After all, if Isidor wasn’t the one responsible for all the aid he had recieved, who else could it be?
CHAPTER 41
Finding Boward turned out to be no problem at all. As Tartum arrived at the Traveler’s Haven, he saw a group of townsfolk throwing a man out of the building and into a puddle of mud. Tartum knew the townsfolk that had ejected the man so unceremoniously out of the inn, but he did not recognize the man that was now completely covered in filth. Before the guiding voice in the back of his head could pipe up, Tartum knew this was the man he sought. He was the shortest, grimest, and most intolerable man he had met since Jeth. He was a pudgy, balding man of around twenty five years of age. His teeth were yellow, his skin was blotchy, and no matter what he was looking at he always seemed to be snearing at it, in a way that set your skin crawling. Tartum could see times had been rough for the man, his clothes were old and worn, fraying at every seam. They looked like the man had gotten them fifty pounds ago and never bothered to wash or replace them. At five foot four inches tall, the only thing shorter than his height was his temper. It seemed that everything set the man into a rage. Simply asking him his name earned Tartum a sharp retort. The man refused to be civilized until Tartum puched him hard enough in the jaw to knock him back into the mud. When he regained his senses his demeanor had changed but only enough so that Tartum could get some answers from him.
Unfortunately, he was indeed Boward, but he claimed no one called him that. Instead he told Tartum to call him “Runt”. Tartum had been caught off guard by the request but seeing the amount of pride the man took in the name, he decided to indulge him. Tartum would have gladly called him Linda if he wanted, as long as he could get him to do what he needed. After a few choice jibes from Runt about how much green he was wearing, they made their way to the horses. That had been two months ago, and now Tartum was ready to murder him.
Since leaving Yucoke, Runt had guided them directly northwest everyday from dawn till dusk. The horses made good time over the terrain, and the journey would have been an enjoyable one if Runt would have stopped boasting every five minutes. They couldn’t go one mile without him trying to regale Tartum with one of his many heroic feats of strength or bravery. At first Tartum thought the stories a fun way to pass the time. After a few weeks of hearing the same stories over and over again with new details being added where Runt thought it would make them sound better, Tartum had enough. With a supreme effort, he forced himself to ignore the man and instead he began studying his spellbook. The fact that he was ignoring him did nothing to dissuade him from speaking, in fact, Tartum noticed that he seemed to be talking louder once he noticed his disinterest. If it hadn’t been for his need of the man, Tartum would have killed him on the spot. He wondered why Isidor would send such an annoying man to aid him. He resigned himself to the situation, once he remembered he had no other leads on a dragon’s location. Beggars didn’t have the luxury of being choosey, after all.
At the two month mark, Tartum’s was at his wit’s end. He was pretty sure he knew the way home and was now fantasizing hourly about how he was going to kill the man, the moment they got to the dragon’s lair. He had given up on trying to study his spell book after the man began singing nursery rhymes loudly and completely off key that would have driven a child to madness. The forest trees were thick around them, which made the path harder for the horses to navigate. Tartum found himself hoping Runt’s horse would trip and throw the man, injuring him terribly. It was all he could do to stop himself from opening to the magic and obliterating him with one of his spells.
After another week, Runt abruptly stopped in the middle of a particularly loud and inappropriate lullaby involving green clothed men and animals. The sudden silence shocked Tartum more than the greedy look that now adorned his face.
“What is it, Runt?” Tartum asked.
Runt looked at him as if he’d forgotten he was there, “We’re almost there.” Runt pointed towards a large hill a few hundred yards from their current location. “There’s a cave that leads into that hill. At the bottom is the lair we seek!” he said. The way Runt was rubbing his hands together and smiling made Tartum feel very uneasy. He pulled his staff from his saddle and guided his horse so that it followed him. A short time later and they were tying off their horses on nearby trees. Tartum’s uneasiness around Runt had increased the closer they came to the hill. Nothing about it seemed out of place as far as he could tell. It was a larger hill, maybe forty feet tall. It was completely overgrown with wild grasses and flowers, he would have thought it pretty, if it wasn’t for the large crack down its side that served as the entrance. The opening was the polar opposite of the serenity given off by the hill’s exterior. Inside, the hill reminded Tartum of a nightmare. Spiderwebs covered the walls with their eight legged creators calmly sitting on them, almost daring Tartum to walk in. Tartum had never known fear of arachnids before, but seeing the gauntlet of them he was going to have to pass through now set cold chills running down his spine.
“What are we waiting for, caster? The dragon is at the bottom of the cave, you can use your magic to burn away the spiders if you’re too scared to walk through them.” Runt snapped. There was no mistaking the joy in his voice at Tartum’s discomfort. Tartum ignored the taunt; instead he pulled out a pinch of sulfur and opened himself to the magic. With the power flowing inside of him, his fear vanished and he felt strong again. Replacing the sulfur, Tartum began to walk towards the entrance when Runt grabbed him by the arm.
“What are you doing!?! Aren’t you going to kill the spiders?!?” he shrieked. Looking down Tartum saw that Runt was mortified by the insects. The realization of why he had wanted him to burn them away became very clear.
“I see no reason to,” Tartum said, toying with the man. “Unless you’re so terrified of them that you need me too.” he said, not bothering to hide his grin.
Tartum watched as Runt’s face turned red with anger. The little man said nothing, instead he stomped into the entrance of the cave and smashed one of the bigger spiders with his fist. Wiping the remains from his hand, he turned around to glare at Tartum
“You coming?” he spat.
Chuckling, Tartum walked after the man as he stomped deeper into the lair, crushing every spider he came across.
The path into the heart of the lair was narrow and cramped. More than once, Tartum scraped his arms along the jagged dirt walls of the interior. Using his staff as a light source, he thought that it looked as if someone had dug out the path they were on recently; although Tartum couldn’t imagine who or why. He guessed they were about twenty yards down when Runt disappeared around a corner. When Tartum caught up to him, he found himself on a narrow ledge that dropped down about sixty yards. As Tartum peered down into the darkness, he could see that the light of his staff was glinting off of something at the bottom.
Curiosity overwhelmed caution; covering his mouth, Tartum channeled more magic through into his staff. “Light!” he said, and his staff began to blaze more intensely. It now illuminated the entire cavern and what he saw stunned him to his core.
Asleep, less than a hundred yards from him was a massive red dragon. Tartum had only ever heard of them in stories, and from what he could remember, they did the actual creature no justice. The animal was enormus! The cavern was easily four hundred yards in diameter and had been carved out of the earth in a perfect circle. The dragon had curled itself into the space resting it’s head on it’s tail as the bulk of its body encompassed the space. Blood red scales covered it’s body from the tip of its snout to the end of its tail. They overlapped each other in such a way that as the beast breathed the scales moved with all the majestic qualities of the ocean on a calm summer day. It’s head was very large with teeth shaped like ivory claws peaking out from under its scaley lips. It’s body was layer upon layer of corded muscle that left Tartum with no doubt that the creature was more than capable of excavating the cave they were in. The claws on the beast’s four large feet were easily as lo
ng as he was tall. They were as black as night but gleamed with a sharpness that no blade would ever match. Its tail was as long as its body, stretching around half the cave and ending in a barbed point that looked just as dangerous as the dragon’s teeth and claws were. The most impressive feature about the creature was its wings. At the moment they were closed, but Tartum could see they were huge leathery sails thick enough to catch the wind and carry the incredible mass of the dragon high into the air. Tartum had never been more impressed or more humbled just by simply being in the presence of anything in his life. The voice in the back of his head urged him to kneel before it, and Tartum would have if it hadn’t been for the sight of Runt shimmying down the side of the cave on a rope he had secured to the ledge. Looking back at the dragon, he remembered why he was here and sprang into action.
Taking the queue from Runt, he grabbed ahold of the rope with one hand while keeping his grip on his staff with the other and lowered himself quickly to the lower level. When he landed Runt was staring opened mouthed at the dragon overcome with the same awe that Tartum had felt when he first laid eyes on the beast. Looking at the dragon’s fangs Tartum could see they were dripping with saliva. Pulling a large jar from his pack, he opened the lid and made his way carefully towards it’s mouth. Tartum was surprised that being so close to the beast didn’t terrify him like he thought it should. Instead, he felt almost a kinship with the beast and even began to feel that taking the saliva from it was somehow wrong. Forcing the thought from his mind, Tartum regained his senses just in time to avoid the beast’s claws as it shifted slightly in its slumber. As it was, the razor sharp edges ever so slightly grazed his robes cutting away a swath and leaving a thin scratch along his boot. Tartum swallowed hard, if that graze had been an inch closer it might have taken his foot off. Instead of fear, it was respect he felt for the dragon, however, he still hastened his steps so he could gather what he needed and leave. As honored as he felt to be in its presence, he knew that the dragon might not feel the same way towards him if it were to awaken to find him trespassing in its home. Reaching the beast’s mouth, Tartum held the jar under the rivulets of dripping saliva and quickly filled the jar. It was a disgusting thick substance that stunk of old meat and month old bad breath. It reminded Tartum alot of how Buddy’s breath smelled after he finished licking his own butt, only much more pungent. Replacing the lid, Tartum wrapped the jar in a thick cloth he had brought and placed it securely back into his pack. Making his way back to the rope, he quickly climbed back up and pulled himself onto the ledge. As he stood up the exhileration of what he’d just done hit him, and he was filled with excitement. He had done it! He had all the components he needed to make his ring! All he had to do now was get back to Yucoke and cast the spell. He was never more proud of himself than he was in this moment.
As he stood there congratulating himself, he saw the rope begin to protest the strain being put on it. Turning around, he saw Runt working his way back up carring about twice his body weight in gold and treasure. Dumbfounded, Tartum looked around the cavern again and noticed for the first time that the dragon had amassed piles of gold and jewels as well as incredible looking weapons and armor. He had been so enamored with the dragon that the treasure didn’t even register. The voice in the back of his head screamed at him to make Runt return what he had taken. Tartum didn’t fully understand why, but his hate for Runt suddenly knew no bounds. Reaching for his knife, he planned to threaten to cut the rope if he didn’t put it all back when he saw a long golden staff shift on Runt’s back. Before Tartum could so much as point, the staff fell away from clattering loudly as it hit the ground. Acute, cold, terror swept over Tartum as the sound brought the dragon out of its slumber. The dragon’s face contorted in irritation as the sound echoed loudly off the wall of the enclosed space. Frozen with horror, Tartum watched as the dragon stretched, its claws raking deep gashes into the dirt and stone floor. The beast yawned, giving Tartum an unobstructed view inside of its mouth. He counted three rows of teeth and a large pink forked tongue that reminded him of a snake. Hundreds of pure white teeth gleamed inside its maw, causing a cold swear to begin pouring from Tartum’s body. Every fiber in his being begged him to flee, but his terror wouldn’t allow him to move. Groggily, the dragon opened its piercing yellow eyes; Tartum could do nothing but watch as it fixed him with its gaze, he wasn’t sure, but for a moment, the dragon seemed more scared of his presence than he was of him. The beast sniffed at him, the sudden shift in the air almost pulling Tartum off the ledge. The movement freed him from the grip terror that had taken on his muscles, and Tartum caught himself before plummeting to his doom. The dragon almost seemed to shrug its indifference towards him, and for a moment, Tartum thought it was going to go back to sleep and leave him in peace.
It was then Runt made his way back onto the ledge. Clambering over in panic he collapsed into a mound of sweat, tears, and urine. Apparently, he was much more afraid of the dragon than Tartum was. His disgust for the man momentarily outweighed his fear. Looking back to the beast, Tartum watched as it looked at Runt with the same sleepy disinterest it had looked at him with. A look of pure outrage came over the dragon’s face when it noticed the treasure Runt had piled on his back. Rearing back it’s head, the dragon roared it’s fury towards the ceiling, causing the entire cave to shake violently. The look on its face, Tartum knew, would haunt his nightmares for years. The terror the dragon’s roar caused him, sent him sprinting towards the narrow path that led to the horses. Intelligent thought left him completely, as the primal need to flee became his sole purpose in life. Scrabbling through the narrow passage, Tartum threw himself down its path as another roar pieced his ears and drowned out all else.
Nothing mattered anymore, all he knew was he needed to escape. Racing down the corridor, he lost his footing as he reached the surface. The fall knocked the wind out of him and caused his staff to go flying from his grasp. No longer able to stand, Tartum rolled over onto his back as he tried desperately to regain his breath. Stars burst in his eyes as the lack of air to his lungs threatened to make him black out. The voice in his head screamed to not allow that to happen. Just as the stars bursting around him began to converge into blackness, his ability to breath came back, and he took great gasps of air into his lungs. The sweet burning sensation brought new focus, cutting through his terror, allowing him to think again. Picking himself up, he ran to his staff and secured it to his back. Looking toward the horses, he saw Runt, bleeding from his head. Judging by the way his horse was running away, Tartum put together that he had been thrown from it as he tried to mount. Now the short bastard was desperately cutting away at the rope holding his horse at bay. Before Tartum could move to stop him, he saw the last strands of the rope fall away just as an explosion burst from the top of the hill. The dragon came shooting out of the hill in a shower of debris falling like a meteor shower. Tartum had to dodge out of the way of a few large chunks of earth, as they slammed into the ground around him. A gruesome crunch and whinny of pain caught his attention. He whirled around to see his horse die after a boulder of earth the size of a small house landed on him. He saw that Runt had been knocked away by the impact but seemed to be no worse for wear because of it.
Looking back into the sky, Tartum saw the dragon in all its glory. With its wings holding it aloft hundreds of feet in the air, he watched as it effortlessly hovered overhead occasionaly flapping its massive wings whenever gravity tried to reassert its old over it. The same feeling of awe began to come over him once again, and his guiding voice begged him to kneel before the dragon’s might. Tartum might have if it hadn’t spotted him and roared fire it his discovery. The need to escape quickly became his only concern yet again, and with a speed born of desperation, Tartum began fleeing into the forest. He passed Runt as he dove into the trees, hoping the forest canopy would be enough to hide him from the dragon. He could hear the beast roar over and over again, each time the sound sent ripples of terror through his body that served to both energize his
body and erase all coherent thought from his mind. All that mattered to him now was escape.
He ran as far and as fast as he could, but no matter what he did, the dragon’s roars always seemed to be right on top of him. Finally, not able to run another step, Tartum took shelter behind a large tree as be gulped down lungful after lungful of air. As he sat there trying to get his breathing back under control, Runt dove next to him, falling all over himself in the process, he had lost much of the treasure he had taken from the dragon’s lair in his flight and was now crying almost as hard as he was breathing.
“What…are…we…going…to do!?” he asked, terrified.
The look on Runt’s face, as if he expected Tartum to save him after he had caused the dragon to awaken, sent Tartum into a fury. “WHAT ARE WE…GOING TO DO!?!” he screamed, as he grabbed the man. “You stupid fuck! Why did you take so much!? How stupid are you!?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Tartum knew the man was an idiot, he had known that since the moment he’d met him. The only reason he had lasted this long was because Tartum had needed him, now it seemed that his usefulness was at an end, and Tartum was only too glad for it. The dragon’s roar overhead let Tartum know it was closing in on them. Releasing the horrified man, he pressed himself against the tree as the dragon landed no more than thitty yards away. The impact of its landing caused the ground to shudder. Tartum could hear the dragon sniffing at the air looking for them. As he sat there trying to think of what to do, he was pulled from his thoughts as Runt threw what little gold he had left on him.
“Here! You take it! It’s after the gold, right? If you have it the dragon will leave me alone!” he said, as he threw another handful of gold on him. Tartum knocked the treasure off of him and grabbed Runt by his throat. White hot rage replaced his fear as his vision turned red.
The Jade Mage: The Becoming: Volume 2 Page 45
