Glimpses: an Anthology of 16 Short Fantasy Stories: An exclusive collection of fantasy fiction

by Kevin Partner

  He fears I am displeased, she thought, amused.

  “Why have you wakened me?” she asked, testing her voice. She found it thick and raspy from disuse, yet it boomed powerfully from her throat.

  I have grown much in my slumber, she thought. How long has it been?

  “Apologies, Mistress,” the younger dragon’s scales clicked together softly. “We… that is, the other Watchers and I–”

  “Yes, yes. I know you and the other Watchers made a decision. What I want to know is what and why.”

  The young granite dragon gulped loudly.

  “We… believe.” He hesitated. “That the time may have arrived for us… all of us, to… act.”

  Kwallindauria’s scales quivered in irritation. She offered a slight widening of her eyes and waited.

  “The humans,” he finally said. “The Watchers all agree. We’ve given them enough time to learn from their mistakes, but the problems are accelerating.”

  “How so?” she breathed.

  “Mistress, human warfare is not what it once was. They manipulate chemical interactions and biological agents. Their… what was the word… bombees? Explosives. They produce conflagrations more destructive than the breath of even your species.”

  Kwallindauria scoffed, unlikely.

  “Mistress, I know it doesn’t seem possible. But I have seen the destruction with mine own draconic eyes. An entire city of your humans, I believe they call themselves Japanese these days, were bombeed. One of these devices was detonated in their midst and the loss of life was devastating, measured in the tens of thousands. And nearly as many died in the following days from the chemical poisoning of the explosion.

  “How is that possible?” she breathed.

  “The total destruction of the explosion itself was an area of approximately ten standard wingspans.”

  “Ten?” she said, incredulous.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  “Five-hundred-forty-seven moons, I believe.”

  Kwallindauria nodded, but kept silent.

  “In the intervening time, their technology has advanced further. Become more deadly. More destructive. And there are now tens of thousands of those bombees in the world.”

  “And what concern is it of ours if the humans choose to destroy themselves?”

  “Ordinarily, we would agree with you, Mistress. But it is not only themselves they are destroying. The bombees that dropped on Japan… the physical destruction was only the beginning. The chemical poison still affects that part of the Earth today. It rained acid for several moons, and even now crops struggle to take root in the soil for hundreds of wingspans around the area of the explosion.”

  “And what do you and the other Watchers think to do about all this?”

  “I…” he faltered. He lowered his head for an instant before looking up again, glaring defiantly.

  “That is not for The Watchers to decide. We were appointed not for our wisdom, but rather our discretion and obedience. We watch, we report, and we obey. Whatever you and the other Elders decide, we shall obey.”

  Kwallindauria smiled. “And if we decide you should do nothing?”

  “If that is the Elders’ decision,” he sighed. “After strongly voicing our objections, we shall obey.”

  She nodded in approval. “Then wake the Elders. We must discuss the matter.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  She waved a claw in dismissal and the Watcher left her cavern.

  After all these centuries why now? For eons, the most destructive thing we could do was rejoin the world. It seems that may have changed.

  But what if our Watchers have been corrupted?

  Stop! she commanded herself.

  I must speak with the Elders. We’ll investigate the claims of The Watchers before any decision is made.

  I need to speak with Graayyyavalllia.

  2

  A sliver of moonlight reflected from her metallic scales as Kwallindauria plunged into the icy waters of the Mare Gallicum, which separated Iberia from Prydein and Hibernia.

  How many times have those islands been conquered and renamed since we left the world to the humans? she wondered.

  “I’ve watched those islands change hands at least five times in the millennium I’ve been dwelling here,” Graayyyavalllia had said before the Long Sleep.

  How long have we slept? she wondered again. Another millennium? Two? Who knows what has changed in that time. Human politics change so quickly.

  She passed below the depth the humans called the ‘bottom of the ocean’ and continued into the inky blackness of The Deeps.

  In minutes, she reached the marker she sought: a boulder carved in the shape of a dragon’s head, lodged into the rock wall of the trench seventy-five wingspans beneath the surface of the water.

  Planting her hind legs against the trench wall, she thrust her foreclaws around the edges of the boulder and heaved.

  After a moment, she was rewarded with a thunderous crack. A torrent of air bubbles surged past her on their way to the surface.

  Reversing her grip on the boulder, she backed into the opening and replaced the boulder.

  She turned to face the water tunnel and began the swim toward its end.

  With perfect clarity, she saw nothing had changed in the tunnel since her last visit. The rock walls were featureless and unmarred, having never been worked by human tools.

  Over the minutes it took her to swim the tunnel, she noticed the water was warming. It no longer carried the icy chill of The Deeps. The rising heat of the water warmed her blood, bolstering her flagging energy.

  The tunnel banked sharply upward and within a minute her head broke the surface of the water.

  The hidden lake beached on a rocky island less than two wingspans from her and was lit by a dull, ruddy glow from the far rear of the cavern. The island was long, easily twelve wingspans, but less than three in width. And it was empty. There were no signs of life.

  Curious. Did she choose to lair elsewhere at the last moment?

  Seems unlikely, she answered herself. Why would she leave the boulder in its place at the entrance?

  She swam to the rocky beach and crept up the ledge onto the island. She looked around again, but still saw no sign of anything living.

  She moved toward the back of the cavern. Although her talons gripped the rock without difficulty, she felt as though her paws were slipping across the saltwater-moistened stone.

  The scent of sulphur came to her nostrils, and she smiled. That would be Graayyya.

  She turned a bend at the back of the cavern and came face-to-face with the source of the glow, a flowing river of magma. The heat of it slammed into her, a mallet of warmth and pleasure hitting her full in the face.

  Glorious!

  But, where is Graayyya?

  An odd tinkle sounded above her and before she knew what was happening, a tremendous weight slammed her body to the stony floor.

  She struggled to rise, but the weight was too great. Something hard and sharp pierced the scales of her flanks and she felt twin trickles of blood dripping down the soft flesh of her underbelly. She tried to cry out, but sharp claws gripped her neck, piercing the flesh. Sword-like fangs glided across the scales of the back of her neck.

  “One wrong move, platinum,” the species-name was hissed in disgust. “And no one will ever find your body.”

  Dauria offered a slight nod.

  “What are you doing in my lair?” the creature hissed.

  “I came,” Dauria rasped around the claws in her neck, “To find my old friend, Graayyyavalllia.”

  The claws at her neck loosened slightly. “How does a platinum wyrm know that name?” the menacing voice hissed.

  What?

  Dauria turned her head toward the voice, as far as she could without shearing her flesh on the sharp claws embedded in her neck.

  “Graayyya?” she asked. “Is that you? Do you truly not know your old frien
d Kwallindauria?”

  “I would never befriend a metallic!” the garnet wyrm spat.

  “Graayyya, if that be true, then how do I know you? How did I find your lair?”

  “Excellent questions,” she said pointedly.

  Dauria sighed. “It would seem, my old friend, that we have reached a bit of an impasse. I know you. Because we have been close friends for centuries. We watched the wars together. We helped mould the plans which became the Long Sleep. I helped you find and shape this lair. We were in agreement–us and many others–when the time came to abandon the Earth and the humans to their fates. Yet, inexplicably, you do not remember me. So what happens now?”

  “If you will not speak truth then you die, here and now!” the larger wyrm snarled.

  Kwallindauria sighed again. “Graayyya– ”

  “Stop using my name as though we are familiar!”

  “But we are. I’ve known you for centuries,”

  The garnet dragon growled deep in her chest, but Dauria ignored it.

  “Whether or not you remember enough to believe it does not change the fact, Graayyyavalllia. I know you because we’ve been friends near to kin for centuries. I helped you to manage your Celts with something less than an iron claw, and you taught me that sometimes my Samurai needed a war. Sometimes one needed to be invented for their benefit, even if it wasn’t wholly justified. Because that was what they needed. I know you, Graayyyavalllia. Nearly as well as I know myself.”

  “I never needed any metallic’s help– ”

  “But you did! Discipline you understood! War you understood! But leniency? Compassion? Such things do not come naturally to the dragons of stone. You know this! You had to learn those traits. From me!”

  Graayyya faltered. “I… I don’t…”

  “How can you not remember?”

  The claws in Dauria’s neck loosened further and she turned her head around to look her old friend in the eyes.

  And was stunned.

  Graayyyavalllia was a pale shadow of her former self. Her gaunt cheeks were sunken into her narrow face, the lustrous golden eyes a dull yellow. Her flesh hung loosely from her body and once-shiny, iridescent scales were flat and colorless.

  “What happened to you?” Kwallindauria breathed.

  How does a wyrm come to look like this? she added silently.

  Dull orange lips curled back from yellowed teeth in a sneer.

  “Oh, yes. That’s right,” the voice dripped with scorn. “Tear down the tired garnet dragon to diminish your own inadequacy. Such simple, predictable things you metallics are.”

  “Graayyyavalllia, I do not mock and I do not make light. I’ve never seen a dragon in your physical condition and I’m concerned for you.”

  The orange dragon scoffed. “Concerned? For me? Don’t make me laugh! You metallics care for nothing except your shiny, perfect hides!”

  “No, Graayyya. I am concerned for you,” Kwallindauria said sadly. “Very much so. Please. Allow me to help you discover what has happened to you and how we can reverse it. Please!”

  Something in the larger wyrm’s stony facade cracked. The hardness in her eyes eased and her sneer faltered.

  “I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “Why would you care?”

  “You have been my closest confidant for centuries, Graayyyavalllia. How could I not? I know you don’t remember any of that, but I’m going to help you. We will recover your lost memories!”

  “I truly hope you are correct,” Graayyya said as she withdrew her claws from Dauria’s body and moved off, allowing her to stretch her cramped muscles once more.

  Kwallindauria stood and looked over her old friend more closely.

  Not good.

  Aloud, she said, “When was the last time you dipped into the river of magma?”

  “Too long.”

  “Then it is time. Go ahead and go for a swim. When you’re done, we’ll discuss our options.”

  Graayyya nodded her great head and strode into the river of magma at the rear of her lair while Kwallindauria brooded silently.

  3

  “I still don’t remember any of this,” Graayyya said in frustration.

  “I know,” Dauria sighed. “How long were you awake before I came to you?”

  She hesitated, then said, “I’m not certain. Weeks, perhaps.”

  “Weeks?” Dauria asked, incredulous.

  Graayyya briefly cocked her head to the left.

  I don’t know, the movement clearly communicated.

  “I see. What woke you?”

  “Rage,” the garnet wyrm breathed.

  Dauria’s brow ridges furrowed. “I don’t follow.”

  Graayyya stared for several moments, then said, “I really can’t explain it.” After a pause, she added, “Kwallindauria,” as though tasting the name for the first time.

  “Can you describe your exact thoughts and sensations? As much as you can remember, from just before waking onward?”

  “I will try,” Graayyya said, then fell silent.

  Patience. She needs time. This must all be an infernal shock.

  The larger wyrm furrowed her brow ridges and bowed her head slightly, her eyes darting from side to side. When she looked up, her muscles clenched beneath her quivering scales and she squeezed her eyes closed for several long moments.

  When her lids finally snapped open, Dauria felt as though she were looking at the old Graayyyavalllia again. Graayyya stared into her eyes intently.

  “I was dreaming,” she said, her voice steady and strong. “About the old conflicts with the humans. The Dragon Slayers looking for fame, the Sages hunting for wisdom. The Knights who blamed us for the disappearances of maidens and younglings. The wars that followed. The wanton destruction we wrought in defending ourselves against the human armies.”

  She sighed.

  “I know it didn’t happen this way, but in the dream I exulted in my power. I spewed a gout of flame on a massive human army, cooking them inside their iron suits. I loved it!”

  “But the rage overtook me. And the scent of cooking human flesh fueled my rage. Enhanced it. I wanted to seek out all of humanity. I wanted to burn them! I wanted to kill them all!”

  Kwallindauria nodded, her expression carefully neutral.

  “When I woke, my rage burned hotter! I don’t know how long I thrashed, spewing flames, gouging at the stone, flinging magma from the molten river.”

  “Understand, I’ve experienced intense rages before. Especially during the Dark Times before the Long Sleep. But I’ve never felt anything like this before. I was out of control. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t even think, really. I don’t know how long that went on.”

  Very strange, Dauria thought. “But you had obviously calmed somewhat by the time I arrived.”

  “Yes. Some.”

  “I find it curious that you remember the Dark Years, the wars, the battles, the human idiocy. Yet, you don’t remember me. Or your family.”

  “Agreed! But what do we do now?”

  “Well, since your other memories are largely unaffected, my purpose in being here is unchanged. I came here seeking your wisdom, old friend.”

  The garnet wyrm’s brow ridges raised. “In what?”

  “I was wakened by The Watchers. The things they said are… disturbing,” Dauria said, then launched into the tale of everything she had been told about the destruction wrought by humanity.

  “And The Watchers want, what?” Graayyya asked. “To start a war? To rain destruction down on the heads of the humans with no regard for the damage we will cause to Mother Earth?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “This is not good.”

  “You always had a talent for understatement,” Dauria said with a sly grin.

  “Better than the alternative,” Graayyya murmured.

  “What are your thoughts?”

  “It all seems awfully convenient.”

  Dauria nodded.

  “Have you confirmed any of it?”


  “Some,” she said. “Japan still bears traces of the weapons they described. Many of the Earth’s national leaders are consumed with thoughts of war and conquest. There is undeniable damage to both the Earth and its natural defenses against the rays of Ryujin’s Blaze.”

  “Enough to warrant what The Watchers propose?”

  “I’m…” she hesitated. “I’m not certain. I feel that involvement in the form of leading them away from conflict in the guise of human advisors would be better. At least for now. I can’t help thinking that extreme actions the like of those The Watchers are proposing should be a last resort, fallen back on only after all other avenues have failed.”

  “In that, we are in agreement,” Graayyya said. “Where are The Watchers now?”

  “Waking the other Elders. I told them to assemble the Council.”

  Graayyya’s head shot up, her blazing eyes burning into Dauria’s soul.

  “What?”

  “Does it not strike you as odd that no Watcher has come to me? Was I not counted among the wisest of the Elders before the Long Sleep?”

  “And one of the– ”

  “Oh, no,” Kwallindauria cut her own thought off and leaped into the air, taking wing in a rush. She flew less than a wingspan beneath the ceiling of the cavern. She passed the edge of the island and tucked her wings tightly against her body, then plunged into the placid water at full speed.

  She spent a moment of concentrated thought to morph her form into that of the more traditional platinum serpent-dragon, sleek and sinewy. She slithered through the water at blinding speed.

  Within minutes, she reached the boulder sealing the water cavern.

  She slowed only slightly before she slammed into the boulder with a mind-numbing thud. It didn’t budge.

  Kwallindauria resumed her natural, almost humanoid reptilian form. With its greater physical strength, she swam out several wingspans from the boulder and swam toward it once more, packing every iota of her immense strength into the motion.

  Her shoulder crunched painfully into the stone, her teeth rattled in her skull. The wall of the cavern trembled, yet the boulder held its place over the hole.