The crowd erupted into cheers. Todd was nothing if not a good speaker; he showed, through the way he spoke and the way he seemed to touch the hearts of everyone who heard his voice, a deep concern for the well-being of his city. One might have likened his charisma for some kind of magical force of mind control, but the truth—that his was a respect earned over centuries of selfless dedication—was equally admirable and terrifying.
“What we have to show for our efforts,” He said, gazing out not just at the dragons but all of the different creatures in the stands surrounding him, “Is a better unity among our peoples. We stand here with greater strides towards the ideal—that cooperation that all of our societies were founded on. That we might continue to live in harmony, relishing in our differences while bonding over—”
A roar split the highly-recycled air of the stadium and caused a quiet to descend instantly. The air, it seemed, chilled instantly as the creature brought itself back on its hind legs and spread its leathery wings far out wide. “Dragon of Cincinnati!” It roared, fire dripping from its lips and exploding into smoke on the ground, “I have come to challenge you!”
The dragons broke out in whispers among themselves. A moment later, the arena became a madhouse, as every single creature tried to make its way to an exit to get the hell out of dodge. Some ran for the exits, while others phased through walls or simply vanished into thin air. [30]
A dragon challenge! This was quite unusual to do at a symposium, and the hosting Dragon’s symposium at that. Surely the scaly usurper was not serious. He was either showing far too much bravado, or his strength was so great that he did not care.
Todd took a long breath and spoke again into the microphone. “I greet you, the one called The Harrow. But there are rules to these things.”
“Coward!” The Harrow replied. “I have challenged you rightfully, and you must answer, or your city becomes mine!”
“I do answer,” Todd replied coolly. “But you return from banishment from this very council of Dragons. If you wish you wish to challenge me, then you will follow the laws, or any right you claim to have to legitimacy will be burned away with the flesh from your bones.”
The Harrow seemed surprised at this reply. “Do not talk to me of the laws of our people!” The Harrow screamed, “I wrote some of them!”
“As did many of us,” Todd sneered. “So will you submit to the laws? I need to know now.”
“I will!” The Harrow replied instantly. “Now get on with it! Choose your arbiter!”
Todd nodded. “I yield the microphone to the arbiter. The Most Venerable Brenda, Past Dragon of Cincinnati.” Todd took off his jacket as he left the podium, removing his jacket carefully and folding it delicately to pass off to another dragon. Todd stood dignified as he walked to the end of the dais, facing the snarling lizard opposite him. He leapt from the edge then, and in an instant a twenty-foot black lizard landed where a six-foot man should have. Todd raised himself to full height, stretching his purple-and-gold wings as if to warm up the joints, and then curled, waiting.
Michaels took her place at the microphone. “Ello, dearies,” she said pleasantly. “Now, let’s see…the rules.” She took out a small notebook with a plastic cover decorated with images of kittens and thumbed through it. “Ah yes, here we are. ‘First: That the fight shall be by claws, magic, or both; Second: That each Dragon should elect his stewards to defend him and offer their aid; Third: That the Dragons shall choose if the fight is to be to first blood, dominion, or death.” She waited.
“Death,” The Harrow snarled. Todd nodded.
~
Apollo continued to nudge Killian’s chair with his foot, and the redhead began to rouse. She opened her eyes, her pupils fluttering with dilation as she tried to focus on the face of the incubus hovering above her. “Apollo…you’re ok.”
He nodded, still gagged.
Killian looked down at the silver cuffs on her hands and sighed. “Really? Silver cuffs?” she hissed, “And what’s with the sleeping spell? I guess they don’t need a veteran hedge witch ruining their plans…”
The Black Magisters were rather enthralled in watching the TV screen and the mess going on down in the arena. “Your stewards?” Michaels was asking, her eyebrows high in curiosity and, just maybe, amusement.
“The Black Magisters,” The Harrow announced with a toothy dragon grin.
Killian furrowed her brow. “Todd does know that 50 Thousand’s defenses are weakened, right? That he’s vulnerable to curses and stuff?” she looked up at Apollo, who shrugged.
“50 Thousand Consulting,” Todd replied with confidence.
All three of us looked at each other. Apparently not.
“If The Harrow is protected by the Black Magisters,” I said quietly, “I bet they’ll be casting Dark Magic at Todd…but he’ll think that he’s be protected by 50 Thousand’s protective spells. And I guess it won’t matter that Dark Magic is illegal?”
Apollo shook his head, and I reached up to pull his gag away from his mouth. “Once the challenge has been issued, all of the Dragon’s commands and edicts are suspended until it’s over.”
“Convenient,” I grumbled.
We all quieted, and Apollo grabbed the gag back in his teeth as Blake spoke up again. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it’s showtime. Lock them in,” he added as they started for the door. In a moment they had headed out into the hallway, leaving the three of us alone without a word.
“We need to follow them, and stop them before they get to Todd,” Killian snapped as the door closed and locked. She looked down at her cuffs. “But then there’s this. Also, they took my sword.”
I raised my eyebrows with a smug look. “Are you telling me that you’re completely useless without a sword and magic?”
She bristled. “Of course not, what do you take me for?”
Apollo shook his head. “Even if we had a way out, if we even try—” He gestured to the corner where the Silencers had previous been standing. “—they’ll kill us.”
“You just said all the Dragon’s commands are suspended. That includes the death threat, right?”
He blinked at me for a moment, considering it. “That’s…true.”
Killian didn’t need a telling twice; she headed over to look at the door lock. “Dammit, they put a keyhole on both sides. That’s not very OSHA compliant.[31]” Undeterred, she reached down and pulled a knife from her boot.
“How many of those do you have?” I asked.
She glared at me. “A lot. Now shut up for a minute while I get us out of here.”
Over on the TV, the dragons were preparing their fight. The other dragons had turned their folding chairs and now watched with great interest to see the fight that was about to unfold.
I gestured in frustration at the TV. “Don’t those dragons see what’s going on? Didn’t they banish The Harrow?”
“Old rules, with old loopholes,” Apollo replied, “As much wisdom as the dragons are supposed to have, they’re really just as fallible as the rest of us. Look at Todd—he doesn’t know how much he’s screwed himself over.”
Killian cleared her throat and he turned to see the office door was now open. “Can we go?”
Apollo was first out the door, with me right on his heels, but Killian put out an arm to stop me. “Hey, wait,” she said, in a tone that was uncharacteristically soft. I couldn’t help but tense, the memory of our last meeting still fresh on my memory. “I wanted you to know I’m sorry. I made assumptions about you that weren’t true. And I wanted to tell you—”
“I don’t care,” I said, maybe a little harsher than I’d meant to, “I don’t want to hear you’re sorry. I want you show me you’re sorry by helping me.” I ducked under her arm and headed down the hall after Apollo.
We both bumped into him forty feet down the hall, where he was talking rather nonchalantly with one of the Black Magisters.
“I mean, I’m not saying I wouldn’t go,” Apollo was saying, reaching out to dust
off the Magister’s shoulder with a hand that was inexplicably no longer cuffed, “But let’s be real here, I wouldn’t be going for the music.” He winked at the man, who blushed rather furiously.
“Well, I mean…I dunno if I…um…”
“Make you a deal then,” Apollo said, moving in slightly closer and putting a hand on the man’s chest just lightly enough to make a point. “If you still feel like you might want my number after you wake up, come hit me up at the coffee shop.”
The man nodded slowly. “I…I mean, I…” He seemed to reclaim his sense. “What do you mean by wake—?”
He hit the floor in a heap as Killian slammed his fists into the back of his head. Killian reached down and searched his pockets for keys. “Nice plan,” she said lightly, locating the keys and starting to unlock her own cuffs. “He’s gonna be one disappointed guy when he wakes up and find out you were just using incubus powers on him.”
Apollo held up his arms to indicate his own handcuffs “Still cuffed here, so…no. I’m just that charming.”
Killian looked up icily. “Charming enough to turn a bad guy good?”
Apollo winked. “Who said anything about good?”
With our handcuffs opened, Killian picked up the wand and passed it to me as Apollo threw open the arena door and we headed out of the tunnel and into the stands of the Arena, which were now mostly empty. Killian gestured to me. “Do you know any combat spells?” I shook my head. “Jeez, we need to work on that. Fine, just stay back here and look threatening.”
I looked down at myself and then back at Killian. “Me? Threatening?”
She glared. “Yes. If you’re rolling with me, you’re one threatening motherf—”
Michaels pressed the button on the air horn, which resounded in the open arena for a split second before being drowned out by vicious roars. The two dragons cleared the distance between them in an instant, becoming a blur of claws and wings and teeth that was a spectacle to behold. The magnificence of the creatures in battle was a study in elegance and primal aggression—a balance between the sheer might of the reptilian overlords and the centuries they had spent honing that might into powerful fighting styles that were truly only compatible with the massive reptilian anatomy. It was a style that used flight, ultra-dexterity, and a tough skin that was practically impervious to create some kind of uber fighting style that I could only imagine was made by dragons, for use against dragons.
The challenge had begun.
Chapter 22
The Black Magisters were already on their way down the stairs toward the field. Killian shot past me, armed with only her knife, and dove into the crowd. I had not really had the opportunity to see Killian fight until that moment, but the way she moved was a sight so awesome to watch that I actually pulled my eyes away from the reptilian flurry of claws—which was now making its way upward toward the ceiling of the arena—and watched. Apollo, like me, seemed to think that “leave the fighting to Killian” was a great approach, and he stood with his arms crossed, tapping his feet impatiently as if Killian was somehow slacking.
Reaching the back of the group, she grabbed on a Magister’s collar and yanked it, flinging him to the ground with a surprised squawk. The noise made the next two closest turn, and Killian’s knife split straight down the wand which one of them tried to raise against her; her stylish-yet-conservative heeled boot met the face of the other, and before either of them had a moment to react, the force of her kick made them topple into each other and begin a tumble down the stands of the stadium seating.
The next one was her target, because he was the one who had made the terrible mistake of holding Killian’s sword at that moment. He turned just in time to have his scream silenced by one of Killian’s hands over his mouth, while her other hand, having sheathed the knife in a split second, now grabbed the hilt of the weapon.
“This is mine, thank you,” She said politely. The Magister nodded and let go of it. He then ducked out of his cloak and made a break for it across the row of seats. Killian made no move to stop him.
Blake, to his credit, knew that trouble was rampaging its way down the stairs toward him, and he took the moment to drop something at his feet—a smoke bomb—that went off in an instant; when it had cleared, Blake was making his way across the bottom level of the stands toward the field, his wand out.
Killian turned to face the last Magister within arm’s reach. A stocky man with a thick Nordic mustache, he pulled an extendable baton from his pocket and opened it with a snap.
Killian wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated; she dove in with a roundhouse kick right to his jaw that, as he staggered back, left him spitting out blood. He swung and caught the redhead in the ribs with his baton, and the resounding crunch made both Apollo and I cringe; I made a move to step in and help, but he held me back: “You’ll only get in the way. Trust me.”
I couldn’t fault his logic, I thought, as Killian shrugged off the blow to her ribs and crushed the basket hilt of her sword into the Norseman’s face. His impressive mustache was streaked with blood, and as he tried move to make another attack, he found Killian’s knife back in her hand and poised at his throat. “Please don’t kill me,” he spat out.
“I’m not going to kill you, Bob,” she said after a second to catch her breath, “Just quit getting in my way.” Bob nodded and moved back to clear the route down to the field and the three of us dashed down the stairs as fast as we possibly could toward Blake.
Blake had finally reached the grass of the field and was aiming his wand. High above, Todd was showing a distinct domination of his opponent: The Harrow was suffering a massive gash across his face, and one wing looked like it had been punctured. All considered, Todd looked none the worse for wear, his claws around The Harrow’s throat as they tumbled to the ground. “You—will—not—take—my—city—” Todd rasped between exhausted breaths, twisting to put himself atop the wriggling red reptile, and clenched his arms around its throat. He glanced up to see Blake slowly stalking toward him with his wand out. “Blake! Stay back! I’ve almost got him—!”
I didn’t hear the exact words of the terrible curse that was spat from Blake’s mouth, but it sounded like an unnatural language. The dragons on the stage, however, seemed to understand exactly what the curse was. Some of them looked highly affronted to have heard it. Blake’s wand crackled with lightning and a ray of light, a disgusting shade of lime green, shot from the end of it to strike Todd directly in the heart.
Time seemed to stand still in the stillness that followed. No one spoke or moved; Killian even threw out her arms to stop both Apollo and I. “Chartreuse,” she said with a shudder to her voice. “He cast Chartreuse.”
“Chartreuse?” I repeated, hoping for some kind of explanation.
“That’s the worst curse imaginable, indescribable except by the color of the spell,” Apollo said gravely, “It’s worse than death.”
“But what does it do—?”
I was cut off by a deep, raucous laughter that filled my ears. The Harrow, his neck still in Todd’s claws, was laughing. “Do you see, you fool? Your own friends have turned against you!”
Todd reached up slowly and patted the spot where the lime-green bolt had hit his chest, his eyes fixed on Blake’s wand. “You…cast Chartreuse…at me…?” He sounded utterly horrified to even say the word. Blake puffed himself up but didn’t respond.
The Harrow continued to choke out laughter. “Over a hundred years, Todd…all leading up to this moment. You are defeated, Todd. The city is mine—”
There was a sudden sickening sound, like the sound of crunching celery, as Todd returned his claws to the Harrow’s neck and wrenched is with all his might. It echoed in the quiet arena and made my stomach flip, and even caused some of the dragons back on the stage to jump back in surprise.
As Todd let go of the Harrow’s neck, it was clear that the would-be tyrant was dead.
Blake stumbled backward, his wand raised again. “No! You can’t! That was Char
treuse! You can’t—”
Todd leapt, his clawed arm outstretched to grab the man, and forced him to the ground, knocking the wand out of his hand and pinning him to the grass. “Explain!” He demanded.
“I can explain it!” I took off toward them in a run, skidding to a halt a short distance from Blake and kicking his wand further away. Todd turned a leery eye on me. “Blake and the Magisters stole one of the Drachmas from 50 Thousand so that all of the protective spells they cast on you would fail and they could kill you with Dark Magic while you were fighting the Harrow because they knew he wasn’t powerful enough to defeat you.” I had to gasp for breath at the end of my run-on sentence.
Todd looked down at Blake. “Is this true?” he roared.
Blake tried to wriggle away but Todd held him down tighter. “Y-yes!”
Todd looked up again, what looked like realization dawning on his scaled face. “Your father was Vaultkeeper—”
“—and stole the coin, yes, and then he left it to me when he died, but I didn’t know until later, I swear.”
“B-but you—” Blake had started to panic, the realizations of his plans having completely unraveled very visibly washing over him, “—the coin! Killian—?”
“I never gave it to Killian,” I explained. “We figured that out earlier. But I did give it to you. At the bottom of my delivery bag. I did say I was giving it to you, didn’t I? And you’re one of the few people who works for 50 Thousand, so once you own it, it’s effectively back in the company’s possession—”
“—and the protections spells come back,” Todd finished, turning his eyes back to Blake. “It seems that you underestimated Tom LaFayette’s child. Because this young sorcerer has ended your little game.”
Blake might have had something to say in response, but whatever it was turned into a scream as the Dragon of Cincinnati enacted a particularly hungry act of justice in a single gulp.
The Wizards on Walnut Street Page 23
