Dragon Wizard

by S. Andrew Swann

  If Sebastian the Dragon had killed him, I was going to make him pay.

  Actually Lucille would make him pay, because if Sir Forsythe couldn’t take on the beast, Princess Frank wasn’t going to have much of a chance.

  Elhared led us up into a mountain pass that was just big enough to ride two horses abreast. I slowed my horse until I rode next to Robin Longfellow. “What’s your game?”

  “My game?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Didn’t I tell you that I desire to make the life of my dear Uncle Timoras more difficult? Or was that your better half?”

  “That can’t be all of it?”

  “That is not enough?”

  I cocked my head at him. “You’re answering all my questions with another question.”

  “Then, Your Highness, perhaps you’re asking the wrong questions.”

  His statement relieved me more than it should have. “What is the right question?”

  “That one might do for a start,” he said. “But here’s another. How did a scroll possessed by Sebastian, prisoner of my dear uncle, end up in the hands of the late prince?”

  “I would assume, as part of his plot to escape, Sebastian must have given it to the prince.”

  “That is, of course, the least complicated answer. But that leads to another question, doesn’t it?

  “Which is?”

  “What compelled Prince Daemonlas to actually use that scroll?”

  He has a point.

  “So what did?”

  Robin shrugged and said, “Now there you have a question.”

  Yes, we do.

  You talked a lot about elf politics with Robin earlier, any clues there?

  You weren’t paying attention?

  There were other things going on.

  Well, you can guess why the Summer Queen was onstage with the king, right?

  Mother and Father I presume?

  Summer and Winter have always been at odds. The prince was all they shared between them.

  So they both want war?

  Maybe not the same one . . .

  What do you mean?

  The ultimatum was from the king, just the king. He is looking for a way to back out.

  I got the idea. But he can’t. It’s a choice between war with us, or with the queen. I might not be an elf, but I knew what every other male monarch would have decided given that scenario.

  And the “one responsible” is to appease her and her followers.

  And she knows that. Elhared’s right. The queen is angry enough that she was going to kill him, not because of any actual “responsibility,” it was just to cut off that avenue, for us and Timoras.

  She has some anger at the mortal world that has existed long before the prince’s death.

  As I said before, about knowing the noble mind: the disaster we’d suffered at the banquet would likely just serve as a pretext for some campaign that had already been planned. To be honest, I couldn’t be too unhappy that I hadn’t been quite cynical enough to imagine Prince Daemonlas’s own mother thinking of his death in those terms.

  But why was she so at odds with the mortal world that she seemed more interested in prosecuting a war than identifying the true responsibility behind her son’s death?

  Had the Elf-King Timoras been restraining the queen until now?

  It made me wonder how strained things were between the king and queen of elfdom. From what little I knew, I imagined things were not terribly warm between them at the best of times. I mean, separate bedrooms was the norm among monarchs, most all such marriages being political in nature. But separate kingdoms? That was a whole other level.

  And thinking about their marriage made me suddenly think about an odd detail of my last dealing with the elf-king, before the current mess.

  In my deal to free Lucille from the elves, I had bargained with a ring I had stolen from the Nâtlac-worshipping Queen Fiona of Grünwald. And for all that the elf-king wanted it, Queen Fiona had not seemed too concerned about keeping it. That ring anyway.

  According to the late Queen Fiona, it had been an engagement ring.

  She had never specified whose engagement. None of the potential options seemed to bode well for the relationship between the king and queen of the elves.

  It seemed unlikely that King Timoras would pledge himself to Queen Fiona. He already had one queen he seemed to have difficulty with. It also didn’t seem likely that he’d hand his queen’s ring out as a token to a mistress. That seemed spectacularly ill-advised no matter how difficult the relationship between him and the Summer Queen had become.

  Though well-planned acts rarely conclude with having a thief steal back your engagement ring . . .

  But who said it was the king’s engagement ring?

  What if it was someone else’s?

  Robin had said something that made me think, what if—

  “Look out!” yelled Thea, her words rising to a painful shriek.

  I snapped out of my thoughts just long enough to see a large shadow pass over us, then Laya tackled me out of the saddle.

  “What the—”

  Dragon!

  We landed painfully on my back and I saw what had cast the shadow across us. A massive ceiling of black-scaled muscle blotted out the sky, close enough to touch. Close enough that if Laya hadn’t tackled me, I probably would have been in reach of tooth or claw, if a wall of dragon didn’t just collide with me.

  Our horses, being sane creatures, screamed, bucked, and ran. Thea pressed herself against the wall of the pass as the panicked animals galloped a hand’s-breadth past her. The horses showed no concern for Elhared’s and Krys’s mounts. They stampeded Elhared’s animal as it reared and the wizard tumbled off. Krys barely had control of her horse as the small stampede passed her.

  I glanced behind us, and watched the dragon continue to swoop by, above the small pass that trapped us. Robin had been thrown or had jumped from the saddle. He crouched on the floor of the pass, staring up at the dragon. Rabbit had somehow retained control of her mount and leaned forward, hugging its neck as the flying lizard passed overhead. As I watched, the dragon’s tail whipped by Rabbit’s head, striking the rock wall of the pass, and knocking a shower of gravel down on her.

  “Everyone all right?” Krys yelled as she got her spinning mount under control, barely avoiding trampling the downed Elhared.

  Everyone yelled back, except Elhared who only managed a weak groan as he rolled to a sitting position with his back to the stone wall of the pass.

  I pushed Laya off me and got to my feet. Krys drew Dracheslayer and yelled, “Get over here! The blade protects against dragon fire, but only for about ten feet or so.”

  We all started running toward Krys’s side, but the shadow swooped down on us again.

  Why hasn’t he blasted us already?

  That is what you’re worrying about?

  This is the perfect trap, a confined trench in the stone, limited visibility—

  A horse’s scream interrupted me. I looked back and saw Rabbit’s mount galloping away, riderless as a dragon lifted up and away. That wasn’t the most troubling thing. Even seeing Rabbit grasped in a set of dragon’s talons being carried up into the sky wasn’t the most troubling thing.

  The most troubling thing was the fact that the dragon that carried her away had scales colored a deep cobalt blue.

  Oh crap!

  “There’s more than one dragon!” I yelled as I sprinted toward Krys.

  At this point my warning was redundant. While Krys faced the blue-scaled lizard that had taken Rabbit, a green-scaled forearm reached down from the sky behind her and caught her completely off-guard. The new dragon darted back up, its wings creating a downdraft so powerful it blew Thea back into my arms. It was all I could do to stay upright.

 
I saw the black blade of Dracheslayer tumble from the sky, its glowing red runes carving a spiraling arc in the air as it fell.

  I was mesmerized by dread for a moment, and then Laya pushed us out of the way right before the sword tip gouged a shower of red sparks out of the stone where I’d been standing holding Thea. The sky was now nothing but a chaotic swirl of scales and wings, talons and teeth. That sword was our only defense, so I dove to grab it.

  Frank, no!

  Yeah, bad idea.

  I knew that, but I had a full head of panic, at least three dragons descending on us, and I wore gloves . . .

  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

  The leather under my gauntlets was nowhere near thick enough. I grabbed the hilt of Dracheslayer and it was as if I’d grabbed a branding iron from the wrong end. In the brief moment I touched the sword, my gauntlets smoked, and every muscle in my body twisted in agony. I didn’t let go nearly quick enough, and I landed on my back with no memory of falling. It felt as if my consciousness tumbled into a deep well. Even Lucille’s screams of pain seemed to recede into the distance.

  Aaaaaaaaaaaaa . . .

  Through a dim tunnel I saw a hazy circle of reality. In it, I saw Laya’s face screaming something at me. Then she started floating upward.

  Or was I falling?

  Or rising?

  I rolled to my side, or someone rolled me, and all I saw was sky.

  Then nothing.

  CHAPTER 27

  I dreamed again.

  I stood in the depths of King Timoras’s throne room, surrounded by walls of crystalline ice, facing a giant mirror. I stood alone on the frozen floor, fine drifts of snow blowing across my feet as I stared into a reflection that showed not only me, but Elhared, and behind us, two dragons locked in battle, one red, one black.

  Lucille and Sebastian.

  A frost-coated scepter swung around and smashed the mirror.

  I spun to face the attacker and the Elf-King Timoras shook the scepter in my face. “You think you can challenge me?”

  I took a step back. The light in Timoras’s eyes was not quite right. “I don’t think—”

  “You don’t think, do you?” He swung the scepter and I ducked the blow. “Do you see the big picture yet?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why would you?” He sneered and swung again. I ducked as the scepter—which at this distance seemed more like a foofy mace—took out a chunk of wall with a cloud of frost and a shower of ice chips. “Why would you ever ponder the consequences of your actions?”

  I held up my hands in what I hoped was a mollifying gesture. “Look, I know I’ve made a few mistakes.”

  That seemed to infuriate the king. “You think you are the only person here guilty of error? Could you be more arrogant?”

  He swung again, and this time I wasn’t able to duck in time and the icy weight of the scepter crunched against the side of my skull.

  I opened my eyes to a painfully cold blue sky and groaned.

  The pain in my skull was genuine.

  Frank? You’re awake?

  Yeah.

  Good! What the hell were you thinking?!

  I winced. Ack. Think quieter!

  I rubbed my temples and I heard Krys’s voice call out, “Frank? Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled and pushed myself upright. I winced again, because my hands still hurt from where they had gripped Dracheslayer.

  Wind whipped by me and I looked out at the peaks that had been our destination. I watched the horizon as the winds tore clouds across the distant mountain. It wasn’t quite as distant as it had been before.

  Why aren’t we dead?

  Again, that’s what you decide to worry about?

  I’m sorry I went for the sword, I panicked.

  Yeah.

  “Hey, watch your step.” Krys grabbed my arm.

  “What?” I responded. Then I looked down.

  And down.

  And down.

  I felt my stomach try to beat its way up my throat so it could run away from the scene. My foot was a half step from a drop down a sheer cliff. The wall below was worse than vertical, the cliff undercutting where I stood enough that I seemed to stand on a stone island floating a thousand feet above a pile of gravel.

  Then I realized that the gravel I saw was made of boulders the size of small houses. I backpedaled quickly into Krys’s arms.

  “Where?” I gasped, staring at the small area of stone by my feet to calm the vertigo.

  “The dragons dropped us all on these ledges.”

  “Ledges?” I blinked and forced myself to look around.

  The cliff that descended below where I’d stood continued up almost as far. Krys and I stood on a flat outcrop that jutted out about ten paces or so from a sheer wall of stone. It wasn’t the only such shelf of rock. I saw dozens, all various sizes, randomly dotting the cliffside.

  I saw Rabbit wave to us from a small jutting wedge of rock about sixty feet away and another thirty feet up the cliff. As I watched Laya and Thea emerged from behind her and waved. They all appeared unharmed. I looked over to the other side of our ledge, and about a dozen feet from us in the other direction, a small ledge held Elhared sitting alone on a rock about ten foot square.

  “Hey!” I called out, waving.

  “Don’t bother,” Krys said. “He hasn’t moved or responded to anyone.”

  Some help he turned out to be.

  You can say that again.

  “My Liege!” called a familiar voice from behind us.

  I spun around. “Sir Forsythe!”

  He’s alive!

  “You’re alive!” Before I thought about what I was doing, I ran up and hugged him.

  He stiffened a bit and said, “Yes, Your Highness, indeed I am.”

  I let him go and looked him up and down. He was still immaculate, his long blond hair shining in the painfully cold sunlight. “How did you get here?”

  “From there.” He gestured up the cliff. Above us, maybe another hundred feet up, there was another ledge.

  “You climbed down from . . .”

  “I have been lulling the monsters into a false sense of security, awaiting my chance to strike.”

  I heard Lucille’s derisive snort in my head.

  Now now.

  “I don’t think anyone would expect you to take on multiple dragons all by yourself.”

  “Of course not,” Sir Forsythe said. “That would be suicidal.”

  I wondered if some spark of sanity might have ignited in Sir Forsythe’s brain.

  “Of course,” he continued, “one must attack them one at a time.”

  A spark that flickered and died a lonely death. “Of course,” I answered.

  “But now that they have taken you, Your Highness, our first priority is escape. I’ve scouted the rock face and our best path—”

  “No,” I said, surprised at how the sudden command reached my voice.

  Sir Forsythe stepped back, nonplussed. “Your Highness?”

  “Escape is not the problem.” I glanced at the sky and saw the sun lower in the sky than I expected. “By nightfall that problem should sort itself out.”

  “Then we stand and fight!” Sir Forsythe said with way too much enthusiasm. “Say that you brought us Dracheslayer.”

  I sighed.

  I think I’m glad he’s on our side.

  “No, the sword is on the floor of a mountain pass somewhere down there.” I gestured back over the edge of our stone shelf.

  Sir Forsythe’s excited smile turned to a grim line as he drew a dagger from his belt. “Then we will make do with what we have.”

  “We’re not fighting our way out of this.”

  “It will be glorious.”

  “No
glory,” I said. “Diplomacy.”

  “Diplomacy?”

  Diplomacy?

  “We’re all still alive,” I said. “That means there’s a chance we can reach some sort of accommodation.”

  You think you can talk us out of this?

  I’ve done it in worse situations.

  Well, you have until moonrise.

  I know.

  Sir Forsythe sheathed his blade and gave me a small bow. “As always, I am at your service.”

  I patted him on the arm, “I know.”

  Thinking about broken mirrors, I began to have a glimmer of a plan. “Where’s Robin?”

  “Robin?” Sir Forsythe asked.

  “I don’t know,” Krys said.

  “Crap,” I whispered. Of course if I was right about him, he could be long gone by now, and who would blame him?

  Frank? Are you improvising?

  No, I have a plan.

  Care to share?

  Once I figure out—

  “Looking for me?” A voice came out of the shadows near the cliff wall. Sir Forsythe spun with a start, hand going to the dagger at his belt. Robin Longfellow stepped out of an impossibly narrow shadow. At some point he had replaced his hat.

  “My Liege.” Sir Forsythe interposed himself. “This man was not here before—”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “He’s a friend.” I leaned over so I could look at Robin past the tall bulk of Sir Forsythe. “Isn’t he?”

  “Would I be here otherwise?”

  The way he said that reminded me uncomfortably of my nightmare about the elf-king. I supposed there was a family resemblance.

  “So what you said about freely walking between this world and the elves’, you can do that anywhere?”

  “Every spot in the mortal world touches upon the fae world somewhere. It’s all a matter of understanding where you want to go.”

  Just as I’d hoped. Better than I hoped.

  “So you can lead people out of here?”

  “Mortals? They must meet me halfway by taking the preparations you—”