The Dragons of Ash and Smoke (Tales from the New Earth Book 5)

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The Dragons of Ash and Smoke (Tales from the New Earth Book 5) Page 10

by J. J. Thompson


  “My pleasure, master. I care for them a great deal. So now that you are beginning to settle in, what comes next?”

  Simon put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

  “That's a very good question, my friend,” he said as he stared at the whorls and veins in the wood of the table. “I suppose I'll start by contacting Tamara and the others, see how they're doing. I noticed that you've already planted the early crops in the garden, and thanks for that, so that's a job done. I guess...” his eyes darted around the room and he grimaced as the hard wooden bench that had replaced his old sofa caught his eye.

  “Okay,” Simon said as he straightened up. “This is going to sound trivial, but I know where to get replacements for my old sofa and comfortable chair that I lost in the fire. I'd like to go there and get them sometime in the next few days.”

  “Wait a minute,” Aeris said as he came up the stairs carrying a canvas bag. “The red dragons are taking over the world, the dark gods are breathing down your neck, and you're worried about furniture?”

  Simon pushed back his hair and watched as the air elemental flew to the counter, emptied his sack and began cutting vegetables.

  “No, I'm not worried about that. But to be honest, I've missed sitting in front of the fireplace in my old chair. It was my favorite place to think and, I don't know, I need some familiarity and routine back in my life right now. Does that make sense?”

  “Of course it does, master,” Kronk said loudly, cutting off Aeris' response. They glared at each other for a moment and then Aeris went back to preparing his stew.

  “If it makes you more comfortable and happy, then I think it is a splendid idea, master,” Kronk continued. “So where are these pieces of furniture?”

  “Russia, actually,” Simon told him and grinned at the two elementals' almost identical looks of surprise.

  “Russia? How on Earth do you know that?” Aeris asked as he dumped a bunch of sliced carrots and turnips into the pot.

  “I saw the pieces back when Liliana was living in an old bunker. Apparently it had been owned by someone from the Russian elite back in the day and the leather furniture looked almost brand new. I asked her if she would mind if I raided the place for some of it someday and she said to go ahead. So that's what I'm going to do.”

  “You know, that's actually not a bad idea,” Aeris told him as he stirred his stew. “If this bunker was sheltered from the dragons on the Night of Burning, and from the subsequent attacks by drakes, there may be other supplies there as well. It might be worth a look.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Simon told him with a smile. “Personally I'm praying to one day come across a crate full of instant coffee. God, how I miss my coffee.”

  The rest of the day passed quickly. Simon visited every room in his tower and spent time in each just reconnecting with the place. He even went down to the basement and poked through his supply rooms and his cold storage. By the time he was done, he finally felt well and truly grounded. He was home.

  He woke up the next day later than usual. Sleeping in his own bed had been so comfortable that Simon just didn't want to get up. Instead he lay there watching the sunlight streaming in the bedroom windows, dust motes playing through the light rays like tiny ghosts dancing around each other.

  When Kronk timidly knocked on the door frame, the wizard languidly turned his head and winked at him.

  “Good morning, master,” the little guy said softly. “I am sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you would like me to heat the water for your tea?”

  Simon stretched and then rubbed his eyes.

  “Morning Kronk. Yes please, that would be nice. I really should be up by now, but it felt so good to sleep in my own bed again.”

  “I understand, master. Do not get up if you do not want to. There is no rush.”

  The wizard smiled at the little guy.

  “That's generous of you, my friend. But the world won't wait. I have things to do. Be down in a minute.”

  Kronk nodded and headed off, leaving Simon to roll out of bed and get dressed.

  By the time he'd managed to stumble down the stairs, the water was boiling and there was a pile of fresh toast and honey waiting on the kitchen table for him.

  “Someone baked?” he asked as he sat down.

  Aeris was puttering at the counter making his tea and flew over to hand it to him.

  “I did, actually. While you were sleeping.” The air elemental bobbed up and down and folded his arms as he watched Simon sip his tea. “I know how much you like your toast in the morning.”

  “Wow. Thanks Aeris. That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Yes, well, eat up before it gets cold,” Aeris replied gruffly and floated back to the counter.

  “You slept well, master?” Kronk asked as he stood in the fireplace and adjusted the burning logs.

  Simon winced as he watched this. It always bothered him when the little guy would casually stand in the midst of the fire to pile the logs more efficiently. Kronk, being made of stone, was basically immune to the heat.

  “I did, thanks. The tower feels like home again.”

  “Good to hear,” Aeris said as he wiped down the kitchen counter. “So how are your powers now?”

  Simon chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then swallowed, washing down his toast with a sip of tea.

  “How are they? Hmm, good question. Certainly my base power seems to be back in track.”

  He glanced at a candle sitting on the mantelpiece and it flared to life, the flame dancing merrily. He extinguished it with a thought and saw Aeris nodding.

  “So that works. The Gate spell that I used to get back was, I think, fairly effortless to cast. But that's all I have to go by. The dwarves have an invisible anti-magic field over their city that didn't let me practice while I was there.”

  Kronk stepped out of the fireplace and waited a moment until his body cooled down. Then he jumped up on to the table and watched as Simon spread honey on another piece of toast.

  “The field still exists, master?” Simon nodded, his mouth full. “Interesting. It is created by an ancient device, built by the dwarves to keep us out.”

  He exchanged a look with Aeris, who frowned silently.

  “Wait a second,” the wizard mumbled through his food. “The field was built to block elementals?”

  “It was, my dear wizard.” Aeris floated over to join Kronk on the table. “It had the added benefit, or side-effect, of stopping magic-users from casting spells. But that is not what it was initially designed for. It's been surmised by some in the elemental realms that the effect on their casters was a surprise and they adjusted their attitudes toward magic to embrace this.”

  “You're kidding. They hate magic use now because nullifying it was part of the effect when they blocked your people?”

  “Sad, isn't it?” Aeris said with a disgusted expression. “Very dwarven though. A stubborn people.”

  Simon sat back and sipped his tea thoughtfully.

  “Imagine condemning an entire cross-section of your own people because of that,” he said, not sure whether to feel sad or outraged.

  “To their credit, master, they were afraid that the war between our realms would spill over into their cities,” Kronk said, sounding as if he was trying to be fair. “They had been allied with both the earthen and the fire elementals back then and did not want to take sides. Certainly their solution avoided that dilemma.”

  “To the extreme, I'd say,” the wizard replied a little bitterly. “Who knows how powerful their people would be today if they'd allowed their magic-users to hone their skills over the years. Instead, they've come to rely on their machines and inventions to defend against attacks. Personally, I think that is a limitation. They might not agree, of course.”

  Aeris picked up his empty cup, crossed to the counter and began to prepare more tea. Simon smiled his thanks.

  “I assure you that they would not agree,” the air elemental said.
“Their stubbornness is legendary. A stiffly proud bunch.”

  “They have more in common with the elves than they might think,” Simon said as he accepted the cup from Aeris. “Daniel mentioned that they are set in their ways as well, but from the other direction. They do not use machines beyond simple bows and other straightforward mechanisms. Too bad the two groups couldn't combine their strengths. They would be a formidable force.”

  Both elementals laughed and Simon looked at them with raised eyebrows.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Oh, just the idea that the dwarves and elves would ever ally for anything long-term, master,” Kronk rumbled. “Such a thing is unimaginable.”

  “Maybe so, but with the dark gods fighting to return to the world, they may not have a choice one day,” the wizard said darkly. “Ally or die and all that. Let's hope that their stubborn mindsets don't end up getting their people killed.”

  This somber thought stifled the elementals' laughter and they both became pensive.

  Simon finished his tea, got up and walked to the door.

  “Guys, could one of you fill the kettle again for me please? I want to get washed up after I visit the outhouse and I'm guessing the lake is a bit too cold yet for a dip.”

  “I'll do that,” Aeris volunteered. “And what are you going to do after that?”

  Opening the door, Simon looked back at him and shrugged.

  “Start making some calls. It's time I found out what's been happening out there since I left. Should be interesting.”

  He walked outside and overheard Aeris speak to Kronk.

  “I'd say that was an understatement.”

  An hour later, washed and dressed in clean clothes, Simon sat down at the desk in his study and picked up his hand mirror. The silver mirror had belonged to his late mother and it was just about all he had left of her, except for memories. He examined it fondly and then cleared his throat, trying to remember the incantation for the Magic Mirror spell.

  He chanted the spell, focused on an image of Liliana, the paladin from Russia, and invoked the magic.

  The mirror's reflective surface fogged over and he could almost feel the power searching for its target like a laser beam. He held the paladin's face firmly in his head and waited patiently.

  Slowly the mist rolled away and a scenic vista took its place.

  Liliana was front and center in the mirror. She was wearing her silver armor and her hair fluttered in a breeze. She was standing and looking over a wall of stone. Over her shoulder, Simon could see that she was dozens of yards above the ground and that the land below her was rugged and broken.

  He guessed that the paladin was standing on the wall of the castle that she and the other survivors of Nottinghill had moved into. The weather there was stormy, with heavy dark clouds scudding across the sky. He could hear the distant call of gulls coming from the mirror and wondered if the castle was built near the coast.

  Simon took a moment and looked at his friend.

  The last time he'd seen her, she had survived an attack on the primal brown dragon in the elven realm, miraculous as that sounded.

  She looks good, he thought.

  She kept her dirty-blond hair short, she'd told him once, so that it wouldn't get in the way during combat. There were several small scars on her face, but they were almost invisible and she looked healthy and, for a change, well fed. There had never been enough food for her and her handful of people in Moscow.

  Her silver armor was, as always, pristine. It shone as if freshly polished and reflected the gray skies above her. Simon noticed for the first time that her eyes were intensely blue, so dark that they were almost black. At the moment, as he watched, she looked almost innocent, her typical scowl replaced by a look that could only be described as content. He hoped that she was.

  “Liliana? Can you hear me?”

  She whirled around, a hand clapped to the sword on her hip, a dangerous expression twisting her face.

  “Who is that?” she snapped, looking in all directions.

  “Why doesn't anyone recognize my voice these days?” he asked, amused. “It's me, Simon. How are you?”

  “Simon?”

  A broad grin transformed her face and she suddenly looked like a whole other person.

  “By the gods! Can it be? The last I heard, you were still healing in the dwarven capital. Where are you now?”

  Simon smiled at her reaction.

  “I'm home. Home and back to normal, thanks to a cleric named Opheilla. She kept me unconscious while she put me back together.”

  “Ah, very wise,” Liliana said with a knowing nod. “The gods can heal but for someone as badly wounded as you were, that healing can take a lot of time.”

  “Tell me about it. Six frigging months.”

  Simon tried not to sound ungrateful. He was alive and well, which was more than he could have hoped for.

  “Well, you haven't missed much, so don't be bitter about it.” Liliana told him.

  She turned and looked out over the wall again.

  “I'm not, I'm not. So, I'm guessing that you are in your new home?”

  “I am, along with as many Changlings as we have been able to find. Tamara and her brother have done an amazing job of searching out survivors from around the world and bringing them here; well, the ones that want to come anyway.”

  Simon spun his chair around to face the window behind his desk. Unlike the sky in the paladin's part of the world, above his tower was only a sheet of vibrant blue. It was still fresh and beautiful to him after months underground.

  “How are they doing that? Before I was injured, they could Gate but they couldn't even cast the Magic Mirror spell.”

  Liliana rested her armored forearms on the wall and smiled as she looked out over the stormy countryside.

  “You're working on old information, my friend. The elves gave them a copy of the mirror spell and, in the months since, they're taken their magic to a whole other level.”

  The wizard was intrigued.

  “In what way?”

  “Well, I'm not a caster, so I don't know the specifics, but they can home in on Changlings now by focusing on an area on a map and just allowing the magic to guide them. It's actually amazing to watch.”

  “Really. Huh. That sounds great. So how many people are living there now?”

  “At last count, one hundred and thirty five.” Her smile broadened. “Including twelve children.”

  Simon almost dropped the mirror as he jumped to his feet.

  “A hundred and thirty-five? That is fantastic! My God, it must almost feel crowded there.”

  “To someone like me who's used to living with a handful of people, it does,” the paladin replied. “But this old castle is massive and could easily hold ten times that many with room to spare, so any time I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic, I just come up here to the wall and clear my head.”

  His heart was still racing with a mixture of excitement and hope and Simon began slowly pacing around his study, watching Liliana closely.

  “So is that why you're there right now?” he asked.

  She gave a brief shrug of her shoulders.

  “Not really. Sometimes I just like to come up here for the view. It reminds me a lot of the landscape I grew up in, in Russia. Hilly, rough terrain, scrub brush. There's something so pure about the wild, don't you think?”

  Simon focused the mirror on the area beyond Liliana and looked around at the rugged beauty of it.

  “You make a good point. Personally, I prefer forests and lakes, but then in this part of the country, you can't seem to travel more than a few miles without finding a lake or a river. It's what you're used to, I suppose.”

  Liliana looked dreamily out over the wall, the wind whipping her hair in all directions.

  “So now that you're back, when are you coming for a visit?” she asked abruptly.

  “Soon. I only got back yesterday, so I thought I'd get used to being above ground again before travel
ing any great distance.”

  “Good idea. What was it like?” the paladin asked curiously.

  “What, living with the dwarves?” Simon asked.

  She nodded silently.

  “It was...different. They're so, I'm not sure of the right word. Rigid? Solid? Something like that. Like the rock around them, I guess. Strong. Close-minded about a lot of things, especially magic-users like myself, but still generous and loyal. It was educational. They brought me back literally from the brink of death, you know, and for that I will always be grateful. If they ever need me, all they have to do is ask and I will be there.”

  He paused and chuckled softly.

  “But I have to admit, l couldn't live down there for an extended period. Maybe it's just as well that I was comatose for most of my stay; otherwise I might have gone nuts. I need the sky above me, and the smell of life around me. The deep is fine for the dwarves, but give me the open air, always.”

  Liliana took in a deep breath and stood up straight.

  “I have to agree. The idea of living below the Earth seems more like a prison than a paradise to me. But then, neither of us is a dwarf, so how can we know what it's really like for them?”

  “Exactly. By the way, since I've got you on the line, so to speak, how is everyone from Nottinghill doing? I was going to call Malcolm or Aiden and maybe Tamara or Sebastian after that, but since you're all living in the same place, maybe you can fill me in?”

  “Of course.”

  Liliana began to walk along the wall and Simon now got a good view of just how large the place was.

  The walkway was a dozen feet wide, made of large square blocks of stone fitted closely together. The edge of the wall was crenelated and waist-high, allowing guards to shoot down on attackers if necessary. The stone was dark gray and the mortar holding the blocks together shone in white lines, making a criss-cross pattern. Ahead of the paladin the wall turned to the left. The corner was rounded and a heavy brazier sat in the middle of it. Simon assumed that was it used during the winter to help keep patrols warm.

  “It's a big place,” he commented. “How many rooms?”

  Liliana shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

 

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