The Dragons of Ice and Snow

by J. J. Thompson

  Kronk hopped off of the table and walked to the door.

  “Hang on a second,” Simon said as he pushed himself up and turned toward the little guy.

  “Why didn't you just bring the letter up here?”

  “Because you need to get out of bed, master. The day is passing and you have things to do.”

  And Kronk left the room. The wizard heard him hopping down the stairs and collapsed on to his face again.

  Tricky little guy, he thought with a mixture of amusement and irritation. On the other hand, he might have saved your life last night.

  He couldn't believe he got that drunk. Sure, it had been a celebration, but to get wasted like that was unnecessary. And embarrassing.

  Well, no more, he thought abruptly. He sat up quickly, turned and then jumped to his feet. And immediately sat down on the edge of the bed again, holding his head.

  “Ouch,” he croaked dryly. “That was a bad idea.”

  It took Simon a while to make his way downstairs. The front door was open and sunlight streamed into the room. It was a lovely warm spring morning and, hungover or not, it cheered the wizard up immensely.

  He filled the kettle and set it over the fire before heading to the outhouse. One of the earthen walking along the wall waved at him and he returned it with a smile.

  After he got back indoors, he toasted some bread over the fire, spread jam on it and ate his breakfast.

  Kronk walked in as Simon was making a second cup of tea and jumped up on the table.

  “Feeling better, master?” he asked with a bit more compassion than he'd shown earlier.

  “Yeah. I am.” The wizard sat down with his cup and gave his little friend a heart-felt smile. “Thanks again for the rescue. I guess I celebrated with Malcolm and Aiden a bit too much last night.”

  “Just doing my duty, master. So the amulets worked?”

  “They worked perfectly. It was such a relief. I don't know if I've ever seen two more happier people.” He laughed at the memory. “It's moments like that that make all this magic stuff and mumbo-jumbo nonsense worth it.”

  Kronk nodded at a folded piece of parchment, sealed with a blob of hardened red wax, lying at Simon's elbow.

  “Are you not going to open your letter, master?”

  “I was waiting for you,” Simon said with a little smile and then quickly became somber. “If it's bad news, I'd like to have a friend nearby for support.”

  For someone whose face was made of little pebbles, the earthen's expressions could be remarkably subtle. This time, Simon thought he saw something like compassion on it, mixed with surprise.

  “I...am honored, master.”

  With some hesitation, Simon picked up the stiff paper, snapped the seal in half and opened it.

  He scanned the page slowly, sat back limply and stared at Kronk.

  “Holy crap,” he said.

  “Master? What is it? What's wrong?”

  The wizard handed him the parchment and the earthen laid it flat on the table and bent down to read it.

  “Sir wizard,” Kronk read out loud. “I am communicating using this archaic method, rather than meeting face to face, because I have little choice. A trusted third party will deliver this note for me and has sworn not to reveal to anyone that he has done so. Nevertheless, after you read these words, destroy this parchment and stay vigilant. You may become more of a target than you already are.”

  “It sounds ominous, master,” the earthen said, glancing up at Simon.

  “It gets worse. Keep reading.”

  “We are besieged,” the little guy continued. “The dark gods, perhaps made more desperate by the death of two of their primal dragons, have reached into the depths of the netherworld and unleashed something upon this New Earth of yours that I thought I would never see. Demons. Unspeakable horrors walk among us again. Things out of nightmare that my people thought only stories fit to tell children. However, this letter is not a cry for help. We shall live or die by our strength and resolve, without outside aid. But I count you as a friend and I wanted to warn you of your peril. Tell your people. Strengthen your wards. And keep watch in the deepest hours of the night. Things move now in the shadows, and it shelters the darkest evil. I wish you well and, if we should fall, remember me and my people and that we died with honor.”

  Kronk looked up at Simon.

  “It's signed: Shandon Ironhand. Isn't that the dwarf who's life you saved from the dragons below ground?”

  “It is. When he says they're besieged, he must mean their capital city. That where he was headed the last I heard.”

  Simon stood up abruptly, ignoring the remnants of his headache, and began pacing around the room.

  “Demons! For cripes sake, as if we don't have enough on our plate. Now it's demons?”

  He stopped and glanced at the earthen.

  “If it wasn't for the evidence of that note, I'd be tempted to think that this was some kind of bad joke.”

  “It seems genuine to me, master.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  He started pacing again.

  “So, Shandon and his people are trapped in their city by demons. You know, when I say it out loud like that, it just sounds ridiculous.”

  Simon snorted in disgust and moved to stand at the open doorway. He looked blankly out at the bright day, seeing the dwarf's face in his mind's eye.

  There was a nobility and a grit in Shandon that the wizard had appreciated. He and his people had stood toe to toe against dragons and hadn't flinched, even as their city had been brought down around them. That was admirable. If anyone could hold back an attack of demons, it was them.

  Kronk tapped across the room and joined him at the door. Simon looked down at him and met his glowing red eyes.

  “What do you know about demons?” he asked a little desperately.

  The little guy shrugged his shoulders.

  “Nothing, master. Stories, legends, nothing more. I suspect you will have to ask others about them. No elementals to my knowledge have ever had dealings with them.”

  “Really? Hmm, that's interesting. I wonder who would have any information?”

  He leaned his head against the door frame and stared listlessly at the thin clouds scudding across the sky.

  Demons. Demons. Who could he ask about such things?

  Simon heard Kronk tip-tap back into the tower and then return a moment later. He looked down and saw that the elemental was holding his hand mirror and extended it toward him when their eyes met.

  “What?” he said as he reached down and took it from Kronk.

  “You will have to call your friends, master. Someone may know something and it sounds like the dwarves are in a desperate situation. There is no time to stare at the sky and think deep thoughts.”

  Simon was caught off-guard by that rebuke. It was very unlike the little guy, but his serious expression confirmed that he wasn't joking.

  “Yeah, good point,” he told him and moved forward to sit on the top step outside the door.

  Who would know anything about this stuff, he wondered. Well, let's try the obvious first.

  He cast the Magic Mirror spell and watched the surface of the mirror cloud over.

  “Who are you calling, master?”

  “Clara. She is a cleric, after all. Maybe she had some insight into this sort of thing.”

  “But she has never had to deal with demons, has she, master?”

  “No. but being a conduit for the gods of Light, she might...”

  The fog cleared away and Simon found himself staring at the town of Nottinghill. Clara was sitting on a bench just outside of the town hall, chatting lightly with several women. They were all smiling and joking and the wizard waited a moment, not wanting to interrupt.

  Finally, they stood up and the women wandered off, leaving the cleric alone to stare pensively at something beyond Simon's sight.

  “Clara? How are you today?”

  With the merest hint of surprise, the woman smile
d and sat down again.

  “Ah, good day, my friend. How's your head?”

  Simon felt his face turn red.

  “Um, fine. I overindulged last night, as you obviously know. I hope I wasn't too obnoxious. I've never been a big drinker, even back in the old days.”

  “You were fine.” she answered with a knowing smile. “You're actually a cute drunk. A little maudlin perhaps, but that's endearing in some people.”

  “Yeah, I'll bet,” he muttered, his face definitely glowing red now.

  “Don't give it another thought,” she said kindly. “Malcolm and Aiden's freedom was worth celebrating. I'm quite sure that the big lug is feeling much worse than you are. Aiden came by earlier and said that he couldn't get him out of bed. He was rather amused by that, I think.”

  They both chuckled and then Simon cleared his throat.

  “Well, I'm glad that everything turned out for the best. And now, on to our next problem.”

  His change in tone got her attention and Clara sat up frowning.

  “What is it? Dragons? Undead?”

  “Ah, the good old days,” Simon said wryly. “No, something altogether new, at least to me. Tell me, what do you know about...demons?”

  “Demons?” The cleric's frown deepened. “What do you mean, demons?”

  “You know, demons. Hell-spawn. Creatures out of nightmare, that sort of thing. Listen, I don't even know what I'm talking about. I just know that apparently the dark gods have pulled yet another trick from up their sleeves and unleashed demons into the world.”

  “But, how do you know this?”

  “Hang on. I want to read you something.”

  Simon stood up and went back inside to sit at the kitchen table. He picked up the dwarf's note and read it out loud. When he was done, he sat back and watched Clara's reaction.

  “Shandon and his people are under attack by these creatures? But that's...”

  “Insane. I know. We have enough problems in the world right now and, naturally, the dark gods deal one off the bottom of the deck and send demons down on us. Crazy. What I need is any information we can come up with about them. How strong are they? Are they vulnerable to magic? How do they attack? All of that stuff.”

  “I'd love to help, Simon, but I don't know any more than you do about them. I may get a visitation from the gods of Light soon though, if that is what has been sent against us now. But at the moment, I can't even venture a guess about them.”

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” he said with a sigh.

  A movement from the doorway caught his attention and he saw Kronk waving at him. The little guy made a digging motion and pointed outside and Simon smiled and nodded. The elemental waved once more and left.

  “I do have a thought though,” Clara said as she stood up and smoothed her dark blue robe. She began walking and spoke at the same time.

  “I'm all ears,” the wizard said.

  “Speak to your friend, Daniel. The elves are the oldest of all the races, older even than the dwarves. They are a fount of knowledge. If anyone knows anything about these creatures, it would be them.”

  “They were next on my list, actually. Thanks for the suggestion though. So, say hi to the boys for me and wish me luck.”

  She stopped walking and seemed to look directly at him.

  “I do, my friend. Keep me informed of any news, won't you? If these demons are attacking the dwarves, humanity has to be next on their list of targets.”

  “I know, Clara. Talk to you soon.”

  She smiled bleakly as Simon canceled the spell and put down the mirror. Then he stood up and began making more tea.

  He hadn't spoken to Daniel in several weeks. Things had been a bit crazy, to say the least, and he simply hadn't taken the time to call him.

  That was inexcusable, he thought uncomfortably. If he only talked to him when he needed something, what kind of a friend did that make him?

  With a heavy sigh, he brought his tea back to the table and sat down again. He took a few fortifying sips and picked up the mirror.

  When the surface cleared this time, Simon's eyes widened in surprise. Daniel was staring right back at him.

  “It's about damned time you called,” his friend said harshly. “What have you been waiting for, an invitation?”

  “Um, what?”

  Daniel's glare softened a bit and he smiled ruefully.

  “Sorry, that was a little mean. How are you doing, old friend?”

  “Been better. What's wrong? If you wanted to talk to me, you could have used the lodestone I gave you to signal me.”

  “Actually, no, I couldn't.”

  Daniel reached for something beyond Simon's line of sight and held it up. It was the lodestone. But the once clear stone was now jet-black and a crack ran down the center of it.

  “What the hell? What happened to it?”

  The man tossed the stone aside in disgust and shook his head.

  “Our out-of-sync time lines happened to it, apparently. I asked one of the Elders what was going on when it began to blacken a few days ago, my time. He just gave a little sniff of disdain and said that the elven realm and the realm of Earth simply cannot stay connected for very long, even through an object like a lodestone. Long story short, these things burn out rather quickly because of that disjointed connection.” He shrugged. “That's the explanation. To be honest, I don't get it, but there you go.”

  “Damn it,” Simon said, irritated. “I thought we'd always be able to rely on that thing. Maybe I can get Kronk to find another one and drop it off for pick-up? It would last for a while, wouldn't it?”

  Daniel shook his head.

  “Never mind. He'd have to supply a new one every month or so, Earth-time. I'll leave it up to you to contact me when you choose to. I know you've been busy.”

  Simon looked at his friend's face and saw the young man that he knew in the old man's expression.

  “So you've been spying on me again?” he asked lightly.

  “The elders have. Well, not you specifically but the Earth in general. They pass some of the information they glean on to me, when it suits their purposes.”

  “So what have you been told?”

  “Let's see now. Your run-in with the drakes in Moscow excited them quite a bit. Good job there, by the way. Um, your work with the men who contracted Lycanthropy. Beautifully done. And now, this attack on the dwarven capital. I believe my elvish colleagues were caught off-guard by that one.”

  “They're not the only ones,” the wizard muttered. “That's why I've called you, by the way.”

  “I know. And it's why I was so cranky when I answered. Sorry about that.”

  “Don't sweat it. Old men get testy, I've heard,” Simon said with a grin.

  Daniel moved the mirror he was holding, lifted his free hand and shook a finger at him.

  “Watch it, boy. Don't disrespect your elders.”

  They both laughed and then the older man became solemn again.

  “So what do you want to know?”

  “Anything you can tell me. I mean, I've gotten used to the idea of dragons. I've fought the undead. And now I personally know a pair of reformed werewolves. But demons? Really? It seems that the dark gods' bag of tricks is endless.”

  Daniel snorted.

  “Hardly. I think they're panicking.”

  Simon laughed in disbelief.

  “Panicking? For what? In case it escaped your notice, old buddy, we're on the ropes here. A handful of humans against, how many dragons, hundreds? Thousands? I doubt that panic is even in their vocabulary.”

  “Isn't it?”

  Daniel turned his head and the wizard heard him shuffling through some papers.

  “My friends on the counsel drew me up a few pictures of the 'demons' that have laid siege to the dwarven capital. Here, take a look.”

  Simon watched as his friend held a sheet of parchment in front of his mirror, and he leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the glass, enthralled by
what he saw.

  The picture had been drawn in exquisite detail and was richly colored. It showed the figure of a creature, standing on two legs, arms raised above its head. Ascending from its shoulder-blades were massive wings, webbed like a bat's.

  The face was vaguely human-like, but its gaping mouth was lined with row after row of pointed teeth, almost like a shark's. It had practically no nose, but its eyes were enormous and a sickly yellow color, like runny egg yokes. Above its eyes a pair of jagged horns rose up and back over its bald skull. It was terrifying.

  What was even more jarring was that the monster wasn't red, like Simon's imagination had assumed it would be, but slate gray, almost white, the color of a drowned corpse.

  He squinted, trying to pick out every detail. Its skin, something about its skin. It was...scaled? Yes, the entire surface was a network of interlocking scales, some scarred, others chipped or broken, as if the creature had seen many battles.

  “So that's a demon,” Simon said shakily.

  Daniel dropped the picture with a sound of disgust.

  “Of course not. There are no such things as demons,” he said scathingly. “Leave your old religions and fairy tales back in our lost world, my friend and attend to what I just showed you. Here, look again.”

  He held up the picture once more and the wizard looked at it in confusion, wondering what he was supposed to be seeing.

  “Don't you recognize it?” Daniel asked. He sounded a little exasperated.

  “Still cranky,” Simon said and his friend laughed reluctantly.

  “Yes, sorry. But damn it, man. Look at it!”

  I'm frigging looking, Simon thought, but what am I supposed to be seeing?

  He examined the picture yet again.

  Okay, he says there are no demons. So if this isn't a demon, then what the hell is it?

  His eyes flicked from feature to feature. Leathern wings? Check. Fangs and horns? Check again. Scaly skin.

  He jerked back abruptly. Wait. Scales? The thing has scales. You have got to be kidding me.

  “It's a goddamn dragon, isn't it?” he whispered in shock.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a bingo!” Daniel crowed triumphantly as he dropped the parchment. “Took you long enough to figure it out though.”