Stone Dragon (The First Realm)

by Testamark, Klay

  “Mm,” he said, and took another drink from the bottle. Thanks to the Witch there was plenty of mead on board. “It’s just been a long boat ride.”

  “At least there’s plenty to drink.”

  “Yes, but I’m a wine, women, and song kind of man. Say—”

  “I will not endure more of your singing.”

  “You said you liked Show Me the Way Home.”

  “Music is not one of your many talents. Yours is more of a battlefield voice. And don’t even think about any traditional songs.”

  “But Three Battles and Three Funerals is my favorite!”

  “Ugh. So depressing. And why are you so horny? Don’t tell me you didn’t have any opportunities back there. The wood elf babes were practically hanging off you.”

  He grinned. “They had lots of places to hang from.”

  I looked at Minos, who was scrutinizing his cards. He had delicate hands, for a dwarf.

  “How about you, Angrod?” Heronimo asked. “Did you get any action? Eighteen.”

  “Depends on what you mean by action. Also, twenty-one.”

  “Eighteen,” Minos said. He showed his cards and I raked in the chips.

  “Wish we knew another card game,” Heronimo said. “You sure you don’t wanna learn Dragon Poker?”

  “I have enough dragons in my life, thank you.”

  “Anyway, something happened between you and the alpha witch. How was she?”

  I smiled. “Let’s say she was a swinger.”

  We laughed. I dealt out more cards and we all had a drink.

  “I don’t remember much but I think I did get lucky,” Heronimo said. “She was short, cute, and curvy. Lots of fun!”

  I thought I heard someone say eep, but that could’ve been my imagination. It’s never entirely silent on a boat.

  “But she was gone when I woke up.”

  I looked at him, I looked at Minos, and I looked a Heronimo again. At the back of my head, Cruix was humming something about strange fancies and a girl in her brother’s clothes.

  No way.

  Yes way.

  But he has a beard! A long, luxurious beard, the envy of every smooth-chinned elf.

  Search your feelings!

  But… the beard.

  “Hit me,” Minos said.

  “I wouldn’t hit a lady.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, like candy from a baby.”

  “Huh?”

  * * *

  Now that I thought about it, it made sense. In the beginning Minos had been so boisterously macho it was like a parody of masculinity. Other details also fell into place: The unusual modesty, the insistence on sleeping apart, and the lingering glances at Heronimo’s butt. Now that I could admit it to myself, there was great deal more sway in Minos’s hips than I’d ever seen on a dwarf. And we’d never once pissed together in the unspoiled wilderness.

  There wasn’t any way to be sure, at least nothing that would allow us to remain friends. I had tried my Sight, but Minos’s gear threw up too much static. I’d ask, but that could easily create the awkward situation I was trying to avoid.

  We were approaching the marsh. Heronimo proposed a dip. “This will be the last freshwater bath for a while. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never liked bathing in the sea.”

  So we moored the boat to a tree and stripped down. That is, Heronimo and I got naked and dived in. Minos stayed aboard and tried to look elsewhere.

  “Come on, the water’s fine!” Heronimo said. “Take off that chain mail and get in here!”

  “I prefer sponge baths,” Minos said. “Dwarves panic when their faces are submerged, did you know that?”

  Quick as a snake, Heronimo grabbed Minos and pulled the dwarf went headfirst into the water.

  “Heronimo!” I said.

  “It’s okay, the river’s shallow here. See? I can totally stand in it.”

  “Can Minos?”

  “... shit.”

  He reached down into the murky water, looking for our dwarf friend. “Help me fish him out!”

  I waded over and searched for Minos in the murky water.

  “Wait, I think I’ve got him!” Heronimo said. His hand came up with the dwarf’s beard—and nothing else. We stared at a dripping mass of hair.

  “Oh, gods,” Heronimo said. “We drowned his beard!”

  Minos burst out of the water. She climbed out of the river, gasping and sputtering. “Heronimo, don’t do that!”

  She saw us holding her beard. “Um.”

  I say she, because without it she was clearly a woman.

  “A false beard?” Heronimo said. “Is’t possible?”

  “Give me that,” I said. I brushed the hairs over my chin and they stuck fast. They changed color too, going from brown to curly black, just like my head hair. I was suddenly in possession of a gorgeous mustache and beard. “Hah! Finally!”

  Heronimo stared at Minos. “You’re a girl?”

  “Yes!” Minos said. She tore an amulet from her neck and her voice lost its booming quality. “Yes, I am a woman!”

  “I’ve heard that voice before!”

  “I am Beardman!” I said. There were still quite a few magic hairs in my hand, so I brushed them under Heronimo’s chin, where they turned a glorious blonde. “Behold my sidekick Neckbeard! We fight crime.”

  “I’ve seen those lips before.”

  “You are refusing to be distracted,” I said. “Okay, Minos is a girl. Naturally we’ll want to hear her story, but really, is it such a big deal?”

  “It’s Mina, actually. Mina Minasdottir.”

  “Holy hell, that was you?” Heronimo said.

  “I was drunk!”

  “Wait, you’re Short, Cute, and Curvy?”

  “Holy balls,” Heronimo said. “I feel so, so violated.”

  Mina crossed her arms and turned bright pink. “That’s not how you felt that night.”

  Heronimo was so shocked he couldn’t close his mouth. I patted him on the shoulder. “It looks like you got your wish, my trusty sidekick. This quest is now co-educational.”

  * * *

  “I just wanted to go on adventures,” she said.

  We sat around the dining table in our bathrobes. Mina had finally taken off her helmet and her hair flowed down her shoulders in an auburn wave.

  She looked very different out of her armor. Her mail shirt had been more padded than we thought. She was still well-padded, but differently.

  Dwarves are short and stocky, but it turns out the women aren’t nearly as heavy. Mina could probably pick up Heronimo if she wanted to, but it was also easy to picture her in a ball gown.

  “So you’re not a dwarven prince, but a dwarven princess?” I asked.

  “That is correct,” she said. “My da is Magnus Wolfsson, chieftain of the Ironore Mountains.”

  “Wait, your father is Big Man, Son of Wolf? That is a badass name.”

  “Most definitely badass,” Heronimo said.

  We had a moment of silence to reflect on how badass it was.

  “Anyway, what made you decide to go adventuring in disguise?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t just leave the Ironore Mountains. I escaped. All my life I’ve wanted to be a warrior and have my exploits sung throughout the land, but there’s never been a woman adventurer among the dwarves. When they said they were sending me to Drystone to meet next elf king, I decided I’d had enough.”

  “Um,” I said.

  “You disguised yourself so your father wouldn’t find you?” Heronimo asked. “You were not trying to trick us?”

  “I swear, I never meant to hurt you two. You were my best friends, and I treasure how you treated me like one of the boys. Well, you thought I was one of the boys.”

  “Is that why all the magical equipment?” I asked.

  “I stole them from my da’s personal guard. There were four of them and I took their most precious artifacts.”

  “And what would those artifacts be?”

/>   She pointed at her scattered panoply. “The Boots of Speed. The Belt of Strength. The Mail Shirt of Protection. The Helm of Anti-Concussion.”

  “Is it me, or are dwarves bad at naming things? You make lovely stuff, but never call them anything cool.”

  “Shut up. You understood instantly, didn’t you?”

  She raised the mail shirt, which was as light and as fine as lace. “I can barely feel it on my shoulders but it’s proof against nearly anything. When struck, the links become impenetrably hard. This helmet encloses my head in a cushion of force so my brain cannot bounce against my skull.”

  “Very useful,” I said, “but they could be improved by more creative names. Why not the Helm of Stone Head or the Mail Shirt of Dragon Skin?”

  “First, because dragon skin isn’t actually impenetrable,” Mina said. “And second, would you buy a Helm of Stone Head? For all you might know it might turn your brain to stone.”

  “That would be redundant for you, Angrod.” Heronimo said.

  “Good one!” I said. We high-fived.

  “There’s also the Buckler of Blocking, the Axe of Crazy, and the Crossbow of Intuition. The buckler always defends against attack, the axe fills the wielder with rage, and the crossbow only shoots at the best possible time.”

  “You use these trinkets to multiply what little skill you have.” Heronimo said.

  She stuck out her tongue. “I always wanted to learn weapons, but dwarven princesses aren’t allowed. I also have the Ring of Slow Time, the Ring of Regeneration, the Amulet of Gender Flip, and the Beard of Fakery.”

  “The Amulet of Gender Flip? You mean—”

  “It makes women seem more masculine and men more feminine.”

  I snatched it from the table and put it on. Heronimo and Mina stared.

  “Oh, my,” Mina said.

  “That isn’t right,” Heronimo said.

  “I don’t feel any different?”

  “Angrod, I’m not a lesbian but even I am tempted.”

  “You totally have boobs.”

  “What?” I tore off the amulet. I looked at Heronimo and started toward him. He leaped out of his seat and tore out of the cabin. There was a splash.

  I looked at the thing in my hand. “Why would one of your father’s personal guards need this?”

  “They’re more of a personal hit squad.”

  “And you stole their stuff, and also the treasury?”

  “What treasury? That was just my allowance.”

  Chapter 17

  The rest of the trip was uneventful. Heronimo and Mina weren’t speaking to each other, which is just as well. While there was just enough room in the boat for three people, there wasn’t any for one couple and one bachelor.

  We hugged the coast right up to the cape, at which point Heronimo took us further out to sea.

  “The winds around a cape are treacherous,” he said from the helm. “Best to head for deeper water.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We’re roughly between the mainland and Luxylgard, which is pretty remote.”

  Mina was looking at the map. “Luxylgard doesn’t look very far away.”

  “These waters are especially deep. The map doesn’t show it, but there’s a trench between the cape and the island. What does it say on the map? It says Here be eldritch things.”

  “What’s eldritch?” Heronimo asked.

  “Slimy, I think,” I said.

  “Well, if anything slimy comes over the side, I will hit it with my sword.”

  A great gaping shark landed on the deck. It was surprisingly small, but that’s because it was missing half its body.

  “You’re gonna need a bigger sword,” I said.

  Something hit us. The entire boat shook. A dark shape swam past.

  “We’re under attack!” Mina said. BOOM. Another impact. I steadied myself on deck. “Quick! Run below! Full power to the engines!”

  Mina hurried into the cabin, then popped out. “We don’t have engines!”

  “Do something!” Heronimo said.

  TEETH burst out of the water. They were attached to one huge reptile.

  “Sea wyvern!” I said.

  It was huge—nearly fifty feet—and armored in blue-green scales. It was stockier than its land cousin and its wings were made for swimming. It wasn’t any brighter though, so it started chewing on the boat.

  Heronimo drew his sword and stabbed at its snout, but it was like a pin to a pit bull. Mina ran up with her crossbow but the beast was shaking its head so hard she couldn’t get a shot.

  “We’re taking water!” she said.

  “It’s trying to roll!” Heronimo said. The boat was disintegrating in the wyvern’s jaws. The deck tilted and he slid into its mouth.

  “Heronimooo!” Mina said, but then the human tumbled out. His sword was bloody. “I got its tongue,” he said.

  The ship continued to sink. We were wading now.

  “Grab our stuff,” I told my friends. “Heronimo, Mina. Clear the deck. I’m about to do… something.”

  I remembered that wyverns were only afraid on one thing. It didn’t seem useful, because how often do you have one of those lying around? “Get ready to tread water!” I said.

  “We’re ready,” Mina said. “Do it.”

  “This is going to hurt,” I said, and walked toward the wyvern. My shirt collar tore and the buttons flew free. I kicked off my shoes and my talons dug into the deck. My shirt stretched over my shoulders and I tore it away with my teeth. The boat sank under my weight. There was pain, yes, but I accepted it. It washed over me and gave fuel to my rage.

  I was a dragon again. I’d traded days of my life for Cruix’s power. I stuck my face in the sea wyvern’s snout and roared.

  “GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY FACE!”

  I swear the wyvern turned pale. It paddled backward, swamping Heronimo and Mina. They clung to the wreckage, the weight of their gear dragging them down. I grabbed my floundering friends and vaulted out of the sea. My wings caught the wind and we flew toward dry land.

  * * *

  “Angrod!” Mina said. “Can you not hold onto Heronimo so tightly? I’ve got my armor on, but your claws are digging into him!”

  “You okay, man? I loosen my grip I’ll drop you. There are other things in the water!”

  “S’fine, I’m okay! You didn’t pierce anything vital!”

  “Save me from macho bullshit,” Mina said.

  We flew over the cape. We were gliding over Bone Valley when we saw them.

  Oh no, Cruix said.

  “Gods!” Mina said.

  They didn’t call it Bone Valley because it was a desert. It was, yes, but it was also a dragon graveyard.

  Death was everywhere. It was like looking down from a high place and seeing a city stretched beneath you, except the streets were paved with skulls and the houses were made of ribs. So many bones that the desert couldn’t bury them. They rose from the sand, sharp and white.

  Many of the dragon skeletons were intact. They did not sprawl across the dunes, but curled on their sides, arms and legs drawn up to their bodies. Massive by humanoid standards, they seemed fragile and small and not at all fearsome.

  “My people,” I said. “My people.”

  “Angrod?” Mina said. “We’re losing height!”

  “My people!”

  A mother and her hatchling lay huddled together in death. The larger dragon had draped its wings over the smaller. The little one’s head was tucked into the curve of its mother’s neck.

  “Here we go!” Mina said.

  I didn’t know if I was dragon or elf anymore. I forgot to fly. The desert leaped to meet me—

  * * *

  “Angrod? Angrod?”

  I was walking in the graveyard, the wrecks of ancient dragons all around me. I was an elf again, and naked, and going in circles.

  “Angrod?” Mina said.

  “I see all my people, stretching back to the beginning of dragonkind. I see my mother�
��s mother and her mother’s mother. I see friends and former friends. I see flight mates and nest mates.”

  “Angrod, something’s wrong with Heronimo.”

  I pointed. “Look there—those are my grandmother’s bones. I’d know those horns anywhere. And there, the bones of my sister.”

  “Angrod, he’s badly wounded.”

  “… and that one would be Chad, I always hated him…”

  “He’s not healing!”

  For ages we stumbled in the desert of despair. Tears dripped from my chin.

  “I have counted the skulls and found not one missing,” I said. “These bleached things are all the remains of my people. Oh, my people, would that I had joined you! I am the last, the last.”

  “Heronimo is dying!”

  “I don’t care. I don’t care. What is death next to extinction? What is one individual life weighed against the light of an entire species?”

  “Good question!”

  I stopped. Blinked. It was a very deep voice.

  The capran rode up. His horns were oiled and shiny. His build and his armor said he was a fighting man. His aura of crackling power said he was a mage. He was wizard and warrior both.

  “I am Arawn, king of the caprans!”

  I shook my head. “Why can I never meet normal people, o king?”

  He laughed. “Heroes never just meet people. Not when they’re on a quest.”

  “Do I look like a hero?”

  He leaned forward. “You have the look of someone on a quest. Therefore, you must be a hero. And heroes only meet two kinds of people: Allies or enemies.”

  “Good sir, can you help our friend?” Mina said.

  “We shall see.”

  * * *

  “This is bad,” Arawn said

  Heronimo lay in a makeshift bed, his wounds hastily bandaged. He twisted and moaned, lost in delirium. The stains in his bandages were growing.

  “The sea wyvern’s bite carries one of the strongest venoms in the world. It’s a wonder this man is still alive. He seems to be fighting the poison—but there is no antidote. He shall soon die.”

  Mina wailed and buried her face in my shoulder. I turned to the king. “Can you do something?”

  Arawn nodded. “We can rebuild him. We have the sorcery. All is not lost, young hero.”

  “Name your price,” Mina said. “My father is chieftain of Ironore and he can supply you with this human’s weight in gold.”