by J. M. Briggs
He felt sick and shook his head to clear away the terrible images and sounds. Galath was silent next to him and sighed, turning to watch the dragon. It was circling in the air, going higher and higher as it became accustomed to flying once more. Briefly, he wondered if there might be some way to kill the Red Dragon; perhaps Cathanáil could. The sword along with Badb’s power had brought both dragons here, but the idea didn’t sit well with him.
“Good morning,” Bran’s sleepy voice greeted behind them as he stumbled out to join them. “Oh wow, it’s flying.”
“Yeah, his wings were almost healed yesterday,” he answered without turning around. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” Bran replied with a shrug as he took a seat on his own low rock and rubbed his hands together. “I’m surprised it took his wings so long to heal.”
“Probably healed the injuries that were killing him first,” Gofiben offered a shake of his head. “I still can’t believe I’m saying that.”
“Well, you see a creature die and come back again and again…” Bran trailed off and shuddered. “I wonder if the White Dragon was doing the same.”
“Maybe; neither of them looked all that good when they came through.”
Galath hummed loudly on his other side. Bran gave him a sympathetic look and Gofiben relaxed. At least he wasn’t alone in this decision. He loved his brother, and he was grateful for him, but he didn’t understand his warrior mindset. There was a reason he’d preferred to stay in his forge. Things were simpler and if he made a mistake all he had to do was reheat the iron and try again.
“Gofiben,” Galath started to say as the dragon swooped towards them. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
The dragon landed with a crunch of trees on the far hill and there was another laugh of triumph that made him feel both relieved and worried all over again. Galath stood up with a huff and touched his axe for a moment before he shook his head again. Gofiben listened to his brother’s footsteps as they moved away and tugged at his hair in frustration.
“What do you think?” Bran asked finally, nodding towards the hill. “Should we go and talk to it?”
The unease that Gofiben was feeling wasn’t enough to keep him from nodding. Galath was nowhere in sight, though Gofiben suspected that his brother might have expected this to happen. They took a moment to bundle up and grab some provisions before heading down towards the river. Warm sunshine was quickly causing the shadows to retreat and making the day much more pleasant. Gofiben hoped that the weather and the flight would mean that the dragon was in a good mood.
It was hard to miss, a huge creature perched on a flatter part of the hill. Gofiben was certain that it was visible for miles and wondered what the folks in the village might be whispering about the beast. The dragon noticed them coming up the hill and lowered its head. With a small blast of fire, it heated a patch of the ground and then lowered its belly onto the warm earth with a happy huff. Folding its wings and legs against its body, it calmly watched them as they came up the slope.
“Hello?” Gofiben greeted nervously. “Do you remember us?”
“I do.” The dragon nodded to them. “I trust you are well.”
“Yes,” Bran answered. He was standing stiffly next to Gofiben.
“I’m Gofiben,” he offered with a smile. “And this is my friend Bran. We’re glad that you’re alright…” he trailed off hopefully.
The dragon answered with a series of clicks and sounds that not even his magic could make sense of. Sharing a look with Bran, he found his friend looked just as confused as he. A chuckle escaped the dragon and he shook his head.
“Forgive me, it appears that even with magic my name isn’t something that translates to a human tongue,” he informed them before stretching out his legs. “My name is rather traditional I’m afraid; a burden even on a dragon tongue.”
“Well, is there something else we could call you?” Bran suggested carefully.
“Nothing comes to mind,” the dragon pondered with an odd expression on its face. “But I suppose you need something to call me.”
Gofiben pondered the question for a moment. It was an odd request, but he supposed the dragon was trying to make them more comfortable. He nearly laughed; it was already working as he was focusing much more on the question at hand rather than the dragon. Licking his lips, Gofiben had to admit he didn’t know how to feel about that even as his eyes landed on the small scar that was healing on the dragon’s upper chest.
“How about Emrys,” he suggested before his brain had a chance to process what he was saying.
“Emrys,” the dragon repeated doubtfully. “Why that name?”
“It means immortal,” Gofiben offered with a sheepish smile, suddenly afraid that the name would serve as more of a bitter reminder than anything else.
“I suppose that fits my identity in this realm,” Emrys agreed with a sad note to his voice as he stretched out his healed wings. “Still, I wonder if time will prove to be my undoing. Hopefully not before the White Dragon.”
“May I ask what he did that was bad that, even when trapped in another realm, you still want to capture him?” Bran interjected, shifting nervously, but looking determined.
“He is a murderer; contrary to what our teeth and claws might suggest we dragons have firm rules about dealings with each other. He went on a rampage and killed over a dozen of our fellow dragons. I was but part of a team ordered to find him and bring him to justice,” Emrys explained. The dragon flexed his wings. “Normally I would avoid killing him, but I think I must try it at least once before I declare it a lost cause.”
“Then what?” Gofiben asked. “You have no way back and unless Merlin and Morgana return and they know how to use Cathanáil to get you home…. What will you do with him?”
Emrys hummed in thought and looked out towards the nearby mountains, his eyes tracing up the slope of the highest peaks. Gofiben had a strong sense that Emrys was seeing something that he was not and shifted uneasily. “These mountains and hills were birthed in fire,” Emrys finally answered. “I will carve out a prison for us both.” He turned his eyes back to Gofiben and tilted his head with a flash of his great white teeth. “You and Bran’s magic could help me. With your power behind mine, I could bind him beneath the surface.”
“Aren’t you even going to try going home?” Confusion welled up inside of Gofiben. “Then you could get help and take the other one back.”
“Tell me Gofiben, do you know much about what happens to beings to cross between worlds?” Emrys asked him gently. The dragon crossed his front legs calmly with his talons delicately touching the ground.
“Merlin and Morgana explained a little about the Old Ones: they are like living lightning and force themselves into the same form as us to survive, but being in our world slowly drives them insane like Badb unless they stay in water which cleanses them.”
“Indeed, my people have explored our own branch of the tree somewhat. Our worlds are inhabited by great beasts such as ourselves, and over time many of them have shifted from realm to realm. Within the same branch it usually isn’t a problem, but beyond…” Emrys shook his head and lowered it. “Travel beyond our branch is forbidden. For us, the worst changes occur not when we leave, but when we try to return. Though I and the White Dragon did not come to your world willingly, we are barred from ever returning home.”
“They’ve exiled you and you’ll still hold the White Dragon for them?”
“He is a murderer of his own kind; what do you think he will do to yours?” Emrys countered seriously before chuckling wryly. “Makes me grateful that I was an old bachelor. It’s my own fault in a way; I was fighting the White Dragon, quite valiantly, I might add, and the portal just appeared. Rather than pull away, I chose to be stubborn, and didn’t stop fighting even as we both rolled through it.”
“Still,” Gofiben said. “I’m sorry.”
Emrys looked at him in silence, giving Gofiben the feel
ing that the dragon was seeing much more than he could realize. Then Emrys nodded his head. “You are a good one, Gofiben. You have nothing to fear from me, but I need to find the White Dragon. I hope that you will not try to stop me.”
“I’m not sure,” Gofiben admitted. “I don’t want it out there, especially if it is as dangerous as you say, but… well, I don’t know you Emrys. I know you didn’t try to kill Bran and me while you were hurt, but I have a responsibility to my realm. I’m not sure if just letting you fly about is a good thing.”
A sharp high-pitched roar rolled down the valley, making Gofiben jump in alarm and pull his dagger. A harsh growl escaped Emrys as he stood up and sniffed at the air. Bran gripped his friend’s shoulder and began to pull him away from the huge beast. Looking up he saw a white form moving rapidly towards them. His throat closed up as Emrys growled; Bran pulled him harder and they began to rush towards the river. The air pressure around them plummeted making his ears pop as Emrys spread his own wings and took off in the sky. A wave of heat rolled over them and Gofiben struggled with the urge to look back. As his feet hit the cold water and a shudder raced through him, he shook off Bran’s hand and looked up into the sky.
High above them, the White Dragon was circling the area, its white scales glittering brightly in the sunlight. At this distance he could see a slight blue tint to its underbelly scales and that it had larger wings than Emrys. It opened its jaws and released another blast of fire that Emrys swept around. The beam of flame struck the hillside again igniting the few trees that hadn’t already been on fire. Emrys flew straight at the White Dragon and released a blast of fire from his mouth, striking the other dragon in the left wing. It spun through the air but quickly recovered and closed the gap between them.
The White Dragon was aggressive, lashing out at Emrys with its teeth, talons, and tail with sharp movements, but Emrys was faster. The large red dragon dodged the attacks and slashed at the White Dragon’s wings and long throat each time it attacked. Bursts of flames rained down around them, there were snarled shouts to each other and the White Dragon tried twice to circle around behind Emrys. The larger Red Dragon was on his guard, lashing out with his tail and spinning each time to slash at the White Dragon. Gofiben and Bran both dropped into the water as the dragons unleashed their fire at the same time. The walls of flame collided, washing the whole valley in heat. Gofiben swore that he could feel the water lapping up against his arms getting warmer as he lowered his eyes from the inferno.
There was a cry of pain, high pitched and throaty that sent shivers down his spine. The heat was easing and he looked up, gasping at the sight of Emrys with his front talons buried in the chest of the other dragon. His tail lashed up and sliced brutally at the wide white wings. They both began to tumble out of the sky with the red dragon continuing his assault. Brilliant red blood spun through the air, falling down from the sky like glittering red stones. Gofiben and Bran turned and began running back up towards their encampment.
The earth shuddered at the dragons hit the ground, sending both of the mages to their knees. Looking back over his shoulder Gofiben’s jaw dropped: Emrys had the White Dragon pinned with his front left talons curved into its flesh. Red blood was running down the hill towards the river, and before Gofiben could consider what he was doing he started to run up the shore towards the dragons.
“Gofiben!” Bran shouted in alarm behind him. Moments later Gofiben could hear his friend splashing through the shallow water after him. “Gofiben! What are you doing!?”
“He might need help!” He began to climb up the slope between the dragons and the river. “He wants to imprison the White Dragon!”
“Are you sure about this?!”
No, he wasn’t. He had no real idea if this beast was friend or foe; just an instinct. But Merlin and Morgana weren’t here, half of the nearby mountains were already on fire and Badb was still somewhere out there. She might be summoning more dragons, or something else at this very moment. Or she might be dead at Merlin and Morgana’s hands with them working their way back towards his home village. He had no idea, but right now there were two dragons fighting each other. Neither could die from their injuries and the scale of what they might do was frightening to even imagine.
“No.” He watched Emrys slash violently at the White Dragon’s chest as it clawed at his leg. “But at least there will be one fewer.”
Flames burst from Emry's mouth, striking the side of the mountain in a wave of heat and fire. The forest exploded into an inferno, but Emrys didn’t stop and slowly his breath narrowed into a beam that struck the dark rock of the hill. Beneath his front leg, the White Dragon started to stir as the wound in its head slowly knitted back together. With a roar Emrys smashed his leg down on its skull, knocking the creature out again or maybe killing it. The hillside began to melt away; a large opening was being burned into the rock. Gofiben could barely believe what he was seeing and heard Bran inhale sharply. Emrys stopped producing fire and for a moment seemed to be shaky on his feet. His golden eyes moved towards them.
“Mages, I need to contain him,” Emrys shouted between deep gasps. “Help me shape a chamber to hold him. Use your magic so he cannot leave it. I will take him into the cavern and hold him there myself.”
Gofiben felt panic shooting through him at the suggestion and looked towards, Bran who looked just as uncomfortable. Emrys began to breathe once more, his flames melting the rock away. Nibbling at his lower lip, Gofiben raised his hand and closed his eyes. Around him, he could feel the world becoming silent, and the spark in his gut expanded as magic raced up his body. Gofiben envisioned a deep pit beneath the mountain while the cries and snarls of the White Dragon resonated around him, and with a grunt pushed the magic into the hill. Despite Morgana and Merlin’s lessons on the truth about the Old Ones, he found himself whispering a soft prayer that this was the right course of action to anyone or anything that might be listening.
25
Shadow of Stonehenge
The bus was chilly despite the crowd of bodies as the gray sky overhead threatened rain or maybe even snow. Nicki held back a sigh and glanced over at Bran across the aisle, who was searching the horizon in earnest for any sign of their destination. Alex’s head was on her shoulder; the exhaustion of the last few days had not been dispelled by a single night’s sleep in Salisbury.
“Winter solstice at Stonehenge, isn’t it exciting?” asked an overly-chipper female voice behind Nicki. Her question was answered by a sleepy grunt from her male companion.
Winter Solstice; Nicki breathed out slowly in recognition of the day. Time was slipping through their fingers at a frightening rate. Of course, wandering down from Dinas Emrys had taken them into the early hours of the morning, and they’d slept through the train departure they needed to get to Salisbury. They’d only managed to arrive on December 21st, dealing with heavy Christmas traffic and lingering exhaustion. Straightening up, Nicki told herself to stay calm. There was no reason at all to think that Aiden’s parents would take him off the life support systems before Christmas.
The bus turned again and they entered a reasonably sized parking lot. Between some of the heads ahead of her, she caught sight of the gray stones. Even with the circumstances and questions hanging over their heads like a Sword of Damascus ready to drop and slice off their heads, Nicki couldn’t help her excitement. They came to a slow stop, and the doors opened. All around them people rushed off the bus and Nicki gently shook Alex awake.
“What?” the blonde mage asked in a groggy voice.
“We’re at Stonehenge; time to wake up,” Nicki told her kindly.
Alex raised her head off of Nicki’s shoulder with an apologetic look and rubbed at her neck with a grimace as they stood up and took their place in the line to leave the bus. Glancing back, Nicki saw Bran managing his way in the line and noted the protective way that he was holding the bag with the Iron Chalice. Lance and Jenny were a bit further back, but slowly coming forward.
“There’s
more people than I figured there would be this close to Christmas,” Alex muttered as they moved towards the doors.
“Well, Stonehenge was built in astronomical alignment with the solstices.” Nicki reminded her. She stretched her arms with a soft groan. “That trip felt a lot longer than I figured it would.”
“It’s eight in the morning,” Alex grumbled, “Of course it did.”
They stepped off the bus and quickly moved away from the rush of people heading for the hill. Around them were rows of cars and a few other buses dropping people off. Nicki could see part of the site from the car park and her body began to tremble with excitement. Then she felt a flash of guilt that Aiden wasn’t here, that he wasn’t seeing this. Nicki shifted to the side as Bran joined them and they let the tourists push ahead of them. There was a layer of snow on the grass, but the pavement was clear if a little damp. Nicki tugged on her gloves and licked her lips as Lance and Jenny finally climbed off the bus.
“Okay,” Bran called as he began to unfold a map of the area. “We’re here in the Stonehenge parking lot,” he explained as he pointed to the map. “Now, the whole area has a bunch of old burial sites, and here is Woodhenge.” He pointed at another point on the map.