Dragon with a Deadly Weapon

by Michael Angel

  “Prince Wyeth,” he breathed, “is that really you?”

  I couldn’t blame Liam for asking the question. It took a second for Wyeth’s form to stop doing a tap-dance on my eyeballs as well.

  I’d shot away a portion of Wyeth’s antlers the first time he’d attacked us. Then Xandra and her fellow Hoohan from the Roost of the Star Child had shattered its crystalline replacement. The antler been replaced a second time. And other changes had been made. Big ones.

  The former fayleene princeling’s dun-colored body had been infused with a multitude of tiny blue crystals that dotted his fur from antlered head to cloven hooves. Said hooves hovered several inches above the floor, explaining why we hadn’t heard his approach.

  A cyan radiance surrounded the stag’s body, as if made from a color-shifted version of a phoenix’s flame. That radiance danced in his eyes, blotting out any trace of deer-like softness. His mouth twisted up at the ends into a hatefully smug curl.

  Wyeth’s hooves landed on the stone floor with a clack.

  “Don’t you dare refer to me by that title!”

  “There is no shame in your honorific,” Liam said quietly.

  “What do you know of shame, usurper? You robbed me and took my place. But my mind has opened up to more. I have grown beyond the confines of a little green wood with its herd of short-sighted does!”

  “Then why dost thou feel the need to prove it?” Shaw snorted. “Leave the Protector to his ‘short-sighted does’ and be off with thee!”

  “The drake has a point,” Liam said reasonably. “If you’re above all this, then why not be on your merry way?”

  “Because we have a score to settle, you and I!” Wyeth flared. “Sirrahon has bestowed power upon me, Protector. More power upon me than you shall ever know!”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Liam replied. As he spoke, Shaw slowly shifted his stance to spring. Next to me, Galen’s palms began to glow as he readied his magic. “But if I’ve learned anything from my friends, it’s that power always comes at a price. I paid one for becoming the Protector of the Forest. It looks like you’ve paid an even higher one.”

  Wyeth flared at that. “Sirrahon saw fit to give me–”

  “No!” Liam shot back. “Sirrahon didn’t give you anything. You serve him, Wyeth. And though the fayleene does are rotten and conniving, I’d rather rule them than play servant to a scaled, evil monster. For that’s all you’ll ever be – a servant to a power older and greater than yourself!”

  The princeling let out a shriek of outrage as his antlers glowed with gathered energy. But that energy was never released. A leonine roar escaped Shaw’s beak as the drake pounced upon the fayleene, bashing at him with his massive foreclaws.

  “Dayna! Protect the weapon!” Galen shouted, as he moved in to attack.

  I was torn, but the Wizard was right. I dropped his invention back into the chest and slammed the top shut. Then I gave it a heave to move it under a nearby table.

  The chest didn’t move. The toes of my boots slipped uselessly on the floor as I pushed. I tried again, but the wooden chest was just too heavy for me to lift or slide.

  Wyeth fell back as Shaw pummeled him, but the drake’s paws hadn’t so much as touched the fayleene’s fur. The princeling lowered his head and murmured a magical phrase. A bolt of pure blue flared from the tip of one antler.

  With a whip-crack of lightning, Shaw was thrown back. I ducked as the griffin tumbled over my head. He landed on the table I’d been trying to get the Demon’s chest under and smashed it to kindling. Shaw had been knocked senseless. He groaned, beak snapping at the air, and slowly fought to right himself.

  Galen stepped in, throwing a wizardly bolt of his own. It hit Wyeth in the flank, but his blue flame merely flared higher and absorbed it. The princeling shot one back, forcing the Wizard to duck. The bolt set fire to the shelf above Galen’s head. The centaur grabbed a nearby cloth to throw over the flames.

  “See?” Wyeth reveled. “Sirrahon’s limitless power flows through me!”

  “It may be limitless,” Liam said, in a low voice, “but if it’s from Sirrahon, then all it needs is some fey magic to oppose it.”

  With that, the Protector lunged forward. Wyeth met him in mid-leap. With a massive crash, followed by the sizzle of magical energies, the two locked horns. For a moment, there was no sound save for grunted curses as the two stags threw all their strength into the contest. The eye-watering smell of smoldering crystal and fayleene horn joined that of burnt paper.

  I gave up on trying to move the wooden chest. Instead, I made my way to the end of the closest stack of books to find a firing position where I wouldn’t accidently shoot Liam. But as soon as I’d reached the spot, Wyeth gave a heave and shoved the Protector back more than a dozen paces. Liam let out a pained umph! as he smashed into one of the workshop’s massive display cases.

  The case, which had had been loaded with empty sample jars, wobbled precariously. Liam dodged back and forth as heavy jars crashed around him, throwing up shards of shattered glass. Finally, the topmost shelf gave way and the entire display came down on top of the Protector.

  Wyeth stepped back, panting. He was unhurt, save for a set of scorch marks at the tips of his antlers.

  But the blue flame that surrounded him was gone.

  A roar that should have come from Grimshaw made me jump. But it was Galen who barreled into my line of sight just as I brought my gun up. Enraged, the Wizard grabbed the princeling’s antlers and took up Liam’s efforts to subdue Wyeth.

  “You contemptable, spiteful waste of a fayleene!” the Wizard snarled. “You come into my dwelling and harm my friends, wreck my research?”

  Wyeth’s flank rippled with muscle. Veins popped out on Galen’s arms. Hooves scraped as they dug into flagstone. Neither gained an iota of advantage over the other. Until the centaur finally yielded a single step back. The stag let out a laugh.

  “You see?” Wyeth gloated. “I am more powerful than the Protector. More powerful than the two of you together!”

  “Then it’s lucky that Liam isn’t like you,” I said. I took a step to one side and pulled my gun out. “After all, he’s got more than a single friend.”

  I sighted along the deer’s body, as far back as possible from where Galen gripped his antlers. A quick squeeze of the trigger, now that Liam’s fey magic had depleted his opponent’s magical shield, made the task easy.

  A crack as my bullet hit home.

  Wyeth’s right back leg crumpled as his knee shattered.

  The stag let out a howl that could have come from an animal caught in a bear trap. He tried desperately to shake free of Galen’s grasp. That obscured my sights again, but the centaur simply shifted his grip.

  Now that his foe had been crippled on one side, Galen leaned into his left, forcing Wyeth around. The Wizard kept on pushing, bulldogging the princeling around and around in a circle. Blood streamed from the stag’s wounds as they rotated faster and faster, but still he fought on.

  “What are you doing?” the princeling demanded.

  Galen’s reply came out in a grunt. “Endeavoring to teach you basic physics.”

  The fayleene’s blue nimbus winked on once more. It flared as the princeling tapped into his full power. He spoke an incantation just as the Wizard gave a last heave, hurling Wyeth away with all his might.

  A final bolt of magical energy flung Galen into his stacks of wizardly tomes with enough force to cave in several heavy wooden shelves. He disappeared under an avalanche of books and dust-covered scrolls.

  Wyeth sailed across the room and through the open double doors. The lower half of his back legs folded as they hit the sharp edge of the balcony’s railing, his torso still moving. The princeling screamed as he made a backwards somersault over the edge.

  I heard the blood-curdling snap of bone.

  Gun held at the ready, I ran outside and risked a peek down.

  The princeling sprawled out along the stone pathway below. Blood trickled
from where I’d tagged him and fanned out in a wide splatter from his mouth. A multitude of the tiny blue crystals had come loose on impact. They lay glittering across the grass like fish scales. But that wasn’t all.

  Two of Wyeth’s limbs bent the wrong way.

  So did his neck.

  “Dayna!” Shaw called. “I need thy help!”

  I’d never heard my griffin friend call for help before. My heart filled with dread as I holstered my gun and ran back into the Wizard’s workshop.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I ran back into the Wizard’s workshop to find Grimshaw digging frantically into one of the vast piles of debris that littered the floor. Soft groans of pain came from under the mess. One of Galen’s hands projected from near the top. His fingers groped blindly at the air.

  Liam was nowhere to be seen.

  I had to pick my way around to one side to avoid being hit by flying debris. Shaw windmilled his forepaws, tossing away old books, artifacts, and broken chunks of wood with a will. The Wizard’s fingers sought mine and grabbed on as I shoveled as best I could with my free hand.

  A shower of scrolls cascaded around my feet as Galen’s head and upper torso came free. The Wizard’s face was creased in pain, and he looked dazed. He glanced back at where his equine half still lay hidden under a mass of heavy tomes and shook his head ruefully.

  “I believe I now understand what you meant,” Galen said, attempting a smile. “When you talked about being ‘buried in your work’.”

  I attempted a smile back. “Don’t give up your day job, Court Wizard.”

  Shaw’s talons scraped on wood, then stone. He let out a concerned, cat-like hiss. Then he looked over at me.

  “Canst thou summon thy friend, Shelly?” the drake asked.

  That made my heart skip a beat. I crunched my way through a mass of crumpled parchment to see what he was getting at. Then I stared at what he’d uncovered.

  “My level of discomfort is rapidly increasing,” Galen gritted. “Since Sirrahon’s magic prevents us from bringing Lady Richardson here, or transporting ourselves out, might you see fit to free my left hind leg?”

  But a horrible swelling deformed that leg, as it looked as if it had grown an extra joint. One that bent the wrong way, just like Wyeth’s neck. The chestnut-colored skin that overlaid the break bulged dangerously as Galen shifted position. Any more movement, and the sharp edge of the broken bone would puncture it.

  To make matters worse, books and wooden shelving weren’t the only things pinning the Wizard’s hindquarters. Wyeth had sent Galen flying with such force that part of the palace wall itself had collapsed. A thick slab of stone easily as wide as the centaur lay at an angle across the largest chunk of wooden bookshelf.

  “Galen, listen to me,” I said quickly. “Your leg is badly broken. If you don’t keep still, it’s going to turn into a compound fracture.”

  “Very well,” he said, and he inhaled sharply as a bolt of pain raced up his body. “I understand. Yet where is the Protector? Where is Wyeth?”

  As he spoke, Shaw grabbed one of the few unbroken planks of wood left. The griffin then searched the rubble, looking for a spot to site his makeshift lever.

  “Wyeth’s dead,” I said. “He broke his neck when you threw him off the balcony. As for the Protector–”

  “I’m still here,” Liam called, though his voice sounded strangely distant. “Unfortunately, I can’t come to help out.”

  “Art thou badly injured?” Shaw asked. The drake found a place a foot or two away from where Galen was pinned and jammed the plank under one edge of the stone. “Canst thou bide for a few moments longer?”

  “I’m not badly hurt right now,” came the muffled reply. “But I can’t move. There’s broken glass pressing into me on all sides.”

  Liam wasn’t exaggerating. I took a couple of steps in his direction and saw where the shelving had fallen like dominoes, dumping their payloads of heavy jars. I could dimly make out a fayleene form lying flat under the whitish-gray pile of glass, but that was all.

  Shaw gave a grunt as he threw his weight against the plank. That was followed by a snap of wood, a crunch of stone, and a cry of pain from the Wizard. The puny strength in my arms couldn’t help the drake one way or another, so I grabbed Galen’s lapel and shook it to get his attention.

  “Okay, you can’t transport us out of here,” I said. “But can you cast something to heal the break, or at least dull the pain?”

  “Magic…for pain only,” he gasped, as beads of sweat popped out upon his dark, shaggy brow. “If I had enough, that is. Expended a great deal of energy…fighting the mad princeling. Need something else now. Powdered tafann from the amidach tree. Rear pocket on my left.”

  Galen’s jacket had been twisted in the crash, to the point that he couldn’t reach that pocket. I leaned over and snatched out a little yellow cloth bag with a drawstring. The smell of something warm and cinnamon-y wafted out as I handed it over.

  “Oh, thank the Gods,” the Wizard murmured, as he poured out a handful of light brown dust into his palm and proceeded to lick it up with gusto.

  A second sound of rock slipping against wood. Galen’s face went pale. I dashed over to Shaw’s side and saw that the griffin wasn’t working with the plank anymore. He’d thrown his back under the fallen slab of stone and was straining to hold it in place.

  “Shouldst this keep moving,” the drake husked, “‘tis the Wizard’s spine that shall be broken along with his leg.”

  Right then, when everything was at its worst, the world proved that it could get even bleaker. A buzzing sound tickled my ear for a moment. Then it returned, and this time it didn’t buzz so much as rattle my eardrum. Shaw and Galen also winced, so I knew I wasn’t the only one hearing this.

  I heard someone speak. The voice in my head was as clear as if I’d been spoken to by one of the Ultari or the Seraphine. Only it boomed and resonated as if the speaker were addressing me from the stage of a large amphitheater.

  “You’ve crept back into my home like a thief, Dame Chrissie,” Sirrahon said, in the rasping tones of Damon Harrison. “It seems that you have defeated my vassal as well. Enough. Come and face me on your own.”

  “I do not believe dragons can speak in this manner,” Galen observed, as sweat continued to roll down his forehead. “This must be yet another talent gleaned from the Ultari he consumed.”

  I held up my hand to quiet him as Sirrahon went on.

  “Come and face me, human. We have a sea of spilt blood between us, and I wish to look you in the eye when I settle the score. Come and face me, and I shall be generous. When you lose, I may be charitable and allow your friends to live. Come and face me, for if you do not…I have the power to turn that side of the palace to rubble.”

  The voice in my head cut off as abruptly as if someone had unplugged a stage amp.

  “Don’t listen to him!” Liam cried, from under the pile of glass shards. “Don’t give him what he wants!”

  “Aye, ‘tis madness to listen to a dragon,” Shaw said, as he threw his strength into another effort. The stone slab shifted, taking a bit of weight off Galen’s leg. “Thou must wait for me to finish freeing our Wizard. Then some more time to uncover thy fayleene.”

  “This palace is sacred to Dragonkind,” Galen added, wincing. “Sirrahon dares not smash it to pieces in order to end us.”

  I paused as I took in the situation around me. The smell of burned parchment and ozone still hung in the air. My friends were either trapped, wounded, or trying to work the others free. And the maddening ruby glow still cast its blood-red pall over everything.

  And then I thought about Thea’s words. You are a Hero. You are a vertice. It means you are the right woman, in the right place, at the right time.

  I thought about the lines of prophecy I’d heard. The dooms pronounced, the verdicts handed down, the final event that everything had been building to.

  It was time to tell my friends the truth, I realized.


  As if in a dream, I looked down at my feet. Shaw had dropped the bag of cartridges he’d been carrying at the start of the fight. It had broken open, and only two more rounds lay amidst the debris. I bent down, picked them up, and stowed them in my pockets.

  “Dayna?” Galen breathed. “Dayna, what are you doing?”

  I didn’t answer right away. In his efforts to dig Galen out, Shaw had uncovered the box holding the Wizard’s version of the Demon. I walked over, flipped open the lid, and grabbed the weapon inside with both hands.

  “Art thou mad?” Shaw cried. He made as if to snatch me up with his paws, but in vain. He couldn’t reach me while also supporting the stone that could crush Galen. “Our Wizard said that yon dragon wouldst not pull down the palace!”

  “Our Wizard is wrong,” I declared, as I lifted the Demon out of its box. “All Sirrahon has to do is shift back into his ‘Harrison’ form. It’ll be child’s play for him to come up here and kill us one by one.”

  “Shouldst one need a heroic sacrifice, then wait but a little more–”

  “We don’t have that kind of time,” I said patiently. My voice ached a bit, but for once it was a good kind of ache. An ache of unburdening. “I need to tell all of you something. Something I should have shared days ago.”

  My friends waited as I worked a solid knot of emotion out of my throat. That in itself almost made me choke up again. I didn’t deserve the kind of friendship they’d given to me.

  “I couldn’t face it, because each of you have become like family to me,” I said. “The kind of family where I looked forward to being with each of you, every day. I didn’t want that to end. And now it shall.”

  “Dayna, you can’t…” Galen whispered.

  “Do you remember the strange things that the Deliberati called us, when we burst into their inner sanctum? They named me as the ‘Dame who is destined to fail at the end’. That’s going to happen. I am going to fail, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  “Destry told me something just before he vanished. He’d learned how to read the future from Master Wayfarer. He said that no matter the choices I made, he saw me lying broken on the ground, with the Darkness pinning me in place. And then he saw the thing in the Scarlet Crypt…end me. I’ve been living with that truth for a while now.”