Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “You cannot run now,” it hissed. “How I am looking forward to discovering how you little two-legged creatures taste.”

  “I thought you were going to feed us to your children,” Lorian replied, managing to grasp the last strand of fearlessness he still had.

  The green dragon cocked its head to the side with apparent confusion, and Lorian offered it a grin. Movement behind Lorian made him angle his head to find that the black dragon had swiveled its head toward the commotion, and the crystal mirror dropped to the ground with a loud thump.

  The black dragon slid its feline golden eyes across the companions and then up toward its kin. The black beast roared and flared its giant membranous wings at the green dragon. The noise pressed painfully into Lorian’s ears, and the entire cave around them shook.

  The green dragon cowered and scrambled back into the passage they had just come from, and soon its heavy steps slowly faded away as it retreated. Lorian remained as still as possible as he watched the black dragon slowly fold its enormous wings against its scaled sides. Large pearly white spikes lined the creature’s back, each one getting smaller until they reached the tip of its tail.

  The black dragon snorted once in irritation at the interruption and slowly swung its long neck around to face them. Lorian gulped in trepidation as the dragon’s golden eyes inspected each of them.

  “H-hello,” Krete said in a shaky voice. The gnome looked like nothing more than a small babe in comparison to the size of the dragon before them, but Lorian silently thanked him for speaking, as he seemed to only be able to make one cocky comment to one dragon at a time before losing his voice.

  “Who are you?” the dragon asked. “I have not seen any of your kind in this mountain before.” He chuckled and attempted what looked like an unnatural shrug. “I’ve not lived in this mountain long though, so who am I to know?”

  “Did you live on the crag?” Krete asked, his tone slightly hopeful.

  The dragon shook his head. “No, I haven’t lived anywhere before this. I was created nearly three moons ago. I do still regret what I did to that poor village of strange pointy eared folk.”

  Krete nodded enthusiastically and glanced over to his friends. The dragon noticed this action and cocked his head to the side.

  “Do you know where I came from?”

  Krete looked up and stiffened at the slight growl in the dragon’s voice. He then nodded, but this time slower. “Yes, we have come to put you back into the page from which you were created.”

  The dragon took a step back as Krete withdrew his page from his satchel, mistrust glinting in the creature’s eyes.

  “And why would I go back into that page?”

  “Because we must get back to my home in Creonid before the blood moon. After that, I must deliver you to King Sorren.”

  Lorian raised his brows, impressed at Krete’s sudden ability to speak to the beast as if it were an old friend.

  Aeden’s face turned stony and she poked Krete in his side. “Don’t go telling him our entire plan.”

  Krete shrugged. “Honesty won’t hurt us.”

  “Wait a moment,” the dragon said, “you are planning to go to Creonid on foot and hope to arrive back to your king before the blood moon? That is only three days away, and traveling to Creonid will take much longer than that.”

  “Well, we don’t have any other way of getting there, do we?” Aeden snapped, and Lorian transferred his impressed look to the fairy, as she seemed to have forgotten that she was speaking to a fire-breathing beast that could kill her in the blink of an eye.

  The dragon scoffed at Aeden, “Well, I would offer to fly you all to the mountain.”

  The dragon’s words quickly snapped any fatigue from Lorian’s body, and he blinked at the beast in disbelief.

  “But why?” asked Krete.

  “Because I hate this mountain, well, aside from all of the pretty jewels.” The dragon looked back lovingly at the heaps of shimmering gemstones behind them. “I have been forced to use fire to protect myself against the other dragons many times, and it has unfortunately cost the beautiful landscape a few scars. But I suppose it’s better for the land to be scarred instead of my scales.”

  Lorian glanced at Krete with a raised brow, and there was indeed sadness in the gnome’s stormy eyes. He supposed that the gnome hadn’t expected his kingdom to have been destroyed due to a dragon simply trying to protect himself against a few sour souls.

  “So, you will take us?” Krete asked, and the dragon narrowed its gaze.

  “Well, of course I will,” the dragon replied. “Besides, I need some sunlight on my wings.”

  They all exchanged looks, considering. It made some sense to Lorian, even though he didn’t completely trust that the dragon would stay true to his word.

  “What if you fly off after you deliver us to Creonid and we can’t put you back in the page?” Aeden asked.

  “Darling, I hate every single one of the mother dragons in this cave, who would definitely eat you all before you even got close to getting out of here on your own.” The dragon paused before speaking again. “Besides, where else do I have to go?”

  They fell silent at that. Krete stepped forward and tucked the paper back into one of the many pockets on his vest.

  “Very well, dragon, take us to Creonid Mountain.”

  The beast nodded and knelt down so that they could climb up and sit between the large spikes on his back.

  “Careful, the scales are very sensitive around my spikes,” the dragon warned as they settled onto his back.

  Lorian sat behind Finriel and tentatively grabbed one of the spikes. It felt like old worn bone, and yet also as if it had been glossed over somehow. Krete sat in the very front, and Aeden and Tedric made themselves comfortable in front of Finriel. Lorian gulped away a new wave of fear that leaped into his throat, and he kept his gaze locked upon Finriel’s dark braid. He had never flown before and never thought that he would ever do so until now.

  “We’re ready,” Krete called.

  In response, the dragon unfurled his large wings and tensed in preparation to fly.

  “And by the way,” the dragon said, “my name is Suzunne.”

  28

  Lorian

  There was one thing that Lorian knew for a fact, and that was that he hated flying. He hated it very much.

  He gripped the large milky white spike with all his strength as the dragon, Suzunne, as he had called himself, flapped his wings and sailed through the clear dusk skies. Lorian let his gaze travel downwards, and couldn’t help the breath of awe that escaped his lips. The wide expanse of mountains that stretched across Drolatis were an array of different shades of brown, each color seamlessly blending into the next. Small patches of snow blanketed areas of the mountains, and he could see the exact places where the barren rock of the mountains met the grassy earth of the meadows beneath them.

  The grass was beginning to die and fade, leaving a yellowish earth behind, a sure sign that winter would arrive soon. Lorian gulped as his eye caught the glittering greenish blue waters of Lake Lagdranule. Now that place is a pretty mask uncovering a terrible secret, Lorian thought with a shiver as he watched small waves crashed into white foam against the base of Dragonkeep.

  Suzunne suddenly dove, causing Lorian’s stomach to lurch up into his throat and his hands to tighten even harder around the spike. The dragon banked sharply to the right, and Lorian felt the small shiver down his back that indicated they had just passed through the kingdom border into Creonid.

  The kingdom looked exactly the same as Drolatis, which was likely why they were called the twin kingdoms. The only noticeable difference between the two was the fact that Creonid had only a single enormous mountain in the realm, surrounded by many small hills and enormous patches of blackened, burnt earth. Krete had been right about the destruction his kingdom’s lands. Lorian looked back at the large mountain, which was an understatement in itself. It spread out for miles, its peak so tall that it see
med to swallow the sky itself.

  Krete let go with one arm and Lorian watched him point excitedly toward the mountain. It loomed before them like a wall, the mix of light and dark browns and reds swirling together in a similar way as the mountains of Drolatis.

  Lorian groaned and pressed himself against the spike yet again as Suzunne dropped even lower and flapped his wings, sending them closer toward the mountain. Lorian gulped as a wide crack in the stone face came into view. As they got closer, the dark opening grew larger, and Suzunne pulled his wings slightly closer to his sides so as not to scrape them against the stone.

  “Damn bleeding Nether, no—” Lorian yelled as the walls swallowed them and they sped into a small alcove in the mountain. They landed with a hard thump, and Lorian was sure that he had gotten a concussion. Suzunne’s claws scraped on the stone, sending dust flying behind them.

  “I cannot say I am too proud of that landing, my apologies,” Suzunne said, panting slightly.

  A high-pitched scream began to ricochet through the small alcove they had landed in. Lorian clapped his hands against his ears and looked around in confusion. He peered over Finriel’s shoulder to watch Krete, who waved and cursed angrily at the walls around them.

  Suddenly, an onslaught of what appeared to be a herd of armored children poured out of the darkness, and Lorian had to keep himself from laughing as the small army of gnomes raised their bows and shouted in their native gnomish tongue. It sounded to Lorian like they were simply babbling the way babies did when first learning how to speak.

  “Stop, it’s Krete!” Krete shouted from atop Suzunne, who was simply staring at the gnomes in a fashion similar to what Lorian was sure he himself was doing.

  The gnomes quieted slightly, but kept their weapons raised. A gnome in particularly well-made armor pushed to the front of the crowd. He looked similar to Krete, aside from the very blonde mop of hair that covered his small grey eyes ever so slightly. He looked younger than Krete as well, though not by much. Finriel turned to give Lorian a curious glance, and he shrugged and winked at her. She looked away quickly, but he was sure that a soft shade of pink flushed across her cheeks. That was twice that she had done that now, Lorian noticed with a small spark of satisfaction.

  “Krete?” the gnome asked in a shrill voice, curiosity and fear showing openly on his face as he peered up at them. Krete scrambled up to his feet and waved at the small man.

  “Mott, it’s me!” he exclaimed, and began to crawl his way down Suzunne’s front leg at a snail’s pace.

  “Watch my scales, Krete, I told you how sensitive they are,” Suzunne warned as Krete finished making his way to the ground.

  “Sorry, Suzunne,” Krete apologized, and then turned to the small man.

  The gnome was slightly taller than Krete, and he kept his small sword raised as he examined Lorian’s companion. Lorian held his breath, almost concerned that the gnome wouldn’t believe Krete and have the army of small men attack them and Suzunne. He wasn’t so sure how successful gnomes had once been in battle, but going up against a dragon for their first time in one thousand years would likely end very badly for them.

  Suddenly, the gnome exclaimed and broke out in laughter, and he and Krete embraced, clapping each other on their backs. They babbled in their gnomish language, and every few moments, Krete pointed at his companions and Suzunne in exclamation, waving his hands around as they conversed excitedly.

  Suzunne sighed, making Lorian vibrate slightly, and he forced himself not to grab for the spike to keep from falling off.

  “Do gnomes typically talk so much?” Suzunne asked in exasperation. “I really need to groom my wings after all of that flying.”

  “Come down, it is safe,” Krete called up to them.

  Lorian hauled himself up to his feet, his legs screaming from both lack of use and soreness. Tedric let out a muffled curse, and Lorian watched as both Tedric and Aeden shimmied their way around Suzunne’s spikes, grumbling as they went. Once the four of them had scrambled onto the ground, Lorian groaned in relief. His legs felt like they were about to fall off, but at least he was back on solid ground.

  “Let’s see what we have gotten ourselves into,” Tedric whispered, surveying the cave in disappointment.

  “Why, were you expecting a lavish castle when you pictured this place? It’s a mountain, you idiot,” Aeden retorted with a grin.

  Tedric gave her a surprised smile, and Lorian looked away. Whatever was going on between them, he wasn’t sure if even they knew the extent of it. He jumped as Finriel came to stand at his side, her expression distant as she seemed to be looking around for something, or someone. Goddesses save him, he needed to figure out whatever was going on between the two of them as well.

  “I’ve spoken to Mott, and he has allowed for you to stay in here if that suits you,” Krete said, turning to Suzunne.

  The dragon huffed and looked out at the sickening drop below, then angled his head back to Lorian’s companion after a moment.

  “Will there be food?”

  Krete nodded. “Whatever you would like.”

  “I will stay then,” Suzunne replied nonchalantly, and moved toward a sandy area of the cave and sat down with a dull thump that shuddered through Lorian’s feet.

  “Wonderful, it will be brought to you soon,” Krete said, and clapped his hands together. “Shall we?”

  Lorian walked a few paces behind the rest of his companions and Krete’s gnome friend as they made their way through the twisting and turning tunnels of the mountain. Lit torches lined either side of the passage, setting it in a cheerful glow.

  The tunnels were much narrower than the ones they had encountered in Dragonkeep, and Lorian was beginning to feel anxious about the confined space. He sent a silent prayer to the goddesses that this wasn’t the way that the entire mountain would be like. Krete and his friend were babbling to each other excitedly in gnomish, and their high-pitched voices bouncing off the walls did not help Lorian’s feeling of being closed in.

  As if the mountain had heard his prayers, their path suddenly opened up and Lorian found himself blinking away the brightness that greeted his eyes. Finriel took in a surprised breath at his side, and Lorian looked around with wide-eyed amazement.

  They were at the opening of what looked like a city square, with gnomes and other furry creatures milling about. Beautiful gardens of vegetables and fruits spread out all around them, the outer edges lined with trees budding with colorful fruits. The ground was of cobbled stone, and paths wound around the different garden beds and toward an enormous tree that stood proudly in the center of the square. Lorian didn’t even have to ask what this tree was. It was one of legend, and he had to admit that until now he didn’t truly believe in its existence.

  “The Viure,” Finriel said softly, her face lighting up in awe as she drank in the sights around.

  The tree was magnificent, soaring higher than Lorian’s eyes could see. Smooth white bark encapsulated the enormous trunk, and black knots dappled across its almost flawless skin. Emerald green leaves the size of Lorian’s palm filled the branches, nearly hiding them completely. Legend told that Tellas had created the Viure, and the gnomes had been birthed from the tree not long after that. The Viure was their mother, and one of the oldest living things in the realm.

  Lorian let his gaze wander up the towering branches, and noticed that they were indeed in the center of the mountain. He found himself regretting his disrespect of the gnomes as he took everything in.

  Rows of raised walkways staggered hundreds of feet above them, each lined by carved stone rails. Lorian could make out doors and passageways branching away from the main square that likely led to other parts of the mountain. The branches of the Viure blocked Lorian’s view of exactly how high the mountain went up, but he could only guess. He noticed the same moss from the forest in Proveria spread out at the base of the tree, bathing its trunk in warm light. Lorian spun around, confused by the amount of light around them that seemingly had no sou
rce. Gnomes were geniuses.

  A loud meow that sounded on the edge of a yowl broke the silence, and many gnomes jumped in fright, cursing under their breaths. A large grey cat jumped from the tree branches and loped toward them. At once Lorian knew that it was Nora, and he smiled as the mogwa bounded up to greet them. So she had listened to Finriel and come directly to the mountain. Now it was only a matter of finding out where she had hidden the pages.

  “Thank the goddesses,” Finriel laughed, and crouched down as Nora slid to a stop before her.

  Lorian looked away as they greeted each other. The sense of familial intimacy around the exchange made his heart squeeze with the faint memories of a long forgotten home. Moments later, something wet pressed against his hand, and he looked down in surprise to find Nora’s amber eyes trained on him.

  “Hello again,” he murmured, and reached out a hand to stroke her soft grey fur. Lorian looked up and his gaze met with Finriel’s. The world stilled for a moment, and Lorian cursed her silently for having such an unreadable expression. After a moment, Finriel offered him a weak smile, and Lorian’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

  “Welcome to Creonid,” a voice boomed through the air. Lorian turned at the voice and found an abnormally tall gnome standing before them. He was dressed in simple brown pants and a red tunic, yet the bronze band atop his dark brown hair made Lorian think that perhaps he was not just any ordinary citizen of the mountain.

  “Hello, King Drohan, it is good to be home,” Krete answered at once, and he bowed low.

  Lorian and the rest of his companions hurriedly offered a bow as well. The king smiled warmly and nodded at them. A female gnome stood at his side, and Lorian had to admit she was pretty, well, for gnomish standards. Long waves of mouse brown hair tumbled down her back, and her wide hazel eyes twinkled as she looked between Krete and Mott.

  “It’s so good to see the two of you together again, little brothers,” the woman that Lorian assumed was the queen said.