by Scott King
Carter had no trouble seeing the mural. Crystalline columns flowed from the ceiling, and they shone with a sparkling ivory light.
"How?" Carter muttered to himself. He didn't see a single agyl powering it.
"I hollowed them out and filled them with a special algae," a deep voice said.
The antechamber opened into a natural cavern. Carter was sure the voice had come from there, but he saw no one. More glowing columns and murals occupied the room, but his eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, and there were plenty of shadows for the dragon to hide in.
"Dragon?"
"Go away." The voice echoed off a wall to Carter's right.
"You speak?"
"Better than you."
This was odd. In all of the books Carter had read, he had never heard of a speaking dragon. Master Owen had never mentioned such a thing. Of course, he could count on one hand the number of dragon sightings that had happened in the past fifteen years. Maybe all dragons could talk? "Why did you kill those people and burn the fields?"
"Go away!" The voice came from both the right and left, leaving Carter unsure of where the dragon was.
"Show yourself," Carter said.
"Get out of my home."
"Remove your tail from between your legs and face me!"
When the dragon didn't respond, Carter decided he had had enough. With his right index finger, he traced kölprufta in the air by extending his arm in a sweeping motion to make the agyl as large as he could. The moment he finished, the lines flared and emitted a bright light.
He blinked as his eyes adjusted and was shocked to discover that less than ten parses away sat the dragon. It was not the dragon he had seen flying earlier. This one's scales were shades of red with darker patches along its belly and light-bronze-colored strips extending off the ridges of its back. More distinct was its body. It wasn't lean and muscly in the way dragons should be. It was chubby. Its girth dwarfed its head, making it out of proportion with the rest of its body.
"For gorph's sake." Carter's mouth fell open. "You're fat!"
"Who are you to talk?" The dragon said. "You're scrawnier than a plucked crenzel." The dragon lurched forward, and the scales on its stomach made a shrill scraping sound as they brushed the cavern's floor.
"I'm a great magician. I don't need muscles to slay you."
"Slay me?" The dragon's lips curled back as if it were laughing. "What did I do to you?"
"Your cohort attacked Hal and the surrounding farms."
"I know nothing about that." The dragon continued to close the distance between them. "However, I will eat you in self-defense, so save my intestines the trouble of having to digest your bony body and leave."
Carter stood his ground.
"Die!" The dragon roared.
It was so close Carter could smell the stench of its breath, like garlic mixed with sour wine.
Carter had seen how quickly the other dragon had attacked. He dared not turn his back to this one. It was kill or be killed. He would end this beast and then track down the other. Hal would be safe.
He pushed away any sense of fear and cleared his mind. Then he filled it with an image of the dragon, focusing on its robust curves and the plumpness of his body.
A warm sensation, like that produced by Kelsam-spiced coffee, filled Carter's gut. His instincts told him to call upon it. Already the power was more than he usually handled, but he didn't want to take a chance of underestimating what he needed, so he allowed the warmth to grow and surge through his entire body. When it got so hot that it started to hurt, he spoke. "Zultonætto mika ty brumälalo zo choven waltorski."
Instantly, the heat was purged from his system, leaving him much colder than he had been. His vision blurred, but he could still see the dragon coming toward him. The spell seemed to have done nothing.
"What's with the gibberish?" the dragon asked. "You daft in the head?"
Carter tried to respond, but the moisture in his mouth was gone, and his words came out as an incomprehensible drunken slur. His head felt wobbly, and if it weren't for a nearby column he had latched onto, he would have fallen over.
"Answer me, boy–"
A golden ball of energy sprouted from the dragon's chest.
The light radiated across the beast's body as if it were caught in a net of lightning.
The air filled with the smell of burning metal.
"I don't know what you think you've done," the dragon said, "but I've been hurt worse by tine berry thorns."
Carter wanted to say something snarky, but the room spun so badly he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone form a coherent thought.
The dragon lunged for Carter with an outstretched claw, but before it made contact, the rippling light popped, dissipating.
Where the dragon once had been now stood a fat, naked man. His hair was dark and shaggy, covering most of his body, and his skin was much lighter than Carter's. The man ran his hands over his chunky frame. He had a look of horror in his eyes. "What did you do?"
Carter's last thought before falling into blackness was that he had no idea what he had done.
3
The Frog
Ornsday, 1st of Hearfest, 1162.111
From the shadows, the bullfrog watched as Carter's eyes rolled backwards. The boy crashed to the ground, and the naked man stood stupefied. This was the perfect opportunity to make the kill, but the frog didn't take it. It hopped out of the cave and back into daylight, making its way farther up the cliff and finally stopping when confident it was out of hearing range.
The frog extended its left back leg, bringing its webbed toes to its nose. The muddy skin shifted, and a translucent, indigo pebble emerged from its flesh. The frog licked the pebble, and it turned a dark navy color.
"Did you find the dragon?" a voice emanated from the pebble.
"Easier than we thought. Your pet didn't lure him out, but I spotted a hidden garden while flying over its cave."
"Good then, that should do it. The last free dragon is dead."
"I didn't kill him."
"Since when do you hesitate?"
"Since the dragon got turned into a human."
"How?"
"As I was about to enter the cave, a boy appeared."
"How old was the boy?"
"Late teens. I don't think over twenty." The frog's face expanded. It had seen Carter for only a brief moment, which was more than enough time for it to mimic Carter's face. The slits of the frog's nostrils stretched into a human nose, and its skin turned a tawny-beige, as it shape shifted to resemble Carter. "I would have killed the boy and the target except I believe the boy to be Owen's ward."
"He used high magic?"
"Yes."
"You did the right thing. The boy is Owen's ward. As of now, Owen isn't a player, and we don't want to provoke him into becoming one. Keep watch and report in if anything changes."
"You are making a mistake."
"Then it will be my mistake."
"I don't work for you." The frog's human face deflated, resorting to a mushy, black goo that snapped into the shape of a frog. "I'll do as I see fit."
"Remember who it is that can get you what you want."
The frog was tempted to argue, but words were meaningless. Instead, the frog reabsorbed the pebble into its skin, cutting off communications. It would watch, for now. The frog knew when to stand up for an opinion, and this situation hadn't gotten there yet.
4
Responsibility
Eldsday, 4th of Hearfest, 1162.111
Carter thought he had died, but then the pain hit him, and he knew he was alive. Every single muscle in his body ached, and stiffness filled his joints; the simple act of moving his arm to see what he lay on brought tears to his eyes.
The surface was smooth and cold, most likely something made of metal. Stretching out his arms, he crawled forward, feeling his way as he went. The darkness was so absolute that he thought he may have gone blind.
He determined that
he was trapped in a confined space. The walls had no doors or windows, and without being able to see, he didn't know if there was a way out.
Being careful to keep his lines short to use as little power as possible, he traced kölprufta. When he had finished, the agyl, no larger than a tooth, sprung to life. The light was dim, but enough for him to make out the room. The walls rose two-and-a-half parses high, which was too high for him to jump or climb, but he could lift himself using higher magic. That would be risky because there was nothing stealthy about casting a true spell. There was also the wooziness. Whatever he had done to the dragon was still taking its toll on him. He was lucky that it hadn't burned him out.
Crunching, like rocks under boots, sounded from above.
Carter unraveled the agyl with a simple tug, and the place went dark. A heartbeat later, a halo of light appeared above him. Standing on the edge of the pit was the man who had been a dragon. A big nose filled most of his face, and his chubby cheeks completely hid his jaw bone. Rough stubble, what would take Carter at least half a week to grow, covered the man's face.
"About time you woke up."
"Are you going to eat me?"
"Why in the name of Eadimor would I want to eat you?"
"'Cause you said you were going to?"
"You don't know a thing about dragons." The man bobbed his head. Not once but repeatedly, and it was such an odd action that it drew Carter's attention to the way he stood. The man's whole body was rigid and tense as if ready to strike.
"So this isn't like a pit where you keep boars or whatever it is you plan to eat?"
"When was the last time you bathed?" The man asked.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Answer the question."
"Uhhh," Carter scratched his chin. "Maybe three days ago? Or four?"
"That's why I put you in there. You reeked. Still reek."
"I reek?"
"Reek. As in smell bad." The man stepped out of sight. Seconds later he reappeared with a rope. He tossed one end to Carter. "You smell like ashes mixed with sweat mixed with some god-awful herbs mixed with I don't know what."
Carter sniffed his shirt and armpit. He didn't smell any kind of funk and instead got the hint of a fruity sweet scent he didn't recognize. "Why do I smell like a perfume shop?"
"Tine berry juice. I doused you with it before flooding the bath."
"Is that what this is?" Carter tried to picture the round pit from above. The depth and shape would make it perfect for a dragon bath tub. He didn't see any agyls, which meant there must be some other water source or drainage system. "Wait, you gave me a bath?"
"Would you rather I had killed you?"
"Good point. Thank–" He didn't know what to call the former dragon. "What's your name?"
"Doug."
"Doug the dragon?"
"Doug."
"It's not very dragon sounding."
"It's not the name I was given at birth."
"Is it because your real name is so intricate it can't be pronounced by human lips, so it's easier if I call you Doug?"
"I was right. You are daft in the head." In an almost human-like manner, Doug rubbed his forehead with the back of a hand. "Now boy–"
"Carter. My name is Carter."
"Alright," Doug said with a bit of gruffness in his voice, "Carter, I was kind enough to let you live. I think the least you can do for me is turn me back into a dragon."
Now Carter understood. Doug had been buttering him up. He wanted something. "About that, I wasn't trying to turn you into a human. I tried to disintegrate your body."
"Intentions aside, undo it, and I will let you go."
"I can't. I don't know how."
"You did this." Doug drummed his fist against his bare chest. "You have to be able to undo it."
"I don't know what went wrong. I can't even think of where to begin with designing a counter to the spell." Which was true. Magic was funny like that. The quirks of intention with the words and raw power. Undoing a spell wasn't like washing a pair of dirty clothes or erasing ink from parchment. Magic altered reality. Undoing it, when possible, required more effort than doing it in the first place.
"You wrent-sucking child!" Doug leaned over the edge of the bath's rim. He was still buck naked. "For three days, I put up with your insufferable snoring and stench. You will undo this, or I will pick you up by the scruff of the neck and throw you off the highest cliff I can find."
Three days? Carter had never been knocked out that long by overusing higher magic. It also meant the spell would be much harder to undo. "I believe you. I do, but I don't know how to fix you."
Doug kicked a makeshift rope ladder over the side of the tub. "Then prepare to fly."
"But... I might know someone who can help."
When Carter and Doug entered the cottage, they found Owen reclined in a chair reading a book. The old man didn't bat an eye. Instead, he flipped a page and ignored them. Carter faked a cough, and when it still didn't gain Owen's attention, Carter stomped his foot on the floor. "Hello!"
"Oh you," Owen said, refusing to look up. "Decided to return home?"
"I know it's been a few days," Carter said. "But I can explain."
"It's not as if I were worried sick about you." Owen stared at his book. "Why would I be concerned when you rushed into a dragon attack?"
"There was really a dragon attack?" Doug asked. "I thought the kid made it up."
Owen slammed the book closed. Puffy bags hung under his eyes. He wore a dark navy jacket with a placketed front. Its puffy sleeves had no cuffs, and the trousers matched it perfectly, down to the silver buttons. Owen's usual attire for reading in the evening was a long night shirt with billowy pants. The way he was dressed now was what he preferred to wear when working or heading into town, which meant, sometime during the past few days, he had been out searching for Carter.
Owen stared at Doug, taking in the naked man. His pupils dilated. "What are you?"
"This is Doug," Carter said. "Doug the dragon."
"By the light, what have you done boy?" Owen threw his book. It landed on the hardwood desk in the corner of the room. "Out with it!"
"I tracked the dragon to a cave near the base of the mountains," Carter said. "I went in to face it, but instead there was a big blob–"
"Hey!" Doug scowled at Carter.
"Sorry, but it's true." Carter shrugged. "I saw a big blob and realized it wasn't the same dragon we saw flying and spewing fire. But I was kind of backed in a corner. Doug was going to attack–"
"You invaded my home. You threatened me!"
"Ok, well yeah, I didn't say you didn't have your reasons. But the long straw of it is that I cast a spell and then, poof, Doug the dragon is Doug the human."
"You are not one of the dragons that has been plaguing the southern towns?" Owen asked.
"There have been other attacks?" Carter shut his mouth as Owen glared at him.
"I've not seen another dragon in years," Doug said. "I was unaware my kind had resurfaced. If what you say is true, it is unusual."
Owen ruffled through a mix of papers on his desk. He chose one whose back was clear of writing. Lifting a quill, he tapped off the excess ink and then nodded to Carter. "Write down the exact spell you used."
Carter did as he was told, though he wasn't confident about the precise spellings of the second half of it.
Owen took the paper. He read it. He read it a second time and then looked at Carter with his brows raised. "Where did you learn this?"
Carter dropped his gaze to the floor. He took three steps backward and placed his left hand over a knot on the side of the desk. He pushed his palm down. The desk slid sideways, revealing a spiral staircase.
"How long have you known about my library?"
"Since last winter."
"Show me the book you used." Owen, as if seeing Doug again for the first time held up a hand. "Wait a moment, let's get you something to wear first."
"I don't want
to wear any of your human clothing."
"That may be the case," Owen said, "but the clothing will not only keep you warm, but also protect your skin from snagging, scratching, and normal wear and tear."
They argued back and forth, but Owen got his way, and Carter was forced to head to the back shed. They kept a stockpile of shirts, pants, and robes stored in an air-sealed room. With the kind of injuries Owen treated, having clean clothing for patients was a must. After rummaging through the shelves, Carter found a single pair of trousers and a fluffy cotton robe. The robe was tight on Doug's broad shoulders, and he couldn't button it shut, but was able to use the sash to tie it mostly closed.
Satisfied, Owen led them down two flights of stairs and into the library. Upon entering, several agyls activated, washing the room in a warm light. The space was larger than the cottage above it. Carter estimated it went halfway across the lake. Rows of bookshelves ran down the center of the room while a wood counter lined the entire outer wall. Papers, parchments, books, and half-scribbled notes covered every bit of the counter.
"This place smells," Doug said.
Carter sniffed. The air was dry and yet it did have a slight musty odor.
"I've never seen so many books in one place." Doug's eyes widened.
"It's deceiving," Owen said. "At least half are my own journals and notes."
"Any written in Bakat?" Doug said.
"What's Bakat?" Carter asked.
"The language of the Norrbakai," Doug said.
Carter opened his mouth, but Doug spoke again before he could say anything. "The Norrbakai is what the dragons call themselves."
"Dragons have their own language?" Carter scratched his chin. He wondered how different Norrbakai was from Etriä or some of the other lost languages.
"You thought we all speak human?" Doug said.
"No, well..." Carter said. "I didn't know dragons could speak until–"
"Carter," Owen said with his usual no-nonsense tone. "The book you used. Now."
Several months had past since Carter had last snuck into the library. With every shelf built from the same dark stained wood and cluttered with no sense of order, finding the book might be a fool's errand. A leather book about identifying herbs could sit next to a wood-bound book about anatomy.
