Bane of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  He stormed outside, the door slamming behind him.

  David sat still, the abrupt change of mood paralyzing. Trog’s argument didn’t make sense. He looked at Mangus. “Am I missing something? I mean, what could the mages have done to stop Bainesworth from killing his wife? He wasn’t a magical creature.”

  Mangus stood and pointed a finger at David. “If I were you, I’d keep that logic to yourself. He knows it, but he has to blame someone. If he doesn’t, the whole of the blame falls on him for not being there to protect her. With his son gone, there’s nothing to keep him from driving a dagger into his heart. I guess you could say this is one of those times that being there and being quiet is what he needs. Why don’t you take the bed, get some sleep? We’ve got an early morning.” He left the cabin, closing the door behind.

  David lay on the bed facing the wall and closed his eyes, his thoughts on what Trog and Gwyndolyn did to celebrate his becoming a knight. It beat thinking about waking up the Grid and engaging a giant freaking dragon in a war to hopefully end all wars. Yep. Tonight, he was going to ride over the moon. And it was going to be perfect.

  Charlotte

  Charlotte woke in a field. She was cold. Naked. What happened?

  Paschette lifted her head and nudged Charlotte with her nose.

  Charlotte shrieked, the touch unexpected. “Where am I?” she yelled. “Where are my clothes?”

  You are a Numí, a goddess of the heavens. Clothes are not necessary.

  “Um, yes they are.” She sat up, her knees to her chest, and cupped her hands behind her head. Terror seized her soul. Her hair was gone. All of it. Shaved off. “Wh-What did he do to me? Where is my hair?” She rocked back and forth. “I’m freezing, and I cannot have him see me like this. Ever.”

  He already has, mistress. He keeps all of your kind this way.

  “All of my kind? What are you talking about?” Her teeth chattered.

  Paschette chewed off a large portion of her mustache and nudged it toward Charlotte. There. Strand it together so you can be warm and less vulnerable, though I’m sure when he sees you in the morning, he will strip it from you, and he will punish me for it. I may even lose my life, but I am willing to make the sacrifice.

  “Why would he kill you? He’s part Edryd.” Charlotte began tying the long, wet, white hairs together, desperate for warmth, but her fingers were so cold they weren’t working.

  He is many things, mistress, but Edryd is not one of them.

  Charlotte stopped tying and weaving. Suddenly, she didn’t feel good.

  Have you noticed his eyes? Are they blue?

  Charlotte shook her head. “No. They’re more teal color with amber swirls.”

  Neither Seelie or Edryd have those colors. Both are blue. Bright, clear, ice blue.

  “But he told me the story. He told me everything.”

  I’m sure he told you the story he wanted you to hear. The one that most of Itas knows. But it is a lie. Prince Venniver is a shapeshifter of a whole other kind. The Edryd, the fae, and the elves adore the Numí. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for your kind. You are what gives us passage to the heavens when we pass from this life. You fight for our right to exist. Numí set the wrongs right again. Prince Venniver despises your kind. He is evil. He is of the underworld.

  Charlotte’s stomach slid to the ground. She gaped at Paschette. “What are you saying?”

  He is collecting you, as many Numí as he can find.

  “Where are all the others?”

  Paschette blinked. Here. In the field. Most have been here for many moons, their powers gone. There is nothing for them to do but wait to die.

  “Where exactly is here?”

  The Silver Isles.

  Charlotte stifled her urge to scream, the crippling horror of her predicament hindering her ability to run. She glanced around her, the field vast and green. Edryd of all sizes walked about, spreading their wings in the sunlight “W-why are they called the Silver Isles?”

  The core of the islands is made of silver. The metal drains a Numí’s power.

  “Lovely. And you brought me here.”

  He mortally wounded Hitril, sent him spiraling from the docks, unable to fly, because you took too long in the palace without him. He beat me across my snout, ripped my scales out. The nimbies were the first thing I’d eaten in weeks. He promised me a fate like Hitril’s or a lifetime of living in a field of nimbs if I brought you here. I chose the latter in hopes you could help us. Your will is strong. The other Edryd and I want to help you escape. Please, mistress. Free us from this prison. Free all of us so that we may live again.

  ***

  Hours passed. Day became night and night became day. By dawn, Charlotte finished the makeshift dress of dragon whiskers, and she put it on. It wasn’t anything for a royal ball, but it was warm. She even had a bit left over for a cap, which she placed on her head like a crown.

  She glanced around the field at the Edryd sleeping. There must have been hundreds of them. Unfortunately, Paschette was nowhere to be found. Walking amongst the dragons were others like her—men, women—but they all seemed to wander as if they had no purpose or thoughts. Zombies.

  She ran to the first dragon where at least a dozen Numí gathered. The creature looked at her and dipped its head. Good morning, mistress.

  It was a male dragon, his voice older, wiser.

  “Good morning,” Charlotte replied. “Do you know where I might find Paschette?”

  He turned his head from her and rested it on his front legs, not responding.

  She turned to the group of Numí, hoping to engage at least one of them in a conversation, but none responded. They stared at nothing, completely unaware of their surroundings … or their nakedness.

  Charlotte turned away, unable to look. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Prince Venniver needed to be put in his place. To take one’s clothes was one thing, but he took their pride and their dignity. Somehow, some way, she would return it to them.

  A dragon circled overhead and came in for a landing. Charlotte recognized the lopsided mustache. Paschette.

  Charlotte ran to her friend.

  “There you are! I thought something happened to you. Where have you been?”

  “She’s been with me.” Prince Venniver stepped out from behind Paschette. As always, he was dressed impeccably, this time in black and purple leathers. He looked her up and down. “So that’s where the other side of her mustache went. Clever and perfect, considering we’re moving today.”

  “Moving?” Charlotte asked. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out, little one.”

  He whistled and the Edryd rose to their feet. She turned in a circle to see every dragon standing as if at attention.

  “Bring the cages,” he shouted. The Edryd took flight, all except Paschette.

  “Cages? What do you need cages for?” Charlotte asked, but she already knew. They were for the Numí, and if what Paschette had told her was true, the cages would be made of silver. She had to save them, but what could she do? She was trapped. Terrified. He’d stripped them of everything.

  She tried once more to send a desperate call to David, but his name went no further than the tip of her brain before it tipped off the precipice into nothing.

  Paschette, you must help me. Get me out of here. I can’t help them if I’m one of them. Please! Take me to King Thallan!

  The Edryd returned with silver cages in their claws. The ground shook as each piece of cargo landed. A hum resonated through Charlotte’s body, and she could feel her energy draining. She had to get away. She couldn’t let him take her.

  Prince Venniver whistled a clear and vibrant tune. It was lyrical. Hypnotic. The Numí all turned his way and began moving toward the cages.

  No, no. Paschette, please! Help me! Any of you. Please. If you care about your home, if you care about the Numí, please do something! Someone take me off this damn
island where I can do some good!

  Paschette stood. I will take you, but you must cling to me now before I lose my nerve.

  Charlotte jumped on Paschette’s hind leg as the dragon lifted into the air. Scale by scale Charlotte climbed until she was on the dragon’s back. Into the sky they soared. Up. Up. Charlotte looked behind her at Prince Venniver, except he was no longer there. In his place was a dragon, and not just any dragon.

  He was Einar.

  David

  David woke with a yell, his heart racing out of his chest. “He’s got her! Trog! Mangus! Einar’s got Charlotte!”

  He crumpled in half, his tattoo screaming in his chest, and his ring burning with blue flames.

  Trog reached him first. “David. Calm down. Look at me. Turn over and look at me, now!”

  David gripped the edge of the bed and stood upright but only for a moment before he let out a ragged gasp and fell over backward. He lay on the ground quivering and twitching, Charlotte’s voice screaming in his head. Pictures followed.

  “Venniver. He’s in disguise. He’s Einar, and he has Charlotte. Not sure where. A high mountain. A cave behind a waterfall. There are silver cages filled with Numí. He’s killing the Edryd.” Tears fell freely. “He’s blasting them apart.” A dream resurfaced. He shook his head and squished his eyes shut, sobbing. “There’s so much blood.” His gut wrenched with sobs. “She says we need to find King Thallan. He agreed to help. And something about a Seelie King.”

  Her voice faded.

  David sat straight up and shouted, “No, Charlotte, come back!” He ran his fingers through his hair and rocked back and forth. “Come back.”

  “This is not good,” Trog said. “We have to get to the Grid.”

  “We still have a day and a half at best,” Mangus said.

  “Well, then, I guess we’re going to have to do it in a day. Send a mind-weave to Slavandria. Let her know what’s going on. I’ll see if I can get this one up and on his feet.” Trog hooked David’s arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up. “Come on, kid. Get it together. We’ve got to get going.” He sat David down in a chair and handed him some water.

  “I’ve got to save her, Trog. We have to get her back.” His hands trembled as he lifted the water to his lips.

  “We’ll get her back, David.” He rustled David’s hair. “Drink that and get yourself together. I’ll be right back.”

  Trog stood with Mangus on the other side of the room. “Did you get in touch with her?”

  Mangus nodded. “She’s going to Itas herself. She said the drow, some goblins, and a few other unsavory sorts have shown their faces in the tunnels. The giants have made their way down from the north. The trolls have arrived from the south. There’s a hell of a battle coming, Trog. It’ll be especially worse if he indeed has cages of Numí.”

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “The Wailing Wall.”

  Trog looked behind him at David. “We have to stop him before he makes it happen.”

  “Makes what happen?” David asked. “Tell me. I need to know. What is the Wailing Wall? Where is it?”

  “It’s on the coast, near the Port of Volly. It is where Einar turns souls into shadowmorths. If it’s true that he has cages of Numí in his possession, he will be breeding the most powerful army of the dead you have ever seen, and Charlotte will be one of them.”

  David flung the leather flask across the room. “The hell she will.” He stood, toppling the chair over, and collected his things from his bed. “Well? Are you just going to stand there? Let’s go.” He threw his bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder and ran outside. He’d made it about fifty yards down the road when Trog and Mangus caught up with him.

  “Hey,” Trog called out. “You want to hold up there for a minute.”

  “Not really,” David said.

  Trog yanked him by the shoulder and spun him around. “Yeah. I think you do.”

  “What, Trog? I don’t have time for this. I have to get Charlotte.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. We’ll get her before the world ends, but we need you to try something for us. Just for giggles.”

  “I don’t have time for giggles.” He turned and started walking again.

  “I think you can get us to the Grid in a matter of seconds.”

  David stopped and turned. “I’m listening.”

  “Your tattoo and your ring. They came alive back there.”

  “So. That’s all they do. Warn me when Einar is on the move.”

  “Yes, but you have other powers. I was there when you learned them, remember?”

  “You’re right! Why didn’t I think of that? We could have been there by now. Mangus, are you coming along?”

  Mangus stomped toward him. “Get on with it, boy. It’s time to wake up some giants of our own.”

  Trog and Mangus clutched David’s coat.

  David shut his eyes, pictured the Grid, and repeated the incantation, “Accelero Silentium!”

  They plummeted through a sea of black and slammed into the moist forest ground. Trog tried to stand but staggered, groaned, and vomited. Mangus rolled on all fours and jumped to his feet. David groaned, his body protesting the fall, but otherwise he was okay. He stood and glanced around, hoping he’d taken them to the right place. Sure enough, directly behind him, standing at the entrance to the ancient forest leading to Chalisdawn were four stone warriors, each as tall as a two-story building, their swords raised and crossed, forming an archway over the path.

  “Glory be to the heavens,” Trog said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “In all my years a part of me believed them to be myth, but here they are.” He looked at David and smiled. “You did it, boy. Next time, have a bit more faith in yourself.” He looked at Mangus. “Are you ready to bring them to life?”

  “I was ready years ago.” He rubbed his hands together, then held his arms above his head, his palms facing outward. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

  “Ambruth loc terrin. Fel orthin tocbre. Sevan mith torc statin. Andur verlay. Ambruth loc terrin. Fel orthin tocbre. Sevan mith torc statin. Andur verlay.”

  A stone fell from above and crashed to the ground. Trog pushed David back. Any closer and they would have been crushed.

  Mangus repeated the words. With each pass more, stones fell. An arm moved on the first Grid to their left.

  Again, and again, he repeated the words, louder and louder. David and Trog joined in.

  “Ambruth loc terrin. Fel orthin tocbre. Sevan mith torc statin. Andur verlay. Ambruth loc terrin. Fel orthin tocbre. Sevan mith torc statin. Andur verlay.”

  The first Grid on the right flailed its arms to his sides and roared. Birds twittered and squawked as they took flight. The rock man stepped to the side, and the ground shook as he extended his bat-like wings tipped in feathers.

  “Good God,” David said, his pulse zinging at a thousand miles an hour.

  Mangus joined Trog and David now crouched in the mossy shadows of the forest.

  The other three Grid moved their limbs and roared their pleasure. The air vibrated with their deep, bellowing sounds.

  “I’d say they’re a bit pleased, wouldn’t you?” Mangus asked. “I think I’d bellow, too, if I’d been frozen for two hundred years.”

  The Grid stomped down the path David and Twiller had taken to Chalisdawn. They knocked down tree limbs, crushed saplings, and continued to flex their wings.

  Mangus spoke beneath his breath, “Acthelium morgitious be nag Volly.”

  The giants changed direction and thundered northeast.

  “You just sent them to war, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Mangus nodded. “The shore of Volly.”

  Trog gripped David’s shoulder. “David, I need you to get us to Tulipakar. I need you to get us to the crossroads where we met the Dalvarian rebels. Can you do that?”

  David nodded. “Do you want to go now? Are you sure you
can handle it? Traveling like that made Eric sick every time.”

  David cursed himself beneath his breath. You insensitive jerk! Why did you have to say Eric’s name? He kicked the ground and said, “I’m sorry, Trog.”

  “It’s all right, boy. Keep remembering him. That way he’ll never die.”

  Mangus ruffled his hair as he passed. “Don’t worry about it. You did nothing wrong. He’ll get over it. Now, how about you get us to these crossroads, eh?”

  David grinned. “You got it.”

  Charlotte

  Charlotte sat in the corner of her cage and scoped out her surroundings. The cave was huge, the ceiling so vast Einar and another half of himself could stand inside with plenty of room to spare. The walls were river-rock smooth. Water dripped from the walls and ceiling in an endless drip, drip, drip. A mineral smell clung to the moist air, and the roar of the waterfall drowned out the painful groans of the Edryd as they delivered more silver cages to the cave. One by one, she watched in horror as Venniver sliced the Edryd’s throats as they turned to leave, catapulting them over the falls.

  “Stop it!” Charlotte called out, their pain resonating in her mind. “Leave them alone! They have done nothing to harm you.”

  Prince Venniver stormed toward her and opened her cage. “Shut up! You have brought me more trouble than a single Numí should. Seyekrad?” he bellowed.

  The sorcerer appeared out of thin air looking as devilish ever. A midnight blue color clung to his pupils, and his blood red lips were a striking contrast to his platinum hair. “Ah, look what we have here.” He struck her across the face, knocking her back into her cage. “I should have known it was you all along. Here I was thinking David was the key to everything. I wanted to get rid of you to weaken him, but it should have been the other way around.” He knelt before her and drew a long nail across her cheek. She smacked it away. Seyekrad laughed. “Ah, you have spirit still. You think you’re going to win this war, but you will not. Your kind will perish, and your blood will run free in the falls of the Wailing Wall.”