The Sword and the Dragon (The Wardstone Trilogy Book One)

by M. R. Mathias

  He studied the opening. When he had come up with this part of the plan, he had figured that the egg would be a lot lighter. He had imagined himself lying on his belly with his head, arms, and shoulders hanging out of the opening. He had planned to pay out the rope while watching the egg go down. This egg was far too heavy for that. If he so much as jerked it while it was going down, it would probably yank him out of the cavern mouth. He found that he wouldn’t have been able to get his body into that position anyway. Two big formations, like jagged bottom teeth jutted up from the opening. He decided that he could use them to brace his feet on, and lower the egg from a sitting position. The only problem was that the place between the two rock teeth was rough, and might wear the rope apart as it slid over.

  He drained the last of the water from the skin and tossed it to the side. Whatever he was going to do, he had to hurry. He stepped to the edge and looked down. He saw nothing but an endless expanse of green, spreading away from the black, murky water below him. The thought that, if just this tiny bit of rock beneath his feet crumbled he would be falling, made him pull back into the cavern. Never, in all his life, not once in all the hundreds of times he had looked down from the heights, had he felt such a dizzying and disorienting feeling. He knew why he had felt it too. It was because there was nothing there: nothing to cling to, no cliff, or rock face. It was just open air all the way down. No sooner had he mastered that fear, the sunken feeling that he had already taken too much time started to creep into his mind. He had to move. After a few deep breaths, he came up with an idea.

  He darted back through the wormhole, covering the rocky, uneven floor with ease now that his hands and arms were free to help him stay balanced, and went to the nearest of the larger skeletons. It had been some monstrous winged thing. Probably a smaller dragon, which had come into this one’s territory, or some other kind of beast he had never heard of. There was no skull, so it was impossible to guess. After a few moments of grunted effort, he had what he wanted: a bone. It was roughly as big around as his forearm, and about as long as his whole leg. It was perfect for what he intended, and he thought, for the first time, that he just might get this thing done and get out of there before the dragon came home.

  He got back into position, laid the bone across the base of the two teeth-like rocks, and then situated himself on his butt, with his feet against the teeth. With a grunt of effort, he lifted the egg up and over the gap between them, and let the rope slip a few feet down. The friction heated his hands quickly, but he didn’t let lose his grip. He had to be careful. He needed his hands to make the climb back down, and he couldn’t allow them to get rope-burned. He chided himself for not thinking to bring gloves with him. Greyber had suggested it, but since Gerard didn’t climb with gloves, he’d dismissed the idea. He hadn’t figured that the egg would weigh so much. It was a mistake that he wasn’t about to let himself forget.

  The rope ran through Gerard’s hands, out over the rounded middle of the bone he had placed across the teeth, and then it disappeared down towards the marsh below. Where the rope would’ve been dragged, over coarse and abrasive stone, it now slid smoothly over the hard yellowed bone. Only the slightest edge of the rope even touched the rocky cavern’s mouth.

  As if trying to pull a spear out of his sternum, Gerard paid out the rope hand over hand. He was tempted to use his boot to clamp the rope against the bone, and let the egg fall at a controlled speed, but he thought better of it. If he failed to stop it, or slow it down, it might splatter into the water below. If that happened he would have to pull the seemingly endless rope back up, and start again with another egg.

  Already, his body was screaming at him, sending hot wires of tight, burning heat from his fingertips, up his arms, and over his shoulders into his back. A glance at the coil of rope that remained told him the egg was barely halfway to the bottom. The idea that his arms might get too sore for him to make the climb back down crossed his mind and added to the panic swirling in the back of his head. His shoulders and back were throbbing. His grip was getting looser and looser, and his palms were starting to feel raw, and slick with blood. He had to stop and rest, but how?

  Cole shimmered into being on a tiny island, which was only large enough to hold the roots of a single drooping tree. A huge snapper had crept up alongside the canoe he had left there. It probably thought it was another of its kind, lazing in the sun. It was as startled by Cole’s sudden appearance, as Cole was by its unexpected presence. Cole stood stock still and let the bird that was flying loose in his chest settle, while the big beast slithered casually away into the water.

  Once he had calmed himself enough to move again, Cole glanced up at the opening in the eastern side of the Dragon Spire. Nothing was there yet. He was glad he didn’t have to hurry. He found he was greatly troubled by appearing so close to a deadly predator. One could make plan after plan and be as cautious as possible, Cole thought grimly, and still one could end up the victim of pure chance and circumstance. The concept was eye opening to him. Until that moment, he had firmly believed in Pael’s theory that careful planning, and well-timed execution, could overcome anything. It was the first time he had ever come close to thinking against what his mentor had taught him.

  Pael was wrong about this, he understood now. There was always the random chance that something out of your control would force you to improvise. Of course, that’s why Pael so adamantly studied the situations that he might find himself in. Cole chose to re-evaluate his ideas just a little bit. Unlike Pael, he didn’t have an endless supply of research material, and the quantified power of a master wizard. Had he only appeared a few feet closer to the snapper’s maw, the creature could have gotten a hold of him before he even knew what was happening. He decided that later he would think about ways to avoid such a predicament. That’s what Pael would tell him to do, but right now he had other things to attend to.

  He stepped into the canoe and shoved off in one fluid motion. He didn’t have far to go to get into position. He had chosen the tiny island because it was impossible for him to appear in a drifting canoe. Unlike a larger craft, the canoe would spin and twist with the currents and the wind, even if it was anchored. As with the snapper, being just a few feet off could mean appearing over open water.

  Once he had the egg, he would have to row back to the island before he could transport himself back to Shaella. It wouldn’t do to shimmer into existence in the middle of the body-strewn clearing while in a sitting position, with an egg in his lap. He would have to be ready for anything, and on his feet in case he had to duck and run, or otherwise flee the dragon when he appeared.

  He looked up again, and was relieved to see the egg coming down. He had had his doubts about the mountain-clan boy’s plan, but hadn’t been able to doubt his confidence. The boy had been certain that his plan would work, and since Gerard had proven his loyalty back on the riverboat, Cole had given him the respect he deserved. He didn’t want to doubt him openly, or do anything that might take away from the boy’s confidence. And besides, the plan was a fairly good one.

  In a small way, he was jealous. He was supposed to have been the one to get the egg for Shaella, but every time he attempted to teleport himself up to the dragon’s cavern, he had failed. Whether the place had wards against such comings and goings, or it was just too high from the surface of the earth for his magic to take him, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was because it was surrounded by water. He was sure that if he could shape-change, he could fly up into the cavern, but that level of spell casting was beyond his ability as of yet. He had once thought that Shaella was powerful enough to change forms, but now he wasn’t so sure. If she could’ve gotten the egg without risking Gerard, she would have.

  Cole saw how much she had come to care about the young man, how protective of him she was. He knew it would soon be a problem. He only hoped that she would make the proper decisions when the time came. If she chose well, Cole was certain that she could have everything she was after, including Gerard; bu
t too much was at stake to let love blind her. Far too much was at stake.

  When Cole looked up again, he saw that the egg had been lowered a considerable distance. He stared up at it from the drifting canoe for a long time, before he realized that it had stopped coming down. It was just hanging there a few hundred feet above him, swinging slightly with the breeze.

  Suddenly, Cole was alarmed. His mind raced through the myriad possibilities that could have forced Gerard to stop lowering it: injury, not enough rope, a tangle, or another creature might have been lurking up there. He was just about to panic, when the egg lurched down a few feet, causing his heart to jump up into his throat. As he tripped through possible spells that might help the situation, the egg started gliding down slowly and smoothly, as if it had never stopped.

  Cole cursed his stupidity, not only for letting his brain run rampant with foolish fears, but for not telling Gerard that he could have dropped the egg once it was this far down. Cole had a number of spells that would slow its fall. He could even make it to drop right into his boat, or slowly levitate it down to the water so he could scoop it up on his way back to the island. He shook his bald head while he waited for the lowering egg. So much for perfect planning.

  Gerard had never in all of his life felt as relieved as he did the moment the rope in his hands went slack. The brief reprieve he gained by looping the rope around one wrist for a short while, and then the other to rest his arms, had been probably the smartest thing he could have done. As it was, he would have to rest his upper body, and let the circulation begin flowing again in his legs, before he could start his climb back down. Even though there was a voice in the back of his head screaming that he was out of time, there was no choice in the matter. He wanted to start his descent, but he knew that his body wasn’t ready yet.

  He ate the dried snake-meat he had packed, and sipped from the remaining water skin, all the while listening to his panicky subconscious warnings. The dragon is coming back to roast you for your thievery! If you don’t leave now, the beast will catch you on the rock face, and char you to a crisp!

  After he finished the meat, he shouldered the pack and headed back across the cavern. The food seemed to have energized him, and he stopped at the lair to consider an idea. As he stood there, looking at the rune marked floor, and the unnatural smoothness of it, the words of the old crone came to him in his mind.

  “You will find the power you seek in the depths of the dragon spire,” she had said – or something to that effect. He found himself looking around for a tunnel, or hidden stairway that let down into the formation, but there was nothing to see. He laughed at his foolishness, and began stretching his back and arms. He squatted, and pushed himself back up with his legs a few times, while holding his arms straight out before him as he did so.

  He was feeling much better now. He was glad that the first half of his descent was so easy to make. He really wouldn’t need his arms, until the lower part of the rock face, where it became almost a sheer drop. He was confident again, now that his body had recuperated, that he could make the journey down without faltering. He was feeling so confident, in fact, that he decided to act on the idea he had just had.

  He would bring down another egg in his pack. The eggs were heavy, but not any more so than the coils of rope he had carried up with him. He became excited. Oh, how Shaella would be pleased with him when he gave her the second egg. He could only imagine how this night would be spent. She would be doubly happy, and he would get doubly rewarded.

  He wasted no time getting the pack open as he gained the nest. It took some effort to squeeze the egg into the pack because its girth was as wide as the pack’s opening. The egg was so big, that part of it stuck up out of the pack, but that was alright.

  HURRY! The voice in his head screamed at him. The dragon’s coming back any moment now! That was all right too, Gerard told the voice. I’ve got it, I’m done, I am out of here! With a triumphant smile on his face, he shouldered the pack and turned to go.

  He was thinking how easy this had been, and how light the pack felt on his shoulders, when a figure shimmered into being directly in front of him. For a fleeting moment, he thought that it was Cole, but the evil grin on the pale, bald-headed man’s face told him he was mistaken. It was the ghastly, white-skinned older man from the vision he had seen back in the old fortune teller’s tent.

  In the wizard Pael’s left hand was a gnarled, old wooden staff with a head-sized crystal mounted at its crown. On his face was the most confident of snarls, and in his eyes there was something far more certain than death.

  Gerard was so utterly stunned by Pael’s appearance, that he didn’t even feel the dagger the creepy wizard had thrust into his chest, until Pael twisted it, and laughed at him with manic glee.

  Chapter 29

  The dragon was fierce and quick, but it seemed to enjoy playing the cat to Shaella’s mouse. It gleefully toyed with the brave little girl, who wielded the insignificantly magical sword, and more than a few times intentionally kept from killing her out of sheer curiosity.

  Shaella spun, twirled, dived and twisted out of the way of the dragon’s razor-sharp claws, its whip-like tail, and its fiery maw so many times now that she exhausted herself. She was certain the beast could have destroyed her at any time. She was glad that it let her survive long enough for her reinforcements to arrive. It was their turn to occupy the beast now. She had to catch her breath.

  Some of the new Zardmen were already running into the clearing. When she saw them, she wasted no time getting herself into the cover of a clump of trees, so that she could rest. She stumbled, more than ran as she went. The dragon, with new mice to play with now, would hopefully stay around a little while longer. Cole would have the egg soon, she hoped. Then the tables would turn, and she would get to be the cat. For the moment though, she was content to just sit against a tree trunk, and breathe.

  She felt a sharp pain across her scalp above her right ear. She went to investigate the sensation with her fingers, and found a big, watery blister, where her hair should have been. After a moment of vain panic where her hands frantically touched every inch of her skull, she cursed the dragon’s very existence. Her once beautiful raven black heir was a ruin.

  From her right temple, straight back over her ear, and down to her neck, her hair was gone. Her scalp was a hot, puffy blister, her ear was raw, scorched around its edges, and the shoulder of her custom armored leather vest was ruined beyond repair. The sleeve on that side of her shirt was nearly burned away. All that remained was the cuff, and some tatters. The rest of her head seemed to be alright though. She didn’t care about the wounds, or the terrible pain they caused. Her only concern was how she would look to her Zard soldiers and her lover. She could deal with it, she decided. She had lived with a tear drop scar running down her cheek for years now.

  The screeching, skittering sound of a big geka lizard, rose over the general clamor of the tussle briefly. Shaella turned to see it fighting the Zard, who were trying to lead it into the clearing, for the dragon. The dragon heard it, and flung out its massive wings, sending blast of concussive wind blowing through the area.

  Shaella felt it in her chest. Without standing, she peeked around the side of the tree trunk to see what was happening. Panic swept over her as the dragon jumped into flight. “NOOO!” she screamed. Not now! Not when we’re so close.

  She had to twist her head, and roll away from the tree, to see where it had gone. She forced herself to her feet. She had to go back out into the clearing to get a better view, because the gargantuan, red scaled beast had disappeared from her sight completely. Once in the clearing, she half stumbled, half fell back to the ground. One of the studs on her armored vest gouged the blister on the side of her head when she landed. She felt warm liquid running down her neck and back, but she ignored it. The relief of seeing the wyrm again overcame all other sensations.

  Apparently, the potion she had splashed on the snapper meat was starting to take effect after all. T
he dragon, half flying, half skipping like a drunken sailor, was stumbling, and crashing through the trees, trying to get to the terrified geka. It growled, hissed, and sent jets of flame out of its cavernous nostrils at random. Trees snapped and fell, some of them roots and all, under the beast’s massive hind claws. Had the jungle been any less wet, it would have been consumed in flames by now. As it was, the foliage on and around several trees was smoldering, sending up dark, roiling plumes of smoke into the sky.

  The geka had gotten its lead ropes tangled during its thrashing panic, and was pulling frantically, trying to get itself free. The Zards that had been leading it, were quickly abandoning it to its fate.

  The dragon was now slithering through the forest, like a fat snake in the grass, inching ever closer to its prey. It was almost comical how the huge predator was still attempting to be stealthy in its approach. Every creature within a hundred miles surely knew exactly where it was at the moment. Yet, it crashed through the trees ever so slowly, as if it were stalking something, and the trees were merely blades of grass. The geka was lurching and twisting, threatening to yank the tree its lines were tangled in up out of the soft earth. The dozen or so Zardmen that had left it there were now hiding in the shrubs a good distance away.

  The geka’s writhing and jerking seemed to be about to pay off, as the tree it was tethered to pulled up and fell over. The escape wasn’t meant to be though. Just as it started dragging the tree away, the dragon belched forth a long river of fire that cooked the moisture out of everything, living or dead, in its path. While flames took a hold of that particular strip of jungle, the dragon wallowed forward, and took a huge piece of the still twitching, and sizzling geka, into its mouth and chomped away. After watching the dragon’s drunken craziness, and the sheer magnitude of power it displayed in the destructive attack, Shaella was suddenly very happy that all she had lost was a patch of hair and an armored vest.