by Alex Sapegin
Half the prisoners freed by Andy were indeed a sorry sight: thin, with burning eyes, grimy, and screwed up. Many of them were covered in fresh scabs and shining with whip wounds. Timur didn’t have time to get lice from them, but he was in a bad state. The “monks” had welcomed him in a most unfriendly way: the encounter ended with his left arm broken, which turned black in twenty-four hours, and three broken ribs…. And of course there was no need to mention the cuts, abrasions, and bruises—the young man was one big bruise. Andy remembered the laboratory, asked the dragoness for permission to give the half-dead humans her blood to drink, changed hypostasis, and ran to fetch some vials. Coming back to the basement, he was met by Lanirra, who started reciting some sort of spell over the vials. When he asked what she was doing, she answered that she had performed the cleansing ritual, separating her blood from herself, and therefore ridding herself and humans of the possibility of mutual mental influence. That was nearly impossible already, but it was worth taking precautions, all the more so when they weren’t aware how much her blood had been distributed across the world. Half an hour later, Timur was pretty healthy (if you don’t count his emotional scars, which could not be healed by dragon’s blood). He was back on his feet. Andy broke the wall down and thereby blocking the exit from the cave with the debris, then helped the dragons climb to the monastery. Everyone exited through the door.
***
Andy was aware what “business” they had going on. When the priest saw Andy come back from the lowest levels of the dungeons, he started sweet-talking him. He told him where the treasury was hidden, the accompanying documents, promissory notes, and property deeds. He informed him of other “monasteries.” Andy and Ilnyrgu, dissecting the bookmarks, began to study the contents of the papers. They were especially interested in maps of the kingdom with incomprehensible symbols on them. The helrat, realizing they had him by the… udder… communicated to them that the symbols were the locations of dragons’ nests, discovered by their search squadrons. Those that no longer contained anything to catch were circled. The dragons who used to live there were already captured and prepared as specimens. The income and expenses books they found showed, in neat handwriting, to whom, when, and for how much each “product” had been sold. The geography of the “monks’” economic activity spread from the Light Forest to the south of the Empire. A large portion of the sales took place in Tantre; there were descriptions of transactions with Rauu.
“Can you remember all the nests?” Andy asked the priest.
“I can. I myself added them to the map. Only I have that paper,” he responded and added: “the map shows all the places we know about where dragons dwell.”
“Very good. None of your other priests knew about the map?”
“The hunters knew, but you slaughtered them in the temple.”
Andy nodded to Ilnyrgu and dragged the priest out of the office.
“Wrong answer to my question,” he told the helrat as he dragged him to the eastern wall built near a high chasm. “It would have been better for you if you didn’t know about the map and the preparations. You would have lived longer. I’ll let you go. But as you say, there are different truths. Did I lie to you? You’ll fly over the cliff alive….”
The priest, screaming and howling, flew down from the hundred-foot-high cliff and landed on the sharp stones below. His notrium chains prevented him from using a levitation spell.
No one can know about the dragons’ nests. Ilnyrgu’s one of us. She’s proven that many times over. She can be trusted, Andy thought, but he did not believe in the slimy guy’s goodwill….
***
Andy grew pensive. The declaration of war was bad news, if not horrible news. Just like that, all his plans had gone to a hot place in a hurry. His idea to get home to the valley through Kion were out the window, and now war. As if that weren’t enough to worry about. Tell me, where’s a convenient place to hide three large-tailed creatures and a dozen former basement prisoners? Let’s say the people can live for a while at least in the former monastery. They can eat their fill, and then get on with their lives, all the more so now that they’re no longer just riff-raff, but people of means, faithful to His Majesty. Andy, having found the helrats’ treasury, had dished out a nice portion of gold and silver coins to each one. He’d gotten his hands on the financing papers and communications of the “abbot” along with the treasury, who had other communities, the movers and shakers as well as the lesser riff-raff. They were interesting documents and also smelly ones; they stunk like a skunk or a muskrat for miles around. And what was he to do with the dragons? Where was the purse he could pour gold into for them? Lanirra wouldn’t be able to walk for three more days yet, let alone fly. Could he leave her alone here? Why did he bother saving them if that’s what he planned to do? His problems seemed to be growing from a molehill into a mountain….
Il removed the kabobs from the coals and whistled to Slaisa and Lista, who were practicing with swords. The girls were on fire. They were dishing out such a whirlwind of cold deadly steel that Andy was surprised they hadn’t taken each other’s heads off yet. Olaf freely collapsed on an armful of fragrant hay brought in from the stables and, with passionate eyes, gobbled up the sight of his “lady.” From time to time, in the heat of the moment, he would knock with his right fist on the open palm of his left hand and spit off to the side, but the Viking didn’t make any comments. Lista had taught him not to. At their first stop, he had had the carelessness to (the Viking wasn’t thinking, mind you) step on the orc women’s “calluses,” criticizing their manner of conducting a duel. It goes without saying that the orcs paid too much attention to stabbing the enemy…. Lista nodded and invited the Norseman to join them. The referee, Ilnyrgu, snidely inquired of the critic—perhaps he should turn down the effect of his pain spell, the spell that signals conditional death or injury (“game over” in their training exercises)? The critic grinned condescendingly and somewhat haughtily…, and in a couple of minutes, was writhing on the ground from an arbitrarily arresting blow to the liver. Lista hadn’t left him a chance. Catching his breath, Olaf wanted satisfaction. The warrior smiled blindingly and agreed to a match, giving Olaf the chance at revenge, then another one, and then she tired of proving her superiority in fencing. The last stabbing blow fell in the right sirloin part of the enemy’s “organism.” Naturally, the northerner’s rear end went numb. The Viking raised his hands, admitting that he was wrong. The orc laughed contagiously and kissed him on the shaggy cheek, earning a disapproving glance from Slaisa. After the severe, showy reprimand he’d earned, the Norseman asked if he too could study with them, explaining himself by saying it’s never too late to learn what you don’t know or can’t yet do. In life, everything you know would come in handy. Ilnyrgu looked at the lean but incredibly physically strong candidate skeptically, then agreed to step into the noble role of mentor.
Hearing a whistle, the opponents saluted one another with their blades and walked in an orderly and dignified manner to the fire. The travelers refused to sleep in stuffy monastery cells. They settled down on the monastery’s upper rocky platform which was more like a small training ground. They built a fire in the center of the camp and pitched their tents. A refreshing breeze was blowing at the very top, carrying all the biting and blood-sucking pests away with its gusts and imparting a pleasant coolness their way. The third floor of the residential building rose to the same level as the platform, overlooking the campground through the cells’ narrow slits of windows. The people freed by the dragon were staying there too, on the first floor. They couldn’t hear a peep of what was going on above. The former prisoners slept like logs….
“Where did you get those ‘twins,’” Olaf asked his girlfriend.
“The swords of the master who killed Berg,” Il answered instead of Slaisa. “The unit commander permitted me to take them as part of the distribution of trophies from the spoils after the battle. They’re good blades, as it happens, for close combat, and the length is right for Slaisa f
or quickly grabbing them from behind her back. Let her get used to them. They can’t be carrying everything around in bags,” she said.
“Can I see?”
“Sure.” Slaisa extracted one of the blades from its sheath and presented it to her betrothed handle first.
Olaf grabbed a rag from his belt and, taking the sword by the blade and the handle, examined the reddish grid left on it after etching and polishing, then tapped on the metal with his fingernail, listening to the long, clear ringing sound.
“A fine sword!” Andy nearly choked when he heard the Viking’s familiar words, darn it all to…. “I just don’t get what this ring on the handle is for?” Olaf rubbed the wide ring on the handle. His finger settled in a little dip. “Oh….” The ring twisted half a turn; a little needle was launched from the handle. It flew ten feet and bounced off the dragon’s scales. Lista carefully picked up the unexpected find.
“Let me smell it…,” Andy said. The girl held it out to him. “Poison! It smells like boiled extract of the root of swamp thorn-apple.” He sniffed. “Wait, it’s crap, not poison. It’s hard to kill with this substance; you can only paralyze your enemies for a couple of minutes.” The unexpected guess made him pause quietly. He turned and looked at Ilnyrgu. “You said….”
“Yes, these are the swords of the one who killed Berg….” Olaf gave the blade back to Slaisa. The orc grimaced as if she were being given an ugly spiked marsh viper.
“Take it,” Andy hummed. “It’s a fine blade, and it became a fine blade only after you picked it up. That lowlife that had it before you has nothing to do with it. A wicked master defiles an honest blade.”
“May Khirud grant Berg a spot behind the throne,” Ilnyrgu whispered quietly, then added loudly: “Well what are you all standing around making faces for? Let’s go have our barbeque, look lively now! By the way, where’s Lubayel?|
“She went to a cell. Said she doesn’t want to eat and sleep outside,” Timur answered, chewing his first bite of tasty meat. “Mmmm… I didn’t know orcs could cook so well.”
“Thank your friend. Dragons invented kabobs by scorching their prey in the fire from their mouths!” Ilnyrgu smiled. The dragon grew embarrassed. He’d never encountered such an interpretation of the origin of kabobs.
The pale oval shape of the elf woman’s face appeared in the window to the cell. Yet another walking problem….
“Can I try some?” Lanirra walked up to the fire practically unnoticed, which was almost unbelievable given her size. The dragon drew in a breath of air through her nostrils noisily. “It smells so good… I think I may start drooling.” Il took two appetizing pieces from the spits, laid them on a wide burdock leaf, and extended them to the dragon. It was barely a crumb to the dragon, but it was enough to let her taste it. “Thank you,” Lani thanked the orc. The tip of the dragon’s right wing gently touched the membrane of Andy’s wing, which was strewn out on the ground. A pleasant languor ran over his body. The female dragon turned around, touching her savior a second time.
Darn, well, what’s that about? Darn it all. Is Lanirra playing with me? Once, I could chock it up to coincidence, but twice? I’m not saying it’s not pleasant. On the contrary! I just somehow don’t feel like a… um, an alpha male, ready for action. Making a deadpan face, he pretended he hadn’t felt her touches and had no clue what she was getting at. He was a winged dim-wit. He may be a dragon, true, but…. Papa Karegar, during his instruction and mentoring, had made even the possibility of meeting a dragon of the opposite sex completely impossible, so the ins and outs of interpersonal relations with other dragons remained for Andy a sealed book. It was a lot simpler with humans. He had a grandmother on Earth who was a doctor and happened to have a ton of encyclopedias and informative literature at her house. He had watched, before the fateful lightning strike, a couple of films by German cinematographers. His mother’s fashion magazines had given him at least some idea what to expect. His first personal experience gave him a practical outlet for the “how” and “why.” But he had yet to encounter any dragon films or magazines. There was a giant gap between the “how” and the “why,” or a white spot on the map, and indeed he wasn’t ready for these “interpersonal relations.” If Lanirra wanted to attract the young dragon’s attention, that was one thing. But if her plan was to thank him in that way for rescuing them, that was something else entirely. He didn’t need any such gratitude. Honestly, he saw Lanirra as a partner for a completely different dragon—a black one, and not nearly as old as he would make himself out to be. The thought lived in his head like an annoying worm: what would Jagirra think of the dragon? It was possible the elf would disapprove of her adopted son’s behavior. Her relationship with Karegar wasn’t so cut and dry. She acted like the Mistress not only of the valley but of a certain cozy cave near a small waterfall. Oh yes! Brazilian soap operas were standing on the sidelines nervously smoking against the backdrop of the passions of the winged tribe. Now he just had to figure out how to realize his plans to make his father happy without getting his own butt kicked….
It was probably worth having an open talk with Lani, telling her the whole truth. He shouldn’t let the situation come to hurt feelings and unnecessary ado. Andy half covered his eyes with a protective membrane and cast a sidelong glance at the female dragon. She looked a lot better than she had a few hours ago. A filling supper and freedom from notrium bars had worked wonders. Lani was actively pumping mana, directing it at her own healing. Her aura had gone from a dim light to a bright glow. The dark torn spots on her exterior were closed over with rainbow-colored patches. The rips in her wings were still there.
Without waiting for any kind of reaction to her provocative actions, the dragon flashed her yellow eyes, heaved a sigh, turned around in a circle a few times and lay down thirty feet away from her rescuer. Well there you go, she’s offended. Andy called Timur over, asked his friend to cover Tyigu with a blanket, folded his wings and quietly got up and tip-toed over to the other side of the platform. Lani, watched by the orcs and Timur, got up from her spot and followed him.
“Lani, we need to talk…,” Andy began.
“What about?” the lady dragon answered indifferently, looking at the claws on her front paws.
“About us, among other things.”
“Are you kidding? You took my children under your wings, and you’re ignoring me. You saved me, declared me your wife, and now you’re mocking me….”
Andy sat down on his tail. Not noticing the pain in his unnaturally twisted rear end appendage, he opened his jaws in shock at the dragon’s words. Several insects that were flying by just then flew in. What an announcement! How ‘bout that—where and how have I managed to cross the line between a bachelor and a happily married man? Calm down, just calm down. Let’s try getting at the problem from another angle. Something tells me I should get to the bottom of this right away, or things’ll only get worse from here on out.
“Lani, don’t rush with words. Please don’t interrupt me. Just hear me out. Listen carefully, and then make your conclusions.”
“Alright.”
For the next fifteen minutes, tweaking a few of the details, Andy told her his story. Eyes shining and tail banging the ground in disbelief, Lani listened to everything he had to say. Her wings periodically lifted up off her back, giving away their owner’s upset emotional state by their slight trembling.
“I’m eighteen. Please tell me when I became your husband?” he ended his narration with the question.
“When you took Rury and Rary under your wing, you declared them your children. So, according to custom, I became your wife. How can you not know simple things like that?” the dragon said as if it were obvious. Lanirra stood up and looked him over from all sides skeptically. “It can’t be. When I was eighteen, I was not much bigger than Rary!”
Well darn! Trouble is here—open the gates…. I warmed the children, soft-hearted guy that I am. And look what it got me! Who knew a simple act of participation in her children
’s fates would lead to such a conundrum? How can I explain this to her??
“Lani, I used to be human!” Andy whispered.
“I was born three thousand years ago, ten years before the Great War. My father told me something about embodied ones. I remember well that humans can become dragons at a young age and grow slowly—like dragons! And you’re full size!”
“I underwent the Ritual when I was sixteen, just under two years ago.”
It was the female dragon’s turn to drop her jaw. When her tongue dried out from the wind, Lani closed her mouth.
“Which means, you weren’t making me your wife?” she said skeptically. “Why then did you cover Rury and Rary?”
Darn, this has got to sound crazy to her. I ought to go beat my head on that boulder over there. Which of us is three thousand years old? Well, yeah, in human years it’s like a thirty-year-old woman meeting a nice man in the prime of his life, who then tells her he’s three years old. Idiot! The least offensive thing a lady can say to a guy, and Lani’s not showing signs of unfailing patience.
“Because I love kids.”
“Then why do you look like a grown dragon?” Her yellow eyes squinted at him in skepticism. Oooh, yeah. I’m definitely going to have to break that boulder into a million little pieces. “You should be just a bit bigger than Rury.”
“I don’t know, probably because I became a dragon at such a late age for one undergoing the Ritual. My adopted mother was always worried about me growing too fast. Rary and Rury are like a little brother and sister to me.”
The lady dragon thought for a long time. She closed her yellow eyes with the transparent membranes. Lani periodically removed the membranes and glanced at Andy, as if checking to see whether he was still there or if he’d decided to bail.
“Kerr, tell me, how did you get out of the Circle of Woe?”
“What circle?”
“The circle with the pentagram, where the priests placed their victims and sucked all the mana and life out of them,” Lani clarified.
