Drachengott

by K J Taylor

  Nils closed his mouth and the fire stopped coming. He stood back, amazed. He had just breathed fire! Not made it with his hands the way everyone else did, but spat it out of his mouth like a dragon would. How was that even possible?

  He turned to face the others, expecting to see some surprise from them, but though the initiates looked shocked the acolytes were calm.

  ‘Go now, boy,’ the leader said. ‘And go with the blessing of the Drachengott.’

  Nils walked away toward the cave entrance, his excitement abruptly leaving him as he felt the weight of the stolen jet in his sleeve and the full realisation of what had happened finally came down on his head. He wasn’t leaving with the Drachengott’s blessing, and he knew it. He was leaving with a curse. A curse given to him in the form of a name.

  Nils Schächer. Nils the Thief.

  Chapter Three

  Nils and the others returned to Zauberwald, leaving behind the three initiates who had died in the cave. Their bodies would be hung from the trees in the sacred grove — after all, their failure meant they were heretics as bad as any Ketzer. The others returned home, some of them singing the Drachengott’s praises, others already experimenting with their magic, all jubilant.

  As Nils left, he couldn’t look back at the Drachengott. But he imagined he could feel the beast’s stare on his back, all through that long journey home. He couldn’t bring himself to join in the singing, or even to tell his mother how he had breathed fire. All he could think about was the Drachengott’s terrible condemnation — the weight of the stolen jet in his sleeve, and the weight of his new name in his heart.

  He stayed silent during the journey, and when the next morning he and his mother joined the other high-ranking Jüngen in the castle for the solstice celebration the jollity washed over Nils without leaving a mark. He ate nothing, barely spoke, and at the first opportunity he slipped away to his room.

  There, he took out the stolen jet from its hiding place under his mattress, and cradled it in his hands while he stared at it. Now that he had been given the blessing of magic he could feel the energy inside the jet more intensely than he had before. It had felt chilly before, but now it was freezing cold. The gem prickled against his fingers. Why in the Drachengott’s name had he ever thought he should take it? Why had he been so sure that it ‘belonged’ to him? He’d never even seen it before, and why would he ever want to own it?

  Impulsively, he got up and went to the window. Throwing it open, he pulled back to throw the stone out — but he stopped. Even though he wanted to throw the stone away, somehow he couldn’t do it. An inner voice screamed at him to be rid of it — it was cursed, evil — but another, stronger voice made him close the window and tuck the stone into his pocket.

  Confounded, Nils sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. None of what had happened made sense. Why had he stolen the stone? And why had the Drachengott not killed him for it? Surely stealing from him was the ultimate blasphemy. If the other Jüngen knew, they would condemn him as a heretic and cut out his heart. But the Drachengott himself, the one who sat in judgment above all, had seen his crime and spared him.

  Spared his life, that is. Maybe he had been allowed to leave the mountain cave alive, but he had left with a curse on his head. He could not stop remembering it; those awful words of condemnation. THE DAY WILL COME WHEN YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN, SCHÄCHER . . .

  Nils bowed his head and began to pray under his breath. ‘Drachengott, forgive me — I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t understand. Please, take the curse away from me. I swear I’ll serve you faithfully all my life. I don’t want to be a Ketzer. Please, Drachengott—’ A knock at the door made him break off, and he looked up sharply. ‘Leave me alone!’

  The door opened, and his mother appeared. She was still wearing her fine silk dress, and she looked concerned. ‘Nils, what’s the matter with you?’

  Nils stood up and turned away from her. ‘I don’t want to talk to anyone. Go away.’

  His mother came up behind him and hugged him. ‘It’s all right. I’m here. What’s wrong? You looked so miserable after you came out of the mountain. What happened? Did the Drachengott tell you something?’

  Nils tried to resist her, but he couldn’t. Her soft voice and warm arms were enough to melt his anger, and he pressed himself to her and cried.

  She held onto him, murmuring soothing words, urging him to tell her what was wrong. But how could he?

  Finally, she spoke. ‘Nils, there’s something I have to tell you.’

  Nils calmed down. ‘What is it?’

  She let him go and the two of them sat down on the bed together. Putting one arm around his shoulders, she said: ‘Lord Ernst spoke to me tonight. He’s given me a mission.’

  Nils tensed. ‘What is it? What does he want you to do?’

  She hesitated. ‘I can’t tell you exactly, but I have to leave Zauberwald.’

  ‘But where are you going?’ said Nils, panic twinging at him.

  ‘I can’t tell you that — I’m sorry. But I shouldn’t be gone too long.’

  ‘You’re not going to Drachenburg, are you?’ said Nils. ‘You’re not, are you?’

  ‘As I said, I’m not allowed to tell you—’ she began, but her hesitation was all he needed to hear.

  ‘You’re going to Drachenburg, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘You’re going to try and kill him.’

  ‘No,’ his mother stroked his hair. ‘No, no — you’ve got it all wrong. They wouldn’t send me on a mission like that; I’m not an assassin.’

  Nils did not relax much. ‘You’re still going to Drachenburg,’ he said. ‘Don’t lie.’

  ‘Listen, don’t worry about me,’ she said. ‘While I’m gone, Theobald will train you.’

  Nils looked away. ‘I have to tell you something.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘After I got my magic, they asked me to light a fire like everyone else,’ said Nils.

  ‘Yes, it was the same for me,’ said his mother. ‘Did you succeed?’

  ‘Yes, but . . . it was different with me,’ said Nils.

  ‘Oh? How was it different?’

  ‘When I lit my fire, I didn’t use my hands,’ said Nils. ‘I . . . I breathed it. Like a dragon.’

  His mother tensed. ‘You breathed fire?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nils. ‘I don’t know how, or why. It just happened. Do you know why?’

  His mother hesitated for a long moment. ‘Magic isn’t just channelled through your hands,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s all through your body. You can send it out from anywhere — the hands are just the easiest. For some reason, you decided to use your mouth. But you’re lucky you didn’t burn yourself! You’d better not try it again.’

  ‘But it really felt like I had to do it that way,’ said Nils. ‘I could feel the fire in my throat before I used it — it wasn’t like the rest of my magic. I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way.’

  ‘Look, don’t worry about it,’ said his mother. ‘I told you it was normal. Is that why you were upset?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nils lied. ‘I thought there must be something wrong with me.’

  ‘Well, there isn’t — trust me. Now will you come and join the celebrations? Everyone’s missing you.’

  ‘No,’ said Nils. ‘I’m tired. I just want to be alone.’

  ‘All right,’ said his mother. She hesitated. ‘I’ll give this to you now, then,’ she said finally, holding out a small cloth pouch.

  Nils opened it. Inside was a red gemstone — not a ruby, but a plain crystal — set into a silver setting shaped like a dragon’s claws.

  ‘Your very own Jüngen amulet,’ said his mother. ‘How do you like it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Nils hung it around his neck on its thick silver chain. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I had it made especially for you,’ his mother told him. ‘Take good care of it. Now I should go. I have to leave tomorrow, but I’ll see you in the morning. You sleep well.’

 
She left, and the moment she was gone Nils locked the door. He went to the window and opened it again. In his chest he could feel the ruby throbbing, but the burning sensation in his throat had not gone away. Tentatively, he stuck his head out the window. Outside, he could see the lights of Zauberwald, twinkling in a dozen different colours.

  Nils paused, thinking of what his mother had said. But the burn in his throat persisted. Surely it shouldn’t be there? But it was, and it wouldn’t leave him alone. Unable to resist any longer, Nils took a deep breath, and blew a stream of red fire out into the night. This time it was much larger than before, and he could feel the heat of it — but it didn’t burn him at all.

  Chapter Four

  That night Nils dreamed the flying dream again. But this time it was different. He was soaring over Wendland, the land below him clear as it had never been before. But this time there was nothing holding him up — no loving presence. He was flying alone, and he was afraid. The Jüngen amulet hung around his neck, but when he looked at it he found that it had changed. The red crystal had disappeared, and in its place was the black jet, weighing him down, dragging him to the ground.

  He fought against it, but could not — the stone seemed to weigh as much as the Drachengott’s mountain, and it sent him hurtling downward with sickening speed. He landed not on green fields, but in the middle of a city, where a terrible battle raged. People were everywhere, hurling magic and ordinary weapons at each other. Dragons filled the air, tearing at each other. Death cries and screeching roars filled his ears.

  While he should have been afraid, he wasn’t. Instead, he walked among the fighters, eyes wide open, taking everything in. There was something in his hands now — something long and sharp. A sword? No — a spear. He looked down and saw it gripped in his hands. Older hands, now, the arms above them scarred. Above that were the ragged sleeves of a plain black shirt.

  Fierce anger filled him. Gripping the spear, white-knuckled, shoulders hunched, he stalked through the carnage, searching for someone. No, not searching — hunting.

  He finally saw him up ahead. A strong-looking man with a short brown beard, his green eyes alight as he fought with a short sword. A sword that looked ordinary, until Nils saw the magic being sucked into it from the Jüngen who ventured too close. The victims convulsed and died, their energies ripped out of them, and the green-eyed man hurled the stolen magic back at others. Nils saw the symbol stitched on the front of his shirt: a blue mink, holding a sword.

  Rage and hatred burned in Nils’ chest, where his ruby lived. He stepped forward, holding up the spear, and shouted a challenge. ‘Dragonsbane!’

  But there the dream ended, leaving Nils feeling cheated when he woke up.

  ***

  Nils said goodbye to his mother the next morning, at the city gates. She was mounted on her stag, plainly dressed with her Jüngen amulet hidden. Nils looked automatically for any sign of an escort arriving, but there was nothing.

  ‘You’re not going alone, are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. For this mission I have to travel discreetly.’ She smiled at his expression. ‘It will be all right — I promise.’

  ‘You can’t promise that,’ said Nils. ‘Nobody can.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s fair enough. But I promise to keep myself safe and come back as soon as I can. You work hard on your magic while I’m gone, all right?’

  ‘I will.’ Nils paused. ‘Mother, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yes, of course, but be quick — I have to leave.’

  ‘Can you see the future?’ said Nils. ‘In your dreams?’

  His mother frowned. ‘I can’t, but it’s said that there are some who can. Why? Did you see something in your dreams?’

  Nils’s heart leapt. ‘I saw myself fighting the Dragonsbane,’ he said.

  His mother laughed. ‘I think that was a heroic wish, not a vision of the future! But, yes, there are seers in the world. The gift comes from the Drachengott, like every other blessing.’

  ‘Then maybe the Drachengott gave it to me,’ said Nils.

  ‘Yes, maybe.’ His mother leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Now I have to go. Be good!’

  ‘I will,’ Nils said glumly.

  He sat on the back of his own deer and watched her ride away through the city gates, her braided hair swinging gently from side to side. Once she turned to wave to him, and he waved back before reluctantly turning his deer around and riding back toward the castle. He would have given anything to go with her.

  ***

  Back in the castle, Nils went to the largest hall to meet with Theobald and begin his training. He had been in this hall before — it was often used for gatherings when noble Jüngen came visiting from other cities. Once he had even met Lord Reinhard, the former ruler of Drachenburg, here in this hall. Reinhard had been one of very few Jüngen given the ultimate blessing: the ability to channel magic directly from the Drachengott, which was a gift that granted limitless power. His brother, Warin, had had the same blessing, but still that had not saved him. Rutger Dragonsbane had killed him in battle. Maybe by now he had done the same to Reinhard.

  Nils leaned against the nearest wall while he waited for Theobald, and idly looked around the hall. The long tables had been pushed aside to leave room on the floor, and the tapestries which normally decorated the walls had been rolled up, probably to protect them from stray bursts of magic. But the other decorations remained in place: large chandeliers made from deer antlers hung from the ceiling, and various weapons sat between the spots where the tapestries were supposed to go. Swords, axes, shields, maces and spears, all probably captured from Gottlosen cities. After all, true Jüngen never needed to use mundane weapons, not when they had the ultimate weapon at their disposal. Still, Nils thought that the Gottlosen weapons looked elegant hanging there on their hooks.

  Bored, he started to count them — and then froze as something caught his eye.

  There, at the far end of the hall near the ceremonial chair where Lord Ernst sometimes sat, a spear hung. But it wasn’t just any spear. It was the spear. He recognised it the instant he saw it. Its shaft was dark wood, the point and spiked butt gold. It looked old and battered, but it was different from every other weapon in the room. And it was the spear he had held in his dream.

  Nils ran to it. Skidding to a halt, he reached up to touch the shaft, tentatively, as though it might not be real. But it was. As he started to lift it down, a voice came from behind him.

  ‘What are you doing, boy?’

  Nils stopped and turned. ‘I was just looking.’

  Theobald, a short, fat man with a pointed nose, had just stepped in through the doorway. ‘Well you can stop looking now,’ he said sternly. ‘You’re here to learn.’

  Nils reluctantly went over to him. ‘Where did that spear come from? Do you know?’

  Theobald looked at it briefly. ‘No idea — it’s just a piece of decoration. Now, shall we get started?’

  Nils nodded. ‘I already did some magic last night,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’ said Theobald. ‘And what was it?’

  Nils braced himself, and blew a stream of red fire at the ceiling. This time he made it last longer than before, wanting to impress his tutor.

  Theobald started. ‘By the Drachengott! Did you work out how to do that all by yourself?’

  Nils coughed a little puff of smoke. ‘It was easy,’ he said.

  ‘It’s very dangerous,’ said Theobald. ‘You should never do that again.’

  ‘It’s not dangerous!’ Nils protested. ‘That’s the third time I’ve done it. It doesn’t burn me.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me what you should and should not do with magic,’ said Theobald. ‘Yes, you can channel it through your mouth, but it’s a very bad idea. Now settle down and I’ll show you the proper way.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Nils, unable to keep the sulkiness out of his voice.

  ‘Then let’s begin,’ said Theobald.

  The first lesson was simple
enough. Nils listened closely while Theobald explained to him how he should channel his magic down his arms, and contain it in his hands until he was ready to unleash it. Nils already knew some of what he was hearing now — some was common knowledge to all Jüngen, and some he had been told by his mother. Now, though, he could finally begin trying it out for himself. Under Theobald’s instruction, he summoned a fire the conventional way, then banished it again. After that he learned how to create wind and pull water out of the air, but they were both more difficult than making fire had been. And, for some reason, summoning fire in the normal way was harder than spitting it out of his mouth had been. It didn’t help that every time he did it his throat would start to burn, and his instincts whispered that he was doing it the wrong way.

  He persisted anyway, until he had mastered the three basic forms of magic and Theobald seemed satisfied. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘You have the knack for it. That’s enough for today — go and rest. And remember: never use too much magic at once. You know what the consequences are.’

  ‘Everyone does,’ said Nils.

  ‘Then don’t go thinking you’re the exception to the rule,’ said Theobald. ‘Plenty of initiates do, but all of them were wrong.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Nils.

  However, Nils didn’t leave the hall as Theobald must have expected, but stayed where he was, waiting until Theobald shrugged and left himself. The moment he was alone, Nils ran over to the spear and lifted it down off its hooks. He weighed the weapon in his hands — it felt just the same as it had in his dream. Impulsively, Nils tucked it under his arm and crept out of the hall, trying to ignore the accusing voice in his head. Nils Schächer, Nils the Thief.

  It was only a piece of decoration, he told himself — nobody really wanted it. But he had dreamed about it.