by James Duvall
“Okay, we can probably come up with something at least a little more comfortable than that. Now, Sam Paden should've talked to you about jobs. What are your plans?”
Joshua sat on the edge of the bed, mulling the question over anew. Some naive part of him had entertained the idea that the might still attend college when the fall semester started, but Solomon's Watch had been so nervous about even bringing him down from the weather station. To let a dragon out of the shields with an artifact as powerful as a Kyrithspan dagger seemed far beyond what he could expect them to allow.
“I don't know...” he said, wishing it were not so easy and true to say it. The plan had been college for as long as he could remember.
“You've got a few months rent on this place pre-arranged. Given your education and skill set we've arranged a trial job for you at the library teaching evening classes. Earth culture, computers, things like that. You've been on the other side for seven months so we felt you probably had a good grasp of what might be a shock to newer arrivals and we'll probably start getting those again now that the portal is repaired.”
“They'll be fleeing the war...” Joshua said numbly. Syrrus was certain one was coming soon. She'd laid it out before him plain as day.
Amanda frowned and pulled a card from her wallet. “If you need anything though, anything at all, call me. Okay? My number's on my card.”
“Got it. Oh, uh, when do I start at the library?”
“Tomorrow at 6:30 PM. Please show up a few minutes early so Tracy can get you a key and show you around.”
***
When a knock came at Joshua's door he answered it fully expecting to see Brian and Stacy with an armload of boxes. After his apartment had been re-let, Brian had come to claim his possessions and as he'd explained on the phone, they'd been gathering dust in the garage behind his pet project, which now had the name Steel Eyes.
“I'll tell you all about it this afternoon,” Brian had promised over the phone.
But it was not Brian standing in the doorway.
“Mayor Weslin?” Joshua asked, doubting his own eyes. She nodded and let herself in with Tarus close on her heels. He was wearing his illusion of course, and now more than ever Joshua could sense the tell-tale buzz of magic that kept the sadean man looking as human as Joshua had once been.
“Joshua we are glad to see you made it back,” Weslin said.
“Very glad!” Tarus chimed in with considerably more enthusiasm. He rushed past the mayor and embraced Joshua in a tight hug.
“I'm glad to be back, Tarus,” Joshua said, patting his friend on the back.
When Tarus pulled away he looked positively wracked with guilt.
“I am so sorry about what happened,” he said with glistening eyes. “I never thought... None of us... I wanted to go after you. I swear I did.”
“That's true,” Weslin added. “It was, however, inappropriate for two of the town's most capable artificers to disappear into an unknown quantity.”
“Two...?”
“Brian insisted he be allowed to go too. Solomon's Watch felt you had probably been lost to the Cold,” he added glumly.
“Also true,” Weslin said. She seemed to be about at the edge of her patience. “Tarus, if you don't mind? We have urgent business.”
“Joshua's been missing half a year, it can wait another few minutes,” Tarus complained. The buzzing in his illusion hummed a little louder and for a moment a sadean man stood in Joshua's living room. Tarus immediately cut off his complaints and twisted the knobs on the emitter, his full attention on the device clipped to his belt.
“I brought back crystals,” Joshua said, the questioning tone of his voice asking the question 'why haven't they been used?'
Weslin found herself a seat and gestured for Joshua to sit. “You have been gone for several months and it is important that we understand the provenance of the crystals you brought back. There's also the nature of your... nature...”
She trailed off uncomfortably, letting the unspoken question hang: what happened to you, Joshua Woods?
“I very nearly died. Several times,” he amended. “I would show you but without the power shed up and running my amulet doesn't work and I can't talk without it when I'm the dragon.”
“We don't get to see it then?” Tarus asked, disappointed. He'd given up fixing his illusion device and stood in his own natural form in the corner, lurking behind Weslin so that she might not think to bark at him to get it running again.
Joshua shook his head. “If you don't mind I'd rather stay focused on why I went as far as another world and back and nearly died all so that I could bring back a set of crystals that the town council hasn't seen fit to use. Now I don't know all that much about magic but if I can leave human and come back something else entirely I think it's a fair assumption that the people I was with knew more than a little about the craft and wouldn't send me back with a bunch of useless rocks.”
He was nearly shouting by the end, the futility of his effort and the wounds he'd sustained all feeling that much heavier in face of the prospect that no good might come of all that he'd been through. Weslin raised a calming hand and stood from her chair.
“It is only a precaution, Joshua. We still aren't sure what kind of curse has been cast on you. I was hoping that you would see--”
“Curse? What curse?” Joshua interrupted.
“You arrived in the form of a dragon,” Weslin said.
“Which I've still yet to see,” Tarus protested.
Joshua lolled his head back and sighed at the ceiling fan. “It's not a curse. It's me now. They did it to save my life. I was poisoned and this was the only option.”
Weslin frowned and gave him a sorrowful look, her lips pressed close and her brow furrowed with lines of worry. “You have the bluest eyes I have ever seen... They weren't that way when you left.”
Joshua tilted his head, arching a brow at her. What did that mean? “I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at.”
“She thinks you're a werewolf,” Tarus piped in. “Or something like it. Rest assured there's no such thing as a weredragon.”
“Werewolves were created with purpose,” Weslin said. “I must be certain you were not created with malevolent intent. You might not be in control of your actions. The crystals are being examined. As soon as we are certain they are compatible they will of course be installed.”
Joshua realized he was gawking at her incredulously and slowly closed his mouth. “You're not installing them because I have blue eyes?”
“It's a werewolf thing,” Tarus said, then put his hands up defensively when Joshua shot a cold glare at him. “Hey now, I'm on your side, remember? C'mon Ms. Weslin, that's our man standing there. Listen to him, sounds just like his old self. Not werewolfy at all.”
The mayor crossed her arms and fixed a stern eye on Tarus. “And you've met how many werewolves Mr. Darro?”
“Well, none, but I recognize my friend. He's been through the ringer but it's still Joshua.”
“Are we seriously having this conversation because my eyes changed color?” Joshua demanded.
Even Tarus looked away at that. “It's not a small thing, when the eyes change color, Joshua,” he said quietly.
“Take a look at this and tell me if you think there might be some reason I have blue eyes.”
A curtain of flames swirled around him and then he was standing before them, head bowed to avoid bumping the ceiling fan. Immediately the temperature in the room dropped. The windows fogged and rime crawled up from the corners. He blinked his shining blue eyes at them, the glow casting faint pools on his deep cobalt muzzle. There was silence for a few moments, punctuated only by the creak of the floorboards under the dragon's added weight. The heater kicked on, humming somewhere in the attic as it rallied to fight against the cold aura of the night seeker's magic.
Tarus broke the silence first, uttering a single breathless word. “Awesome.”
The sound stirred Mayor W
eslin from her stunned silence. She rose up to full height, and thrust a finger in his face. “Mr. Woods I must insist that you return to your alter at once!”
Realizing that this was probably not helping his case, Joshua did as she instructed and found her all the more intimidating when he'd shed his armor.
“Mr. Woods, I understand that this is a difficult situation for you, but you must observe the rules and regulations set forth by the town council for nonhuman residents. Solomon's Watch explained this to you already, I trust?”
Joshua nodded, feeling sufficiently cowed. Tarus stepped in to his rescue.
“Maybe it would be best,” he said, “if we changed the subject to the origin of the crystals?”
“No.” Mayor Weslin said, shaking her head. She spoke to Tarus but her eyes never strayed from Joshua. “I need to know that he understands the severity of this situation. He is the first dragon we have had. There are elements that do not find it appropriate to have a dragon living here and they will be looking for justifications for their arguments. He is one of us and I will not have him turned out if I can help it. Do you understand, Joshua?”
He nodded again. “Yes, yes I understand.”
“Good, now, the nature of the crystals you brought...?”
“I've been traveling with Syrrus Danso, like I told the Watch. She and I hunted golems for an alchemist in Lockworth and in exchange he provided the crystals I brought back.”
“I know of her!” Tarus piped up. “She's a sadean woman, fought in the War of Ashes. If she provided the crystals you can be sure they're what we need.”
Mayor Weslin continued to ask questions for the better part of an hour before finally seeming satisfied and excusing herself to leave. Tarus stayed behind and found a place to lounge on the couch, his illusion device briefly forgotten. For a while Joshua regaled him with stories of his travels in the kingdom of Arcamyn and his desire to someday visit Fendiss and see Syrrus again. Brian and Stacy Ketch eventually turned up with a few boxes of Joshua's belongings and the stories began anew.
Chapter 18
The Iron Dragon
Ashcrest, Colorado
Memo to all Watchmen
Confidential!
A private meeting is called at the Ashcrest Police Station in briefing room 1 to discuss logistics and hear motions on measures in accordance with Ashcrest Township Charter rules and ordinances regarding accepting applicants of non-human species into Ashcrest. All members of Town Council and Solomon's Watch are expected to attend if possible.
Listen folks, this is a tough one. He's one of ours but his circumstances have changed and it's something that must be discussed. Any public comment on the matter should consider that this is a longstanding member of our community that has suffered injuries for the sake of sustaining this town.
By his second week back Joshua had already begun to slip back into the daily routine of modern life. In the mornings he would get up before sunrise and walk with Brian to Chip's Corner Cafe for breakfast and then off to Brian's jewelry and watch repair shop. Midday they would meet again for lunch with Stacy and often Tarus. At 2 PM Joshua would report to the library for tutoring duties and then his class would convene at 6. For dinner he was usually on his own but sometimes Tarus or Amanda would meet him after class.
Tonight he locked up the library and hefted a backpack stuffed with books across his shoulders. He had visited the library before his transformation but had never been privy to the books in the private collection. Tracy, his supervisor, had shown him to the room and advised him that they were not to be checked out to anyone that didn't have approval from Solomon's Watch or the Town Council. She hadn't said anything about his own use of the books but finding real Ryvarran books on dragons had been too much of an opportunity to not take the risk of disappearing them for a night or two.
With an hour or so of the evening left Joshua sat down at his kitchen counter and started sorting through a stack of books from another world. His plain day heist had netted him three books on dragons. A few more generic tomes on magical creatures had also made the cut. All of them were leather-bound and looked decades old at least.
Joshua took the top one from the pile and flipped it open. The text was hand-written in black ink that had dripped on the pages here and there. The first page bore an illustration of a man driving a spear into a dragon's back, just behind the base of the wing. The downed seeker's face bore a remarkable resemblance to the one that met Joshua in the mirror each morning. His stomach churned at the sight.
Chapter after chapter described in gruesome, exhaustive detail the most effective methods of slaying dragons. How they should be hunted, how to trap them, and how to dispatch them with efficiency once they'd been brought down. All of it was resonating rather close to home.
The second book was more of the same, but dominated by anecdotes of a particularly proficient slayer's past victories. A quick inspection of the covers revealed that both books were written by the slayer whose life was chronicled within.
Reluctantly Joshua opened the final dragon book. It had a faded brown cover with a roaring dragon's head embossed in gold in the center. The title page was written in tall, sweeping letters: On the History and Magic of Dragons by Arthur Greelam, Third Order Mage of the Emberfall Order.
Heavy pounding at the door shook Joshua to consciousness. He lifted his groggy head and peered over his muzzle at the alarm clock. A few minutes past 1 AM. Arthur Greelam's book lay open beside his sleeping mat and he remembered his eyes feeling heavy as he trudged through a particularly detailed history of the bloodlines of Ryvarra's various dragons. Someone pounded the door again. Hardly a social call at this hour. The Watch?
Solomon's Watch would have called...
The pounding renewed again. It wasn't like knocking. Too even. Hammering? Yes, that's exactly what it was. Someone was hammering something into his door in the middle of the night.
Joshua crept toward the door on all fours, claws clicking against the floorboards as the unwanted visitor hammered away. If they came through... but they didn't. When the noise stopped he put his ear to the door. There were hushed whispers on the other side, breaking off into footsteps moving away in a hurry.
Returning to human form Joshua was startled by how cold the apartment had become. The knob had become frosted over; the stinging chill bit at his human fingers as he eased the door open. Cool air rushed out through the gap into the warm corridor. He half-expected to find someone standing there waiting for him, but he found himself alone. Everything was just as it was when he'd come home. There were no footsteps, no whispers, just the quiet cacophony of chirping crickets and buzzing locusts mixed with the still unfamiliar buzz of old electric lights.
Turning around brought him face to face with a snarling iron dragon. It hung from a nail in the door like a gruesome Christmas wreath, staring back at him with fearsome scarlet eyes. The strange manner of its appearance left Joshua uneasy, entertaining dark thoughts of what sinister intent his late night visitors might have had in leaving it there.
“That's definitely Calderrian,” Brian said when he saw it the following morning. “What's your plan? Just going to leave it hanging out there?”
“Well...?”
“Well what?”
“What is it?” Joshua asked.
Brian grinned. “Well it's a warning. Not for you though.”
“How could it not be for me?” Joshua asked. “It's nailed to my front door.”
“It means 'Here There Be Dragons.'” Brian explained. He rapped his knuckled on it twice. “Not a very good likeness if you ask me. Still I suppose for most people the kind and color of the dragon next door doesn't matter so much as the whole 'dragon next door' part.”
Chapter 19
A House of Mercy
Camden, Arcamyn
Over the host of heaven He placed his Keepers, and over the Keepers he placed Light and Death side by side, and He called them Sacrys, who is holy, and Dakrym, who is noble.
/> The Book of Storms, The Words of Light
Thieves prowled the streets of Camden in a nightly ritual as old as the city itself. Anthony Graham's men would catch a half dozen of them by morning, but none of them would be Gorren Brumm. In the dark, with his hair cut short and a skin tone much warmer than most of his kind, only a discerning eye could pick out that the sturdy thief was in fact, a ralian. The thief slipped in and out of the shadows with the sort of deftness only a lifetime devoted to the craft could afford. He set to work on a simple three tumbler lock set into the door of tonight's target. With a quiet click the lock gave up its bolt so easily, allowing the burglar to enter with little protest.
Inside the mercantile, Brumm set to work at a leisurely pace. He had little fear of interruption; Brumm was a thorough man and well prepared. The shopkeeper was in a pub down the road, nursing a thickly enriched pint of beer imported all the way from Calderr. Brumm knew this because he had provided the beer himself, and such a fine dark draft was unlikely to be left behind unfinished. While the merchant drowned his sorrows in Brumm's beer, Brumm provided tomorrow's sorrows. An even trade.
Brumm did not carry a torch, the light was a risk he couldn't afford to take. In his mind's eye he could see the layout in vivid detail. Next to the door was a barrel, filled to the brim with coffee beans. The pleasing aroma coaxed him to pause and scoop a handful of them into his pocket. Beyond was a shelf, nothing of interest for the veteran thief there. He felt his way along it to the far edge of the storefront. It was there that his real prize lay waiting. Small kegs, no bigger than a man's head, all stacked in the corner. The heavy scent of aged ralian tobacco teased his senses, reminding him of home with a bittersweet wave of nostalgia. He tucked one under each arm and made his way back to the door. He cracked it open just enough to peer out and ensure he did not proudly march out the street and surprise a patrol. No one. Quickly he slipped out, closing the door behind him.