The Dragons Return

by J. J. Thompson

  “Invectis!” he whispered.

  The world seemed to hold its breath and then a blast of sound and light flung Simon several yards into the air.

  Oh crap, he managed to think before hitting the ground and rolling several times. He came to rest sprawled on his back and blinked up at the sky. For a moment he remained still, feeling carefully through his body for any injuries.

  Fortunately, he seemed intact. He would have a few bruises and, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he hissed at the pain of skinned elbows, but those were the worst of his injuries.

  Simon pulled himself to his feet and looked back to where he had been standing. And his jaw dropped.

  There was a smoking hole dug into the ground and bits of turf and soil had been flung in all directions. But it wasn't the hole, perhaps a foot across and about as deep, that he was staring at. It was what was sticking out of the freshly dug divot that was making him gape in surprise.

  He walked slowly back to the spot, a scent of ozone making the air taste bitter on his tongue, and looked at the long object that seemed to be growing from the earth. He reached out tentatively, pulled it out and stared at it in disbelief.

  It was a staff. A staff? Simon looked at it in confusion and then glanced around.

  The parchment was gone, likely vaporized when the spell was cast. All that was left was the hole in the ground and the staff itself.

  So this was Daniel's parting gift, he thought. But why do I need a staff?

  He walked back to the tower and sat on the steps to examine his prize.

  The staff was as tall as he was, six feet in length or more. It was made of some light-colored wood, pale and almost luminous. But most of the wood was covered with what looked like bronze, thin lengths of metal that spiraled upward from the base to the head. The bronze, or whatever metal it was, was slightly rough to his touch and Simon peered at it closely.

  His eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't rough. It was covered with row upon row of tiny inscriptions. Simon had to hold the staff up to his face to even read them.

  Spells. The staff was covered with spells. He read some of the incantations, the writing so small that it made his eyes water trying to read it.

  He recognized some of them. Fireball. Lightning. Shield. Yes, they were there. But there were so many more.

  He sat back and wiped the tears from his eyes. His head was beginning to pound from concentrating so hard.

  Near the top of the staff was one band of metal that contained a single line of tiny runes. Simon wiped his eyes again and tried to focus on the writing.

  'Whosoever claims me must pay for my service in blood. I am Bene-Dunn-Gal. The Bane of Night.'

  Simon stared at the staff after he read the words. Was it glowing slightly? He wasn't sure.

  The staff was topped by a round gem, the size of his fist and as red as blood. It was shot through with flecks of gold and silver and caught the light as he shifted the length of wood.

  Simon stood up and moved a few paces away from the steps. He held the staff in his right hand and leaned on it, testing its weight and strength.

  Well, it would help in a long hike, he supposed. It did look a bit...ostentatious. He chuckled at what he might look like to others, holding this thing. Like someone trying to play a wizard, dressing up as Merlin or something.

  He shook his head, still laughing to himself.

  “Sorry, Daniel,” he said aloud. “It's a lovely gift, I suppose, and I'll hang it on my wall or something. But I really don't think I need old, what's the name? Bene-Dunn-Gal.”

  As he spoke the name out loud, the staff in his hand became white hot. Simon screamed in agony and tried to drop it, but it seemed to be fused to his flesh and he couldn't even unclench his hand from around the shaft.

  The pain only lasted a moment and then subsided. But his hand was still stuck to the metal on the staff and, as he watched, wide-eyed, Simon saw a trickle of blood run from under his palm slowly down the length of the staff.

  Watching the slowly seeping red liquid was almost mesmerizing and he followed its progress with wide eyes until the line of blood reached the tip of the shaft. And then, it was gone. As if the metal and wood had absorbed his blood, it vanished into the body of the staff and his hand was suddenly free.

  Simon dropped the staff and backed away from it, eying the length of wood as if it was a snake waiting to strike. When he checked his palm, he gaped at what he found there.

  One word had been cut into his palm: Valagar.

  Oh my God, he thought. It's my real name. That damned thing knows my real name! What the hell is going on?

  Think, Simon, think. He ran through all the lore he remembered from back in his role-playing days. Wizards had staves, yes. Almost all of them. They helped to focus the magic-user's power. But he didn't need that, did he?

  Unconsciously he ran his fingers over his belt buckle. His true name was all the focus he needed. Or was it? Maybe a wizard's staff was more than just a focusing object.

  He looked at the discarded staff dubiously. He didn't remember any stories where a staff was covered with hundreds of spells. No, this 'Bane of Night' was something more.

  For no reason that he could later explain, Simon slowly held out his trembling hand, as if reaching into a fire, and pointed at the staff.

  “Bene-Dunn-Gal,” he whispered.

  The staff quivered, rolled slightly back and forth, and then flew across the space between them and settled into Simon's hand like a faithful dog returning joyfully to its master.

  Simon held the weapon, because that was obviously what it was, and felt a warm current of strength and power flowing through his hand from the staff.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Maybe you will be useful after all.”

  He noticed that the bands of writing were gone now and the staff was simply covered with rings of smooth bronze. And he knew, somehow, that the staff was now bonded to him, forever.

  “I wonder what we'll be able to do together?” he asked it as if speaking to another person. Well, he'd soon find out.

  Chapter 23

  By dinner time, Simon was eager to recall Kronk and Aeris. Not only did he want to know if they'd had any success, but he found the tower strangely quiet and lonely without them around.

  He glanced at the staff leaning next to the door. The thing might be handy one day as a weapon, but it was poor company.

  Smiling at the whimsical thought, Simon lit all of the candles in the darkening room, sat at the table and took a deep breath.

  “Kronk,” he said in a firm voice. “I need you.”

  A ripple occurred in the air above the table and then in the blink of an eye, his little companion was standing in his usual spot.

  “Welcome back, my friend,” Simon said, smiling broadly.

  “Master! Thank you. I am so pleased to be home.”

  The little guy tip-tapped across the table and stared up at Simon. The wizard thought that he'd never seen that rocky face look so happy.

  “And I'm as pleased to have you back. Now, what news? Did you get a chance to talk with anyone in authority?”

  Kronk shrugged a bit.

  “In a manner of speaking, master. I spoke to one who has the ear of the great ones. An intermediary, you might say. She was sympathetic to our cause. The elementals have no love of the old gods or of the dragons. She promised to speak to the high ones on our behalf. Whether they will aid you on the day of the battle, I do not know.”

  Simon felt some disappointment, but made sure that Kronk didn't see it. He knew that the little guy had done his best.

  “Thanks, my friend. I know that you did what you could. If, as you say, some of your people feel kindly toward me, it may encourage your leaders to send us some aid.”

  “Yes, master. That was my thought as well.”

  Kronk glanced around the tower. He focused for a moment on the staff near the door, but didn't say anything. He turned back and looked at Simon.

&n
bsp; “If it is all right with you, master, I'd like to check on the horses. And the garden. Things get so out of hand if I'm not here to weed and water it.”

  “Of course,” Simon said, trying not to laugh. “Go ahead. I have to bring Aeris back now and see what news he has.”

  Kronk nodded, waved once and then hopped off the table and hurried out the door.

  Simon settled himself into his chair again and stared at the tabletop.

  “Aeris,” he said loudly. “I need you.”

  He watched the spot where Kronk had appeared. A minute passed by. Then two.

  Simon frowned and tried again.

  “Aeris? Return, now!”

  He waited. Nothing. What the hell?

  The front door, which was slightly ajar from Kronk slipping through it, slowly swung open with a high-pitched squeal.

  I'll have to grease those hinges, Simon thought absently as he watched it intently.

  And then a gust of wind swept through the room, sending the papers on his kitchen table flying in all directions. A muffled boom shook the tower and the sky outside turned black.

  Simon jumped up and hurried to the door. Outside, early autumn leaves whirled around the yard in front of the closed gate, their dry skins hissing and snapping as they spun about in the darkened air.

  He stared in fascination as the leaves began to whirl in tight formation, faster and faster until a small tornado seemed to be forming not ten feet away. Simon winced as the wind screamed.

  It reached a crescendo, screeched like a banshee gone mad, and then the leaves stopped spinning and fluttered to the ground.

  The silence was almost deafening as the sky lightened again to early dusk. Simon looked around the yard but there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen.

  Now what was that all about, he wondered.

  From the room behind him came a familiar voice.

  “I'm back, Simon,” he heard and turned around quickly to see Aeris hovering over the kitchen table, staring at him with some amusement.

  “Aeris! Welcome back.”

  Simon hurriedly crossed the room and sat down near the elemental.

  “What was that all about?” he asked and pointed at the area outside.

  “Oh yes. Sorry about that.” Aeris rolled his eyes. “My people have a flair for the dramatic, I'm afraid. I was sent back by one of my leaders. I think he decided to make a show of it.”

  “Well, he did a good job. I thought a storm was about to hit us.”

  Aeris whipped around the table and picked up the scattered papers. He put them in a stack and returned to hover next to Simon.

  “Thanks. So, any news?”

  Aeris hesitated and then began to speak, picking his words carefully.

  “Well, yes and no. Aethos has volunteered to join us. He's pretty powerful, as you know. Whether he'll be much use against a dragon is another question. As for the leaders of my people, well...”

  “They said no,” Simon stated flatly. He wasn't all that surprised, but the tiny bit of hope he'd been holding onto faded away.

  “No, my dear wizard. They didn't say no.”

  “They didn't?” Simon stared at Aeris in surprise. “But then, what did they say?”

  “They said, and I quote, 'Let us see how he equates himself in battle. Our decision will be based on that.'”

  Simon leaned back in his chair and considered that answer.

  “So they want to see if I'm willing to do the heavy lifting myself, don't they?”

  “Interesting way to put it. But a good guess.” Aeris looked thoughtful. “I suppose they want to observe and see if you are as committed to this battle as you say you are. You have to remember, Simon, that back in the old days, the most powerful wizards used elementals to fight their battles for them. Many of my people were destroyed as a result. I'd say that my leaders have a lingering suspicion when it comes to your willingness to put yourself in harm's way.”

  Simon sighed heavily.

  “Yeah, that's about what I thought. Ah well, at least it wasn't a flat no. That's something.”

  “It is indeed.” Aeris turned slowly and looked around the room. “So, you managed to muddle through without us for a day, somehow.”

  Simon's mood changed and he chuckled.

  “Somehow. I did miss you both though. I've gotten used to having you around.”

  “That's reassuring.” Aeris said dryly. “So what about that final gift of Daniel's? What...”

  The elemental's voice trailed away as he spotted the staff leaning against the wall next to the door.

  “Well, well. What do we have here?” he said as he floated across the room toward it. He stopped abruptly several feet away and stared at the staff.

  “Oh Simon,” he said in a hushed voice. “Where did you get this?”

  The wizard got up and walked over to stand next to Aeris.

  “From a spell. Daniel had one hidden inside the back cover of the book. It was the longest, most complex incantation I've ever seen. After I cast it, the parchment it was written on disintegrated and this thing appeared. In a rather dramatic fashion, I might add.”

  He glanced at Aeris curiously.

  “Do you know it?”

  “Not personally. no. But I know what it is. It is a magical artifact of great power.” He held out a trembling hand toward the staff. “I can feel it from here. I would not dare to touch it.”

  Aeris looked at Simon closely.

  “What happened between you and...it? Somehow, it has bonded itself to you. I can feel it, like a siren's song, calling to you even now.”

  “Really?” Simon walked forward two steps and picked up the staff. He hefted it a moment and then leaned it against the wall again.

  “Just feels like a staff to me. Kind of heavy with the metal around it but, as far as calling to me, I don't feel that at all.”

  Aeris' expression as he stared at the length of wood and metal was one of suspicion. As Simon walked back to the table, the elemental flew slowly back to join him, glancing a few times at the staff as he went.

  “As for what happened, that was weird, I'll admit.”

  Simon sat down and stared at the staff speculatively.

  “Somehow it drew blood from me as I held it. In fact, it cut my true name into my palm as it did so.”

  Simon held up his hand to show his palm to show Aeris.

  “There are no marks there now,” the elemental said as he examined Simon's hand.

  “No, there aren't. Just as well. No one should know that name but me. You and Kronk taught me that.”

  “But it knows your name now,” Aeris said with a nod toward the staff.

  “And I know its name as well. Fair trade, I guess.”

  The candlelight threw odd shadows around the room as they spoke and a small gust of wind leaked through the open door and made Simon shiver. He got up again and went to add some wood to the fire.

  “It is a named staff?” Aeris sounded impressed. “Well then, I'd say that Daniel gave you an added weapon to use against the dragon. I'd recommend that you practice using it over the next few days. See what it can do to enhance your powers.”

  Simon stacked a few small logs in the fireplace and adjusted them until they began to burn. He filled the kettle and hung it over the fire.

  “That was my plan,” he said as he moved to the counter and started to make some tea. “Although I have no idea how to really do that. Somehow, I think the staff will guide me.' He looked at Aeris. “Sounds weird, eh?”

  “Not in this case, no. A weapon that is bonded to a person, be it a sword, a mace or, in this case a staff, is not just a piece of inert metal or wood. Some have a sort of sentience. I remember hearing stories of swords that would help a warrior fight better in battle. And tales of enchanted staves that made wizards more powerful. I believe that that staff is one of those.”

  A tap-tapping sound announced Kronk's return to the tower. Simon watched fondly as the little guy entered and closed the door fir
mly behind him. He jumped up and held on to the door handle while he slipped one of the bolts closed. Then he skittered across the room and climbed up to join Aeris on the tabletop.

  “Any luck?” he asked the other elemental quietly.

  “So so,” Aeris replied. “They're going to wait and see.”

  “Yes, mine too,” Kronk said. They both sighed in unison and Simon stifled a laugh as he turned around to pick up the boiling kettle.

  Sitting down with his steaming cup of tea, Simon sipped at it as Aeris told Kronk about Simon's new weapon.

  Kronk turned around to look at the staff and then shrugged with disinterest.

  “I don't know anything about those things. The young wizards I knew were too inexperienced to use staves.”

  “Not surprising,” Simon said. “But if it can help in the battle to come, I'll do my best to figure out how to use it.”

  Aeris was looking through the pile of papers on the table and pulled out Simon's sketch of the island.

  “What's this?” he asked as he held up the map. The sheet of paper was bigger than he was.

  “That's the island.”

  Simon took the paper and placed it on the table. He pointed to several markings he had added to the map.

  “I was trying to set up a plan of attack. You know, how best to deploy our forces.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward to look at the paper intently.

  “The problem is, I'm not exactly sure what forces we'll have on the day. The elves will be bringing archers, as will Clara. Eric and the others will be there, with whatever powers they can bring to bear. But what elementals will join us? How many? How powerful? That I don't know.”

  “We'll be there, master,” Kronk said stoutly.

  Aeris looked at him and then nodded reluctantly.

  “Yes. We'll be there. Where else would we be?”

  “Thanks guys,” Simon said, touched by their loyalty. “But if you come along, I'll want you to stay out of the battle.” He chuckled grimly. “Someone should survive to remember the last battle of Simon the unlikely wizard and his misguided friends.”