by K. B. Bogen
“Not really. But ye might try that there wand of yers.”
“I don’t know. That seems a little too easy.”
Erwyn extended the wand toward the gates. He didn’t expect it to work. But it did.
The iron barrier swung slowly inward, groaning in protest as it went. The companions entered just as slowly.
Erwyn felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He stuck his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking violently. There was something terribly wrong with this. It was too easy.
The doors gave entrance to a short, unlit passage which, in turn, led to the central court. The group traveled the length of the passage as quietly as they could, expecting at any moment to be attacked by forces unknown.
At the end of the hallway, they emerged into the sunlight. Not the dingy stuff on the other side of the gates. The light here was dazzling in its brilliance.
As his eyes became accustomed to the brightness, Erwyn looked around. They stood in a huge courtyard, almost like a receiving area, if you happen to receive armies. Big ones.
Instead of bare well-kept dirt, the yard was a tangle of flowers and summer-dead grass, once carefully cultivated, but now growing with wild abandon. Except for a small section in the middle. Erwyn wondered about that.
“Piece of cake.” Chesric slammed his sword back into his sheath.
“If you say so.”
The walls were covered with vines and flowers and there was no visible sign of a door leading to the rest of the castle. Together, they set about examining the walls for exits. They had not gotten far when ...
“What puny mortals dare to invade my glorious domain?” The voice boomed from behind the back wall. It was followed by the loud beating of enormous leathern wings.
Games People Play
More Fun Than a Barrel of Man-eating Lizards
“CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF, DRAGONS ARE VERY REASONABLE, LIKEABLE CREATURES. EXCEPT WHEN THEY’RE HUNGRY OR UNDER CONTRACT.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Five: On Things to Watch Out For
Erwyn felt his blood run cold. At least, he thought it was running cold. It certainly wasn’t keeping him warm anymore.
No one moved a muscle. The voluntary kind, anyway. Except the dragon. It flew over the back wall and glided into the courtyard.
The courtyard, which, as Erwyn had noted earlier, was big enough to hold an army, barely contained the dragon as he settled comfortably to the ground. The huge wings spread almost from one wall to the other. There was a little space left over, and into this the three explorers huddled. The damselflies seemed to have vanished.
Once settled, the dragon folded his wings across his back. To Erwyn, he actually looked smaller that way. In fact, he was. Wings take up a lot of space. No wonder he’d managed to hide behind the wall without being seen.
The dragon was still a little on the large side, though, and most of it seemed to be muscle, from Erwyn’s point of view. He stood right below the creature’s chest.
A long serpentine neck supported a large, square head which supported two large, wicked-looking horns. Heavily-muscled legs ended in claws with six-inch talons. He also had claws at the tips of his wings, almost like a third set of hands. Erwyn wondered what they were for.
The wings themselves were translucent blue. Scales of a deeper blue-green covered him from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. As the dragon moved, rainbow shimmers rippled across the scales. He was beautiful. And, at the moment, dangerous.
“Who art thou and what dost thou seek in this, my home?” The dragon’s voice was no longer booming, but it was still pretty loud. The echo didn’t help much, either.
Putting his hands to his ears, Erwyn shouted, “Could you tone it down some? You’ll deafen somebody. Probably us.”
“Gee, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” The dragon sounded like he meant it. “It’s just that, well, it’s my job. Chapter three, paragraph one of the Dragon Charter states that ‘The initial challenge to intruders must be made at such a volume as to prevent the misinterpretation of the guard dragon’s intent.’” He lay down in front of the young sorcerer and rested his head on his claws. “So, what brings you folks here?”
“Nothing much,” Erwyn lied. “I don’t suppose you could tell me if there’s a girl locked up in here somewhere.”
“Yup. Sure is. What do you think I’m here for?”
“You could be on vacation,” Erwyn offered.
“Ri-i-ight.” The dragon smiled indulgently. He had a lot of teeth.
Erwyn was feeling perversely dense just then. After all, how was he going to learn anything if he didn’t ask questions? Even stupid ones.
“Uh, why exactly are you here?”
“I told you,” the dragon growled. Erwyn took an involuntary step backward ... right into the wall. “It’s my job.”
“That’s some job.”
“It beats the hell out of burning villages. The pay’s terrible. The hours are lousy. And the only bonuses you get are the odd occasional virgin or two. Some of them are pretty odd, and some are only occasional virgins.”
“Yeah, I can see how that could be a problem.”
Erwyn paused, thinking. Then curiosity got the better of him.
“Tell me, Master Dragon ... um ... can you actually tell the difference between virgins and, uh, non-virgins?”
“Of course, I can. It’s like the difference between ... say, kid, you aren’t a vegetarian or anything, are you?” He looked at Erwyn through one slightly bloodshot eye.
“No. I have a real weakness for steak. Makes it difficult to be a vegetarian.”
“Good. Well, the difference between virgins and non-virgins is kind of like the difference between fresh beef and aged beef. Some people like it fresh, some like it aged, some like it both ways. The point is, it’s edible either way. It’s a matter of personal preference.”
“Y-you actually eat them?”
“That’s what they’re there for.”
“Wh-what about boys, er, male virgins.”
“Depends. Farm boys, blacksmiths, guys who work for a living, are too tough. Now, magic-users and nobility ... there’s good material for a nice snack. Mmmm.” He smiled wistfully, his eyes half closed. “Tasty.”
The dragon opened his eyes. Erwyn suddenly realized how a bowl of candied cherries felt. Then the huge beast heaved an equally huge sigh.
“Unfortunately, I am a vegetarian. Poor digestion. Humans give me gas.”
Erwyn wilted against the wall.
“M-master Dragon ... ”
“Call me Virgil.”
“Okay, um, Virgil. I’m Erwyn.”
“Pleased to meet you.” The dragon extended a talon for Erwyn to clasp.
“Uh, yeah.” Gingerly, he shook the dragon’s claw. “Anyway ... do you mind if we just have a look at this princess of yours?”
“Sorry, can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“I told you. It’s the job.” The dragon sounded just like some of Erwyn’s old instructors. Strained patience. Erwyn’s least favorite dish. “Chapter two, paragraph seven. ‘The guard dragon shall, under no circumstances, allow anyone to pass unless and until he/she/it fulfills the qualifications for said passage.’ I’m supposed to guard the princess. I’m not supposed to let anyone see her.”
“How come?”
Before Virgil could answer, a shadow passed over the courtyard, and a chill wind sprang up from nowhere. Erwyn shivered.
“IT IS IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER THAT THERE MAY BE MORE THAN ONE PERSON IN THE WORLD WHOSE GOALS CONFLICT WITH YOUR OWN.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Three: On People and Their Influence
The dragon sat up, looking ruefully at the sky and flexing his wings.
“Uh-oh. Back to work.”
“Huh?”
Then Erwyn wished he hadn’t asked that last question. Virgil sent a great gout of flame into the sky, accompanied by an ear-splitting roar. Wings extended, neck arched, he towered over the young sorcerer. His eyes glowed.
“No man may set eyes on yon damsel, lest he first pass the Test of the Dragon.” Virgil had his voice set on “boom” again. “Dost thou wish to challenge the dragon?”
With his eyes glued to the claws flexing just above his head, Erwyn started to stammer some sort of reply. Then the sunlight returned and with it the warmth. Virgil settled back down to earth.
“Stupid bitch,” Virgil hissed. “A dragon’s work is never done.”
“What’s going on? What was that?”
“You mean the cloud and the icy wind?” Virgil shrugged, accidentaly knocking some of the masonry off with the tips of his wings. “That was the broad who put me here. There are certain things one is supposed to do when one guards a princess. Miss Priss up there likes to check up on her employees once in a while, to make sure they’re not shirking or anything.”
“You mean she doesn’t trust you?”
“That’s right.”
“Why don’t you quit?”
“Mostly because I’m more or less stuck here.”
“I thought you said it was a job.”
“Yes, but the witch who put me here didn’t exactly ask me if I wanted the job. She just dumped me here. And to make sure I stay, she’s put a spell on me.”
“Um, what kind of spell?”
“Nothing special. If I try to leave, I’ll be changed into a damselfly.”
“Ugh!” It gave Erwyn the shivers just thinking about it.
“I heard that.” Viona called from one of the vines overhead.
“Sorry.”
Erwyn turned his attention back to the dragon. This whole setup sounded fishy. “I’ll probably regret asking this, but ... the name of that witch is Sharilan, right?”
Virgil looked at Erwyn for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Nope.”
“Good.” Erwyn breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s her sister, Fenoria.”
“Well, that’s a relief. For a minute there I was ... did you say Fenoria?”
“Yup.”
“But I thought Fenoria was the princess who’s locked up in the castle.”
“She is.”
“But you just said she’s the witch who dumped you here to guard the princess.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But how can it be the same person?”
“It isn’t.”
Erwyn did a double-take. “Come again?”
“I see they haven’t improved the hearing in your species. I said, it isn’t.”
“But I don’t ... ”
“Look, Erwyn. You aren’t the only human in the world named Erwyn, are you?”
“No, I guess not.”
“And I, personally, have both an uncle and a cousin named Virgil. So why is it so hard to believe there are two women named Fenoria?”
“It just never occurred to me. That’s all.” Erwyn sat down, thinking furiously.
So, Sharilan hadn’t been lying to him. Not exactly. She just bent the truth a little. Question was, what should he do now?
“Why did the witch Fenoria imprison the princess Fenoria in this castle?”
“Don’t ask me. I just work here.”
“So in order to see Princess Fenoria, one of us has to take the, what did you call it? The Test of the Dragon.”
“Correctamundo. But not just any one of you. It has to be the leader. I guess that’s you.”
“I don’t suppose we could just leave the way we came and forget the whole thing.”
“Nope. Chapter two, paragraph eight. ‘Anyone entering the guard dragon’s territory must submit to a qualification check before either continuing onward or withdrawing from the field.’ If you try to escape, I’m supposed to toast your buns, as it were.”
“Um ... what exactly is the Test of the Dragon?”
“Nothing elaborate, really. You have to join me for a game of three-handed poker.”
“That doesn’t sound too difficult.”
Virgil watched Erwyn very closely as he added, “I get to play two of the hands. You have to beat both of them.” Somehow the dragon managed to look sympathetic.
“Uh, I probably don’t want to know, but ... what happens if I lose?”
“I’m supposed to eat you.” He didn’t look happy about it, either.
To Beat, or Not to Beat
Indigestion on the Hoof
“THE LOYALTY OF DRAGONS CANNOT BE FORCED.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Five: On Things to Watch Out For
“But you don’t eat humans! You said they give you problems with your digestion.”
“Ah, yes. Therein lies the problem. I’m supposed to prevent you from getting to the princess. But if I prevent you from getting to the princess the way I’m supposed to, I’m going to have tummy trouble for the next six months or so.”
“Why six months?”
“Don’t they teach you humans anything? It takes at least six months for a dragon to digest meat. That’s another reason for becoming a vegetarian.”
“I guess they skipped that part of my education. We don’t see too many dragons where I come from.”
Erwyn cupped his chin in his hand and stared at the dragon for a few moments. “So, what it boils down to is this: you’re in trouble whether you win or lose.”
“True.”
“So why did Fen ... um, the witch keep you here? It seems to me she should have let you go the first time she found out.”
“To tell you the truth, she doesn’t know.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t know I’m a vegetarian. The subject never came up. She never asked. And I never volunteered the information. She didn’t seem to be the sympathetic type, you know. And you’re the first human I’ve seen come through that door since I got here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Only a couple of months. There I was, minding my own ... ”
At that moment, the wind picked up once more. Fenoria Two was spying again.
“I guess we’d better get on with this,” Virgil sighed mournfully.
He produced a deck of cards from somewhere and started shuffling.
“Aren’t those cards kind of large?”
“Not if you have claws a big as mine.”
“But I don’t!”
“I know,” Virgil sighed again. “Those are the rules. Chapter one, Paragraph one. ‘The customer’s always right.’ I play two hands, simultaneously. Plus, I can swap cards between hands. You get one hand, and you have to lay yours on the ground. Face up, so I can see ‘em. Cute, huh? Fenoria’s not too big on fair play.”
“I really wish I knew more about what’s going on.” Erwyn sat down cross-legged in front of the dragon.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t heard from the rest of the group since he’d started talking to Virgil. He looked around for his companions, but Chesric and Kerissa seemed to have disappeared, just like the damselflies.
Erwyn suspected they’d found a door into the rest of the castle and gone exploring, but he decided now would be a bad time to mention it to the dragon. Virgil was in enough trouble right now. But then, so was Erwyn.
Virgil finished shuffling the cards and dealt them.
“The game’s five-card draw, unicorns wild. We both know the stakes.” The dragon stopped. “What are you looking at?”
“You.” Actually, Erwyn wasn’t looking at Virgil himself so much as his aura. “Didn’t you say there was a spell on you?”
“Yes. Why?”
“What would you do if the spell were removed?”
“Removed? How?”
&
nbsp; “Well, um, I’m a sorcerer.”
“Do you think you can remove the spell?”
“Not unless I can find it. And so far, I haven’t had any ... wait! There it is. And I think I can unravel it. I can try, anyway.”
“Well, go ahead. Do it!”
“And if I do?”
“I’ll let you go, of course. It’s not like I’m getting paid to do this lousy job. That spell’s the only thing holding me here. The only thing I know of.”
“But if you’re not under contract to do this, why do you keep quoting rules to me?”
Virgil looked at him sideways. “Chapter one, paragraph two. ‘Always do the best job you can, no matter what the circumstances.’”
“Oh.” Just his luck. An ethical dragon.
“Okay, but you’d better act like you’re still playing the game. Just in case your ladyfriend comes back.” He took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”
While Virgil kept up appearances, Erwyn tried to get a fix on the spell. He knew it was possible to break an enchantment cast by someone else. They’d practiced it at school. But this one was a lot more complicated than any of Brendan’s, and he wasn’t sure he could do it. He took another breath and forced himself to concentrate.
The spell was like an onion. Several layers of spells were fused to one another. The first few were easy. Those he stripped away with no problem.
It reminded him of the time he and Brendan were practicing spell removal. He’d managed to strip away five layers of spells that Brendan had put together. When he removed the sixth, he found out the hard way that his friend had tucked a thunderstorm in the center. Erwyn had gotten soaked and his leather boots had shrunk. He didn’t speak to Brendan for a month.
As Erwyn progressed through the spell on Virgil, the spells got progressively more difficult to undo.
It was hard work. Erwyn’s head began to feel light. Dizzy. Blood pounded in his ears. With a sickening feeling he realized that he’d experienced this before.
Sharilan! He’d felt like this that time he nearly fried Chesric. He had almost forgotten about that episode. She’d probably used him at other times, too. Like a spy or something.