by James Duvall
“Damn it Draggus, it's chest is ripped wide open. What good is a dead dragon?”
In answer, the warlock pulled the ever-burning onyx orb from beneath his robe. Despite the cold, Tamlin could feel little beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. He prayed the warlock wouldn't notice.
“That, again?” Tamlin asked with a dry mouth.
Draggus held it up to the dragon's icy prison. Against the glow of the firewalker's charm, the ice took on a reddish hue, stained by blood and now firelight. “Venarthiss is like a fine oil lamp whose light has been snuffed out. By the firewalker's charm I will kindle a new fire in him.”
“Are you going to use him for your spell?”
“I am not,” Draggus answered. “Though I am in need of another dragon since you let the last one slip away.”
Tamlin scowled. “The golems-”
“-yes yes, I know, you said already.” Draggus dismissed him with a wave. Tamlin could sense the warlock's anger beneath his placid exterior.
“They froze up completely! Have you ever tried persuading stone to carry a monster along behind you when it has set its mind to standing there?”
“I have, in fact. When I sent them with you,” said a smirking Draggus. “You are much too concerned with your minor failures, Charles. It's an interesting development, nothing more. There are many more dragons that will suit my spell. But not this one, he is more useful alive, leading his people.”
“Even if he kills Brammodar out of revenge, Talya is still their rightful heir,” Tamlin pointed out. It was hard not to grit his teeth when he spoke. “And I do not see how Brammodar's death will help our cause. He is loyal enough for his kind. This Venarthiss is an unknown element.”
“That will not be a concern for much longer,” Draggus said. “Talya will soon pass into obscurity or perish. The dragons will live up to their nature. Beasts, like men, follow strength above all things. Venarthiss will ignite their passions. He will restore strength to a kingdom so long bereft of glory.”
Chapter 11
The White Dragon
Nobri, Arcamyn
The greatest song of all is one that is never sung. It is the tale of the last act of a valiant soul, dying in victory. Only one being in all creation can hear it, and he exults in its majesty and grandeur. For he is the great witness of the ages; he is death, and he is monstrous, and he is beautiful.'
~The Song of the Witness, The Second Book of Penathor, The Word of Light
In the upstairs study, Rickthicket stood over an open book . He loomed above it like a conductor before an orchestra, turning the pages with a flick of his matchstick wand. Now and then he would stop to read, then grumble and turn the pages again.
Somehow, homework was always boring, whether it be math problems or waiting for a rodent from another world to tell you what kind of magical crystals you needed.
Grimlohr had found a quiet corner to retire to with a cup of tea and a book wholly unrelated to Joshua's problem.
“Is there anything I can do to help...?” Joshua asked eventually.
“Yes,” Rickthicket answered, distracted.
Joshua sat up. “What?”
“You were doing it.”
“I was just sitting here wai--”
Rickthicket fixed a glare on him.
“Oh,” he said, deflating. The mouse went back to work.
Deciding that it might be best to give the mouse space, Joshua got up and idly paced through the study. He selected a book from the shelves, at random as he couldn't read the cover, then flipped it open and found that this too was written in Arcamynian Script. There were diagrams on some of the pages, hand drawn with little faults here and there. In fact, the entire book seemed to have been transcribed by hand. He closed it carefully and slid it back into its place.
“Hennardil's Theory of Levitation is a little dry for someone your age,” Grimlohr suggested. When Joshua looked over at him the dragon's nose was still buried in his own book.
“Is that what it was about?”
“Of course.” Grimlohr sipped his tea and at last made eye contact with him. “Ah, not fluent in the written word?”
“In English,” Joshua said, feeling defensive.
“English, yes. Don't hear much of that around here.”
“No, mostly Arcamynian.”
“You speak that surprisingly well for someone from Earth,” Grimlohr commented. “No doubt they're teaching it to you in the Ashcrest Colony.”
“They are. Do people here...” Joshua trailed off, mulling his question over. Grimlohr looked at him expectantly.
“A word of advice,” Grimlohr broke in, his tone genial. “Always know what you wish to say before you say it. In doing so an average man can appear far more clever.”
“Because people don't know how long it took him to think it up?”
“No, because it causes him to consider his words and in doing so, refine them.”
“I will remember that.”
Grimlohr closed the book in his lap and motioned for Joshua to take a seat across from him.
“Tell me, how is the colony?”
“What would you like to know?” Joshua asked, feeling his guard rising. He did not know how much he should tell this man. The dragon felt... dangerous.
“How is Mistress Weslin?”
“She is well. She's mayor still. Has been as long as I can remember anyway. She had to suspend Casual Fridays a few weeks ago. That's been hard.”
A frown creased Grimlohr's forehead. “Casual Fridays?”
“Oh, it was a day when people like yourself didn't have to go around using illusions and whatever it is you dragons call it when you look human.”
“Alters,” Grimlohr supplied.
“Alters, yes. Every Friday evening we'd lock down the perimeter and people could came to the festivals and such in native forms.”
“Rather a difficult accommodation, though much appreciated I am sure.”
“Well they sure didn't appreciate it when she took it away. We had a breach, that's what started all of this. A couple guys showed up with uhm...”
Looking into Grimlohr's curious gaze, Joshua could tell that concepts like phone books and old service vans were going to be a difficult concept to sell.
“Ehm.. a delivery was made, from outside, when the barriers were in place.”
Grimlohr nodded slowly, though Joshua was fairly certain the story had already been relayed to him. What was the purpose of these questions? How did he know Mayor Weslin?
“Have you been to Ashcrest?”
Grimlohr shook his head. “Earth is not a place for dragons. We require a certain degree of magic to feed our Alters. Solomon's Watch closed the portal to us as soon as they became aware of this limitation in our abilities.”
“You seem awfully interested in it though,” Joshua pointed out.
“The colonies are a fascinating concept. No doubt to you they do not seem as novel, as you have spent much of your life in one, but to us you are the first envoys to another world.”
Rickthicket cursed, drawing Grimlohr's attention away.
“They grow in the Cold.”
“How cold?”
“I am afraid that is not quite the problem, Joshua.”
Grimlohr rose and strode over to the table, studying Rickthicket's finding. Joshua followed after, but the script was just as indecipherable to him as the book on levitation had been.
“There is a caravan out of Sylmar...” Grimlohr said, stroking his chin. “They will likely be willing to find what we need if they do not already have it. Perhaps more difficult will be finding a timely route into the Cold to meet them. Camden is closest, but King Isaac is unlikely to open it for our benefit and we would waste time doing so.”
Rickthicket hopped down from the edge of the book and scurried around to stand in front of Grimlohr. “The next is all the way in Sundor Tower, that's halfway from here to nowhere you know. You think they'll let you use it?”
“Me?
No, I daresay not, but they would do it for Syrrus Danso.”
“Who is Syrrus Danso?” Joshua asked, finally butting in. It was his mission they were talking about after all.
Grimlohr looked down at him, blinking as though he were surprised the young man had spoken up. “An associate of mine that made a name for herself in the War of Ashes. She is Fendian and they will likely open the nexus to the Cold for her sake.”
“That sounds like another portal.”
“It is.”
Joshua groaned. He'd had about enough of those already. Suddenly he felt much more appreciative of the quiet train ride through the countryside that had brought him this far.
“If that's the only way...”
“It is not the only way,” Grimlohr said, “but it is the most likely to succeed given the nature of your presence here. I had anticipated returning you to Earth as early as possible. I will send a letter to the mages in Camden as well, perhaps they have crystals they can part with.”
Rickthicket snorted. “If you can pry something like that out of Isaac's hands you're more resourceful than I thought.”
The letters were sent that afternoon, three copies to different places in hopes of finding Syrrus. Only one was sent to Camden, as it was not far and could be reached via the train.
“We will hear back in a few days,” Grimlohr promised.
Time passed quickly in Storm Hollow, with Marreth's servants busy preparing for his long journey, ostensibly to visit old friends in Fendiss, but Joshua had overhead enough to understand that this was a lie being provided to the staff in the event that they were questioned by King Isaac's investigators. Joshua knew enough to not ask further questions about this, lest he find himself falling from Grimlohr's favor.
Most mornings Joshua could find Rickthicket in the upstairs study, poring over old and dusty tomes in his cape and floppy red hat. Once Joshua thought to ask about it and the little rodent's shoulders had immediately tightened up.
“So I can be taken seriously as a mage,” he answered through his teeth. Joshua did not ask about it further.
Occasionally he would answer questions, explaining the day's studies in such minute detail that even Brian Ketch probably could not have followed along. A few lucky mornings the topic was simple enough or the mouse's mood was good enough that he would explain things more simply, drawing out little illustrations with sparks that he could suspend in the air like tiny floating stars.
On this particular morning Rickthicket was at his regular 'seat' reading and gave Joshua a quiet look when he entered, motioning toward a seat in the back corner where Grimlohr sat with a newspaper and a cup of steaming coffee. He looked up at Joshua and beckoned him closer.
“As expected, Camden is unable to provide replacement crystals. Strange given their interests in Ashcrest, but perhaps not so strange given King Isaac's erratic behavior of late.”
“Erratic behavior...?”
Grimlohr waved the question away. “Nothing you should worry yourself over.
Rickthicket grumbled and flipped the page with his wand. “By erratic behavior he means 'out of his mind and inviting the nation's oldest enemies to dine with him' like they're not at war with half the civilized world.”
“You will burn this place to the ground one day,” Grimlohr suggested, bemused.
Rickthicket looked up at his matchstick wand, bringing the colorful tip close to his nose to inspect for damage.
“No, with that temper of yours,” Grimlohr corrected. This further incensed him and the mouse snapped the book shut and stormed off.
“Dragons!” He growled, a brief glimmer of magic slamming the door behind him.
“Yes that is an excellent example of the problem,” Grimlohr commented, raising his voice to ensure that Rickthicket heard him through the door.
“Syrrus's reply arrived this morning and she has agreed to escort you to Sundor Tower or Andrlossen if need be to secure the focusing crystals. She will be here to collect you by the end of the week. I, unfortunately, am needed elsewhere.”
“Thank you for all of this.”
“You are welcome, of course,” Grimlohr said, giving him a genuine smile. Joshua could see why dragons might prefer a human alter for things like this. Cabor's toothy grin flashed through his mind and made something primordial inside of him shudder.
“I also have this for you.” Grimlohr heaved a bag up onto the table between them. “It is packed with food for your trip to Sundor Tower.”
“And the Kyrithspan Dagger?”
“Packed in the bag, as well as a personal package I would see delivered to Sundor Tower. Syrrus will know who it should be given to. Now, about the dagger, please remember...”
“Not to let people see it. I know.”
“What will you do with it when you return to Ashcrest?”
“Give it to Mayor Weslin. I don't think Solomon's Watch would be happy about me having something like that sitting on my nightstand.”
Grimlohr nodded in approval then reached across to shake his hand.
“Thank you again for your service to us, Joshua.”
“You sound like you're leaving...”
“I am. Marreth as well, early tomorrow morning.”
“But you said it wouldn't be for another... Oh.”
Grimlohr smiled, a sparkle in his eye. “Travel with care, Joshua.”
The following morning Joshua awoke with full intention of seeing his hosts off, feeling it was only polite given their hospitality. Out in front of the manor a carriage had arrived, a rental from the town.
“You will have to wait,” Sil'krath explained calmly. He was speaking with the driver.
“Master Marreth suffered an unfortunate injury recently and is taking some extra time to prepare himself for travel. It will likely be another hour or so.”
“Of course,” the driver said. He stepped back up into the driver's seat, pulling himself up by the handle and reclined on the bench.
“Please see to his welfare, should he have troubles on the road,” Sil'krath said, his hands clasped tight in worry. “The estate will of course cover any additional costs.”
“I pride myself on it,” the driver answered, tipping his hat to the majordomo.
Since neither Grimlohr nor Marreth was present yet, Joshua went upstairs to see if Rickthicket could be found at his usual station in the study. Instead, the door opened to a man with a short cut beard. The man straightened up quickly, his hands still deep in Joshua's bag.
“Hey! That's mine!”
The bag fell to the table with a thump. The man's hand seemed to barely brush against his hip and somehow came up with a long knife. Joshua felt his heart skip a beat and for a moment the world in front of him fuzzed as though he'd been presented with an impossibility and his sight was trying to reset to correct the dagger out of the picture.
“Stay where you are, dragon,” the man said. He had dark brown eyes and a short beard. “If I see one flicker of flame I'll have this knife in your heart faster than you can find your way out of your Alter. I know it's in here. It's not worth dyin' for right?”
“You can't have it,” Joshua answered, the words didn't come out nearly as forceful as he'd wanted. He struggled to regulate his breathing.
“Yeah, I know,” the thief said, chuckling to himself as he picked the bag back up. He threw it over his shoulder. “That's why I'm taking it? It's what you do when you're thievin' from proper people. Now, stand aside.”
“You can't have it,” Joshua repeated, this time with a little more conviction. The thief started started toward him, turning the dagger in his hand. Joshua froze in place, wide-eyed and terrified. The dagger was coming right at him. Fire curled through the air, catching the thief in the side and slamming him screaming into the wall. He thrashed wildly, clawing at his face and rolling around trying to put out the flames.
“Run!” Rickthicket barked. He had appeared on the table, and was readying another deadly fireball.
The thief su
ddenly sprang to his feet and flung something wet and sticky into Joshua's chest. The smell was terrible. He stumbled back, coughing and then gagging, his eyes watering as he slumped against the corner, jamming the door shut. The thief shoved him aside, yanking at the door, trailing smoke and embers and the acrid stench of burnt hair and skin.
Life became a blurry collection of disjointed images. The study, the study ceiling. Rickthicket standing over him. Rickthicket gone. Rickthicket back again. Joshua wasn't sure if he'd blinked slowly or if the mouse had teleported.
“It burns,” Joshua tried to say, but he couldn't move his mouth right. All he heard was a groan. The adrenaline began to fade and with it came more pain, radiating through his chest, constricting around his lungs.
“...your fault!” Rickthicket was shouting, jabbing an accusatory finger at Grimlohr.
The dragon said something back in a much calmer tone, but the words didn't seem to pierce the hazy veil that had fallen upon him.
“Frostnettle! Obviously for you! It'll kill him!” Rickthicket shouted.
Grimlohr knelt beside him, a pained look across his usually well-composed face. “I am sorry, Joshua Woods, for what I must do,” he said. Then he turned his head to the heavens, eyes closing as he whispered a quiet prayer.
“Keep us and guide us.”
Just beyond Grimlohr, Joshua could see another figure, standing where a wall should have been. The world seemed smaller now, edged in a dark black haze. The great white dragon was there within it, watching with a reassuring smile. His eyes were full of joy and hope, burning from within like orbs of glass filled with bright sapphire stars. Before those eyes Joshua felt as though he had been lost, and at last was found.
Courage, Joshua Woods.
Chapter 12
The Wrath of Centuries
Hal'Durrath, Arcamyn
You are hereby invited to attend a feast of celebration as a guest of his high majesty, King Brammodar of Hal'Durrath, Lord of the Dragonlands, Flame of Garingoth, and Master of the Northern Realm. His majesty celebrates the safe return of his beloved daughter, Talya, may her flame burn eternal that she always countenance us with her radiance.