by Sam Ferguson
Dengar laughed loudly and slapped Alistair on the back. “This one is made of stone and greed! I like him.”
The group passed the next hour drinking and swapping stories while Lepkin scanned the skies. While in this particular instance he was happy that the dragon slayers were letting their guard down and allowing themselves to become inebriated, he wondered if this was a routine practice while hunting dragons. If it was, then the men were fools. Lepkin saw nothing sensible about getting drunk with the threat of a dragon looming over them.
Still, he couldn’t complain too much since he had hoped for this very scenario. The only trouble was that Alistair did not appear to be drinking as much as the others. All of them would need to fall into a drunken stupor if Lepkin was to escape during the night to warn Kyra.
Lepkin looked to Alistair and the silver-haired man smiled at him. Something about the expression made the hairs on Lepkin’s neck stand on end. There was danger behind those curled lips and twinkling eyes. The young apprentice turned to ask Foman about dousing the fire and retiring to their hiding spot in the trees but at that moment, all three of the dragon slayers slumped down and began to snore terribly loudly.
Lepkin drew his brow together and stared at them.
Alistair rose to his feet. “Never mind them, lad,” he said in a smooth tone. “I do believe that the dragon will not be returning tonight, but you already know that, don’t you?”
Lepkin jumped to his feet, but Alistair was quicker. A strong hand went down and caught Lepkin’s sword arm at the wrist while Alistair’s other hand seized Lepkin’s throat.
A strange, hazy feeling overcame Lepkin and his body relaxed involuntarily.
“That’s it, don’t fight it,” Alistair said. “Just look into my eyes.”
Lepkin gazed into the strange, swirling red and purple hues in Alistair’s eyes and then he went entirely slack. The young apprentice was only vaguely aware of the fact that Alistair had set him back down into a sitting position.
“I could kill you now,” Alistair said.
Lepkin didn’t respond. He had been subdued by the man’s spell.
“Of course,” Alistair went on as if expounding upon some great philosophical lecture, “I wouldn’t get nearly as much enjoyment out of that.” Alistair looked up to the night sky and took in a breath. He waved his hands at the campfire and the flames died down and turned green, barely offering any light at all. “You and your friends have made quite a mess of things lately, and I intend to repay you for your kindness.”
Lepkin nodded dumbly.
“Where is the dragon, boy?” Alistair said.
At the mention of the word dragon, Lepkin’s senses fluttered back to him. He sucked in a sobering breath of cool night air and saw Alistair for who he really was. The man kneeling in front of Lepkin was not some merchant peddling magical wares and trinkets. No. It was Severin, the very same vampire who had slain two of Kuldiga Academy’s masters only a short time ago. Lepkin fought against sluggish muscles and reached for his sword again.
“Stubborn, I see,” Severin commented. “Good. I do tire of killing mindless sheep. It will be fun to watch you and your friends crumble beneath my feet like dried clumps of clay.”
Severin gripped Lepkin’s arm harder, holding it in place with the sword firmly in its sheath. Lepkin grunted. He wanted to scream and wake the others, but he couldn’t find his voice.
“Enough,” Severin said harshly. “If you will not tell me where the dragon is, then I shall find out another way.”
Severin slapped Lepkin on the forehead with the flat of his palm and the boy instantly fell asleep. The vampire let Lepkin fall to the ground and then he placed his left index and middle fingers against Lepkin’s right temple. “Show me where the dragon is,” he said. “Show me everything you know about Kyra and her cursed dragon!”
The vampire closed his eyes and sat still for several moments, allowing Lepkin’s knowledge to flow into him unfettered. He saw everything. Severin was displeased to see that Lepkin had never been to the dragon’s current sanctuary. That would make things a bit more difficult, but he knew he would be able to approximate the beast’s location by replaying every memory Lepkin had of Kyra and the dragon.
The vampire saw the original nest where the egg had been found, where Lepkin had hidden it after a battle with a wraith, and followed the boy’s memories up until the day before, gathering all of the clues he needed to start his hunt for the dragon’s sanctuary. More than that, he saw a secret tunnel inside of Kuldiga Academy that led to a small chamber that had peepholes looking into a secret council room. The vampire smiled wickedly, for some of the boy’s memories of Kyra were linked with this tunnel, and by watching these replay, he saw enough of the wizards and their dealings to gain an advantage over them.
A plan began to form within the vile creature’s cruel mind. Before, he had been content with destroying these three annoyances, but now he had the chance to do so much more than simply repay Kyra, Lepkin, and Leatherback. He would strike at Kuldiga Academy, and he knew just how he was going to do it.
They would all pay for crossing his path and interfering with his destiny.
Severin looked down to the unconscious boy. “When you wake, you will not remember our special conversation. You will know only that you fell asleep first. The dragon slayers fell asleep afterward, and I will have left in the early morning.
The vampire then pulled his fingers away and let out a soft laugh.
“This is going to be delicious fun,” he said to the darkness. The vampire then snapped his fingers. The mule, as well as the drake corpses, all disappeared from the valley. Then he changed into a large bat and flew southward. He had a dragon to find.
Chapter 10
Leatherback went to his favorite pool in the late evening. Kyra had warned him about the dragon slayers after their battle with the fire drakes, but he was certain he had been careful enough to avoid detection. Fish had started to populate the pool that he and Kyra had made from a mountain stream, and though it was never enough to sate his hunger, he couldn’t resist a good trout…or twenty.
He slipped into the water on his belly and let the cool liquid envelope his entire body. He swam down to the bottom, stirring up mud and rocks as he went. He snatched a pair of fish straightaway and then settled upon the murky bottom of the pool. He chewed carefully, not letting any water into his gullet while he enjoyed his snack. He had worked on holding his breath for several weeks now, and was fully capable of lying in the cool water comfortably for more than twenty minutes at a time without coming up for air.
Njar and Kyra would likely not want him out of the grove for such long stretches, but the dragon figured that if trips outside the grove to hunt elk, or flying north for hours to slay rogue fire drakes hadn’t hurt him, then swimming was likely not going to either.
He closed his eyes and let the water course around his bulk, letting his senses dull to the noise of the brook as he slipped into a near meditative state. Aside from his jewels and precious metals, this pool was one of the most therapeutic things he had found so far.
A fish made the mistake of swimming alongside his cheek.
Leatherback opened his jaws ever so slowly and the fish turned, voluntarily swimming into the dragon’s open maw. The jaws shut and Leatherback smiled, enjoying his treat.
He then went back into his calm, near sleeping state at the bottom of the pool, completely unaware of the danger nearby, watching him from above the surface of the water.
*****
Severin smiled. The dragon had not sensed his presence, but then, that was to be expected. What juvenile dragon would ever suspect a humble bat roosting high in a pine tree overlooking the pool of water?
The vampire had spent hours searching for the dragon. He had used Lepkin’s memories of the surrounding areas to guide him. When he found this pool, he saw some tell-tale signs, claw marks and the like, that told him he was close. He then continued his search for the dragon’s lair
only to be frustrated by an enchantment over the whole of the aspen glade. He had been forced to return to the pool and wait for the dragon to come for water. Severin had of course recognized Njar’s meddling hand in the magic, but he knew better than to charge in. He had to find a way into the glade that would not trigger the wards and enchantments set by the crafty satyr.
It was one thing to hunt a sorceress, but another thing entirely to trifle with a satyr from Viverandon who had power over the Pools of Fate. The magical, oracle-like waters would surely have alerted Njar to the possibility that Severin would enter the glade, and if he had seen that in any sort of vision, then the satyr would have already prepared the appropriate wards, the kinds best suited for dealing with vampires.
Severin had once seen a rival vampire fall into such a trap. It was several centuries before, and a different satyr controlled the Pools of Fate then, but the end result was a ghastly affair nonetheless. Issyl the Blooded had been seeking after a fabled creature, one of the last unicorns to roam over the Middle Kingdom but a satyr had laid a trap for Issyl. The vampire had attempted to break into an enchanted grove under the protection of that particular satyr only to find that the moment he stepped through the tree line, sunlight poured all around the grove, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night. Issyl, unable to escape as magical barriers rose between the trees, was burned to a pile of ash.
Severin had no love for Issyl the Blooded, but he still shuddered at the thought of how the vampire had died. It was a terrible way to meet one’s end, vampire or not.
Still, Issyl’s death had alerted all of the vampire folk to the threat posed by the satyrs and the Pools of Fate. Since that time, no vampire had ever dared tempt a satyr’s wrath.
Until now.
Severin used his enhanced sight to watch the dragon lying upon the bottom of the pool. He knew his charms would not be enough to turn the dragon into a thrall, as he had done with the fire drakes. No, this dragon was too powerful, and his mind far too tough for such crude tactics. Even a juvenile dragon was nearly impossible to charm or beguile with illusions. The entire species had always had a natural immunity to such thing. Drakes were controllable because they were not a sub-species, but different altogether, and thus did not have the genetic defenses against magic that dragons had. Severin would have to be subtler, and craftier.
The thought to simply kill the dragon came into his mind, but that was nearly as risky a proposition now as it would have been inside the aspen glade. Even without the satyr’s fancy wards and deadly magic, the dragon would be difficult to slay, though certainly not impossible. Severin was not without his own deadly magic.
He stared down into the waters and the furry corners of his bat-mouth curled into a wicked sneer. He was never one to simply kill his prey, not when they had caused him so much grief. First, he would cripple them. Then, he would watch them crawl and limp away, licking their wounds as the realization of just how terribly they had crossed him, and how hopelessly outmatched they were, dawned on them. Then, as hope drained from their eyes, he would finish it.
He let go of the branch he hung from and dropped into the air. He opened his wings, beating fervently to keep from plopping into the water. He landed in the damp earth near the edge of the water. He crawled forward, bent his mouth to the cool liquid, and took a drink. It did nothing to slake his thirst, but that was not why he drank.
As the water went into his body, Severin focused his magic, analyzing the water within him. His magical senses were far more advanced than his physical abilities. He used it to scan and study the water, bits of algae, and small microbes within the water that he had drank. After a few moments, he seized one of the smaller microbes with his mind and straightened, confident he had what he needed. He had a special use in mind for the essence of this tiny organism.
He reflected on how convenient it was that so few understood the many benefits a vampire gained by consuming the life-carrying fluids of another creature. Certainly it sustained and strengthened them, but once he had consumed a being’s essence, he could alter his shape to match.
Even now he could still feel the tearing of sinews that had come along with that first transformation. Shapeshifting was a tiring, draining, and precarious process, but after centuries of life as a vampire, Severin had mastered the skill, and now had hundreds of human forms he could assume, most recently increased by the essence of Alistair the wandering trader.
The bat essence he had called upon this day had been one of his first acquisitions. He had been a lowly, despicable creature at that time, unsure of how to grapple with his new-found identity as one of the undead. As he sought for some power to make him something more than a despised and hunted creature, he had hit upon the idea of a bat’s essence. It had been foul, to be sure. He remembered how it had felt for his magic to move over and through the essence of the shape he desired, how it had contorted his body and rearranged his very being to become that which he had consumed.
Fortunately, once a shape was attained, it was forever possible to return to that form, without needing to consume additional essences, so only one bat had been required. While he enjoyed human blood, he cared little for animal blood.
Still, even with the numerous forms he had taken, he had never tried one quite as small as this microbe. He had sensed their presence before, but had always chosen to ignore their essence, rather than use his magic to activate it as he was about to now. None of his earlier transformations came close to the agony this one brought him.
He fell to the ground and his bat wings began to shrink back into his body until they were nothing more than leathery stubs. It took all of his strength and will to keep from crying out as a burning sensation ripped through his entire body. Pressure built up on his bones and skin, crushing him into smaller and smaller shapes as the bones and sinews broke and tore. Then, when the squishing had done all it could do, bits of the bat began to dissolve and fade away into nothing.
Severin nearly lost his will to go on, but he focused on his purpose. He called the dagger to his mind and poured himself into that image of the weapon, the key to his ultimate power. All around him it seemed everything was growing to gigantic proportions. What was once only an inch of space between himself and the edge of the water was now perhaps a hundred miles, or so it seemed.
Even the grains of dirt and sand appeared as large as mountains.
Severin nearly became lost in the vastness of his new reality.
Had it not been for his refined magical abilities, he may have languished on the bank forever. The microbe body he inhabited was strange and foreign to him. He felt as fragile as a bubble, yet the minute form was energetic and easy to maneuver.
Using his magic to guide him, he floated up into the air and then down into the water.
He could hear the dragon’s heartbeat. It was like a drum that filled everything around him. Tha-THUMP, tha-THUMP, tha-THUMP!
He drifted down, using his magic to guide himself to the enormous beast. After several minutes, he slipped into the edge of the dragon’s nostril. He had thought to enter the dragon that way, but then realized that even his magic would not likely save such a fragile form from the dragon’s breath. So, he darted out from the nostril and made his way along the dragon’s snout.
He chose not to enter the beast’s mouth. That way presented two problems; fire and acid. No, he was going an altogether different route. He floated to the dragon’s closed eye and aimed for the inner corner. He worked his way into the salty tear duct and then drifted until he found a passageway to the dragon’s sinus cavity. Knowing he was still dangerously close to the airway through which the dragon spewed his liquid death, Severin hurried to find an entrance into the animal’s blood stream.
Once he was in, he noticed how terribly warm the dragon’s blood was.
Severin’s magic alerted him to a pair of white globs floating toward him. He wasn’t sure what they were, but he could sense the threat they posed. The vampire struck out with lig
htning, searing the two white globs and cutting clean holes through each of them. Unfortunately, the lightning also tore a small opening in the blood vessel.
The dragon lurched upward and the tissue around Severin was pressed in, as if something was pushing on the spot from outside. The heartbeat accelerated, and Severin was sent even quicker toward his target.
In a matter of two or three minutes, for it was very difficult to judge time when confined to such a small form, Severin was dumped into the heart. Working quickly with his magic, he latched onto the inner wall of the smaller chamber. He set wards about himself as more of the white globs appeared and tried to smother him. Whatever they were, they were no match for his magic.
The trap was now set, and he had only to wait for his time to strike.
*****
Njar sat in front of the Pools of Fate, contemplating the vision he had just witnessed. It was less clear than any other he had ever seen before, but he knew for certain that there was danger. Something was about to attack Leatherback. He had to reach the dragon first and shore up what defenses he could.
The satyr limped away, leaning heavily upon his staff. The wounds in his body were nearly healed, thanks to the abundant magic in Viverandon, but the aches and the stiffness were still there. He opened the portal to the aspen grove.
A golden glow ripped through the air and then a silver mist divided the rim of gold until a passageway was made clear before Njar. He limped through, his staff stabbing the ground with each pained step forward. The warm hum of the portal’s magic enveloped him as he stepped through. A rush of wind swirled around him, and then he stepped out the other side and into the grove.
He turned to find Leatherback sitting upon his haunches. The dragon’s large eyes looked down and regarded the satyr curiously.
“Hello Njar,” Leatherback greeted. “Have you healed completely?”
Njar nodded to Leatherback, but didn’t respond verbally. He turned and scanned the area around him. None of the wards had been activated, but he could feel a strange presence.