Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  Hanging from the peg was a small leather case, similar to those used by messengers. It had no markings on it and looked like it had been hung on the wall just yesterday. It didn’t even have dust coating it. Landon swallowed, took the case from the wall, and opened it.

  Inside was a thick envelope with a wax seal of the wizard’s insignia. Landon pulled it out and examined it. His spine tingled. Of everything in the room, this was the only thing that denoted the passage of time. There was writing on the front, but it was hard for him to understand. The writing was that of Tarsli, but it didn’t make sense.

  Tlu Ceenef dleffendlenf: Tly Laft Tleftamen uff Clryftowan dy Wyntlry.

  “Maybe Sri’Lanca can make sense of this,” Landon said to himself. He replaced the letter in the case, slung it onto his shoulder, and continued to search.

  The case was the only object of interest he found. He made one final sweep of the area before putting the shack back in order. It may have been a silly thing to do, but Landon didn’t want to take any chances. Once the shack looked as undisturbed as when he had found it, he started for the door. He paused and slipped the Seal over his fingers. Once he had a mental grip on the power, he grabbed the inside handle.

  Exiting was easier than entering. Landon stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him as if he were leaving any other room. As soon as the latch caught, the shack’s power pushed him away. It was so sudden that Landon stumbled back, and Myra caught hold of his arm.

  “You okay?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “What’s that you have?” asked Sri’Lanca, appearing from behind the shed.

  Landon smiled and held up the messenger’s case. “A letter, but I can’t read it. Let’s get out of this place so we can take a closer look at it, eh?”

  Joy mingled with hope shone on the dragon’s face. “Of course! There’s a Menrian cave near a stream just two hours from here. As soon as you have the Seal put away, we can be on our way.”

  Landon frowned. “Why should I put it away? It’s doing a better job than the vines in cleaning the air. I could make it do the same for you two.”

  “No thanks,” both woman and dragon said.

  “It’s not that hard to do,” Landon said, irritated.

  “I know,” said Sri’Lanca, “but I’d rather have your panicked self on my back than a wizard’s possessed creature. Seal in the pouch, Landon, no arguments.”

  “But—”

  Sri’Lanca raised his tail in warning. Grumbling, Landon pulled the stupid, itchy vines over his mouth and nose and dropped the Seal in the pouch. As soon as the power vanished from his body, his exhaustion slammed into him. He didn’t realize he was so tired. He shivered briefly, but the heat from the bonfire warmed him almost immediately.

  “That’s better,” said Sri’Lanca. “Now on my back, you two. We have a letter to read.”

  Chapter 26

  The wonderful thing about being bonded to a dragon was that certain emotions overpowered others, or were too addicting to ignore. Landon hadn’t appreciated it until now. The excitement and eagerness from Sri’Lanca kept him wide awake, and he barely registered the crisp night air. The more his hand brushed the case, or felt it shift against his side when he moved, the more excited he became. He just hoped they’d be able to decipher the writing.

  The sun was peaking above the horizon by the time they reached the cave Sri’Lanca had mentioned. It wasn’t on the side of a cliff, but inside a small mountain valley, hidden by towering trees with a mountain stream flowing nearby. Once Sri’Lanca touched ground, Landon helped get the supplies off his back and into the cave. Myra tried to help, but the expedition into Hondel had irritated her wound. She tried to hide it, but Landon and Sri’Lanca were quick to notice she favored her belly.

  “For angels’ sake, I’m okay.” She insisted. “If anything, I could do with a bath. I’m covered in ash and . . .” she looked down at herself, “ash.”

  “You also need a change of medicines for your wound,” said Sri’Lanca. “I’ll help you so Landon can bathe himself. Come along, Myra. Let’s go.”

  Myra allowed Sri’Lanca to escort her to the stream, assuring him that she was fine. As much as Landon was anxious to begin translating Christovan’s letter, he wanted to be free of the dragon ash caking his body. He went downstream from Sri’Lanca and Myra to wash, taking a change of clothes with him. After scrubbing himself clean, he tried washing the ash-ridden clothes to no avail. The soot stuck to the fibers and refused to be washed away. Landon ended up digging a shallow hole and burying the clothes.

  When he returned to the cave, Myra was stoking a small fire while Sri’Lanca rearranged the sacks. Myra looked up as he approached.

  “Why isn’t she asleep?” Landon asked Sri’Lanca.

  “Working on it,” Sri’Lanca replied, pulling out a quilt and handing it to Myra. “Just a few more things and she’ll be sleeping like a hatchling.”

  Myra gave the dragon an affronted look. “Sleep? After finding a case in a burning shack that was put there by a wizard a thousand years ago, you expect me to sleep?”

  “Yes,” said tamer and dragon.

  “Well, I can’t. The excitement coming from you both is enough to keep a city awake. Look, I’ve got a blanket,” she waggled the quilt Sri’Lanca had given her, “and I’m sure this overgrown bat with wings will get me some cheese the second my stomach starts rumbling. Stop babying me and let’s get on with our secret note! What are you grinning at, Landon Durn-Dayn?”

  Her tone was scolding, but Landon found it attractive. He took her face in his hands and kissed her for several heartbeats. When he let go, Myra was panting and looking flustered.

  “I am still annoyed at you,” she said, breathless.

  “I know. It’s what I love about you,” Landon replied, grinning.

  Once Myra was wrapped in blankets and propped against Sri’Lanca’s warm side, Landon pulled out the envelope and sat next to Myra. He handed it to Sri’Lanca, who took it delicately with two claws and examined the wax seal.

  “There’s writing on the front,” said Landon, pointing it out to his dragon. “Can you tell what it says?”

  Sri’Lanca studied it, the tip of his tongue licking his snout. Landon leaned against his dragon’s wing and waited. He looked at Myra, pleased to see her struggling to stay awake. It was best for her to sleep. Her face was paler than Landon liked.

  “This is very old,” said Sri’Lanca, after a couple minutes. “This form of writing hasn’t been used for six hundred years.”

  “Can you read it?” Landon asked.

  “Yes, but not as well as I should. One of the elder dragons of the Guard taught Judan and me as soon as he became vizier. Viziers and their dragons are expected to understand all written scripts. I admit, I was not all for the schooling. I despised reading mangy old scrolls when I could be outside.” He sighed. “Jin’Lowen said it would come back to snatch me, and it apparently has. What’s so funny?”

  Both Landon and Myra were laughing, covering their hands to stifle the sound. Sri’Lanca demanded to know what was so humorous and had to wait until Landon was able to compose himself.

  “By the angels, Sri’Lanca,” said Landon, “I hated school for the exact same reason. How long ago was this?”

  “Ten years ago. I was twenty-one at the time but not as mature as Judan would have hoped. As I said before, he was very ambitious and didn’t appreciate my hatchling attitude. But I am nothing compared to Ti’Luthin. He’s much older than me.”

  “Is he a hundred or something?” Myra asked.

  “He’s almost ninety,” Sri’Lanca replied. “He constantly brags that he is the oldest dragon to be tamed, and the first to be tamed by a woman.” He gazed at Landon with happiness. “But I am the first to be tamed by a Nircanian.”

  “Yes, yes, we’re making history and everyone hates us for it.” Landon punched him playfully on the wing, then nodded to the letter. “What does it say?�
�

  Sri’Lanca gave a toothy smile. Sheer joy surged through the bond, as strong as the wizard’s power. “It says, ‘To Keene’s Descendents: The Last Testament of Christovan di Wintri.’”

  Landon’s heart shuddered at those words. Myra sat up, all trace of fatigue gone from her face. “Christovan? That letter is from the wizard who stole the Seal and bound it to Thirien Keene?”

  Landon jumped to his feet, excitement coursing through him. “You were right. After all these years, it’s been in the shack, just waiting for one of us to find it. Open it! Let’s find out what he has to say.”

  “It will be slow reading,” Sri’Lanca said. He sliced open the top with an expert flick of a claw. “As I said, I was not a diligent scholar.”

  “Pah!” said Landon, waving his hand. “Neither were we. Myra, Morgan, and I spent more time plotting to get out of school than remembering dates and names.”

  “Such a waste of a beautiful day, we always said,” Myra commented, her eyes shining.

  Sri’Lanca chuckled as he unfolded the paper. It was as long as Landon’s arm, and he could see tiny cramped writing on it. Sri’Lanca groaned. “This is going to be difficult. The wizard’s writing is small and shaky.”

  “Shaky?” Landon went to his side to look.

  The handwriting wasn’t shaky. It was nothing but tiny, ragged scribbles—as if Christovan had written it while having a full-body spasm. “That looks impossible to read,” Landon said discouragingly.

  “Don’t give up yet,” said Sri’Lanca. “I can make it out, but it will take time.” He turned the sheet over. The writing continued onto the back. “He had a lot to say, this wizard. Landon, I remember seeing a doctor’s book and pencil in the last medicine wagon I stole. Did you pack those?”

  “I did,” said Myra. “I know exactly—”

  “You stay put!” ordered Landon and Sri’Lanca.

  “Honestly, you two! I’m all right!”

  “Just tell me where it is, and I’ll get it.” Landon insisted. Grudgingly, Myra told him where she had put it. It took him a few minutes to unbury the book and pencil from the depths of the medicine sack. He grabbed a loaf of bread and wheel of cheese on his way back to his dragon and fiancé.

  “I can write while you translate,” he said, plopping next to Myra and opening the notebook. “I’m ready.”

  “Mmm, thank you for the cheese.” Sri’Lanca took a small bite, shivered with pleasure, and began translating.

  It was slow work. Landon had to wait several seconds for the next word or phrase. Myra fought to stay awake, but her body’s needs overpowered her will. She slumped against Landon ten minutes into the translation, and he laid her on the ground. He grabbed another blanket and bunched it into a pillow before turning his attention back to Sri’Lanca.

  The further Sri’Lanca read, the more Landon’s excitement was replaced with dismay.

  “I am about to die. Binding the Seal to Thirien Keene’s bloodline has greatly weakened me. But now this family, and this family alone, may use the Seal’s power. I thought it would be like when my brethren and I poured a portion of our power into the Seal, but I suppose forcing the Seal to devour a man’s blood, to bind itself to him and his family, requires more energy.

  I must write. I refuse to die with my secret. Lord Keene has already fled with the Seal and his family, and I am left to lay a false trail. My fellow wizards are coming for me, with Kaktov leading them. When they find me, they will ensure my death is slow and painful.

  Death. The irony that after six hundred years of avoiding it, I must at last embrace it. I must surrender to that great beast that claims all living things. My brothers and sisters will not admit it, but we have lost this war. Our slaves have rebelled and are now either dead by our hands or fighting alongside our enemies. The Eastern dragons have destroyed our beloved castle, Zuremhurst, and allied themselves with humans. They befriend any who is willing to ride on their backs into battle.

  This interspecies alliance is fascinating and terrifying. The dragons do not care about class—do not care if it is a peasant or noble who rides them. All they care is a brave man or woman willing to fight by their side. They are unstoppable. It is as though their human companions give them strength and turn them into a far more destructive force than the Wizard’s Seal. They come at us by the hundreds, and we are just sixteen wizards. Compared to a swarm of dragons and their human allies, our power is nothing.”

  “Sri’Lanca,” Landon interrupted. “Did I just write what I think I wrote? Did dragon taming start because of the wizards?”

  “It appears so,” Sri’Lanca replied softly. “It matches the old records kept by the priests of Balaam. Dragon taming began about a millennium ago, except men and women bonded with dragons.”

  “Why is it only men now?” Landon asked.

  Sri’Lanca shook his head. “Who knows. Time changes a nation. It may have been a ruler who wanted more control, an emperor who felt women were better off in the home than searching for dragons, or dragons refusing women and thereby shaping Dagnor’s culture. Whatever the reason, it clearly led to the wizards’ destruction.”

  “Clearly. Is that all?”

  Sri’Lanca snorted. “No. That is just the topmost bit. Although this is getting easier. . . .” He resumed dictating.

  “What fools we were! I think back to that first day, when my colleague, Oliva Rayin, told me she and her brothers had acquired a wondrous power, one that rivaled the dragons. I didn’t believe her at first. I was the dean of the Baldacci College of Physical Sciences in Lythra, and to hear of a power sounded like religion. I had never been a believer, and religion was a waste of time and coin. I laughed at her, but she looked at me and my clothes burst into flame!

  I panicked and tried to put it out. I even poured water on myself, but they continued to burn. Oliva magically put out the flame only to reveal that I had not been harmed. In my panic, I had failed to notice that I was not actually burning. I was amazed, and after more demonstrations of her power, I begged her to let me acquire it.

  I wish I could excuse myself. I wish I could say I was young and ignorant. I wish I could say that it was all in the name of science and thereby no fault of mine. But there is no excuse that could seek forgiveness for what I have done. I have committed the worse crime, the most unforgivable sin. I am atheist, and yet as I look back on this, I know that no deity of any faith would ever forgive me. No living creature with a conscience and soul will forgive me.

  Oliva took me with a small group of twenty to slay dragons.”

  A cold lump slid into Landon’s belly at those words, and Sri’Lanca’s voice trembled. Both human and dragon felt shock and an underlying bubble of fear. Landon glanced at Myra, but she was still fast asleep and oblivious to the revelation unfolding from the parchment. Sri’Lanca pressed on but his excitement was gone.

  “Dragon-slaying. It was akin to murder, and we did it in secret. We slew the creatures that taught man how to make fire, how to tame wild beasts and plants, and to know right and wrong. It was the dragons that showed us religion and science, philosophy and government. And what did we do? We murdered them. We took their lives, because it was only by touching a dying dragon that we obtained power. Their lifeforce became ours, and we became like gods.

  I was one of the five who still had no powers. Oliva and the others bound a dragon for each of us, and we pierced our dragons with a javelin to the heart. I touched my dragon as it died, and its power flowed into me. It was as wild and raging as a stormy sea, and I felt just as invincible, just as unstoppable. With the death of this creature, we had received great power. And with that power, we became gods! We became rulers and overseers! We, a group of twenty, conquered nations, vanquished kings, and punished any who got in our way. We gave ourselves the title of wizard and wizardress, deriving it from an ancient term meaning wise philosopher.”

  Landon shivered. He remembered being in the grips of the Seal’s power and throttling Sri’Lanca. He remembered th
e overwhelming urge to touch the dying dragon. What if he had? Would the Seal have taken the dragon’s life force, or would it have entered Landon directly, turning him into a wizard? His stomach squirmed at the thought.

  He also remembered watching a dragon die so many weeks ago. It had been pierced by a Lythran ballista. The air had shimmered around it, and then it had plummeted to its death. At the time, he was too shocked to wonder about the shimmering air, but now . . . that had been the dragon’s power leaving its body.

  “The only problem was that it did not make us immortal. Like all things in nature, the power eventually grew old and died. It made us live several decades longer than the normal man, but it did not stop death. The only way to stave off death was to slay more dragons and replenish our power. We continued to hunt the dragons, stealing their magic as they died so we could live. At one point, I wondered what happened to the dragon’s power if it was not taken. I killed a dragon and felt the power shimmer away into nothing. It seems that the magic is only useful in a living being, otherwise it becomes extinct.

  That was my excuse for dragon-slaying. Why waste something so wonderful? Of course, only a select few should wield that awesome power. Therefore, my companions and I, twenty invincible wizards, continued to slay dragons and take their power. We slaughtered hatchlings along with the adults. The little ones were easier to capture and kill, and their power changed our countenances so we appeared younger. The adults gave us longevity, and the hatchlings gave us youth.

  At first, we only hunted the dragons west of the Tareth River. It was easier and more convenient that way. We took turns raiding the nesting caves, slaughtering every dragoness and infant within. We took the unhatched eggs back to Zuremhurst, incubated them, and slew the babies as they broke through the shell. Our actions were noticed, and word spread that the wizards were capturing dragons.