by E. C. Stever
The teeth were as long as her body, gleaming white even in the murky water. And the tongue that lay inside was covered with rough scales.
Gulchima fought a moment of panic, as her lungs started to complain. She felt a pressure in her chest. Okay, she'd scouted it out. No need to rush into things. They'd climb back up the rope and come up with a plan. She tugged at Novvy's hand.
But Novvy pushed away from her, and started to pull himself into the dragon's mouth. She yelled, unthinkingly, but all that came out was a blurp of air. Novvy did not look back.
Hubward followed Novvy into the dragon. He paused, hand resting on the dragon's tooth, and then turned to look at her, blowing out bubbles from his chipmunk-like cheeks in an effort to communicate. Then he too entered the dragon.
Now what?
The dragon's jaws moved in the water, but the creature was dead, and Gulchima could see deep inside its mouth there was a shimmering circle, like a small coin flickering in the torch light. She had no real choice, she had to follow Novvy and Hubward.
Gulchima pulled herself past the row of sharp unbroken teeth, her heart hammering in her chest. That was where she had to go. She had to.
Gulchima swam deeper into the dragon.
As she swam toward it, the coin she had noticed grew larger, and the water grew cold, impossibly cold, making her arms and legs sluggish, her eyes burn.
At last she came to the shimmering top of a pool of water. A glowing light zigged across it, as if beckoning her. Gulchima kicked in the water, shoving herself forward, and then, she burst through the top of the water and took a gasping breath, eyes wide open.
Gulchima had entered the dragon.
And it was not at all the way it should have been.
Chapter 31: Gulchima Encounters Strange Gravities
"Strange gravities indeed," Hubward said.
They were standing in a dark cavern which stretched miles in all directions. It could not possibly be the inside of the dragon's mouth, and yet behind her, Gulchima could see the real world, stretched out in the pool of water, the dragon's teeth impossibly long and wide, lit by the rainbow flicker of flame.
Novvy's cough echoed around them. He'd swallowed a lot of water on the swim here, but was otherwise unharmed.
"The gravity debt must warp this place," Hubward said. "Make it seem bigger."
Gulchima sighed. A debt to gravity, and a dribbling flame. What ridiculous things dragons were. Now she was expected to believe that the dragon had a mouth ten miles wide?
The floor was slightly soft, like half-thawed ice, yet it rasped at her boots like the tongue of a cat. An icy cat tongue? Gulchima decided she must be standing on a dragon's tongue inside of its mouth. Her imagination wasn't this good.
"Finally! Eaten by a dragon," Novvy said. He looked around. "But where's its guts? Where's the gold?"
"And how are we seeing?" Hubward asked. The cavern was illuminated, but they couldn't tell where the light was coming from.
"And where do we go?" Gulchima asked. But she already suspected where. They had to go deeper into the dragon.
"Okay, let's figure out what we have to work with," Gulchima said.
Hubward opened his rucksack and took out a fishing net, and a platter with a half-smashed soft yellow cake. He slung on his spray bag, which sloshed with glacier water.
"I'm fortified," Hubward said. "What did you bring?"
Novvy held out a small potion bottle. "I've got this soap."
"So that's cake, soap, and fishing equipment," Gulchima said. "Hmmm, what else would we need to capture the most powerful magician in Baltica? I can't think of even one thing."
Hubward crossed his arms. "And you Gulch? What did you bring?"
She had a metal spear, a woodsman-axe, roofers tar, food and water, a jar of Quite Honorable Taciturn's melting powder, a packet of Uncle Roog's explosive fire medicine, and a dozen other things . . . in her backpack on the boat. She'd planned on returning to the boat after scouting things out. She'd planned on planning.
"I've got a knife, some ironstem rope, and a whole bucketful of surprise," Gulchima said. "Now where do we go?"
In the distance, she saw a flash of a maroon robe. A figure spun away from them, as if surprised.
"The Sorcerer!" Hubward yelled.
He took out his fishing net, and held the yellow cake in front of him like a shield. "Let's go!"
"That seems like a trap," Gulchima said. "We shouldn't split—"
But Hubward had already started running after the figure. Away and into the dark, like a dog chasing a skunk-bat. And with just as much luck of succeeding.
"Okay, we'll split up then," Gulchima yelled after him. The foozle. She turned to Novvy. "I want you to stay near me," she said. She held out her rope. "Do I have to tie you up?"
Novvy yawned, held up his arms. "Pickyback?"
Gulchima crouched down, so that Novvy could climb onto her back. A piggyback ride would be the easiest way to keep track of him. And her legs were strong.
She walked for a long time, but when Gulchima turned around to check her progress, they were only a few feet from the pool at the dragon's mouth. How could that be?
Simple. Magic had bad timing. It was too exciting when you didn't want it to be, but the rest of the time it was really dull.
Strange gravities must warp distance, Gulchima thought. And maybe, time too. Gulchima wondered if this was what happened to her during the five years she had gone missing. She remembered the sound of it, the dripping water, the waiting. It hadn't felt like five years for her. But it had felt like a few months at least. And what had she eaten? And what had she seen? Gulchima remembered little, except for the last part. But she'd sworn never to speak of that.
She'd been warned what would happen if she did.
They came at last to a small room. Which was interesting, because the previous second Gulchima was in the open cavern, walking across the squishy tongue. And now, she was in a small room, with a lit fire in the fireplace, and a single high-backed chair with a velvet seat. She didn't remember walking through the door, and Novvy had been snoozing, so she couldn't ask him.
The room was sparsely furnished, with only the chair and a scarred work table. A woman's hairbrush lay on the table, the hair white or light blond. Next to it, lay over a hundred small metal links, some cracked, others gleaming. Tools were scattered around the metal links, as if they were being repaired. On the velvet seat of the chair was a large water-stained book.
The title was "The Collected Lies of Gulchima Brixby".
"Hey, that's your name," Novvy said from just over her shoulder.
Gulchima snorted. "What kind of mumblecrust would write a book about me?"
"Lemme down," Novvy said, squirming against her. "There could be candy in here, or clues."
She knelt down and Novvy jumped off her back.
Clues? Clues about what? She picked up the hairbrush, examining the thin whitish hair wrapped around the bristles. What kind of nimby magic was this?
A hairbrush and a fire? A workshop to repair metal? This was the Sorcerer's secret lair? She expected bubbling inky-black cauldrons, and horrific things floating in jars. Maybe a skeleton or two, to give the place the right ambiance.
And if there was a book with her name on it, she certainly wouldn’t open it. That's what the magic wanted her to do. What if, instead, she threw the chair into the fireplace, and stole some of the metal pieces. Wouldn't magic be surprised about that?
But no, that would give away that she had visited this place.
Gulchima touched one of the metal links on the table, and it gave her a shock, like when she walked across a bearskin rug. Then it crumbled to dust.
"That's weird," Gulchima muttered.
"What's weird? Novvy asked. There was a hissing sound.
Gulchima looked up and saw that Novvy had lifted up his tunic and was peeing into the fire. She looked away.
"Sorry, I had to go," Novvy said. The hissing of the fire grew louder. "What did you t
hink was weird?"
"What's weird, is this whole place, really," Gulchima said. She bit her lip. "But what are these metal links? They look like the bracelets Jaroo was wearing. The bracelets all four of them were wearing. Jaroo, Ninestone, the Fizz-Meister and . . ." She glanced at the hairbrush, and the white hair it contained. "And Lady Keyhide!"
Lady Keyhide was the Sorcerer!
The hairbrush with the white hair had to be hers. And the room seemed like her style. Outdated, red, expensive furniture. And Hubward had said he'd never scanned her.
It was so obvious.
Gulchima couldn't believe she'd been working with the Sorcerer. No wonder Bayadev was infested with magic! The person running the burgh was the Sorcerer.
"Emm Gulch. I think I found something else that's weird," Novvy said, almost yelling to be heard over the hissing of the fire.
"Are you decent?" Gulchima asked, without looking over at him.
"Emmm, yeah but . . . I think I found . . . It."
Gulchima looked up.
At first it looked like a puff of dark smoke had risen up from the fire and just hung around Novvy.
Then she saw its eyes.
A shadowy snake had wound its way around Novvy. Its eyes burned like coals in a fire, but the snake's body was partly invisible, like it was a cloud of ash.
It was magic, but something about the eyes told her this magic was smart.
The snake squeezed tighter.
Novvy whimpered. His clothes had started to smoke, and brown scorch marks appeared across his chest. "Hot!" Novvy cried.
The snake smiled at her, baring its fangs.
"At last, we meet the famous Gulchima Brixsssby," the shadowy snake hissed. "Have a seat Gulchima. We've been expecting you."
"Let him go!" Gulchima demanded.
"We shall," the snake said, narrowing its glowing eyes. "But first, we want to asssk you for one sssmall favor."
The snake wound tighter around Novvy, then snapped at Novvy's left hand. This time, he screamed out in pain.
Gulchima saw his blood dripping onto the grating near the fireplace. It bubbled from the heat.
The ring finger on Novvy's left hand was missing. The snake had bitten it off!
"Let him go," Gulchima pleaded.
The snake spoke in a cold, taunting voice:
"Just one small favor Gulchima. That is all we ask."
Chapter 32: The Collected Lies . . .
The room smelled like blood.
"Just tell us what we want to know," the snake said. "He has nine more fingers you know. Or should we start with his toes?"
Novvy grew pale. He looked down at his hand. "Got lots of fingers . . . fingers grow back." He passed out.
"I don't even know who you are," Gulchima said in a loud voice. She was stalling. "You didn't have to hurt him, you . . . what are you? Are you the Sorcerer?"
"We sometimes work for her," the snake said. "You may call us Ash, for we are the Ash of Empires. But truly, we are the Zeitgeist."
For her? The Sorcerer was a woman!
Ash flicked its tail, and opened the book to a blank page near the back. Gulchima's words were written there. "I don’t even know who you are . . . ."
"Another lie!" Ash accused. "You know who we are. Out of place, out of time." It slammed the book shut. "And time is short. You must tell us what you saw," Ash said.
"What?"
Ash shook Novvy's unconscious body like a rattle, lifting him into the air. "You must tell us what really happened during those five years you were missing! You must come into the belly of the beast, and tell us there, so that no others can hear it. You mussst!"
The lie came easily to her lips. "Okay I'll tell you what really happened: There was this dirty sewing needle, I mean, it was gross. So I got infected by it, caught some disease, coughed all over everybody, and then we all fell asleep for five years. Everybody had a good sleeping, I mean, a beauty of a sleep. And when I woke up, everything was taken care of: the dragon was dead, the witch was watered, and they had this awesome rose garden maze just outside my window—"
Ash glowered at her. "Another lie . . . Here let us help you to decide."
The wall behind her disappeared. Gulchima was standing at the edge of the pool, near the entrance to the dragon. The comfortable room was still there in front of her. The book with her name on it was on the chair. And Ash was still wrapped around her unconscious brother.
But Gulchima's back felt warm.
In the light of the dragon flame, Ash looked thinner, less menacing. She could hear the rumbling, feel the heat as the fire erupted from the dragon. It wasn't just any fire. This was full-on bright-white dragon flame. The pool behind her started to boil. The air temperature jumped, sending sweat down her back.
Novvy moaned, then started to cough. The wet air had a chemical taste to it, like geyser smoke. It was getting hard to breathe.
"I can keep this up all day," Ash said. Its flaming eyes flashed at her. "So tell me what you really know and I'll turn off the fire. Give me what I want and your brother will live!"
Gulchima's eyes burned. She started to gag. She would do it. She would tell Ash what it wanted. No matter the warning, no matter her oath. She had to save her brother. She opened her mouth to speak, but she started to cough. Gulchima breathed in deeply. She had to tell Ash. She had to save—
"Hey, you old campfire!" said a voice.
Gulchima started to laugh and cough at the same time.
That would be Hubward. It had to be.
Nobody else would make such a stupid joke.
Chapter 33: Hubward Saves the Night
At the sight of Novvy's bloody hand, Hubward grew incredibly angry.
The phantom he'd been chasing had gone, so he'd returned to the pool where he'd started. Then he saw Novvy, and Gulchima's tense showdown with the ash creature, and the blood.
The blood was the problem.
Torturing hostages was against the rules. Hubward understood how hostage situations worked. He had been in charge of rescuing hostages, as part of his duties with the magical assassin team, or hand, as they were known.
He understood of course, that you sometimes had to kidnap a bad guy to rescue other people, and to make sure the other side knew you were really serious, you occasionally had to hold a knife to their throats, or make a threat. But then, one side or the other would drop their weapons, or poof into a cloud of magic, or something. That was how the game was played.
But, to actually go and chop off a finger! That was . . . well, that was just wrong.
Hubward was so, very, angry. He started to sweat, and naturally, his sweating would lead to weight loss. And weight loss would lead to magic, or its younger cousin: luck.
"Hey, you old campfire!" Hubward yelled. "Get away from my two best friends."
Hubward knew that the element of surprise was pretty useless on its own. His net, covered with the yellow cakey substance he'd found in the fizz factory, was already in the air, headed for the ash monster.
He'd meant to startle it, and it had worked.
But by yelling the insult, he'd also let Ash know he was there. That was stupid. Why had he given away his tactical advantage like that?
Ash flicked a fire ball at his net, and it whoomphed into flame mid-air. The cakey stuff absorbed the magical flame easily, no surprise there. But he hadn't covered the net entirely, and the exposed strands burned in an instant.
His net fell apart.
Hubward snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. Magical fire. Creature of ash. Makes sense."
Ash started to laugh, which was good. That gave Hubward time to come up with another plan. Evil creatures of the shadows were known to laugh for inappropriate amounts of time. If they would just kill you immediately, they wouldn't have to hide in the shadows so much.
But without the net . . . .
"Hubward, pee on the fire!" Gulchima yelled, through a coughing fit.
"But I don't have to go!" Hubward said. Then he unders
tood what she really meant.
The air was hot and smoggy, and he had a hard time seeing. But the stupid ash creature had glowing eyes, so that made it easy. That was another problem with evil creatures of the shadows. If they were trying to hide, why wouldn't they cover up their glowing eyes?
Hubward grabbed the sprayer from his spray bag. He squirted at Ash's glowing eyes, an easy target.
Ash screamed in pain, which Hubward thought was a good sign. It dropped Novvy, then whirled away into the darkness.
The place where he'd hit Ash formed a small frozen cocoon around Novvy—like half an eggshell—supporting him. Hubward had sprayed a bit too much, and a small ice block had started to form beneath Novvy, on the dragon's tongue. Novvy's tunic was coated with ice too, giving him a silvery appearance. But he was still alive.
One of Ash's eyes dropped to the ground, and skittered across the floor toward him. Hubward picked it up, then, on instinct, rolled to his right. The spot where he had stood, was a smoking crater.
Now Hubward was sure the dragon wasn’t alive. It would have felt that on its tongue, and would have come to life at this worst possible time.
But the dragon was dead. And Ash was—
It charged at him, fangs raised. Hubward shot another spray of glacier water, and it cut through Ash's neck with a hiss. It screamed again, but looped around him, slashing with its tail. Another line of fire came at him, and he had to backflip to get out of the way.
"He can do backflipsss!" Ash exclaimed. "A chubby boy like that?"
"I'm very limber," Hubward said, defensively.
But Hubward was going to get hit eventually. He had to turn down the steam so he could see better. But how?
"Gulchima, grab Novvy!" he yelled. Novvy was still lying on his icy eggshell.
Gulchima started to crawl forward. The steam from the boiling pool was thickest near her, and much hotter than any sauna Hubward had ever been in. He had to turn down the heat. But how? Should he swim out and spray the dragon in the nose?
If he tried that, he'd be boiled like an egg. No there had to be a secret switch somewhere . . . .