He had a more pressing issue at hand, though. If healing spells only make it worse, he thought, what will a wounding spell do? He cast a small spell, one that would annoy a person more than really wound them. The bleeding slowed. “Did you see that, you cur? And I’m not talking to the dog, Perante. I know you are out there.” He cast another spell, strong enough to mangle his hand beyond recognition. The wound began to heal. “Now get out of here.” The sphere surrounding him discharged a bolt of gold lightning, zigzagged, and struck the dog in the head, knocking him to the ground.
Dragon’s Bane, Perante’s favorite dog, rolled back up, gave a furtive glance back at Xeron, and walked out of the room. As he neared the door, Perante entered. He patted him on the head and headed for the center of the room. When he got there, Dragon’s Bane hiding behind him, he said, “That wasn’t very nice. I might have to let him take a bite out of your dog in return.”
“Seriously, Perante, are you trying to get me to kill you, or are you just mad?”
“I am going to save the world from dragons, Xeron. There is no greater goal nor any sacrifice that isn’t worth it. It is as simple as that. You are wasting time.” Perante waived his dog forward. Dragon’s Bane looked at Xeron and kept his place behind Perante. “This test is only beginning.” Perante shook his head at his dog. “Let’s leave the canines out of it, shall we?”
Xeron didn’t reply. For the first time since the ordeal had started, Xeron did think of his dog. The last time he saw Tail Biter, Perante had convinced him that they should leave the dogs in the courtyard. After all, they were animals and animals belonged outside. “And aren’t we,” he had chided, “beyond trying to impress each other with our fierce dragon killers?”
Xeron had smiled at that. Dogs were good at giving warnings, even carrying some magic with them, but they were no dragon killers. Throughout history, no one had managed that. To dragons, dogs were snacks. To mages, they were an early warning system, luggage to carry spells, and prestige objects. Sometimes, they were even friends. Always, they were to be compared and showed off to other mages.
Tail Biter was carrying four different spells that Xeron could tap into when he was near his owner. One, a disrupter spell, he realized just might help him move from the center of the room, but he would need the dog near him to retrieve it. He had already tried it himself, but even a novice mage would have spells to counter a disruptive spell. Perante was not novice Xeron reached out with a summoning spell but felt it stop at the walls. There was no way that spell was leaving this room.
He searched for anything that might be living in the walls with a brain large enough to carry a message - insects would not do. Behind him, he felt the presence of a rat. He also felt Perante’s presence on the rodent. The rumors were true: Perante used the mice in his castle to spy on his guests. If Xeron could feel Perante’s effect on the rat, so might Perante feel Xeron’s.
Xeron cast a fire spell in the room. There was not much to burn, a few chairs, some saw horses, and some unused wood, but it was enough to get Perante’s attention. As Perante was creating his own spell to put out the fire, Xeron broke Perante’s control of the rat and send the rat on his own mission, contacting Tail Biter. Rats are smarter than one who hasn’t spent any time with them would think, but they are not in a hurry to search out animals that like to kill them. Xeron sent the rodent to the courtyard, where he hoped his spell would be loud enough to get to his dog. If he’s dead, thought Xeron, I might be, too.
Stone castles would more accurately be called stone walls, with floors, rooms, etcetera, built in-between them with wood. It does not take long for animals to find out how safe the spaces are between the stone and wood walls. Perante’s walls were even safer for rodents then most, since he used them and kept a set number of them alive and well to do his work. This rat, mostly gray with white feet and belly, quickly headed to the east corner of the room. The fastest route to the courtyard was in that corner due to a leak from the roof that had been rotting away a path since spring.
In the courtyard, Tail Biter was chewing on a bone, a thigh bone of a cow the butcher just happened to leave unattended. In addition to that “carelessness,” Perante had cast a spell on it that would make it Tail Biter’s one and only mission in life. Because this was naturally going to be the case, anyway, the special was all the more powerful. So, when the gray rat did reach the courtyard, feeling relieved for fulfilling its impulse, it continued on its ratly ways, looking for food around the edges of the courtyard. As it did, Xeron’s call to Tail Biter was transmitting from the rat, but the message was not getting through.
Upstairs, Xeron was beginning to wonder if he would make it out alive.
Chapter 18
Back in Mandan, a sickness had started ailing the youngest and oldest members of the village. For some, it was only discomforting, aches and nausea, but for a small percentage, it lead to death. Hental was one of the first to get sick, but his case was minor and it only slowed down his mischief for a few days. Selma, an elder woman of the village, was not doing as well.
Selma’s children had died years ago, a son in a logging accident and a daughter who died in childbirth. When her husband, a goat herder, died from a cough that turned fatal, she bucked convention and took over his herd. The men didn’t like it, thinking their offer to purchase the prized goats generous. It wasn’t, and Selma knew it, and being one who never cared much for other people’s opinions, she ignored the men. Over the following years, the other herders learned to accept it even as they never truly accepted her.
Hental looked after them while Selma was in bed. The ram had knocked him down more than once, but Hental had also clobbered the ram with a rock or two, so he felt even. He ran into the hut after checking on their water. “Everything’s okay. Plenty of water for now.”
“Thank you, Hental. You are a good boy.”
“You should tell that to our neighbors. They’re always complaining about me.” Hental plopped down on a chair next to Selma’s bed. “Why do they expect me to act like an adult?”
“Because they are stupid.” Hental smiled at that. Selma continued, “At least the Uris family is - good grief. They couldn’t find a hole to crap in if they were born with shovels for arms.”
Hental laughed. “How come you and I are the only ones who know it?”
“Others know, Hental, but it just isn’t nice to say out loud.”
“So why do they get to say stuff out loud about me?”
Selma coughed, “Hental, that is the arrogance of age. Some people forget what it means to be young. And some young people, I won’t name names,” she winked at Hental, “have more energy than most adults can handle.”
“Can you come back tomorrow, Hental?”
“Of course.” Hental jumped up and started putting wood in the low burning fire. “I’ll set up your fire now and bring in wood for your morning fire, too.”
“Thank you. I know you are a good sort, but Hental…”
Hental stopped adding fire to the fireplace and looked at Selma.
“Stop throwing rocks at my ram. He doesn’t like it.”
“I didn’t…” Hental stopped when he saw the look Selma was giving him. He smiled sheepishly, “Okay, I won’t, but he better stop butting me!”
“Hental, birds fly, snakes crawl, and rams butt. You don’t want those beautiful horns to go to waste, do you?”
“Well, it’s funny when he does it to others, but I don’t like it.”
“Then,” Selma cautioned, “you best keep your eyes on him when he’s around.”
Hental put one more log into the fire. “I will. See you tomorrow.”
“If I am still here, count on it.”
***
Hental’s father was putting logs on their own fire as he entered the hut. His mother Agardia was standing and rocking his baby sister in front of the finished ingredients for potato soup - his dad’s favorite. His younger brother Lared was smashing a wooden dragon figure against a wooden mage fi
gure. Hental heard Lared speaking, casting spells from one of the figures. Hental couldn’t tell which, but he knew Lared was hungry because all the spells had food words in them.
“Take that, mage, my carrot spell!” Lared’s dragon was casting. “I block it with my soup bowl.”
“Lared!” Tadeus turned from the fire. “We know you are hungry, as are your dragon and mage. Food is coming. You are going to have to be patient.”
Hental added, “Listen to Papa, Lared.”
Tadeus and Agardia looked at each other, wondering where this new found and heretofore rare helpful attitude was coming from.
Tadeus hooked the kettle above the fire. “Soup will be ready in a while. What shall we do ‘til then?”
“Eat!” yelled Lared.
“I’m just fine like this,” Agardia lifted up the baby, letting Tadeus knew that entertaining the boys was going to be up to him.
“How about a story?” Hental asked the question slowly, which gave his father pause. Hental was anything but reticent.
“What kind of story are you thinking about, Henti?”
“How about the one that tells us what happens when we’re dead?”
“Are you worried about Selma? If she is going to be okay?” his father asked.
“No, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“That’s good.” Tadeus relaxed for a moment, not feeling like talking about death with his nine year old.
“She is going to die.” He continued in a matter of fact tone, “I know that. I think she does, too.” Tadeus’s brow furrowed and Agardia stopped rocking the baby. Hental looked to each one in turn, wondering if he was going to get an answer to his question.
Tadeus scratched behind his ear. “Well, there are a couple stories I could tell.”
Lared broke into the conversation, “Does it involve carrots?”
Tadeus laughed. “No, but there are dragons. Throw me one of those carrots, please, my wife, so our boy does not fall down from lack of nourishment.” Smiling, Agardia threw a carrot to Tadeus. He gave it to Lared and Lared wasted no time chomping down on the carrot, chewing loudly.
“Don’t scare them too much, my love.”
“Before Samora came, there were different stories, but I will start with the new stories, which are still much older than either of you.”
As Tadeus started the story, Agardia moved over to the fire and added the vegetables to the soup one-handed from the pouch in her apron as she held the baby in the other. Hental and Lared squeezed into the chair next to their father. Tadeus’s voice became deeper as he spoke, “First, there was the land and sky, but they were lonely. You see, they weren’t connected.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Lared interrupted.
Hental hit him in the arm and said, “Hush!”
Tadeus smiled, “Just listen to the story, Lared - it makes more sense if you don’t cut into it before it even starts. First, there was the land and the sky, but they were lonely. You see, they weren’t connected.” Tadeus paused, but Lared didn’t say anything, though he sunk a little deeper into the chair and crossed his arms, bending down his head occasionally to take bites out of the carrot. “A layer of water covered the land, separating it from the air.”
“Ohhh.” Lared nodded his head in understanding before asking, “but why was the water covering the land?” Bits of carrot flew out of his mouth as he asked.
“Lared, let the story breathe a little son. It’s like starting a fire: you need some air blowing to get things really going.” Hental punched Lared in the arm again. Tadeus warned, “Hental, enough for you, too.”
“What?! I’m just trying to listen.”
“You know, there are dragons coming, in the story… may I continue, my little thinkers?”
He waited until he got a yes from both boys and continued, “A layer of water covered the land, separating it from the air. It was hard for the air to see any land, but the mountain tops were near the surface and appeared as a large hazy shape under the water. One day, frustrated with the water, the wind blew and blew. Soon, huge waves were rolling across the ocean.”
“What’s an ocean?” The question this time was from Hental.
“It’s like a lake, only much, much bigger.”
“How much?” added Lared.
“One thousand times bigger than the biggest lake.”
Both boys “ooohed” at the explanation. Agardia smiled.
“Soon,” their father continued, “the waves were as tall as the highest trees in the forest and they were also just as deep. After each high wave crashed over the mountain top, the top of the mountain was free of the water for a few moments before the next wave covered it again. This was enough time, though, for the air and land to finally talk to each other.”
Lared asked, “What did they say?” as Hental asked, “When do we get to the dying part?”
“All in due time, Hental. What they said, Lared, and you have some carrot on your shirt, was a lot of things. First, it was, “Who are you and what are you doing there?’ You see, the air couldn’t understand how the land could be so solid and the land couldn’t understand where the air actually was. Try as they might, they couldn’t get much of a conversation going between the waves, and the air was getting tired of constantly blowing.
Tadeus leaned forward in his chair and lowered his voice, “Then, they hatched their plan. The wind stopped blowing so strongly so the water wouldn’t get suspicious.” Lared made a big deal of brushing the carrot bits from his shirt, but Tadeus could tell his son was listening. “The wind started saving up its energy, but it also went a thousand miles away and started making tornados that would dance over the ocean, keeping it distracted. The earth started drawing more dirt towards the mountain, but it did it all underground.”
Hental was running the images through his head, wondering how any of this could relate to death, but he trusted his father to go a little longer. “The earth and sky were patient, and this went on for a year, the earth slowly gathering itself in one spot and the wind sending tornados around the sea.”
“What’s the see?” Lared asked.
“That’s another word for ocean.”
“Then,” he countered, “why don’t they just say ocean. Why do they need two words for the same thing?”
Tadeus was used to these types of questions and found a quick explanation was the best way to go or Lared would stew on any unsatisfactory answers. “What do you call your brother?”
“Huh?”
“What do you call your brother?”
“Hental.” Lared’s brow was furrowed in a good imitation of the look his father gets when he’s looking to see where a question from one of the boys is going.
“And,” Tadeus asked, “What else do you call him?”
“Henti. We all do.”
“And what else….when you think we aren’t listening?”
“Lop-foot and Thunderbrain.” Lared hunched his shoulders up, in case Hental decided to punch him.
“So, why do you have all those names for him when one will do?”
“Ohh. I get it.”
“All right, so where was I?”
Hental jumped right in, “The earth was gathering itself and tornados were flying around the sea.” To Lared, he added quietly, “Log Head.”
“That’s right. All this preparation was going on, but the ocean wasn’t stupid. It knew something was going on, and the ocean was afraid. When it was between the air and the land, it always knew what was going on. The ocean was in control, but what would happen, it wondered, if the air and land connected? Would they plot against the waters? Would they be mad that the waters had kept them apart? It didn’t want to take that chance.”
“When the land finally forced its tallest mountain range taller and the wind began blowing the waters away from the mountain, the ocean was enraged. It brought its strongest currents to the mountain and started wearing it away from underneath. At the same time, it crashed against the mountain const
antly, creating such a roar that the wind and land couldn’t hear each other.”
“The water also clung to the rock, seeping into any and all cracks it could find. Once inside a crack, the water froze, breaking up the mountain. It didn’t take long before the mountain crumbled back into the sea. Nothing is stronger than water. The land was alone once again. It knew that it would need some help if it was going to ever defeat the ocean.
“Deep in the earth, it started to create creatures that it could use to fight the water. These creatures had to be impervious to water.”
“What does impervus mean?” Lared asked.
“It can’t get in, like the roof is impervious to rain.”
“But our roof leaks!” Hental punched Lared after his little brother said that.
“Our roof is mostly impervious to rain, and don’t hit your brother, Hental. These creatures were completely impervious to rain.”
Hental interrupted, “I know what they are…dragons!”
“That’s right, and dragons they were. The first was the mightiest, the blue dragon. The blue dragon could use water’s own power against it by freezing it.”
“That’s Samora,” Lared elbowed Hental as he said it. Before Hental could elbow him back, his father gave him the leave-your-little-brother-alone look. Hental rolled his eyes instead and shook his head.
“That’s right, too, Lared. Samora was the first. Then, the earth made seven green dragons. These dragons were smaller and fast. They were fire-breathers. The earth made seven sisters and brothers for them - red dragons. They were in-between Samora and the green dragon’s size, but the red dragons’ fire kept burning hours after the fire of a green dragon would die down. The fastest of all dragons, the White Dragon, was made next and was the first to catch up to Samora, passing all the other dragons on the way.”
“These sixteen dragons headed to the surface to battle the ocean. As they did, the earth made one more dragon. This dragon was huge, like the blue dragon, but black. Nobody knows what this dragon can do because it has stayed behind, waiting in the deep dark. Some say it is the dragon of death. Others think it is the dragon that can conquer all the other dragons, a weapon that the earth is saving in case the dragons ever turn against it.”
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