arastap shook his head. “Not enough. I have told you, we are but thirteen individuals. Very much individuals, too, I fear. We cannot even work well for a common end with each other, except in time of great peril.” He smiled at me, a little wearily. “When I spoke the word pride… I did not mean your pride alone. Ours… one of our greatest weaknesses. Each of us is very wise, and very learned… and each is jealous of
certain anciently held rights. We work together very badly. But there’s one more reason why we cannot attack those three, even if we were more numerous, even if we could agree for more than a day at a time. We are the Dragon people, all that are left. By our law, we cannot leave this place, nor cease our service to our… friends.”
He turned in his chair, facing the window again.
“The Brotherhood of Wisdom, as they call themselves…” he said. “They came here, long ago, fleeing what they called sin. They found a herb in the forest, which they were taught to use by a stranger, who came to their monastery. And later, he taught them other things, little by little. And one day, some of them entered the temple of their god, and threw down his altar, and burned a new kind of sacrifice on it.” Arastap smiled. “They were surprised to discover that their god was so powerless. Not even an attempt at vengeance came against them. So… now they have a different kind of wisdom, and a different god. But they are the same fools they always were.”
“Fools or not, they can transform themselves into near-invulnerable beasts, I’m told,” I said. “And it may be that they’ve command of other evil magic. How can we drive them out of Koremon?”
Arastap sighed. “We shall miss them, in a way. We have let them go on, because…” He paused, and shrugged. “It was wrong of us, in a way. They have enslaved the small folk of Koremon, and they hunt them, like cats after mice. And live on their labor at the same time. But… our dragons are strong and healthy enough on a simple diet of fish, of course. But they do so enjoy the taste of the werebeasts!”
I stared at him. “You’ve preserved them, like… like wild game?”
He nodded. “I fear so. And now we must help you clear them away. Well… the plant still grows in many forests, and there will always be fools to use it. Our dragons will have their dainties, though far less often. We will aid you, when you remove these creatures from the land. Afterward, if some of your people wish to stay in Koremon, we will not disturb them… though they must not disturb us, or shoot at our dragons.”