Dragon with a Deadly Weapon

by Michael Angel

  That was the opening I’d been looking for, so I took it.

  “The future,” I said firmly. “It…well, the future concerns me.”

  “As it concerns everyone who has a dream. Or a loved one. Or a foal. It’s hardly a unique problem.”

  “Be as it may,” I insisted, “when my friends and I first confronted you in the Deliberati’s inner sanctum, I heard certain…well, phrases. They sounded like prophecy. I want to know more about them.”

  “They were not meant as a personal slight, if that’s what you mean,” the stallion demurred, with a toss of his horn. “Rather, we unicorns get flashes of insight into what happens to those we choose to notice. You and your friends have caused quite a fuss in this world, so it’s no surprise we ‘saw’ things about you.”

  “Those are what concern me, Master Windkey. Things about ‘changing friends for the worse’, being ‘dead but alive’, ‘spotted flanks’, and ‘failing at the end’.”

  “You have soothsayers in Fitzwilliam’s kingdom. Surely you are aware of that.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t–”

  “And if you are aware of the soothsayers, you should know that ‘fate’ has a multitude of meanings. It cannot be changed, because it is formless. It has no fixed point. Therefore, why seek to know the grains of sand that shift beneath one’s hooves?”

  I pushed on, regardless. “I don’t care. I must know what this means for each of us, Master Windkey. I demand to know!”

  The unicorn gave me a cool look. It was more than matched by the chill tone in his voice.

  “You demand? Is your demand supposed to elevate the urgency of your request?” Another clop, and the point of Windkey’s horn jutted towards me, hinting at mayhem. “Know this, Dame Chrissie. Wizards are more keenly aware than anyone that knowledge is power. And they do not let power go so casually.”

  I took a step back. “I didn’t mean to sound threatening.”

  “Then neither do I,” the unicorn said grimly. “I gave you the information you asked for. What you paid for with your unmasking of the murderer in our midst. When you can provide us another service as great as the first, then – and only then – shall I provide you with more answers.”

  My jaw was starting to cramp from the effort it took to keep it closed, but I did. The last thing I wanted was to end up driving the unicorns into the enemy camp. And on that note, I still had one more query for these stiff-necked equines.

  “Then I must inquire about something else. Something outside of prophecy,” I said carefully. “Will the unicorns be on the side of the Light?”

  A snort. “You refer to the prophecies of old. Ones whispered about by the eldest of the races of Andeluvia.”

  “That’s right.”

  Windkey let out a breath. The chill in his voice disappeared.

  “When the time comes to put hoof to turf, we shall be on the side of the Light. Yet it shall be a while before we can supply any aid.”

  The split second of joy I felt popped and deflated just as quickly.

  “It shall ‘be a while’?” I asked. I didn’t stiffen my jaw again, as it was already starting to ache. “Define ‘a while’ to me.”

  “Our process to select the next Master Dekanos is a delicate one. Tests of magic must be done, to assess power and endurance. Then, each Master in the running must convince the others to vote in their favor, or at least not against their assuming the position.”

  I was already running out of patience, and this wasn’t helping things.

  “Just tell me. How. Long.”

  “The deliberations of the Deliberati who raised the last Master Dekanos took five years, six months, and fourteen days. We have more candidates this time, of course, but I’m optimistic on seeing off the others before five years are up.”

  “That’s not good enough!” I exploded. “Master Windkey, the end of the world as you know it is coming, and it’s coming very soon!”

  Oh, great. Just effing great. My caffeine and harrowcake-addled temperament just wrecked the rapport I was trying to build. When I’d first come to Andeluvia, I’d once insulted Zenos the Soothsayer by calling him a doom monger.

  In my world, you’d be wandering the streets, wearing a sandwich board that says ‘The end of the world is nigh’.

  Karma had a way of coming around to bite me. Now those words actually were coming out of my mouth, and they made me sound just as whacked out and crazy.

  Luckily, Master Windkey seemed to take it in stride.

  “Oh, the end of the world is upon us?” He chuckled. “I can see your concern, I suppose. Who did you hear this from? A fortune teller off a street in Fitzwilliam’s capitol?”

  I paused to wipe my brow. It was cool inside Dekanos’ house, but my forehead was wet with perspiration. I tried again, taking a deep breath and forcing myself to slow down.

  “Look, I heard this from someone who’d been trained by Master Wayfarer. He said that in a very short time, the final battle with the Creatures of the Dark shall take place.”

  I didn’t mention what was to happen at the end of the battle. I could hardly face it myself in the daytime. And at night, the answer kept me up until dawn. And Windkey did hear what I’d said. His expression had gone from humored to grimly somber.

  “Wayfarer was one of our best seers,” he said. “And it lines up with what the rest of us sense. There is an event of considerable magnitude which shall come to pass. And the forces of Light shall be sorely tested.”

  “Does that mean that you’re going to help?”

  “Of course we shall. But only after we have selected a new Master Dekanos.” Windkey swished his tail, and his horn began to glow. “You have your work cut out for you, Dame Chrissie. From what we have heard, you can work miracles. Merely hold this doom at bay for the next five years, and we shall apply our powers to your cause with all the enthusiasm we can muster!”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but this meeting was at an end. Master Windkey’s horn brightened, and he spoke a magical phrase that overrode my objection. The world vanished in a swirl of white that jostled me so badly that I almost fell to my knees.

  Just as quickly, the world swam back into focus. I ended up grasping onto one of the ends of the wooden table in my Tower Room. My head reeled, and I swung myself around to land on the nearby bench.

  Great. If I could keep everything from going to hell in a handbasket for five more years, then I’d have a valuable ally at my side.

  Just my rotten luck.

  Chapter Nine

  The Tower Room was empty. Dust motes danced in the light cast from the open window. The guys had gone off, probably to speak to Queen Nagura. That was a small blessing, anyway.

  I turned and stretched out on my back along the hard wooden bench.

  The early rumbles in my tummy had turned into a case of heartburn. The dull pain in my chest made a nice counterpoint to the growing throb behind my temples. And my eyes had a raw, scratchy feel. I closed them and put my forearm up over my face with a groan.

  I felt so very tired. Bone weary.

  And yet sleep refused to come.

  The heartburn and threatening headache made me sit back up after a couple of minutes. I leaned forward and massaged my temples roughly, as if I could knead the pain away. Of course, it didn’t work. Nothing I did seemed to work anymore.

  My house in Los Angeles still lay in ruins under a plastic tarp. I’d made no headway in solving prophecies, not until I was face-to-face with disaster. Master Windkey hadn’t given me any information that lead me anywhere new. If the unicorns were going to come in on our side, it wouldn’t be until long after the Creatures of the Dark made their move.

  And I couldn’t even be open with my closest friends anymore.

  I bit my lip to keep myself under control before I lost it. I felt weak, out of control. Because I was weak. Because I hadn’t said anything.

  It was time to face up to the fact that I hadn’t revealed what Destry told me. I’d lived wi
th that secret pressing down upon my heart until it felt as if the life was being crushed out of me. I couldn’t face up to what they would say, what they would think.

  I was going to fail in the end.

  And then I was going to die.

  The thing that lived in the Scarlet Crypt would see to that.

  I shoved myself away from the table and stalked across the room. I threw open the tower door and let it slam against the far wall with a bang. Then I walked down the dimly lit stairwell, my mind continuing along its whitewater rapids ride of misery. I didn’t even care which way I was heading, so long as I kept moving.

  So far, caffeine had helped me mimic socially acceptable behavior. But even that was reaching its limits. I shook my head as I passed through a set of doors. Grass whispered under my feet as I passed out into the hazy sunlight of the castle gardens. I needed something else, and given the state of my stomach, alcohol would have been just the wrong thing to toss down my gullet.

  For a moment, I thought about seeing Master Seer Zenos. But no, right now that would be the wrong choice too. I didn’t need any of the ‘cold comfort’ he offered with the truth. The truth that the future was simply an immutable force of nature. That it would smother you as impartially as a rising tide would drown someone buried up to his neck in beach sand.

  No, I needed advice from someone more than a person who could understand prophecy.

  I needed a friend.

  My shoes scraped across paving stone. Jarred out of my musing wanderings, I realized a tall door blocked my way. Like many of the entryways around the palace, the iron-banded wood had been carved into a high pointed arch.

  Finally, I looked around and realized that I’d arrived at the entrance to the Parliament Building.

  Pushing open the doors, I went inside. Xandra used to greet me, but she was still back at the Roost of the Star Child. The remaining owls that made up the reduced Parliament stayed at their desks, offering up no more than a mild ‘hoo!’ as I went by.

  In fact, no one really spoke to me until the Albess’ grandmotherly voice echoed in my ear across several pastry-laden lunch tables.

  “My dear Dayna,” she called, “a fair breeze has blown in my favor, it seems. Come join me, if you would.”

  I passed a side board laden with buttery-smelling tarts and tureens filled with steaming stew-like concoctions. Then I pulled up a well-cushioned seat and took my place across from the Albess. She perched atop a metal bar fixed to the top of her own chair, looking quite spry for an elderly member of the Hoohan.

  Ever since taking Shelly’s prescribed medications, the old owl had regained a spring in her step. Her eyes looked brighter, for one. And her creamy orange-sherbet plumage had taken on a more vivid sheen.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Albess,” I said, as I took a seat. “It’s just…I needed someone to talk to. Things have been difficult as of late.”

  Thea gave me a critical look. My stomach let out an embarrassing gurgle as she did so. She reached out with one talon and shook a tiny bell.

  “Alas, it appears that you’ve flown against a mighty headwind to get here,” she said. “It has ruffled your plumage and allowed your craw to curdle.”

  “That’s why I came to see you,” I admitted. “Partly, anyway.”

  A second, more conventionally colored Hoohan fluttered up to drop off a little mesh bag on the table next to me. I picked it up and gave it a curious look. The inside appeared to be filled with dried-out lawn clippings.

  “There is a cup as well as a teapot filled with hot water behind you,” the Albess directed. “Place the bag in, let it steep a minute, and then drink the results. I would be quick about downing it, if at all possible.”

  That didn’t exactly reassure me, but I followed her instructions. I waited as the bag steeped and the liquid cooled to a drinkable temperature. The contents of the bag had wilted, exuding a tea-like brown color into the water. Even the smell was tea-like, if one stretched the definition of ‘tea’ until it included boiled twigs and steamed broccoli.

  I threw Thea a glance. She gave me a ‘go on’ motion with one wing.

  I guzzled the contents of the cup in one go. It was warm, brassy, and tasted like hot lemonade. I shuddered and smacked my lips a few times before I put the empty cup to one side.

  My heartburn had vanished. So did my queasy stomach. My temples still rang with a dull ache, but I could deal with that.

  “Better?” Thea asked.

  I nodded. “Much better, thank goodness.”

  “Your immediate distress has been seen to,” she added, with a quiet ‘hoo!’. “But your disquiet has not been quelled. Your eyes are dark as thunderclouds. Perhaps I can help, for I too suffered from insomnia not long ago.”

  “That’s right, you did. Only that was from the ailments of age, I think. My worries are…just that. Worries.”

  Thea cocked her head as she regarded me. “You are not one who foregoes sleep over a mere worry. Tell me, Dayna. I wish to know what troubles you.”

  The Albess sat, as patient as a stone, as I spoke. I told her about the words of the unicorns, and the events of the night Destry had turned traitor.

  I spoke of the pooka’s manipulation of McClatchy’s madness and the ultimate reason for his betrayal. The fact that, at the end of everything, I would fail. My end would come with me lying broken on the ground, pinned like an insect to a board. Until the Crypt-thing arrived and ended me.

  After a long moment, Thea finally spoke. “Indeed, these thoughts are pitch black. And yet, I cannot help but think of all the times you’ve faced impossible odds. You never turned tail and fled. You rescued me from a fate worse than anything I’d dreamed of. And you did it at great risk of your own life. Therefore, I must ask you a question, Dame Chrissie.”

  “Whatever you ask, I’ll answer,” I promised.

  “Does the idea that you could die horribly…really bother you to the point of desperation? Is it at the root of what keeps you up at night, every night, until the sun rises in the east?”

  I sat back, biting down the obvious reply. Of course it does, nobody wants to die! What kind of stupid question is that?

  The answer came to me almost immediately.

  I didn’t want to die, of course.

  Yet that wasn’t what gnawed at my soul every time I closed my eyes.

  I got up and began pacing back and forth before the Albess. She said nothing, only watching quietly as I worked out what my brain had dropped right into my lap. In retrospect, it was so obvious that I’d missed the forest for the trees.

  I’d been worried about failing my friends.

  My nights had been plagued with visions of them falling to the Creatures of the Dark. Their forms trampled, ground to blood and dust. All because of me.

  “Dying bothers me, but there’s something worse,” I breathed. “What am I leading my friends into? What if I’m leading my friends into danger when there is little or no chance of survival? How can I ask them to do that?”

  The Albess gave me a supremely serene, owlish look.

  “Ask them,” she said.

  “But–”

  “Ask them,” she repeated. “I bet I know what each of your friends would say. Granted, your griffin friend Grimshaw would welcome a chance to perish gloriously, but none of them would back away from a task you gave them, even a deadly one. Galen, Liam, Shaw – all three would lay their lives down for you, even as I would. And they would do it happily for a chance to strike a blow against the Darkness.”

  Thea’s words shook me, stopping me in mid-pace. I knew she was right. For my friends, the unlikely family I’d ended up with here, had done just that multiple times.

  “They would follow me into the worst the Dark could throw at them, wouldn’t they?” I said, and Thea nodded. “If they freely choose to stand and fight, then I’d do no less for them.”

  “Indeed they would. And you should be aware of one more thing. Even if you fall, that does not mean you have failed.�
��

  I took my seat again as I absorbed that. “What do you mean?”

  “My aide Xandra has spoken with seers before. However, she remains nest-bound to her newly laid egg, so I sent a courier to the Roost of the Star Child to ask about the word that Damon Harrison used. When he called you a vertice. And now I have the answer, if you wish to hear it.”

  I nodded, and she went on.

  “A vertice is a term of prophecy. It refers to a thing or person who acts to ‘pull’ destiny one way or another. It means I was right to call you a Hero, a person who can smash preordained fate. Only you are something more.

  “You are the avatar of a different line of events, struggling to be born. Harrison may also be a vertice, one who has influenced the line of events up until the present. And there is the key. It is why he hesitated to act.”

  I was struggling to accept her words, but I forced myself to speak. “So if one vertice kills another…it does not end this ‘different line of events’?”

  The Albess nodded. “If Harrison killed you, then the force behind your presence would simply shift to someone else, making them the new vertice. Failing to identify the new vertice would put Harrison at a serious disadvantage when enacting his own plans for the future.”

  “Failing to identify…but how do you identify who’s become a vertice?”

  “Dayna, one touched in this way normally carries a magical ‘mark’. Yet if you have one, it must have been given to you so long ago that neither I nor Galen could detect it. Not even the fayleene, the great trackers they are, picked up on it.”

  “Maybe you’re all mistaken,” I said doubtfully. “Maybe I don’t have this mark.”

  “Perhaps a subtler form of magic is at work here,” she said firmly. “Perhaps this is what guided me to select you as the one to bring to Andeluvia in order to solve Benedict’s murder. And it may be why you are a Hero in the first place. The person who can bend or break whatever fate lies in store.”

  And just like that, Thea took away my misery and buoyed me up. Maybe not everything prophesied was cast in stone. Maybe that’s why I was marked as a vertice.