The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  A small smile. A friend’s smile. Then the air bent. There was wrongness here. Something had happened. Someone had broken a rule. The Frost Faeries flew around Ivolethe, screaming.

  “You broke it! The rule! You broke the rules!”

  Ivolethe stood in the air, looking down at Ryoka, her friend. She was smiling. She opened her mouth, and in that moment the wind ceased. The other faeries quieted, and Ryoka heard Ivolethe’s words.

  “Remember. Remember it all. This is truth. This is wonder. This is magic.”

  Then she leapt up. She flew towards the sky, laughing, daring her King. She cried out.

  “Blow winds and come, wrack! Lord what fools these immortals be! Come! Come and see what cold cannot freeze and winds cannot erase! I am no coward! Let the storm rage on! Let the earth hear my cry! I am Ivolethe! And I will not let my friend die!”

  The world paused, and Ryoka looked up. She saw a host in the sky, watching figures, made of snow and ice. And felt a presence. The lone glow of Ivolethe’s light spiraled up, higher and higher to that celestial host. And then fell. Ivolethe fell to earth in front of Ryoka. And broke.

  The Frost Faerie’s body of ice shattered to pieces on the ground below. Where once had been life was just melted water. Memory. Nothing more.

  The world groaned and was silent. The Frost Faeries around Ryoka hushed. And the ice around Venitra began to melt. Ryoka got up. She turned and ran. And wept.

  —-

  He was old. And tired. And sleeping. Teriarch woke as she ran into his cave, woke as his spells alerted him. He opened an eye.

  “What now? I thought I told you we would never meet again, girl. There is nothing for you here. Nothing I will give. Why tempt my wrath? Why try?”

  A broken voice was his reply. Ryoka stood in the cavern of the Dragon, bleeding, fingers broken, weeping. As Teriarch woke and realized what he saw, she shouted at him, screamed.

  “Why? Because I can’t do it myself! I can’t! And you—you didn’t know! Do you even care?”

  “Care? What’s going on? Why are your fingers—”

  Teriarch stared at Ryoka, befuddled. She strode towards him, and the gold Dragon looked into her eyes. Ryoka’s voice was hoarse, and she was trembling. Still crying.

  “My friends! Everyone I love! He’ll kill them all! Is this a game to you? Didn’t you think about what the consequences would be? Why do they have to die—why did he have to die because of a damn letter? A birthday letter? Why didn’t you protect them? Why did they have to die?”

  “Who? What’s going on?”

  She didn’t answer him, not right away. Ryoka trembled. She inhaled several times. Then she spoke. She looked at Teriarch and shouted it at him, at the Dragon, in his cave of wonderful and useless treasures.

  “You know who! Him! Perril Chandler, the bastard who lives in the Blood Fields! The one you wanted me to find! The Necromancer! Az’kerash!”

  Ryoka said it. She shouted it at Teriarch. The Dragon inhaled. He hesitated, struck by guilt. Then by anger. He opened his mouth to tell her it wasn’t his business, that he didn’t care.

  He never got the chance. Ryoka clutched at her chest. Something was wrong. Something was happening. Teriarch saw magic around her. His ears heard her heart squeezing, heard her breath catch. And then the spell activated.

  Ryoka’s heart burst. She collapsed. Teriarch stared at Ryoka Griffin as she fell to the ground. He stared. She lay on the ground, dead. Teriarch reached out with a trembling claw and touched her. Then he opened his wings and roared.

  4.31

  In the moments after Ryoka died, she had a vision. She had left her body and she was running down a path. It was some kind of road that stretched on until infinity and she was running as fast as she could down it.

  There was no pain. There was nothing but the wind on her face, and the sensation of flying, flying across the ground. Ryoka ran. And ahead of her was a flying blue figure. Ivolethe.

  The Frost Faerie was laughing as she let herself be chased by Ryoka. She was going so fast, and no matter how quickly Ryoka ran, she could never catch up to the faerie. But for once, Ryoka didn’t mind that. She ran, happy and free.

  And then she came to a cave. Ryoka slowed and slowly walked into it. Now she was in a different place.

  In a place where mountains touched the sky, there was a cave. It lay at the foot of one of the mountains, dug into the side. It could have been called a cavern. There was an old man living there. The cave was his home.

  It was a large cave, but small for the old man living inside. Too small. It was cramped and he didn’t belong there. He should have been out in the sun, but he hid from it. He was old, and Ryoka heard him whispering. His voice echoed around her, until she was standing by his side.

  She looked down and saw her own body lying on the floor. Ryoka knew her heart wasn’t beating. It was in pieces. Magic had shredded it. And the old man was trying to keep her alive. He pointed, and Ryoka saw her chest begin to rise and fall.

  Now his voice echoed around the cave, whispering. Frantic and old.

  “—breathe. The death magic must be dispelled. But the heart—where’s my scroll of regeneration? No time. I’ll have to reconstruct it—what do Human hearts look like?”

  He turned and began to search around his cave as Ryoka watched her chest continue to rise and fall. Something was happening in her chest. Ryoka knelt by her body and felt her heart start to assemble itself, flesh and blood melding together.

  “I can’t find my compendium of anatomies! Another heart? A magic one? No, no. Just heal the damage. It’s just a death spell. Simple to fix. She will survive. Of course she will.”

  He was old. And worried. And tired. Ryoka looked at the old man as he paced back and forth in his tiny home, his cave of rock.

  And then she saw a Dragon.

  His scales were bronze and shone like the sun. They looked closer to gold in the half-light of his cavern. The Dragon was huge, taller than any creature of the land or sky, majestic. His mane flowed like molten metal, his claws were like razors.

  And he was legend. He was one of the last of his kind, a reminder that magic, true magic still walked the earth. He was older than the mountains he rested under, the ancient watcher. A being of flame and sky.

  A Dragon.

  And then Ryoka felt her body give a start. Her heart began to beat again and she saw herself cough. Ryoka felt her chest convulse. She was lying on the ground, her heart aching. And then she opened her eyes and the old man and the Dragon were one. He had a name.

  Teriarch.

  He crouched over Ryoka, an expression of worry on his huge face. The Dragon reached out with one claw and touched her. So gently, a giant gently caressing an ant. She looked up into his eyes, heliotrope and cerulean and saw him smile.

  Relief filled the huge Dragon as he looked down at Ryoka Griffin. And then, just as suddenly, the relief turned to fury. He turned, and Ryoka sat up, despite the pain in her chest. The Dragon roared again, a sound that made the cavern shake and the vast collection of his artifacts tremble. She looked towards the entrance of the cave, waiting. The vision was still in Ryoka’s mind, that endless road and Ivolethe. But she put it aside for one moment.

  There was no way she was going to miss what came next.

  —-

  Venitra stopped when she heard the second roar. It echoed through the High Passes, sending the other monsters running for cover. Even the goats. It even sent a moment of trepidation through her. But the undead woman did not flee. She had come too far to be denied her victory now. Her master would not accept failure.

  And Ryoka was so close. Venitra’s body was still frozen from the ice but she made it move. She strode towards the huge cave opening. There was a yellow flag of some sort tied to a rock at the entrance. The undead disregarded this. This place was suitable for Ryoka Griffin’s end.

  “I have found you!”

  She roared into the cave, wondering if Ryoka had awakened some kind of monster
within. Venitra strode into the darkness, fearless. She had been created to be superior to any monster! She was perfection. Her master had made her, so she must be so.

  Her sword and shield were drawn, weapons of enchanted bone, like her body. Venitra walked forwards, her heavy tread crushing rocks underfoot. She had been built like a knight; her body was armor superior to any steel, and the magic in her warded her against lesser spells and attacks. She was flawless! Unstoppable! She was—

  The woman rounded an outcropping of rock in the darkness and saw the Dragon. He loomed over her, violet and blue eyes burning with fury. His scales glinted as his head moved down to regard her.

  “Wretch. Thing. You dare trespass in my domain?”

  He bellowed the words and Venitra trembled. She stared up at him. A Dragon. A—she brandished her sword. She could see a young woman lying on the ground in front of the Dragon. His tail was half-curled around her, protectively.

  “Give me Ryoka Griffin. I have no quarrel with you, beast.”

  Did her voice quaver? Surely not. She was not afraid. She was not! Venitra lifted her sword, daring the creature before her.

  The Dragon reared up. His eyes narrowed and Venitra braced herself. He roared a third time, and Venitra dashed forwards. Her body, enchanted with [Haste], darted at the girl half-sitting up on the ground. Venitra leapt—

  “Begone.”

  Something grabbed her. Venitra cried out and stabbed at the claw grasping her. Futilely. Her blade glanced off something, and then she felt herself lifted. Venitra struggled and something hurled her—

  “What?”

  The undead woman twisted, her shield raised, her sword slashing the air frantically. What had just happened? She felt weightless. There was nothing to stand on, no ground—or Dragon—anywhere around her. Everything was a blur and she was…moving? What? Venitra realized what was going on.

  “I’m—falling?”

  Then her body crashed into the side of the mountain. Venitra felt the shock of the impact crack her body. She lay there, stunned.

  “I broke? I? What—”

  Wing beats. She struggled upright and then saw him. A Dragon flew upwards, wings stretched wide. His head rose and he turned to look at her. And Venitra was afraid. She raised her shield. The Dragon inhaled. Venitra crouched. Her body was bone, not flesh! He couldn’t harm her. He couldn’t—

  The air caught aflame. The world turned to fire. Venitra felt her ivory body blacken and crack from the heat. She screamed. Pain, real pain engulfed her soul. Everything was burning! She cried out.

  “Master!”

  But there was only fire. Venitra screamed and the Dragon roared. He turned his head away from the broken undead creation and flew upwards. He shouted at the sky.

  “Az’kerash!”

  The mountains shook with the word as Teriarch bellowed another word. And hundreds of miles away, the Necromancer’s heart began to beat faster for the first time in years.

  —-

  “Venitra?”

  Az’kerash’s voice faltered. In the minutes after Venitra had been encased in solid ice, the room around him had gone silent. Ijvani, Bea, Kerash, and Oom stood in their teleportation circles. The spell was nearly completed. But their master’s attention was solely concentrated on the image of Venitra.

  “Venitra. Can you hear me? Respond. Pull back. Retreat. This is an order!”

  The Necromancer spoke to his servant. But Venitra didn’t seem to hear. She strode towards the cave opening. And then the image of her vanished. Az’kerash cursed. Ijvani turned her broken skull to stare at her master. She had never heard him swear before.

  “Master?”

  The Necromancer began to pace back and forth. He whirled as the projection of Venitra flared back to life. Ijvani gasped as she saw Venitra. The bone woman was flying through the air! Then she was landing. And there was fire—she saw Venitra, her master’s last great creation and favorite of his servants burn in the fiery inferno. She heard Venitra calling out for her master. And then she heard the voice bellowing her master’s name.

  “Az’kerash!”

  “This is problematic.”

  Az’kerash stared at the projection of Venitra. She was barely moving. Ijvani couldn’t even tell her apart from the melted rocks, still glowing with heat. He turned.

  “Kerash! Go to Venitra. Use a scroll. Teleport there and bring her back. Do not do anything else. Do you underst—”

  “Master, there is a spell addressed to you! It’s a [Message] spell.”

  Bea cried out. Az’kerash turned.

  “I sense it. Do not answer, Bea. Kerash, take three scrolls of [Greater Teleport]. If Venitra is unable to use it, force her to—”

  “Master?”

  He turned. Ijvani pointed. There was something in the air behind him. The necromancer stared at the burning piece of air, a shining, fiery dot, and narrowed his eyes.

  “Do not respond to the spell. Kerash—”

  Bea didn’t touch the spell. Neither did Ijvani. But somehow, the spell itself activated. Ijvani stared as the point of flame expanded, wrote itself in the air. That was impossible. The rational, dead part of her mind kept saying that. It was just a [Message] spell! It couldn’t—what was happening?

  Then the word wrote itself in the air. It was a single word, and when it completed, there was a voice.

  “Worm.”

  And with that word came fire. The Necromancer raised his hands as flames burst into the room. He shouted.

  “[Mass Flame W—]”

  The air ignited. Ijvani’s bones caught flame. The air, the stone, everything burned. Searing fire engulfed the Necromancer and his servants. They cried out. Bea screamed and Oom writhed in silent agony. Ijvani shrieked as she felt her enchanted bones melting in the fire. She caught a glimpse of Kerash flailing, engulfed in flames, and then her master, raising a hand.

  “[Snap Freeze]. [Void Room]! [Sanctuary of Protection]!”

  A cold blasted through the room, lowering the temperature and creating boiling steam. Still the flames did not go out. But then the air in the room vanished and the flames disappeared too. Ijvani stopped flailing and saw her master, standing motionless, ash covering his body.

  He was burned. And as he turned, a roaring face appeared in the air in front of him. A Dragon. His projection had engulfed the room in fire. His words were thunder.

  “Az’kerash, you worm! You dare? You dare send your minions to trespass in my home?”

  “Ijvani. Bea. Oom. Kerash. Leave.”

  Az’kerash spoke through gritted teeth. His servants picked themselves up. They stared at the Dragon and fled. The air was gone in the room, save for a pocket around Az’kerash, a glowing sphere where the heat could not touch. But despite the vacuum of air, the heat from Teriarch’s wrath was beginning to melt the stone within.

  “Calm yourself, Teriarch! I did not order Venitra to attack you. Nor did I intend to interfere with you in any way. She was pursuing a girl—”

  “Ryoka Griffin. You tried to kill her! A Runner! A messenger! Have you no shame, coward?”

  The Necromancer held up a hand, black eyes narrowed. His white pupils locked with Teriarch’s.

  “I was safeguarding my interests. She knew my location thanks to you, Teriarch. If she spoke of it—”

  “I do not want to hear your excuses, brat!”

  This time fire burst into the air around Az’kerash. He shielded his face as the flames danced around him. These were no ordinary flames. They were a Dragon’s fire, and they flew around him in the void, trails of white-hot fire that burned on pure magic, not oxygen. He muttered a word and a layer of bone grew out of the floor, shielding himself from the flames which began burning their way through the thick ivory.

  “Enough! I will not apologize for my actions! I will safeguard my secrets at any cost! That girl was a tool. Why do you care whether she lives or dies?”

  Teriarch’s eyes narrowed. He inhaled, and Az’kerash raised his arms.

&n
bsp; “[Wall of the Damned]!”

  This time the raging Dragon’s fire blasted through the projection between the two. It blasted around the twisted wall of glowing bodies that had appeared to protect Az’kerash and into the corridor beyond. The undead warriors standing in the hallway burned. Ijvani and the other servants had a chance to scream before the inferno flashed down the corridor and blasted across an entire wing of the castle.

  When the smoke cleared, Az’kerash lowered the shield between him and Teriarch. He stared at the Dragon. Teriarch was panting, wheezing. He slowly lowered himself back onto the ground, curling his wings up tiredly. He and the Necromancer stared at each other.

  “She is under my protection now. Understand? Kill or threaten her, and I will personally exact a reckoning upon you and your toys!”

  “Understood.”

  Az’kerash coughed, exhaling a plume of black ash as he spoke. He wiped it from his lips grimly before speaking.

  “I will leave her and her associates alone. Allow me to collect my servant, Venitra.”

  “You may send someone to bring back what is left of her.”

  Teriarch’s tail lashed the ground. He narrowed his eyes at the man standing in his destroyed room.

  “I will not warn you again, Necromancer. I will not be crossed.”

  “I was not aware that a single City Runner merited your protection. Or do you care for Humans now, when you’ve abandoned your descendants, the Drakes?”

  Az’kerash responded icily. Teriarch hesitated.

  “I care not for mortal lives. But Ryoka Griffin. She is—deserving of respect. She delivered a gift for you. Has she done anything to warrant death?”

  It was the Necromancer’s turn to pause.

  “No. But I will warn you, Teriarch, that my secrets are not to be given away. If you will not let her die, make clear to Ryoka Griffin the consequences of—”