Nagura pulled her head back. The hiss she let out was a pitch-perfect example of a counter-threat.
“Stand down, all of you!” I warned. “I’m unharmed, all right? Nagura here just wanted to talk.”
Liam raised his head, though his eyes remained wary. Galen snuffed out the light in his palm, and a look of curiosity replaced anger on his scholarly face. Shaw, on the other hand, sounded a bit skeptical.
“Hast thou taken leave of thy senses?” he roared. “‘Tis the biggest foe I’ve yet seen! And thou hast seen fit to give it a name?”
“Not foe, Shaw!” I said sharply. “She’s…well, I don’t know what she is, yet. But she didn’t harm me when she could have. And I didn’t ‘name’ her. She told me that her name is Nagura, the Great Mother of the Wyverns.”
Galen rubbed his chin as he considered the new situation. “I gather that she does not think we are responsible for the deaths of her people?”
“Like I said, I don’t know,” I admitted, as Shaw finally sheathed his talons and landed next to the centaur. “She can only communicate through writing.”
“She writes in the common tongue?”
I shook my head as I held up the magic amulet in answer.
“Her language is translated into the text we found in the Codex. You can read it through this artifact she gave me.”
“Fascinating,” Galen murmured, as he trotted forward to examine the item.
I handed it to him as I quickly filled in my friends as to the rest of my short time with Nagura. Now that the immediate threat had passed, the wyvern mother retreated a few steps behind me and sat in a half-crouch. Her eyes flicked restlessly between the four of us, trying to comprehend what we were saying.
“If thy beastie has honorable intentions, why did she kidnap thee?” Shaw demanded.
“That’s a good question,” I admitted. “My guess is that she was being cautious. If you woke up, found everyone in the aerie dead, and a bunch of strangers poking around, what would you do? Figure out their intentions as best you can, maybe by isolating the least hostile-looking one.”
Shaw let out a ‘harrumph!’ but didn’t argue the point any more. Instead, he paced back and forth, casting furtive glances at the patch of sand where Nagura had drawn her symbols.
“The question is, how did she survive?” I asked aloud. “I don’t smell any trace of chlorine in here.”
“I can answer that,” Liam piped up. “We followed you as best we could by the sound of Nagura’s retreat. It was a warren of tunnels to sift through on the way, but there was one common link between all the passages: they sloped up to these rooms.”
I nodded. “That makes sense. Chlorine, being heavier than air, would have never flowed uphill. Nagura’s chambers here would have remained untouched.”
The Protector nodded. “Regardless of how proof this area is to chlorine gas, time still passes outside. Evening and darkness shall be upon us soon.”
I considered that for a moment. “Okay,” I said. “I’m due back in Los Angeles, and I’m supposed to be there for a couple of days. Nagura looks fearsome, but she’s very weak. If magic water is all that’s been keeping her alive, then maybe you can help her. If she’s willing to leave these caverns, perhaps we can share out some of our supplies.”
“That’s assuming we can communicate this to her,” the Wizard noted. “And that she can tolerate our food.”
I snapped my fingers after a moment’s thought. “Galen, I just gave you an amulet that does a form of translation. Perhaps that might help you shape some new magic to help us there?”
He brightened as he realized that I’d just thrown him a new challenge. “An excellent point! I shall endeavor to, as your world puts it, ‘reverse-engineer’ this device to make it more useful.”
“That’s just what I wanted to hear.” I ran a weary hand through my dust-covered hair before I continued. “Before I head back…guys, be careful. Stay out of any of the lower tunnels.”
“We shall assiduously avoid them.”
“And keep an eye out for hostile centaurs.”
“I can do better than that,” Liam reminded me. “I’ll keep an ear out for them.”
“Good.” I looked over to where Grimshaw paced back and forth. “And…try not to challenge anyone to combat before I return, all right?”
The griffin looked sulky about it. “Couldst there be a compromise? Might there be some other wyvern we could decide to keep alive?”
“Shaw, I mean it!” I said firmly. “We do not kill possible friends or teammates. Talk, yes. Kill, no.”
“Aye,” he grumped. “Thy wish shall be obeyed.”
With that, I turned and spoke to Nagura. She canted her spiked head and looked at me with open curiosity.
“Nagura, I have to leave now,” I said slowly, hoping that my gentle tone would help soothe things. “I’m leaving you in good hands. You’re with my friends. Hopefully your friends too, in time.”
Shaw let out a snort at that. I ignored him as I slipped one hand around my transport medallion. A squeeze, and I vanished in a flash of white.
Chapter Thirteen
The gray light of early morning made the white walls of the First Samaritan hospital look like polished ivory. I rubbed my tired eyes as the sliding glass doors opened for me. I took a moment to dump my disposable coffee cup and cardboard sleeve into a nearby recycling bin before I headed towards King Fitzwilliam’s room.
Mentally, I bit my tongue. That was Fritz William’s room.
Sadly, I had to agree with Andeluvia’s monarch on one point: it was a dumb-sounding name that I’d stuck him with. In my defense, I was sort of under a little pressure at the time. And I hadn’t known his first name.
At least not until later.
Try as I might, I couldn’t suppress a smile at that thought.
I spotted a trio of nurses going over patient charts together as I drew close to their station. One of them, a bubbly-looking blonde, excused herself and walked over as soon as she spotted me. She beamed at me, and I immediately recalled how I’d ‘pre-sold’ the King’s behavior to her.
“It’s Margaret, right?” I asked. “I’m Dayna Chrissie. I don’t know if you remember me, I came in with–”
She let out a tinkly little laugh. “Remember you? I don’t think anyone could forget your arrival. It’s been the most excitement we’ve had in the ICU for months!”
Great, I thought, At least I got to be everyone’s entertainment for the evening.
To be fair, Fritz and I had arrived in a singularly dramatic manner. Then there was King’s regal medieval clothing and my Primrose Lady outfit, complete with pink miniskirt-length dress. Grimshaw had trimmed it for me during a wyvern attack, but the griffin had left it short. So short that when I sat down, you could see up my legs and clear to Nebraska.
I felt my cheeks started to get hot. “Um, yeah. I’m here to check on King…Fritz.”
“Then you came at the right time,” Margaret said, with a quick check of her watch. “He normally holds court at this hour of the morning.”
“Holds court?”
“Yes, until eight o’clock. After which, there is the Royal Sponge Bath.”
The Royal What-Now?
“You’re treating him…awfully well.”
“Of course we are! He is a reigning monarch, after all.”
I gave her a sharp glance. “I told you that he was just an actor.”
“Well, he’s very good at being a king.” The nurse’s face took on a dreamy look. “Honestly, he’s a natural at it! He’s just so handsome, so regal, so…I don’t mind being one of his chief attendants at all, I can tell you that!”
“Right, right,” I said, cutting her off before she could gush any further. “How is he doing?”
“Well, progress has been a little uneven. But I’ll let him tell you about it.” Margaret led me to Fritz’s room. The dim murmur of a conversation came from inside, followed by the unmistakable sound of male laughter. She
cracked the door open a few inches. “Your Majesty, there is someone else who would like to speak with you, if you are feeling up to it.”
“Of course,” the King’s voice called back, sounding a good deal stronger than when I’d first checked in on him. That was cheering news all by itself. “We receive all who would speak at court with courtesy and bended ear.”
Margaret did something suspiciously close to a curtsey before turning to me. “You may enter. But remember, only until eight. His Majesty shall be busy attending to other matters at that time.”
“Such as the Royal Sponge Bath,” I muttered, as she left on her rounds. “Got it.”
I took maybe three steps into the room before staring in astonishment. Fitzwilliam sat upright in bed, one arm still hooked to a couple monitors and an IV bag of some clear solution. His complexion remained a couple shades too pale, but he looked more hale and hearty than before. The only surprise was a freshly blossoming bruise along the left side of his face.
That, and the fact that it was my boyfriend sitting next to the King’s bed. Esteban and Fitzwilliam were so deep in friendly conversation that they hadn’t even taken notice of me. Which wasn’t a bad thing, given the subject matter.
“This member of the Nuevo Varrios wanted to ‘make his bones’ by taking out a cop,” Esteban said, as he pulled back his sleeve to show a nasty brown scar on his bicep. “Came at me with an Occitan pocket-knife. So sharp, I didn’t even realize he’d tagged me until it was already in. I was lucky to grab his wrist before he twisted it.”
“The same luck must shine on both of us,” Fitzwilliam replied, as he raised the arm with the IV leads. An even nastier looking circular mark dotted the underside of his forearm between his wrist and elbow. “I was at the Fountain Court in Saratha when a nobleman challenged me to a duel. Unfortunately, he challenged me by stabbing underhand with a stiletto. I had to break his wrist before withdrawing the blade.”
“That was underhanded in more ways than one.” Esteban pulled up his shirt, exposing a stippled mark on his side, at about waist level. I’d seen it before but never asked about it. “That’s a skid mark. Nabbed a motorcycle thief who decided to take off while I was still holding on to the bike. Got dragged twenty, thirty feet down Venice Boulevard before he crashed us into a fire hydrant.”
“Astoundingly nasty. But you should see this.” The King tugged his bedsheet to one side, exposing the lower part of a leg. The unmistakable wavy mass of scar tissue slashed its way along one shinbone.
Esteban let out a low whistle. “That’s a bad burn, isn’t it?”
“It did pain me for quite some time.”
“What was it from?”
“Dragon’s blood. It’s highly caustic. The creature had the temerity to attack me in my own throne room.”
Esteban sat back, mind obviously awhirl, his hand moving to tuck in his shirt. He nodded, as if acknowledging who had won the contest of ‘the coolest wound’.
“Did you kill it? Or ‘slay’ it, whatever the right word is?”
“Actually, no,” Fitzwilliam admitted, as he covered himself up. “I didn’t kill it. However, the one who slew the dragon has graced us with her presence.”
Esteban followed the King’s gaze until he saw me. The look on his face was one of pure astonishment. He tried to speak, but I beat him to it.
“I did tell you about that fight in the throne room,” I reminded him. “Or did you not believe me?”
“Of course I did,” he blurted. “It’s just…I don’t know, maybe I didn’t realize just how dangerous Andeluvia is.”
“My world can be hazardous at times,” Fitzwilliam acknowledged. “The truth is, I owe my life to Dayna twice over.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Esteban said.
“I think a different man is the lucky one, friend Alanzo.”
A strange silence followed that remark. I felt my cheeks starting to get hot again. Luckily, the King spoke again as he pointed a finger towards his bruised face.
“As you can see, I have had a minor setback,” he said. “I have fallen more than once while trying to walk. The poison is still affecting my system, weakening me and playing havoc with my sense of balance.”
I had to fight down a wave of unease. “Is it…I mean, do they think you can recover from these problems?”
“The doctor would prefer to keep me under ‘intensive care’ for another couple of weeks. I disagree, as I need to return to Andeluvia. But it is up to me to prove my mettle at this point. I cannot rule effectively if I am unable to ascend to my throne.”
Fitzwilliam was probably right. Image was important to the rowdy, half-civilized knights and lords of Andeluvia. Showing physical weakness at a time when the kingdom was under such strain would only make things more difficult.
Still, I didn’t like it.
“I’d feel better if you stayed,” I said.
“Your feelings are not at issue, Dame Chrissie,” he said firmly, but in a gentle voice. “The fate of the realm is at stake.”
A buzz sounded in the room. Esteban pulled out his phone and frowned at the message on the text screen. He stood, inclining his head towards the King as he spoke.
“Your Majesty, it’s been an honor,” he said. “Unfortunately, my duty to the LAPD calls. Los Angeles is getting restless again around the edges.”
“I understand, Sir Esteban.” Fitzwilliam sat up and extended his hand. “I would shake on the things that we have discussed today. As men and equals.”
Esteban reached over and clasped the King’s hand firmly. He turned, winked at me, and then strode out the door.
My brow furrowed. “What did you two discuss, anyway?”
“It is of no matter,” Fitzwilliam said, shrugging. “You must bring news of Andeluvia, Dame Chrissie. This must take precedence.”
I didn’t like his brushing aside what I wanted to know, but he was right as to the priorities in front of us, so I filled him in on the events at court and the Regent’s plan to get me back into the Centaur Lands. But my news about Nagura hit him like a punch in the chest.
“This giant wyvern…” he breathed. “You do have a talent for working with the strangest creatures, Dame Chrissie. But could this not be taking compassion too far? One of this kind’s ilk did its best to kill me. Perhaps it has even crippled me. What could come of befriending this beast?”
“She’s not a beast,” I insisted. “She’s definitely intelligent, and what’s more, literate.”
“So were the Seraphine, and they were quite evil.”
“They showed their evil just when they could do the most damage to us,” I reminded him. “Nagura has already had that chance, and she did not harm me. No, the wyverns of Keshali are Creatures of the Light. And if we can figure out how to communicate better with her, she might be able to give us some answers.”
“Answers? Pertaining to what?”
“Defeating the darkness,” I said flatly. “If she’s been in hibernation since the ‘Old War’ mentioned in the Codex, then she may know how to deal with our foes. The demons like the Ultari and the dragons like Sirrahon.”
Fitzwilliam chewed on this for a bit before answering.
“You do make a compelling case,” he sighed. “And I can hardly stop you from a hospital bed. I can only say one thing. Proceed, but with caution. I mistrust wyverns.”
“Believe me, with a creature of such power, I’ll be on my toes every step of the way.”
Another buzz filled the room. This time, it came from my pocket.
I frowned once again as I read the message. “It looks like Esteban needs my assistance in the field again. There might be multiple bodies involved.”
The King nodded wearily. “Then I think this court is concluded. You have another kingdom here, in the Land of Angels, that is ‘getting restless around the edges’.”
On that note, I left the room for my car at a run.
Chapter Fourteen
The OME van was painted the off-white of a dir
ty dishrag, and it had the asthmatic acceleration of a school bus. But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, I was just happy that the thing had a working air conditioner with a fresh load of refrigerant. Spring was rapidly shading into Southern California’s summer, and being stuck on a hot freeway could feel like sitting next to an open blast furnace.
The information Esteban sent directed me north into the San Gabriel foothills again. In fact, I ended up driving even further out than the Wainwright or Nystrom houses. The freeway wound its way into rolling hills where the endless sea of suburbs petered out into wilderness. Once I got past the freeway’s choke points and off onto a leafy country road, I pulled into the first gas station I came to in order to fill up the van’s tank.
Esteban’s text had sounded urgent, but I also needed to send my promised update to the Regent. I set the gas pump handle to ‘fill’ and went into the station’s attached convenience store. I picked up a palm-sized pack of self-adhesive notes and headed for the counter. My stomach growled its discontent, so against my better judgement, I also grabbed a prepackaged cherry danish cross-hatched with fluorescent sugar piping.
The sweet frosting melted into a treacly mass on my tongue as I chowed down on the thing in the confines of the van’s driver’s seat. It wasn’t quite bad enough to make me stop eating, but the cherry filling tasted like a badly educated chemist’s guess at making ‘fruit flavor’.
I did my best to ignore my poor food choice as I tore open the pack of notes. Jotting down my information with my free hand, I rewrote things when necessary to keep it brief and legible. A last bite of the danish, and I laid the notes in front of me on the sun-warmed dash.
Magnus had said that all I needed to do was touch the enchanted artifact he’d given me to any document. So, I adjusted the thick, jewel-dotted ring on my finger, reached out, and pressed it against the first note. The silver grew cold for a split second, as if I’d brushed my hand against a block of ice.
A Warrant of Wyverns Page 7
