The Angel and the Dragon

by Pearl Goodfellow

I only hoped this trip to Cathedral would be worth our time. I longed to get the point across to the governor. To show him we were still alive and fighting.

  I looked below, and at the edge of my vision I could just make out Cathedral’s majestic coastline. Of all the landmasses of the Coven Isles, Cathedral was arguably the loveliest; the Infiniti and I had holidayed there several times. Its location boasted an astounding seascape: The Harbinger Ocean and the Sea of Mages collided, and formed the Crystal Sea, on Cathedral’s north coast. As the name suggests, the Crystal is as clear as lagoon-blue glass; as crystalline as could be imagined, I imagined.

  As we approached the island, I could see the pristine-white waves crash on the talcum powder shores of Crystal beach. Tucked back from the sandy beach stood the backbone of Cathedral’s landmass: The Glimmer mountains. A chain of majestic giants whose slopes glittered in black diamond deposits. These outdoor gems were worthless though, so with the exception of a little ‘souvenir’ chipping, the tourists mostly left the stones alone.

  It was the ‘below ground’ diamonds Governor Shields was interested in. These were the diamonds from which Shields crafted his nefarious, high-tech weaponry; the gems that contained the deadly tachyon power. But the diamonds were also the island’s main source of income; the gems brought in a healthy cash flow from tourism. Everyone and his mother had bought a tourist-worthy bauble or two from the souvenir stores in Chalice. Cathedral’s skies buzzed with helicopters, transporting happy tourists who could admire and snap the stones from a bird's eye point of view. The money rolled into this prosperous island until its dog days of summer rolled out.

  I followed Portia as she headed westward past the Glimmers and their most prominent character, Burning Peak. It was within the Peak’s central chamber that the Tiamat Heart lay; the activating stone for both of the dragons that would soon be walking this earth.

  Once Shields had his own beast out of stasis, all the governor would need to do is touch the Tiamat Heart to his slumbering, scaly weapon, and thereupon the creature would be born.

  But given yesterday’s events in the grounds of Gaunt Manor, it appeared that Gideon’s dragon wasn’t quite ready for activation. Or else we’d most definitely know about it. And the governor wouldn’t have tried to ‘off’ us before he could boast the creation of his monster. No way, Jose. Gideon Shields would happily sacrifice babies just to see to it that we witness his greatness in the arena of ‘dragon making.’

  From Shields’ display of fearful and arrogant behavior it meant we still had a chance; albeit very slim. But if we could locate the Wyrmrig first, we’d have a small window to get the dragon to work on our behalf possibly.

  Just a couple of problems there, however:

  1) We didn’t know who the Wyrmrig was. We only knew that the carrier of the Elder Code would, with just an ingrained motivation of freakish nature, be drawn to the Tiamat Stone at the exact time the mutant gene demanded.

  2) Even if we did know who the Wyrmrig was, we could still only follow the creature as far as Burning Peak. Because, right now, there was no viable way in that we knew of. Shields had seen to that by swarming the place with his men. There was the hidden waterfall that cascaded into a deep green lagoon in a nook to the left of the Peak. We knew, somewhere near the top of these falls, lay an entrance point into the heart of Burning Peak. But the problem was the cascade itself; the force of the water was just too dominant for us to climb through, even without the governor’s goons buzzing around the locale.

  Thankfully, the creatures who lived and mined the valuable black diamonds from the heart of the Glimmer Mountains intended to help us with the water pressure issue. The grumlins sided with the Custodians in this … this … impending war. They wanted to reclaim their lands, and they were more than happy to form an allegiance with a group who could further their cause.

  These poor below-earth dwellers are essentially slaves to the Shields administration. Knowing the creature’s razor-like fingers are the only tool that can cut through the seams of the hard stone, the governor exploited the rock creatures to the full extent of his power. These gentle critters, under horrendous working conditions, are, right now, being forced to hack away at their sacred lands, their home, to extract the priceless rock. The enforced mining broke the grumlins backs, and their spirits, all while the governor rubbed his hands in his maniacal greed for wealth and power. My mind wandered to the late Millicent Ponds. The adamant eco-warrior had fought for the bill of fair working conditions for the rock-miners. The woman had been tireless, and her doggedness had paid off … at least publicly, anyway. Millicent pushed the bill through Cathedral’s government. Shields, standing before a sea of flashing media cameras, had smilingly signed the accord, pumping Millicent Ponds’ hand with false altruism.

  My broom hit another bump, and I felt a weighty tug coming from the thatch. I glanced over my shoulder to see Gloom dangling from one paw. My kitty’s expression was murderous. I watched until Onyx helped her back on and then turned my attention back to Portia’s flight path.

  Past the Glimmer’s now, and over the expansive green vales that paved the way to the capital: Chalice.

  Gideon Shields face swam in front of my eyes. The governor’s appearance and demeanor was a well-crafted case of misdirection, of course. Beneath the humor of the Chief Warlock’s twinkling, caramel eyes lurked a bristling megalomaniac with a seething passion for inflicting pain and terror. Beneath the innocent tumble of Gideon’s amber curls lay the cunning of a super-intelligent mind and the heart of a monster.

  And you nearly had a date with him. The man who murdered Orville. Nice one, Hattie. Great judge of character.

  I clenched my eyes shut for a second to squeeze away the threat of a fresh onslaught of tears. Seriously, my peepers had had enough of the salt water leakage over the last twenty-four hours.

  A pair of gentle paws pressed on my back, and Onyx’s head popped up beside my ear. He rested his chin on my shoulder. It is easy to pour scorn on oneself for perceived transgression, Hattie. But words that are born of self-attack are factually never right. Mere inventions of a beleaguered ego, so please, I’ll ask you now not to sabotage your true innate power by blaming yourself. Your strength has only just started to bloom. So if you will please dispense with the delusional self-commentary?

  I gave him a rough kiss on the side of the cheek. Get out of my head, cat.

  Very well. Onyx moved to the back of the broom with his exuberant brother and livid sister just as the dazzling spire of the Black Diamond Cathedral came into view; a towering needle thrusting skyward above the otherwise homely looking city. Shields’ offices were just behind the church. I remember his picture window and the views it afforded of the city’s most significant landmark.

  “Let’s land our brooms behind the cathedral,” Portia shouted over her shoulder. “If our Chief Warlock is there, I’d like to thwart his arrogant comfort with the element of surprise.”

  I nodded and took after the Witch Fearwyn, and in a downward spiral, I dropped toward the grounds of the massive church.

  “Thank Goddess this is nearly over,” Gloom complained as we circled the last ten feet or so.

  “Aww, but it was fun, sis, yep?” Jet chittered. “Like that ride at the Mabon Fair, yep!” My hyper kitty leaped the final six feet or so to the ground and looked up at us as we came in for landing.

  Portia descended onto the exact spot Jet sat. “Are you sure this cat is going to behave himself?” She said, brushing Jet away with the thatch of her broom.

  “He’s a little excitable, but he is usually pretty well behaved,” I lied. I shot Jet a warning look.

  “Well, I’d like ants-in-his-pants at the rear when we head into Shields’ office, understand?”

  Portia didn’t wait for me to answer. “His incessant fidgeting is making me nervous. I’m baffled as to how you can tolerate it.”

  I gave Jet another warning glare; only I pursed my lips at him this time … just to show him I meant business.
“You get used to it,” I muttered, and parked my broom next to Portia’s in a vertical well hidden by a small service door in the east rear of the giant cathedral. A sign, pinned to the door, flapped in the breeze. Portia narrowed her eyes and flattened the notice to the door. “What’s this now?” I peered over her shoulder. “Interesting,” she said.

  “Peculiar,” I ventured.

  Gloom huffed. “What’s it say?”

  “Closed.”

  “The Cathedral?” Onyx said. “How very curious. I thought Black Diamond Cathedral was open three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year?”

  Jet bounced. “ Yep. Maybe it’s shut for repairs, yep?”

  Portia shook her head. “Repairs go on all year, so it’s not that. They just section off the part of the church that’s being worked on.”

  “Yep, totally, weirdsville. Just like I said, yep.”

  Portia stared at my cat but said nothing, and as she broke into an urgent stride toward Shields’ offices, I could only follow obediently. Jet tried to leap past us to take the lead, but I managed to trip him up before he reached Portia’s flank. His fur went up, and he faced me, his tail circling, eyes full of play. I gave a curt flick of my head, notifying him to get to his newly assigned place at the rear. Gloom trotted past her hyped-up brother and deftly swatted him across the cheek. She ran on, her haughty stride unbroken. Jet finally obeyed and slinked off to the rear with a dejected look on his face.

  I caught up with Portia just as she was pushing through the polished glass doors of Gideon Shields’ building and penthouse offices. “Um, do we have any kind of plan here?” I enquired, pulling on the old witch’s arm to slow down the process a little. “I mean, are we just going to bust in there and say ‘hi?’ What?” Portia looked at the hand that held her forearm. I pulled it away immediately. “Okay, what if the governor is in?” I asked, trying to look less freaked out. “What are our intentions here? Because we really didn’t talk this through now, did we?” My voice was rising in crescendo. I won’t lie, I felt a little panicked.

  “The governor won’t be here,” Portia said rubbing the spot on her arm where my hand had been. “But his secretary will get a good look at us, and she’ll be sure to pass on the message to her boss. I want Shields to know that we’re not scared of him. That we’re not hiding out somewhere while he devises his ultimate weapon. We’re just here to show our faces, and I predict that the governor is the last person we’ll see today.” Portia looked at me. “Now, if you don’t mind?” She nodded toward the elevators. I thought about this for a second or two, then swept an arm in front of me. “After you, Ms. Fearwyn.”

  The elevator doors parted just as we got there, and Portia strode in. Jet was quicker off the mark, however, and darted past the Witch Fearwyn’s patent leather boots. The doors shut and Jet gasped. “What are all these?” He said, jumping up and tapping each of the elevator’s buttons with an enthusiastic paw. I groaned inwardly, averting my gaze from Portia. This was going to be one long ride…with one very irritated old witch.

  Sure enough, we got to glimpse each of the floors as we ascended to the penthouse suite. Portia’s irritation became more pronounced with each level we stopped on. The witch’s sighing turned into harsh guffawing by the time we made our brief visit to the ninth floor. By the twelfth, she could no longer hold it in. “I told you not to bring this deranged animal with us,” she sniped. “I was trying for a surprise visit, but of course, by now, each of the floors has radioed up to the penthouse. The whole building knows we’re here.” Portia scowled at Jet, but my zippy cat was too enrapt with the changing scenery of each floor to notice the witch’s ire. Gloom took the extra journey time to groom her lustrous fur while Onyx stood like an obedient sentinel who couldn’t be disturbed by his brother’s misdeeds.

  Finally, the doors opened for the last time on the penthouse floor. Immediately before us sat Shields’ secretary’s desk. Sure enough, the elegant blonde who manned the reception desk seemed to be waiting for us. She sat, stock still, her hands folded politely in front of her on her desk, while her stare narrowed on the elevator and its living contents. Portia jumped into action.

  “We’re here to see the governor,” she barked, marching up to the secretary’s desk. “And, no, we don’t have an appointment, and your boss won’t be expecting us. You will see us to his office, nonetheless.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Blondie rose from her desk, jutting her chin toward Portia. “I will do no such thing. And, Governor Shields isn’t here to --” The intercom interjected the secretary’s rehearsed tirade. Gideon Shields’ voice sounded almost cheery. “Bethany, please see our guests to my office.” There was a slight pause. “And, hold all calls, please.”

  “But, Mr. Shields are you --”

  “It is quite safe, Bethany. Thank you. Now, please don’t keep our guests waiting.” The intercom clicked off.

  “Follow me,” Bethany snapped.

  I could hardly believe it. Was Shields here? Ready to see us? Portia gave me a slight dip of her head, and put a discreet finger to her lips. I got the order: She would do the talking, and I would keep my mouth shut. The Witch Fearwyn flicked her head toward Jet. My zippy kitty trotted in wide-eyed innocence next to my feet, but I gave Portia the hand-on-heart sign and an obvious nod of my head. I promised to keep Jet in line too ... even though I was pretty confident this was a promise I couldn’t keep.

  Bethany stopped us just outside Shields’ office. The stern blonde rapped courteously on the walnut door. “Enter.” Shields’ sing-song voice resonated from behind the thick wood. The door swung inward of its own accord, and directly before us, sat the slimy governor. The air before the man seemed wavy and shimmery.

  Gideon’s face broke into an overly sunny smile. “Welcome, Custodians, welcome. How good to see you so… so ... fighting fit this beautiful morning.” The governor tossed a boyish curl from his forehead and gestured to the seats in front of his desk.

  Wordlessly, Portia and I sat down. Gideon motioned toward Bethany and the door. “That will be all, Bethany, thank you.”

  “But, sir, I think --”

  “As you see here, I am safe,” the governor said, keeping his voice neutral. He splayed his long fingers out toward the shimmering shield that separated him from us.

  “Very good, sir … I’ll be at my desk if you need me at all.” Bethany turned on her heel and closed the door behind her.

  Gideon Shields smile curled ever-upward as he leaned across the desk to within an inch of his magical barrier. “I must say, this is a surprise. Clearly, not all of you reveled in my impromptu tachyon party?” He arched a well-groomed eyebrow. I was bursting to scream at the man, but I remembered Portia’s wordless instructions and gripped the arms of the chair instead.

  “As you can see, your magic is critically flawed,” Portia hissed, keeping her composure … uh, composed. “The work of an amateur wannabe, if you ask me. We sit here before you, alive and well.” The Witch Fearwyn paused, and then added: “And they made you Chief Warlock?”

  “I’m afraid it is your logic that is flawed, Ms. Fearwyn,” Shields said. His eyes twinkled warmly at Portia. “Because that wasn’t magic you witnessed in the grounds of your hovel yesterday,” he explained. “Well, maybe there was a small vein of sorcery involved, to be sure … but ninety-eight percent of that little exploit was down to Warlock Tech. An arena far beyond your pay-grade, yes?”

  “You killed Orville Nugget. You will rot in Steeltrap for this, I can guarantee it. Your little Shield might help you right now, but even with your magic and tech combined you cannot escape your fate, governor.” The Witch Fearwyn looked remarkably calm. Personally, I felt like I was going to throw up. The fact that the killer of Orville Nugget sat mere feet across from us with a sickening smile plastered on his face was enough to make anyone feel nauseous.

  Shields scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, Orville Nugget,” he murmured. “My bad. It should have been all of you. But it would seem your cutesy-home
spun-communal magic saved your bacon.”

  Jet jumped up onto the governor’s desk just in front of the tech-magical shield. An assortment of the Chief Warlock’s desk knick-knacks sat, unprotected, on our side of his Wonderwall, and Jet placed a casual paw on top of an exquisite crystal. “Family heirloom, guv, yep?” He asked conversationally. Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you touch that you flea-infested rug. You will remove that grimy paw immediately.” The governor nearly pressed his face against the shield in an attempt to intimidate my cat. But Jet was as high as a kite on his morning dose of the herb, and he was certainly in the mood for play. “Yep, yep, looks ‘spensive, dude, yep. Is it? Is it ‘spensive?”

  “Very. Now step away.”

  Jet’s dark eyes shot to the right to look at the governor. “Does it fly?”

  The playful twinkle disappeared from the governor’s eyes, to be replaced by a cold, malicious glint. “Don’t you even think about it, you rat. My father gave me--” Jet’s paw was so fast I barely made out the black blur as he swept the crystal clear across the room. It shattered in a cascading fall of powdery glass.

  “Yep! Goal!”

  Shields' mouth fell open, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Portia’s lips tug upward into a smug smile. She reached out and gave Jet a stiff two-fingered pat to the head.

  “That was a precious piece of glass, and you will pay for it.” Gideon Shields’ pout would have been funny had the situation not been so serious.

  “How did you know we were all together yesterday?” Portia demanded, catching the Warlock Chief off guard.

  “My tracking method is beyond your understanding, Ms. Fearwyn. Do I have to repeat myself? You have no experience with the advancement of Warlock tech, do you? I’d be surprised if you even knew Warlock technology existed. But I’m certain you have no idea just how far our technological strategies have evolved.” His full lips curled into a self-satisfied grin.

  “So you’re saying that your mighty tech was no match for our little itty-bitty spell?” The old witch mocked.