“Thank you, sir,” Bodrin said.
The man bowed to Saxthor and left.
Saxthor gave the wizard a quizzical glance and turned to his buddy. “Don’t eat the tray, Bodrin.”
“Shut up, Saxthor.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Remind me to whip your butt when we’re away from this castilyernov.”
“I’ll try.”
“You two behave before I have to spank both of you,” Tournak said.
The boys cast each other a nod but tried to appear penitent when Tournak frowned at them. Weapons and animal trophies adorned the timber and leather walls. The travelers sat on the simple, but heavy furniture before the reception hall’s roaring fire.
General Socockensmek, a large yet solid older man, appeared as Saxthor inspected the room. The famous general was the perfect host for so imposing a setting. He stood in front of a well-worn, high-back, leather chair by the fire and bowed to his guests. His full, white hair and long, well-trimmed mustache framed his face. His beaming white teeth gave him the aura of a younger man.
“He doesn’t look the gruff old gentleman people made him out to be at court,” Bodrin said in Saxthor’s ear.
Saxthor shrugged his shoulder.
“Welcome to my home, gentlemen. It’s been such a long time since I last saw you, Tournak. How are things in the capital? And Memlatec, what of him? I get so little news here.”
Before Tournak could respond, Socockensmek turned to the boys and studied them. His smile never diminished. “I’m honored by your visit, Prince Saxthor, and Lord Bodrin. I trust you had a safe and exciting journey?”
The general’s eyes remained focused on Saxthor.
He’s checking us out as if he’s sizing up his troops while waiting for our answer, Saxthor thought. I’m a Calimon de Chatronier, a prince of Neuyokkasin. I need to remind myself of this to keep up my confidence and not let the general intimidate me.
Though Tournak was the senior guest, he didn’t respond. He sat upright on his bench, watching the boys.
“We had an exciting journey, sir,” Saxthor said. “There were challenges, of course, but we met them well. I heard your name a great many times at court, where you’ve made quite a lingering impression. You have a fine house here. Thank you for your hospitality.”
General Socockensmek flashed a quick, approving glance at Tournak. When the boys appeared occupied examining the general’s trophies, Socockensmek shared his thoughts with the guardian, which Saxthor overheard.
“I’ve not seen the prince before as I left the court before he was born. Prince Saxthor has courage; he’ll need it. I hope that in my last days, I’ll be able to protect him until he is capable of confronting what lies ahead.”
“We’ve been attacked several times already.”
“Memlatec’s news of Earwig’s menace is as alarming as the developments here on Tixos. I trust the wizard’s intelligence about the boy’s latent power and potential is correct. Prince Saxthor will do the house of Chatronier credit with time and guidance if he survives to maturity.”
Tournak looked over at Saxthor. “Yes… survives.”
*
The assembly had a feast that evening, after which the boys went to the loft to sleep. The long journey had taken its toll. Tournak sat up with the general and reminisced about old times. Over nightcaps, he brought Socockensmek up to date on the current affairs at the court. With the youngsters asleep, the men’s conversation turned serious.
“What’s this mission you’re on?” Socockensmek asked eyes boring through Tournak.
“Memlatec told me to bring the boys safe to you, General. He said they’d have a task here on Tixos. Along the way, we’re to train them, honing their military skills and awareness of things lurking around them.”
“I’m sure the boys have learned a lot from those attacks along the way. I can tell you, the hammering in the north has become more frequent throughout the last year. Smoke rises in the distance, and the ground shakes from time to time. I’ve seen shadows of unknown things moving at dusk.”
“Why did you retire to the remote interior of this militarily obscure island? I’d have thought a general would’ve wished to live within a castilyernov’s influence.”
As he stoked the fire, Socockensmek studied Tournak.
“On his deathbed, my old friend King Minnabec II requested I appear to retire and come to Tixos. The real assignment has been to monitor these mountains. We believed the Dark Lord returned his rock-dwarves to Tixos before his defeat in the Third Wizard War.”
“The rock-dwarves still exist?”
“If they’re here, trouble will first surface when those menacing dwarves again cross the Prertsten Straights to join up with the Dark Lord in Dreaddrac’s far north. From my tower, I’ve watched the happenings on the plateau. Of late, I’ve seen strange things stirring in the hills.”
“Could be a bad time to hike into those mountains. Still, Memlatec was quite certain Saxthor has a mission in the interior, so to the interior, we must go,” Tournak said.
The general’s smile collapsed when he thought about venturing into the unchartered heart of Tixos. He rose, took the decanter, and refilled Tournak’s goblet.
“Something sinister is developing inland. We’ll be walking straight into trouble.”
* * *
In the Earwighof’s dark tower, the witch studied the black leather chest on her table. Caution fought anticipation and made her hesitate. She touched the lid yet held back. She ran her knobby hand over the surface and felt the hardened hide cool and smooth to her touch. The flickering fireplace light gave movement and life to the workroom’s shadowy contents, though almost all were long dead. Radrac bumped into her leg, and Earwig jumped then kicked him away.
“Those two frightened ogres, who brought this chest were quite careful to handle it with respect. The caution was so out of character for an ogre. The Dark Lord must’ve marshaled a substantial army to have risked exposing those monsters in the South.”
Radrac sniffed and scratched at the entry.
“Get away from the door.”
Radrac ignored her and scratched again. The witch threw a pot, and Radrac scurried under a great oak chest.
“Thinking of ogres gives me the creeps. If they feared the chest’s contents, I must be careful. Does mommy’s little rat fear what’s in the big box?”
Radrac peered out, but at the exit instead of the witch.
The trunk’s oversized lock tumbled to the floor. Earwig’s cold hands pried open the black crate with delicate if deliberate care. She paused, then pushed up the lid with only the thumbnail, and jumped away when it toppled backward. The heavy cover clacked against the chest, bounced back on squeaky hinges, and settled to leave the container gaping like a dead clam’s shell.
I’ve waited for ages for Dreaddrac to send this precious thing, she thought. I’d given up hope the king would share his treasure. I wonder why he does so now.
Radrac clawed at the wall under the cupboard. Earwig threw another pot. Radrac squealed and fell silent.
Earwig peered into the trunk. The elongated oval was as large as a water bucket. With both hands, she struggled to pick it up and nestled the thing in a cradle of old rags. She scrutinized the gift and envisioned its potential. Caressing the wrinkled brown shell comforted her, restored her confidence. She smiled down at Radrac again at the door.
“Mommy won’t have to concern herself with what others think much longer.”
With a groan, Earwig plopped the heavy chest on the floor and slid it under the table with her foot. She wheezed, catching her breath before she studied the accompanying instructions.
I must bring this creation into being with particular care, she thought. A mistake might prove fatal. If I should lose control of it, it could reduce the whole palace to ash and rubble -- and me with it.
She glanced around the room before her gaze returned to the oval cradled in the rags. She bit her
lip.
“Oh, but the old stories are true, after all.”
Radrac gnawed her gnarled yellow toenail. Deep in her thoughts, Earwig looked up from the parchment and failed to notice.
The last dragons fought in the Wizard Wars. Magwan, the fire dragon, and Melnosious, the thunder dragon, were pivotal in the attack that overthrew the Wizards’ Hall for all its enchanted shields. What magnificent creatures they must’ve been indeed, she thought chuckling with ecstasy.
Radrac nipped her toe, and Earwig kicked him without taking her eyes off the instructions.
“Those were the days when raw, brute force reigned supreme. No ruler worth his sword worried about pleasing his subjects.” She sighed. “The dragons were slaughtered in the end, but here before me is one of the precious eggs awaiting the magical incantations, charms, and potions to revive their baby.”
Radrac’s teeth gnawed on the door’s metal hinge, distracting the witch.
Earwig flung a wand at the cringing rat. “Have patience, my pet.”
Radrac glanced back at the cradle and chewed the door.
I’m ashamed to admit, even to myself, I received the egg a week ago, the witch thought. I feared to touch it before I all but memorized the instructions and my old scrolls’ related information. I’m sure I have everything necessary to bring forth this dragon, ensuring my invulnerable status.
An exuberant chill coursed through her as her mottled, boney hand patted the leathery eggshell before she shuffled across the stone floor to the fireplace. She snapped her fingers, and a fire crackled. The iron cauldron swung out from the flame. She poured in sour boar’s blood, half a dozen herbs, vinegar steeped with wolfsbane, stump-hole water, and a handful of assorted vile things dried beyond recognition. The sorceress shoved the kettle into the fire to boil her concoction while she went back to the wall cabinet for specialty items.
“I’ll need two bat wings, no, no four, crushed fire opal, claws from the rarest lizards, opossum bile, and extra belladonna seeds and hulls from the garden.”
She returned to the cabinet numerous times for more ingredients. The cauldron bubbled to a frothy broth. Thick plumes of steam rose, and acidic sludge splashed on the floor to hiss and sizzle dissolving any organic tissue touched.
“Dull Radrac, you’re huddled in the corner staring at the kettle sensing something fearful in the making.” Earwig chuckled. “Things are going in the pot even your bloated self wouldn’t touch.”
The irony seized the old hag, and she cackled. Her body convulsed, setting off ripples through her flab.
“Observe Radrac, mommy’s delicate brew is ready.”
Earwig pulled the cauldron back from the fire and watched the goop settle. Delighted, she clapped her hands together.
“The concoction must rest and cool a bit. I’ll set this bowl of quicksilver near the window slit to reflect the full moonlight to the huge pot. These rotten eggs broken over the cooling sludge will create a sulfurous vapor to hover above and keep the contents pure and potent.”
Radrac threw up.
Earwig stooped down to the chest and took out a leather purse. As she stood upright, she groaned. Her bony fingers clutched the heavy table for support. She drew back the strings securing the leather pouch and shaking, she peered in.
“Radrac, my dear, these rarest of ingredients were a gift from the king as well.”
She beamed. With reverence, she opened and turned out the bag. Eight petrified teeth from long-dead saber-tigers, coated with green crayfish blood to preserve their power, tumbled out on the table.
The hag poured the cauldron’s stiffening ooze into a deep-sided tray on the counter; the yellow-green sulfurous haze still lingered above. Earwig spaced the tiger teeth equidistant on the surface and watched them sink into the goop. She carefully lifted and placed the wrinkled dragon egg in the tray. The witch ladled the dark sludge over it until a thick coating warmed and nourished the egg.
With the scroll from the crate cradled in her arm, Earwig stepped to the window slit and scanned the ancient incantations by moonlight.
“Now listen to Mommy, Radrac. I’m going call unspeakable things from the graves of creatures who died sudden, violent deaths. I’ll summon powers from the depths of the earth, caustic primal forces which should be left buried deep under a rock.”
The rat gnawed a shriveled, black batwing dropped from one of the ingredient jars. He spit it out and scurried back to a dark corner.
Earwig chanted and conjured from midnight until half an hour before dawn. All the while, the black undulating plasma cooled, coagulated, and congealed in the tray. In time, the wrinkled shell absorbed the nourishing filth and expanded until the shell was smooth and glistening. With certain lines in the incantations, the ooze bubbled, and strange colors rippled through the mass. Earwig read on. Now and then, a low rumble rose from the egg, a guttural moaning sound, followed by the shrill screech of scraping metals.
“The deliciously foul thing is metamorphosing before my eyes.” Earwig squealed. “I can’t contain my excitement.”
She noted Radrac was cowering in the corner. His normally dull nerves gave way; his nose sniffed the air left and right. His stare fixed on the ponderous door.
“You’d desert me, wouldn’t you, my dear. Your feeble brain can’t think of a means to escape.”
As dawn shattered the night, Earwig put down her scroll and leaned forward against the table.
“It’s done, and my blood will be the creature’s first meal. I’ve instilled so much of my hatred and venom into this thing that I’m completely exhausted.”
She kept an eye on her baby, forming in the dish as she rested.
The remaining sludge pulled away from the tray, sucked up by the egg, drawn in through the softening leathery shell. A bulge formed at the front and four nubs poked out from the sides as the egg elongated. The rear end wiggled and stretched out, long and thin. A head broke through the shell from the front protrusion, limbs then feet grew from the nubs tearing through the shell, and crocodilian-like spiked scales developed on the back. From the skull, fangs appeared in the broad snout. More scales burst out covering the skin. Talons protruded from the toes, and last, a bony, arrowhead club popped from the tip of the tail. The baby scratched apart the torn shell fragments and swallowed them.
“How invigorating, the sight makes me tingle all over.” With a rag, Earwig wiped sludge from the dragon’s scales and cradled the reptile in her arms, her first sign of maternal affection ever.
The dragon cooed his raspy baby cry. The little beast glared up at her with big, yellow, reptilian eyes, gave a mini hunger rumble, and bit into her forearm with a ferocity befitting a dragon. She screamed, grimaced, and locked her teeth to silence the outburst. Unconcerned, the reptile lapped the old hag’s blood until she grew pale and weak. Earwig mashed the darling in its rag nest and wrenched her mutilated arm from his fangs. The pint-sized dragon curled up to sleep. Only then did the witch note Radrac, shaking head to tail, staring at his worst nightmare.
“Come with me, Radrac. I want our little baby to rest undisturbed.”
The witch tried to coax the terrified Radrac from his hiding place. She knew the rat had no intention of waking a dragon. She plastered a smile on her face to reassure the traumatized rodent. He dashed past Earwig toward the exit with repeated, nervous glances over his shoulder.
Earwig barely cracked the door, when the rat squeezed his paunch through the opening ahead of her. His escape shoved the heavy door into her nose. Radrac didn’t slow or glance back but raced down the tower’s dark steps with positive grace for all his ponderous bulk. In contrast, plump Earwig descended the worn stairs, light-footed almost with a dancing gate. The door shut, the lock clanging the only sound.
“My little Magnosious will do my bidding once he’s fully developed. Nothing will be able to stand against him.” Earwig chuckled. “I must do something about Radrac’s weight.”
The next night Earwig returned to the tower. She dragged te
rrified Radrac behind her with his toenails scratching and clawing. His head smacked into each stair step.
“Come along, dear, mommy can do nothing without her beloved Radrac at her side.”
Though stunned, Radrac glared at her.
Earwig cracked the door and kicked Radrac inside. His shriek filled the chamber and echoed off the cliff’s rock face behind the tower. When the night swallowed the fading echo, Earwig entered the room. She was delighted to behold the fully formed dragon, Magnosious, was smacking his lips. Looking up at her, he gave her a grisly smirk. A single drop of blood rolled down the corner of his mouth before his forked tongue whipped around and laved up the last crimson morsel. The yellow eyes twinkled as the vertical black slits adjusted to the witch’s torchlight. His tail twitched like that of an excited cat.
“How’s mommy’s petite baby tonight?”
Hesitant at first, she hugged his scaly neck. The dragon licked his mentor’s infected arm. The acidic saliva seared the prior night’s festering wounds.
“My goodness, little Magnosious has grown to the size of a pony. Didn’t baby’s wings develop well during the night. The problem is how to get you out of the chamber. You’ve developed more overnight than I could have imagined.” She studied the situation. “You’ve grown too large to fit through the door or the slit of a window. One more blood meal, and you’ll be the size of a peasant hut.”
Before Earwig could think of a solution, Magnosious read her thoughts and hissed. His tongue flicked its crimson fork by the tip of her nose. He coughed, snorted, and exhaled a pale blue fire that melted the chamber’s rock wall. Triumphant, his tail fluttered. After a second to enjoy his newfound ability, Magnosious grinned at Earwig and leaped into the night sky. He flapped his wings and soared to the hill behind the tower, where he settled into a recently excavated cave to await his next meal.
Earwig cackled at the sight from the charred rubble of her tower’s wall.
“In no time, he’ll be ready to play his part in this battle with the house of Calimon de Chatronier.”
* * *
The N Arc of Empire- Complete Series Page 13