by Alex Sapegin
No matter how he racked his brains, he couldn’t find a solution. But he would have to communicate somehow. No one had crossed out good old trial and error. Andy, priming several defense and attack interweaves, flew out to meet his fate.
Two leagues out from the nest, the thin latticework construction of a signal cupola flashed in the sky. The emerald dragon had received notice of the guest’s arrival. Andy waited for the host’s reaction. The dragon remained standing on the platform near his cave. The guard modules his guest hadn’t forgotten about this time controlled his upper and posterior hemispheres. He couldn’t see any dangerous surprises or local residents angry over the intrusion. The situation gave some preliminary confidence.
Flying over to the platform, Andy extended his front paws forward and beat his wings quickly. Following a sudden hunch, he looked at the emerald dragon. Targ, insanity danced in the yellow eyes that met his. The instantly activated shield swallowed the “icy arrow” sent at his belly, which was vulnerable during landing. Andy folded his wings, crashing down from above onto the madman. A punishing blow threw him against the cliff wall. The emerald dragon wasn’t planning on sticking his neck out under Andy’s fangs. Turning, he waved his tail. Golden scales flew in all directions. A dark stripe of blood decorated the crystal dragon’s right side. A hot blast of flames pounded his defense shield. A second wave of the tail sliced the air. Andy, jumping aside, charged at the host with the “press” spell. The air became thick and threw his opponent to the mouth of the cave. The “stone knives” spell, which ripped open the cliff, broke through the shields and, like a butterfly, skewered the dragon on a spike. There was a bright flash. Once he had started his attack sequence, Andy simply couldn’t stop: a whistle of the “axes” interweave and the headless body twitching on the stone needles went limp. Next to it, stunned by the sudden and brief fight, lay the “benefactor.”
No thoughts at all. The platform, covered in blood, beat back any attempt at putting together rational thoughts. Bringing down the cave vaults with a powerful fireball, Andy flew to the river.
Targ! Horned devil and other hellish beasts! What was that?! Whose tail have I stepped on or hoof have I crushed? Why? Why are Fate or the Twins playing with me like this? Someone has too wild an imagination. I’d like to knock the guy’s horns off. At first, he wanted to forget his quest and book it home. As in, he hadn’t done anything to deserve this! But… how could he then look the others in the eyes? Frida, Lanirra, the kids, his parents…. What would he tell them?
After washing away his and his opponent’s blood in the icy lake water, Andy immersed himself in settage. His trance allowed him to get his thoughts in order and restore his energy channels. The short melding with the astral spurred the regeneration of the fibers.
There were so many absurdities in the fight with the emerald dragon. Now, in a state of settage, Andy could say he had met a child. Yes, the “icy arrow” looked threatening, but it didn’t harm his shield. The combat version would have broken the shield to smithereens. The large child did not understand what the strange guy was coming at him for. And the “strange guy,” jacked up on a huge portion of adrenaline, saw this game as an attack. On the other hand, the game and the toys weren’t so harmless. A dragon who’d reverted to childhood could rip a “visiting butterfly’s” wings or head off, without grasping the fact that this would harm the “butterfly.”
He felt nauseated from his own discovery. The fight and its consequences burned up yet another little piece of his soul, which was already becoming more and more hardened every day. He had no pity. Andy understood that pity was useless in the current situation. The questions “why” and “what did I do wrong” were no longer asked. “Wrong” happened three thousand years ago. Now he would have to clear up the consequences of those ancient and cobweb-covered events.
“I’m sorry,” Andy whispered, flying to the landing platform in front of the former entrance to the cave.
***
The third “x” was a dead end. If at some point dragons had lived here, it was ancient history. Neither the modules or Andy’s aero-reconnaissance brought any results. Not only did the mountain indicated not smell of dragons, but not a trace was found for ten leagues around that could point to the nearby presence of a Lord of the Sky. Maybe the dragon or dragons living in the mountains of the Lard province had become masters of disguise, but if so, Andy did not have the time to sniff them out. After going through three spots suitable for nesting with a fine-tooth comb, just to satisfy his conscience, Andy flew north.
He had to get out of the province as fast as he could. The last thing he needed was the authorities hunting him down for destroying Baron von Larno’s castle catching up with him. The dragon-made lake of magma swallowed the castle of the helrats’ henchmen. Along with the baron, twenty people, servants and guards at the castle, were sent to Hel’s judgment. The servants and guards were well aware of the master’s evil-doing. Andy, changing hypostasis, spent the night in the walls of the castle. Larno’s turned out to be a grateful listener, happy to hear the Rauu-mage’s stories all evening. He wasn’t a baron, just a soul, with the minus being that his castle basement stunk of black lily powder. Andy was glad that the austere owner did not keep small kitchen servants within the walls of his residence or other child servants. He wouldn’t have wanted to take the sin of child killing on his soul. There was already so much blood on it, it could not be washed clean in a century.
***
“How much?” Andy subtly placed a golden coin in his palm worth ten pounds. The sketchy guy’s gaze fixated on the golden circle and stayed there. “Name your price for your information.”
A roadside tavern turned out to be a great place for collecting info. The establishment bore a significant name, which one could guess, looking at the oversized signboard depicting three minnows.
The fourth “x” did not have a clear geographical reference. The parchment indicated that on the outskirts of the mountain village of Olzhi a black dragon was seen a few times; people saw the remains of his feasting much more often. The hunting party sent by the abbot came back empty handed. Or rather, half the members of the expedition came back. The rest wound up dead in the clever traps the dragon set in the mountain trails. The capture of the elusive dragon was considered more trouble than it was worth, but they made a mark on the map. Who knew, maybe it would come in handy someday? Thank you, it sure did.
A few leagues away from the village, Andy landed in a wide clearing in a forest and changed hypostasis. His search for the elusive mountain resident had to begin with gathering information from the locals, and that would be easier for a human to do than a dragon. In a few minutes, a “hunter,” dusty from a long journey, walked into the tavern “The Three Minnows.”
“Sir, I really don’t know,” the short guy said, swallowing his spit and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. Andy found the guy very unpleasant. He reminded him of a burbot. He had an inexpressive face, whitish, empty eyes, greasy hair combed back, and a wide mouth with bloodless lips. He was more like a necromancer’s dream than a man. His countenance just begged to be used in experiments on the repose and raising of the dead.
“Who does know?” the coin flew up to the white ceiling and returned to his wide palm.
“I… I can get you a meeting with the guy, s-sir.” The “burbot” was so afraid of the wandering hunter his knees were knocking. He thought those blue eyes with no whites could see right through him and knew his every thought, but greed for an easy pay-out made him sit there at the same table with this monster in human form. The hunter radiated incredible power. At first glance, there was nothing special about him, but as soon as you looked into those bottomless eyes, hidden by his wide-brimmed hat, it became clear that tracking down and overtaking a dragon all by himself was nothing to the guy. A curse on Trog the tavern owner for glancing at the promising client, suggesting pulling the wool over his eyes. The client might be the one who gets the better of them; guys like that don�
��t forgive lies and offenses….
“Do it,” a two-pound coin hit the counter. “It’s a down payment. You’ll get the rest after the meeting.”
“Y-y-yes, sir. I’ll be qu-qu-quick about it. Don’t worry.”
“You’re the one who should be worrying,” the hunter’s lips spread into an ill-boding smile. His sharp fangs flashed. The “burbot” grew legs and touched the floor. “Go on!” The go-between jumped from his place as if he’d been kicked. “Hey, let’s have some ale!”
The crowd that had filled the room followed the twerp and lost all interest in the hunter. Hudd-burbot, (Andy made up a nickname for the guy), clearly feared this man, whoever it would be. And the self-preservation instinct of a well-known panderer and go-between was always first and foremost, which meant it wasn’t worth picking a fight with him. Well, Targ take him. It’s day yet; there’ll be time to find someone else for a good fight.
“Get out of my sight,” Andy snapped at the go-between, tossing him ten pounds. “If what this sleazebag says is true, you can tell me where the dragon’s nest is located,” he said to the man the “burbot” had summoned. “How much for your service?”
The new character was a lot nicer to look at and commanded respect. By the look of him, his mannerisms and gestures, the man was an experienced tracker and hunter. There was something else about him, something painfully familiar, but the spark of recognition was buried under a whole chain-full of defense amulets.
“You don’t speak very kindly of others,” he said, ignoring Andy’s question.
“If you mean that go-between, he doesn’t deserve any other title. Calling a cockroach a cockroach wouldn’t offend you, would it? I called a sleazebag a sleazebag, and no one can convince me I’m wrong about that. So…?”
“Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know where the nest is, but I can point you to the spot where the dragon likes to spend time after hunting.”
“It’s not the nest, but beggars can’t be choosy.”
“Well said.”
“Use it,” Andy waved his hand. “How do I get to the dragon’s relaxation spot?”
“Rela-what?” the tracker did not understand.
“The place where the winged beast likes to unwind, spend his free time?”
“Two hundred pounds. I’ll take you there myself.” The hunter leaned towards Andy. “Payment up front.”
“I don’t think that’s what we agreed on…,” Andy began.
“We haven’t agreed at all yet,” the hunter interrupted him. “Take it or leave it. I’m not bargaining.”
“You’re quite the businessman,” Andy smiled. His purse clanked dully against the tabletop. “You’ve got a deal!”
“We’ll leave at the crack of dawn,” the hunter said, taking the money. “See you tomorrow.”
“Goodbye,” Andy answered, looking at his guide’s wide back as he walked away. Now that’s a serious guy. Seems trustworthy. It’ll be a shame to kill him.
***
“Lar, what are you going to do with this?” Nide kicked at the cocoon of a heavy-duty trap containing the subdued foreign hunter, wrapped up in invisible fetters.
The old dragon, grunting, laid down on the ground.
“Same as always—burn him to a crisp, or maybe I’ll leave him out under the sun. He’ll croak in a couple of days. Was he alone?”
“Yes, which is why I offered to bring him here.”
“Thanks, Nide.”
“You don’t owe me any thanks. I’ll owe you till the day I die.”
“Stop it, we’ve been over this. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Whatever. Ilona and Bugger say hi. The wife’s worried about you—maybe you should relocate? Guys like these won’t back off.” Naid indicated the cocoon. “That’s the third slimeball in the last six months, and those squadrons before him? What if someday I’m not around?”
“Are you worried?” the dragon said, letting the lecture in one ear and out the other.
“Yes.”
“Has Booger made another prophecy?”
“No, just ramblings.”
“Spit it out.”
“My girl said your time has come, and you’ll fly away.”
“Your daughter isn’t exactly wrong,” someone said from the cocoon. The dragon dashed onto all four paws. Nide snatched his wide cleaver from its sheath. Unbeknownst to them, the strange hunter had somehow gotten out of the fetters and was standing behind the conversing pair with an independent air. “Please forgive me, Nide, sir, I had the very worst opinion of you. Please, don’t do anything stupid.” The stranger lifted his hands in a gesture of peace-making.
“Your aura,” the dragon whispered, the ghostly shine of an attack interweave spreading around him. Andy did not know the spell. It looked beautiful, but he had absolutely no desire to find out how deadly it was.
“My aura is fine; will you permit me?” A multi-layered magical shield formed between Andy and the dragon/human pair. The ancient dragon turned out to be a true virtuoso of magical interweaves. Another strange construction grew up behind the formerly fettered man. Judging by the tension of the nodes, it was an attack pattern.
Andy slowly undressed in front of the dragon’s and hunter’s stunned eyes.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Nide asked. The dragon didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on the golden tattoo on the naked guy’s shoulder.
“One second,” Andy said and changed hypostasis.
The black dragon and the hunter both went into shock. Bulging eyes, dropped jaws—they looked like twins.
“Well I never!” Nide exhaled.
“Who gave you that coat of arms?” the dragon asked, shaking his head. He came out of his stunned state much faster than his friend.
Andy was taken aback. The tattoo was a coat of arms? Then again… he had long-since suspected that Jagirra wasn’t a simple elf.
“My mother,” he answered, briefly but very significantly. There was no sense in lying. Andy had long ago made the connection between the Rauu hypostasis and the Ritual. It wouldn’t have been possible without Jagirra’s blood.
“Your moooother…,” the dragon said in surprise. The shield and the attack interweave disappeared. “Your mother?” he asked again.
“Yes.”
“Such a twist of fate! Have you come for me?”
“Yes,” Andy repeated, wound up.
“What use could anyone have for an old sick dragon?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be and I would be glad to hear it.”
They flew out at first light. Gray, the old dragon himself asked to be called that, carefully listened to Andy’s story. He was most interested in the were-dragon’s incentives and motivations for going wild. Considering them relatively well-founded, he agreed to fly with the crystal dragon and even took upon himself the difficult burden of negotiating with other potential fellow travelers and comrades-in-arms. No one desperately tried to persuade him otherwise, but a certain individual’s satisfied mug spoke for itself.
“You wanted to ask me something?” the old dragon looked at Andy, who was shifting his weight from leg to leg.
“I need a teacher. Your heavy-duty trap made me suffer, and…,”
“Don’t pour honey on sugar,” Gray interrupted him. “I’ll help you as much as I can.”
“Thank you.”
Andy changed hypostasis and walked up to the hunter.
“Goodbye, Nide. Who would have thought? For the first time in my life, I’m glad I was wrong about somebody!”
“The feeling is mutual!” the hunter smiled. He had a large hand and a good firm handshake. “Take care of our old man.”
Two weeks of searching melded into a kaleidoscope. In the time that was left, they visited five more nests as marked on the map. Two were abandoned; three were home to dragons. The second, sixth overall, was the most successful. Through Gray’s ambitious efforts, the winged company immediately gain
ed three male dragons and two dragonesses. The last one to join their group was a young, five-hundred-year-old male. He had lost his parents to the helrats twenty years ago. It was a rare sight, the wrath with which Velitarr doused the Servants of Death’s castles and warehouses in the fire. The dragons later decimated every stone of Baron von Strog’s castle….
At the seventh “x,” there was a misfire. They had only just landed on the cliff platform when the master of the cave attacked. As Murphy’s law would have it, Andy was the first to land. The short battle ended in a natural outcome. The old dragon was no match for youth and strength….
***
“So are we flying or not?” Sonirra asked Gray, smacking her lips ravenously.
The dragoness had eaten her fill of half the bull’s body. That morning Andy had purchased three bulls in the village. The poor cattle could sense its fate and did not want to leave its former owners. The Rauu that had paid insane money for the horned meal—thirty pounds, asked them to leave the doomed animals in the pasture. The peasants did just that. Ten minutes later the bulls were gone, disappeared who knows where. Everyone knows that Icicles are, without exception, ingenious mages.
“Let’s fly,” Andy flew over to the lake.
“Where to?” Velitarr’s head popped out of the water.
“Home.”
***
“What, she hasn’t come back?” Andy hovered over Lanirra.
