Dragon Removal Service

by E. C. Stever

  The dragon turned and glared at Hubward.

  Its eyes were neither red, nor glowing orange as he had expected, but a surprising shade of faded blue. The dragon's left eye had a diamond shaped freckle that gave off sparks of purple and white. It winked.

  How can a skeleton wink?

  Hubward stood dumbly, as if his feet were stuck in the mud. He didn't even remember to backflip. He and the bleeding Man-of-Arms should have been toasted already. Except . . . .

  Except the dragon fire wasn't aimed at him. The skeleton dragon was attacking the giant trangle!

  Monster fight!

  The trangle roared in fury, then tossed two spears made of tree trunks at the dragon. This was, of course, entirely useless, and the trees were soon turned to ash.

  Didn't trangles know about fire?

  The pale blue dragon fire cracked the skin of the giant trangle, turning it gray and ashy. But though it seemed annoyed, the trangle wasn't seriously hurt. The flame just angered the trangle.

  "What should I do?" Hubward asked Man-of-Arms, who was still bleeding profusely from his nose. Man-of-Arms waved his sword weakly.

  Fight it? But who should I fight first?

  The skeleton dragon struggled to stay in the air. This was not surprising given that it didn't have any skin or feathers with which to flap. Bare bones made terrible wings. Didn’t skeleton dragons know about air resistance?

  The dragon trundled forward awkwardly, then bit off a piece of the trangle's forehead. But the mud just fell through its rib cage, and then rolled back into the body of the giant trangle. Useless!

  The giant trangle picked up a boulder, digging it out of the mud near the island. The boulder slammed into the dragon, scattering its boney tail. It screeched in anger, then redoubled its stream of fire. The Sorcerer waved her arm hurriedly, and the bones on the dragon's tail reformed.

  The magical monsters are too evenly matched! This battle would go on forever.

  It was time for Hubward to attack. It was time for him to choose. But who should he attack first?

  What would Gulchima do?

  Skip the dragon. Defeat the giant trangle, then go right for the Sorcerer.

  Hubward pointed both pinkies at the giant trangle, closed his eyes and—

  Ka-Blooosh! An immense lightning bolt hit the giant trangle, piercing its chest. The trangle staggered backwards, holding its hands over the hole in its chest. The clay that poured out was wet and soft. It was as close to trangle guts as you could get, but the wound was already starting to heal.

  The dragon roared in approval. It focused its fire at the hole in the trangle's chest, drying it from the inside. The trangle flailed its arms and legs, as if it was dying.

  Then, something weird happened. Well, something weirder than a skeleton dragon fighting a giant clay gingerbread man.

  The dragon started to suck its fire back in.

  The Sorcerer was waving her arms wildly, and the blue flame seemed to flow backwards, sucking the energy from the trangle. It grew hollow, its red eyes widened in fear.

  The trangle's eyes faded to pink, and then to black.

  As the trangle thinned, the dragon grew more substantial, each of its bones thickened and took on a brownish hue. It was as if the trangle was being fossilized into the dragon bones.

  With a crack that sounded like the start of a landslide, the trangle crumbled to the ground. The smaller fish-trangles stopped their endless marching, and they too fell apart, puppets of a stronger magic.

  The dragon flapped its boney wings thrice more, then dropped, its brown bones piling up in a jumble around the Sorcerer.

  The battle was over.

  Hubward hadn't won it, but he'd helped turn the tide. Now it was time to capture the Sorcerer.

  Hubward leapt over the trangle pieces and dragon bones, swords at the ready.

  The Sorcerer lay on her hands and knees, gasping.

  At last. He had her. Now he could speak the lines he'd practiced. Hubward held his swords above her and said:

  "Hello, my name is Hubward Trumblebutt, and today I'll be avenging evil, thank you very much." Hubward grinned. It didn't sound as good as he planned it. "Now stand up Lady Keyhide, so I can see your pretty face."

  With a trembling hand the Sorcerer pulled back her hood.

  It wasn't Lady Keyhide.

  It was Ninestone.

  ✽✽✽

  "Very, believable," Ninestone wheezed. "Your backflips have—" she started to cough, "—really improved."

  Ninestone looked drained. Her face was bone white, her eyes a dark smudge sunken into her skull. Her hair had turned white as well, it was streaked with gray and brown. A scarlet line of blood ran from one of her nostrils, the only part of her that wasn't coated with mud or dust. A few pieces of burnt metal lay at her feet.

  Hubward surprised himself. His sword did not waver. He did not blink, or freeze, despite the surprise. Ninestone was the Sorcerer?

  "Stand up," he said.

  Nothing made sense. The Sorcerer was Ninestone the herbalist, the woman who had cooked him breakfast, lunch, second breakfast, dinner, and midnight snack, for half the summer. Ninestone, the evil Sorcerer who killed his family, had made him brush his teeth and eat vegetables. How could anyone be so cruel?

  "I know your full name Hubward, I was at your parents' wedding," Ninestone said.

  Hubward narrowed his eyes. He kept waiting for some glimmer to show him this was an illusion. But no, Ninestone had used all of her magic. She was the Sorcerer. No go-backs. Somehow, it was true.

  "I am your aunt, your mother's sister," Ninestone said.

  "My mother doesn't have a sister name Ninestone," Hubward said quietly.

  "It's a secret identity, Hubward. I'm a war criminal," Ninestone said. "My name is Desi, I'm your mother's older sister."

  Hubward stared at her. He hadn't seen his aunt in years, but yes, he could see the resemblance. The mannerisms, the faded blue eyes. They were his mother's eyes.

  No wonder he'd liked Ninestone so much. Hubward had thought he'd just been missing his mother, but that wasn't it. Ninestone looked a lot like her. No wonder he'd been so easy to fool.

  "Is that why you helped me fight the trangle?" Hubward asked.

  Ninestone shook her head. "No. I helped you just now, to save Bayadev. I gave Novvy the seeds to help Bayadev too. I tried to defeat the Zeitgeist to save Bayadev. How that evil thing got past my defenses I'll never know."

  Hubward jabbed at her with the sword. "No matter if you're my aunt. I'll still take you in, take you to the King. You killed my family."

  "I have no magic," Ninestone said. "I am helpless." She sat up in the mud, breathing heavily. Her lower lip trembled.

  Was she afraid? Or was this all an act?

  She would regain her magic ability soon. Hubward had to decide.

  "Saving one town doesn't make up for all the evil deeds," Hubward said. "I'm bad at math, but I'm not that bad."

  "I didn't do all those things. I haven't been the Sorcerer that long," Ninestone said. "And I tried to change things once I took over."

  "What?"

  "Sorcerer is a job title, not a person!" Ninestone said. "I took over when Kidal, the old Sorcerer, got ill. I was his herbalist, and we grew close. But I wore that horrible armor, I fought the Scythians, and when the Gutlanders turned on us, I fought them too. We were invaded Hubward! People forget we were invaded, and the Scythians would have killed us all. I did what was necessary, but I didn't . . . I didn't want to."

  "The Sorcerer got sick?" Hubward asked. "I thought he was invincible."

  "The armor eats you from the inside, like a cancer," Ninestone said. Some of the color had returned to her face. "Like a fire burning a house from the inside. All the Sorcerers have died slowly. But someone has to do the job, otherwise Baltica will fall. We didn't start the war Hubward, and yes some of our cures were harsh. But I did what I needed to do, to save Baltica."

  "Like sending the dragon to kill my fam
ily?" Hubward asked. His sword arm trembled.

  Ninestone shook her head. "Why would I? Yes, the dragon did kill your family. Because they were trying to kill it. Shouldn’t a dragon protect itself? Or should it die because a human wishes it to be dead?"

  "Intended or not, evil is evil," Hubward said.

  Ninestone sighed heavily. "I suppose I'm asking for your judgment, aren't I? You are best to give it. You Hubward: Magic user, last of my family, veteran of the war. Maybe that's why I'm asking you to decide. It is cruel to ask. But I need someone to judge. So it's going to be you."

  "Then you'll go to the King. He can decide," Hubward said.

  "The King is my executioner," Ninestone said. "I need you to hear all of it, to confess . . . ."

  "Go ahead," Hubward said.

  "I was once a mother, I was once married," Ninestone said. "I was once a herbalist in Rakvere, near the eastern border. I was once worried about my two sons, and the annual festival, and my husband's pain in his left leg. I once thought about our chickens, and their thin eggshells, and whether or not we should purchase another home to rent out, to expand our business. Once, that was my concern—" she laughed bitterly. "And then—"

  Ninestone shook her head.

  "—And then the Scythians came galloping in on their horses. They seemed to enjoy killing. They killed my family. They killed my village. Every chicken. Every child. Do you see? Intended or not. Evil is evil. They brought about their own destruction when they attacked. I had twin boys. They were your age when they . . . ."

  "And your husband?" Hubward asked. He felt numb, frozen in place.

  "My family was killed, and I was so angry at the Scythians. I was so angry! I was right to be angry. Maybe that's why the Sorcerer's armor chose me. That's why it wanted me next, because I was blinded by rage. Because I was right."

  "And then?" Hubward asked.

  "Small things at first," Ninestone confessed. "The armor must grow on you, adapt to your strengths. My anger would slip out, and the most horrible things would happen to the Scythians. Things I didn't even want. I started to lose control, to grow paranoid. I knew the war had to end, I had to get rid of that armor. It was cursed. So I found a horrible spell. It was the worst thing imaginable."

  "Is that where Ash came from?"

  Ninestone shook her head. "Ash has plagued us since the beginning. No, I cast the spell that made the mud ring, it protects Baltica for hundreds of miles. No horse, no creature, can pass through that mud. But that wasn't enough! I had to hurt them, I had to hurt the Scythians too."

  Hubward licked his lips. They tasted like salty mud. "What did you do?"

  "When was the last time you've seen a horse?" Ninestone asked.

  "What?"

  She smiled bitterly again. "My spell killed every horse. Every single horse. Haven't you wondered why there are no horses in Baltica? Why we use oxen?"

  That was it?

  "It's the mud," Hubward said. "Horses can't deal with the mud."

  "True, they can't," Ninestone said. "But the Scythians practically live on their horses. I wanted the war to end, and so many people had died already. I thought when I took over for the Sorcerer, that I was smarter than he was. So I cast the most horrible spell, to save humanity. I killed every horse in the world. My family was dead, and I was angry and I killed every stupid wonderful horse. And the war was over."

  Hubward nodded. "Better horses than humans."

  "Is it?" Ninestone asked. "Is it really? But remember the Scythians lived on those horses, and their families depended on hunting from horseback. They live in the eastern plains. Without a horse, they had no ability to get food. They starved to death. The grandmothers. The children. The weak. That's who died, Hubward. And I caused it. Millions of people died. Slowly."

  "But you didn’t mean to."

  "So what if I meant to? Intended or not! You just said that. 'Intended or not, evil is evil.' After that, I swore off magic for a long time. Once we had won the war against the Scythians, I let the other sides unite against me. I was evil, but not for the reasons they thought. The Scythians were defeated. And when the Gutlanders and Balticans attacked me, I let them win. They trapped me, and I abandoned that horrible suit of armor, and it was destroyed and spread across the kingdom. Except . . . ."

  She pointed at the metal rings scattered near her feet.

  "Except someone is bringing it back together. Someone is rebuilding the Sorcerer's armor. And even now, I use the power. As evil as it is, I used the magical power from the armor to save Bayadev."

  Hubward touched the metal rings with the back of his hand. This was the same metal Jaroo and the others had worn. The same clasps that Man-of-Arms had been using too.

  "I've seen this. Ash, the Zeitgeist was repairing it inside the dragon."

  "No surprise," Ninestone said. "That creature is working to destroy all of us. Not just Baltica."

  Ninestone took a deep breath. She stood up. "So Hubward, that is my story. Nothing is left out. And now you must judge me. I am sorry to do it to you, but someone must. It falls to you, the last of our family."

  And there was the story, laid bare. Hubward felt as if his head was spinning. "But my family, you killed them, made them undead anyway. I can't judge you fairly."

  "I've been trying to save them," Ninestone said. "Why do you think I took you in? The stews, the vegetables. I've been working day and night to heal them. You must have noticed an improvement."

  Hubward had noticed. Was that why his team had started to act more normal? Why they had been able to care for the garden? "And the seeds you gave them?"

  "A half-measure," Ninestone said. "If Novvy planted a few, they'll have an unlimited supply. The pumpkins can make them almost live again, while I work on a permanent cure."

  Hubward said nothing. He had to decide. He had to before Ninestone regained her power.

  "So send me to the King, Hubward, or let me go. You have the ability. Will I be another death, another soul for the war to claim? Or shall I keep trying to fix the problems I caused? Do I receive the grace of second chances?"

  He looked at Ninestone and thought of all the truths and lies and how she had befriended him and fed him and taken him into her home. Nothing in her behavior marked her as an insane murderer, he thought. She'd lied with words, but her actions were true. Was she evil? If this was a play, the audience would never believe it.

  What would Gulchima do? He didn't think she would have a clue. Perhaps this was a job only for him. Something for a perfectly normal magical boy, who was bad at math, and liked bacon, to decide. Who better to judge the world?

  He looked at Ninestone. A part of him roared for vengeance. Vengeance for what? Did he want vengeance, or did he want to restore the world, to set it back on the right path?

  Maybe, there was a way to defeat the Sorcerer without killing it. Maybe Ninestone would help. Maybe he could give her a second chance.

  He looked at her tattoo on her inner forearm, which read "Once . . ."

  There had been enough death.

  Hubward dropped his sword.

  "Go," he said.

  Ninestone bowed to him, then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  He'd hoped for some insight from this, some great revelation. But it was not to be. Ninestone's smoke was neither the red of evil, nor the white of good. It was purple. And so Hubward didn't know if that meant she was evil, or good, or something else entirely.

  But she was gone. And he'd let her go.

  That was important.

  Chapter 44: Gulchima Finds the Yellow Cake

  The bandits had weapons, powerful muscles, and magic.

  Gulchima had cake.

  It wasn't even fair.

  Lady Keyhide's first cakeball whizzed through the air, hitting the bandit leader right in his magical teeth. He didn't just drop. He flew across the room, flipped over the top of an old fizz factory machine, and then slumped unconscious.

  The battle started.

  Arrows and ca
ke whizzed across the room. The bandits hid behind the machines, despite Frenja and Menja yelling at them. They were being picked off. Their magic made them weak.

  The nearby wire mesh was easily molded into plates, which made it easier to hit the bandits. Isolde flung a plate of cake, and a bandit stiffened, then toppled to the ground, as if frozen stiff.

  Gulchima threw a plate at one, and missed, then had to duck as a blast of magic shot toward her.

  Jaroo scooped up a handful of cake, packing it down like a snowball. He had a good arm, surprisingly, and the cake thwacked into the head of a bandit, who was peeking out to see where they were.

  One of the bandits decided to throw the cake back. Since that bandit was strongly magical, she had to use a broken lever she'd found on the ground to even touch it.

  The cake sprayed across Lady Keyhide's forehead, but had no other effect, except to enrage her. She ran toward the bandit.

  "Get out of my burgh!" Lady Keyhide yelled. She head-butted the bandit, and since the cake was still spattered on her head, the bandit rocketed away and then splashed into the river.

  "Oh you are such fun orphans!" Lady Keyhide said gleefully. She clapped her hands and returned to the cake pile.

  "We're not orphans!" Gulchima and Isolde said simultaneously.

  Between Isolde's cake plates, and Jaroo's cakeballs, the battle was over quickly. One-by-one the bandits were taken out.

  Only Frenja and Menja remained. They leapt out from behind a machine, and charged at Gulchima, screaming.

  She started to back away.

  But the others were out of position too. If Frenja and Menja took control of the pile of yellow cake, there was no way Gulchima could defeat them.

  Gulchima threw her last cakeball and it hit Frenja's sword. But her sword wasn't magical. The guards kept coming.

  Menja and Frenja hurdled the last machine, and then they were in front of her.

  They glowered at Gulchima and pushed her away from the pile of yellow cake.

  "We were told to bring in girl," Frenja said, stepping toward her. "But you too hard to catch."

  "Maybe we cut you into pieces," Menja answered. "That make you easier to carry."