“You are younger than we anticipated,” the princess said. “The record indicated thirty years experience.”
I laughed. “Your record is out of date. You are thinking of my father, who went by the same name. But he died last year under suspicious circumstances, and I took over.”
“You have only one year experience?” Dubi asked, alarmed.
“Well, I did help Dad on occasion, learning the ropes from him. But yes, if you hired me for my thirty years in the trade, you’d better take your gold back, because I’m hardly the man Dad was.”
Dubi made a face as if he was about ready to do that, but the princess cut in. “You lost your father!”
“As you lost yours,” I agreed. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, clouding up.
I hated that. “I’m sorry. I guess I was insensitive.”
“No, it’s that you understand.”
“Oh, yes,” I agreed, echoing her. Just like that, we had a bond.
“I don’t have much experience governing, either,” she said. “I was a protected child, especially after my mother was poisoned.”
The Realm evidently practiced hard-fisted politics. Now she had been rudely thrust into the cruel world of command. “My mother too. Breast cancer. I had to grow up in a hurry.”
Dubi made another face, but didn’t talk. I knew why: he had thought to hire a seasoned professional, and instead blundered into a novice with personal pains like those of the princess. He couldn’t reverse course because he saw that the princess liked me, or at least liked my appreciation of her position. He was screwed.
The princess caught my eye. Tearfully, she smiled again. I returned the smile, my own vision blurring. What a pair we were!
“The access is in Griffin Park,” Dubi said gruffly
“That’s Griffith Park,” I corrected him. “One of a number that enhance our fair city. It is known for its famous observatory and zoo.”
He merely smiled obscurely. Then we came to the park, and I swear the sign said GRIFFIN PARK. It looked different, too. I was becoming more impressed with his magic.
We rode into the center. There was a kind of wavering in the air and ground, and I felt slightly ill, as I had before. Now I recognized it as a side effect of magic. As with sailing on a heaving ship, a landlubber gets motion sick at first. I was not accustomed to a magic environment.
The princess reached across and touched my arm. “The transition can feel awkward,” she said. “I felt it when entering your Lost Angels realm. It will pass.”
My queasiness fled at her touch. I don’t know if that was medical, magical, or simply my thrill of contact with such a creature. “Thanks,” I said. “It’s passing already.”
“Now you will meet my pet dragon,” she said as we emerged to a phenomenal change of scenery. We were no longer in the city, but in an alien forest.
“Pet dragon?” I asked dumbly.
“Father gave her to me after my dear nanny died, to help protect me. She’s warm.”
Happiness was a warm dragon, I thought. “Okay.” It seemed ironic that the dragon had not been on hand to protect the king from assassination. But there was surely more to this situation than met the (private) eye. Dragons, I was sure, were not the cuddly pets normally given to children.
And there it was, blocking the path ahead. Think of a twelve foot long (snout to tail) alligator with wings, fiery breath, and attitude.
The horses halted, unbidden. They clearly were not afraid of the dragon, probably because it was a member of the party, but they respected it.
“You must meet her yourself, alone, the first time,” the princess said. “So that she knows you, as she knows Dubi and the horses. Do not be concerned; she knows you are joining the party.”
Like a guard dog sniffing the hand of a new person, I thought, zeroing him in as someone to be tolerated. I could handle that.
I dismounted and walked to meet the dragon. Her copious lip curled in an expression of contempt as she saw me. Oh, yeah? I thought, my own lip curling. As I mentioned, I don’t take guff from animals.
I stood before her. Her eyes were on the sides of her head, but able to focus forward. Our gazes met.
The dragon faded, to be replaced by a six foot tall warrior woman, a virtual Amazon wearing scale armor. “Hurt my mistress and I will hurt you,” she said.
Now this was really interesting! The animal was telepathic, and could project an illusion image that could talk. That was a nice device for communication. However, as a friendly introduction it lacked somewhat.
I’m normally a reasonably easygoing guy, not looking for trouble. But I get riled when threatened. So I reacted a bit sharply. I kept my mouth shut and responded mentally, so that only the dragon could hear me. “Do you know what a gun is, bitch?”
“No. Is it like the elastic candy my mistress chews?”
Chewy candy? Then I got it: she heard gun as gum. “No. It’s a weapon. Trust me, hothead, you don’t want to encounter it.”
She was unfazed. “Can it strike beyond flame range?”
I made a quick calculation of the likely range of a jet of flame: maybe her body length. “Oh, yes.”
She considered. She had to know from our mental contact that I was not bluffing and not afraid. I had a weapon to match hers, and knew how to use it. That had to be respected. I remembered another saying, that an armed society was a polite society. This interchange would pass for politeness. “We’ll get along,” she decided.
“Not so fast, tailpipe. We’re both on the same side. We have two ways to do this. We can tolerate each other, staying clear when possible. Or we can work together for the benefit of the princess, who is not my mistress.”
She caught the mental nuance. She laughed, with smoke coming out of her mouth, nose, and ears. That was nice imagery. “Not yet.”
Along about that point I began to like her. “We’ll get along,” I agreed. “What’s your name?”
“I am called Fiera, to my friends.”
“And I am Roan, to my friends.”
“I greet you, Roan.”
“I greet you, Fiera.”
Then the Amazon dissipated and the flying alligator was back. But we had our understanding, and the mental rapport was maintained. I could now talk to Fiera anytime, mentally. That was likely to be useful when things got tough, as they were likely to when dealing with the assassin. I turned about and returned to my mount, while the dragon spread her huge wings and took off into the sky.
“Now she knows you,” the princess said as the march resumed. “She won’t scorch you.”
“We came to an understanding,” I agreed. “We respect each other, and I like her.”
“You talked to her!” she said, surprised.
“To Fiera,” I agreed. “I thought that was the point of our meeting.”
She lowered her voice confidentially. “Please, only Dubi and I know. Don’t tell.”
That the dragon was intelligent and telepathic? I gathered that not all dragons were that way. Fiera was special, and probably ten times as effective as a guardian because of it. “My lips are sealed,” I agreed.
Now it was time to get down to business. “I gather you are on the trail of the assassin—the man who assassinated your father the king,” I said. “I am trained to search out clues, but this magic realm is not my usual bailiwick. Can you give me some more information?”
“I will do that, in due course,” Dubi said. “We can spare the princess the ugly details.”
“That’s fine,” I agreed. At the moment I didn’t see how my gumshoe expertise could help trace a criminal who used magic. But I really wanted to help the princess if I could.
Chapter Three
We rode on.
The Realm was everything I had ever dreamed of as a boy and, admittedly, as an adult, too. Far blue mountains, mist-shrouded forests, trails that could lead, quite possibly, to anywhere. All enjoyed while riding high on a horse, and with a beautiful
companion.
Granted, that beautiful companion had a few companions of her own: three warriors and a wizard. Yes, not exactly how I dreamed it, but who was complaining?
I was far away from the drudgery of my simple life, of dealing with my often-angry ex-wife, and of following yet another cheating spouse.
I hated following cheating spouses.
Fiera scouted above us, often flying many hundreds of feet ahead, and then circling back. On one such occasion, I tested the limits of my new-found telepathy with the creature.
Can you hear me, Fiera? Now that she was no longer generating the Amazon image, it was straight thought, not a seeming voice.
Of course, Roan.
How far must you be before you cannot hear me?
Fifty clacks.
What’s fifty clacks?
I heard a deep chuckling inside my head, an odd experience at best. Very far, Roan.
Once or twice the princess looked back at me, only to smile shyly and then look forward again. I smiled, too, but often too late. Her glances were only fleeting at best. The princess was an expert rider, and her hips, I noted, moved well with the motion of the horse.
My divorce had been nasty—and scarring. I hadn’t dated or wanted to date since that travesty. Instead, I had thrown myself into building a budding agency, following in my father’s footsteps, applying everything he’d learned.
Unfortunately, my father was from the old guard. His business had been built on good work, good relationships and good people. He hadn’t had to deal with the proliferation of internet web sites that did a lot of my work for me. He never had to advertise on Google or Facebook. He never had to figure out what a Twitter was. All of which seemed necessary to make it in today’s world.
Not this world, I thought.
Excuse me, Roan? asked the flying dragon, glancing over its scaly shoulder. It was, perhaps, a few hundred feet before us. Or maybe a clack or two, whatever the hell those were.
Er, sorry, I thought. That was intended for me.
Then you need to learn how to shield your thoughts, human. I am not the only entity who can read thoughts. Indeed, there are many who can, and some who are not as nice as me.
Shielding thoughts is possible?
Of course.
And she proceeded to tell me how, a process that involved creating a sort of mental wall around myself, a wall that was created by intention.
Intention?
Indeed, Roan. Intention is always the first step to reality.
Perhaps in this world, I thought. In my world, the first step to making anything a reality is hard work.
I prefer our world, my new friend. Yours sounds like too much work.
Nothing wrong with too much work.
Perhaps not, Roan. Then again, you might think a little differently after some time in our own.
I tested shielding my thoughts, and it seemed to work. I called out once or twice to the flying dragon and was subsequently ignored. Unless, of course, the flying beast had tricked me into thinking my thoughts had been shielded.
All of which, of course, was giving me a big headache.
We continued on as a light rain began to fall. There wasn’t much in the way of animals along the wide trail. Once or twice I saw something large and hairy dart through the forest, but the horses didn’t seem alarmed, and so I wasn’t either. I kept my weapon concealed under my jacket. I didn’t know much about magical realms, but I figured if Dubi’s magic worked in our world, then my gun should work here.
The rain increased. The princess, whose name I had not yet been given, pulled up her hood. I noted the massive ring on her right hand. Did such a ring imply marriage? Or that she was of royalty? Or, perhaps, had a penchant for nice things?
Fiera, I thought, lowering my mental wall. Can I ask you a question about the princess?
The dragon was now only a mere dot in the sky. Certainly many clacks from me now.
You can ask me any question you like, human. Whether I answer is something else.
Fair enough. Is the princess married?
You mean, does she have a life mate?
Yes. A life mate.
There was a slight pause before the dragon’s voice filled my thoughts: There is one who seeks her hand in such a union.
Ah, I thought, more disappointed than I thought I would be. So she is taken?
I did not say taken, human. She is being pursued. The union could prove beneficial to the realm.
Then why not get married? I asked.
From what I understand about my mistress, although I do not pry very deeply into her personal life, is that she does not love her pursuer.
Love is important to her? I asked.
Very much, Roan. And I can sense your excitement. My advice is to let it go. The princess can only enter into a union with royalty. It is written.
I see, I thought, and once again shielded my thoughts.
We were now on a dark forest trail, with interlocking branches forming a sort of tunnel around us. True, we were shielded from the rain, but not the bigger drops of water. The warriors seemed to be tense in here. In fact, I even saw one of them unconsciously reach for his weapon.
Dubi pulled on his reins and slipped back to me, riding by my side.
“The road to the kingdom is fraught with challenges, Detective Roan.”
“You can just call me Roan.”
“So be it.”
“What kind of challenges?” I asked.
“Of the human kind, bandits.”
I didn’t like where this was going. “And of the inhuman kind?”
“Orcs.”
“What, exactly, is an orc?”
“Blood-thirsty beasts. Humanoid but not human. They thrive on death and destruction. Not very pleasant creatures.”
I shifted my gun handle a little, for easier access. The orcs didn’t sound pleasant at all. I sat a little straighter in my saddle, and scanned the surroundings.
“Don’t fear, Roan,” said Dubi. “The horses will alert us first to the orcs. It’s the bandits we have to fear most.”
I nodded and decided that the kingdom was suddenly decidedly less enchanting than I had first thought. You take the good with the bad, I supposed.
“Why do you need my help, Dubi? I’m not even of your world.”
“It was seen that you would help us, Roan.”
“Seen by who?”
He glanced at me. “By me.”
“Except you actually saw my father, and ended up with me.”
“Perhaps.”
“Trust me, I’m not even half as good as my father...” I trailed off. It was still hard talking about my father.
“Perhaps we are not looking for a good man,” said Roan.
“I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps we are looking for the right man.”
I frowned, puzzling through his words, realizing that I might very well be in way over my head—and wondering just how I might get back home. I hadn’t thought about that. I had been so eager to get away, that I never stopped to think how I might get back.
I was just about to ask that very question, when something that looked remarkably like an arrow shaft suddenly appeared in the back of the guard directly in front of the princess.
“Bandits!” someone shouted.
Chapter Four
The wounded guard fell off his horse, obviously dead. The two remaining guards whirled on their steeds, drawing their swords and they lifted their small shields. Dubi’s horse lurched closer to mine. “Stay close,” he snapped. “I have a shield.”
Indeed, more arrows were already flying, and veering off as they were about to strike us. It was as though there were an invisible metal cone around us that deflected the shafts. Unfortunately the bandits were also invisible, effectively hidden in the foliage. How many arrows could the shield stop? We were sitting ducks.
“The princess!” I said. For she was sitting on her horse, a little apart, making no effort to hide
or escape.
“She has her own shield,” Dubi said. “Anyway, they won’t try to kill her.”
“Why not?” I asked as my eyes scanned the network of foliage around us, trying to spot the attacking bandits.
“She’s worth more in ransom than all the rest of us together. They mean to kill us and take her.”
Now I had the picture. “I need to get out of your shield.”
“You may be ignorant, but you’re not crazy. Stay put.”
“If the shield stops arrows, it may also stop bullets. I can’t shoot through it.”
“If a bullet is like an arrow, that is true. However you are safe here. Let the guards handle it. They are competent.”
“One’s already dead. I have to help.”
“Do not risk yourself unnecessarily.”
But I was already dismounting and forging forward, escaping the shield as I drew my gun. Fiera!
I can’t get there in time. The branches balk me from reaching you, and I could not fly in that restricted place anyway. It is a cunning ambush.
Yes, the bandits had chosen well, to nullify the princess’ primary defense. They must have shielded their thoughts so the dragon was not alerted to their presence as we approached. But my siege mentality was already operating. Strafe the foliage from above. Set it on fire.
She was dubious. This will not halt the attack.
Don’t debate it! I snapped. Do it!
I felt her circling, orienting. Then I saw fire in the treetops, blasting down between the branches, scorching the leaves, setting the twigs afire. The tunnel of our path was becoming a tube of flames. Good. Now land ahead and come back here afoot.
She did not argue, perceiving what was in my mind. Meanwhile the fire spread.
“Yow!” a man cried as he got burned.
That identified his location. I shot him. He groaned and dropped to the ground, not knowing what else had hit him.
“Hey!” I fired at that sound too, and he groaned and fell. How many are there? I asked Fiera.
Six.
So there were four to go. I saw a figure move, avoiding the flame, and shot him too. Three down.
Dragon Assassin Page 2