Wrath of a Mad God
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“They’re still young,” said Calis with a grin.
“Barely more than children,” Jim conceded dryly.
Calis and Jim exchanged news of the commonplace variety, Calis admitting he had developed a fondness for football while living at the palace, and asking how things fared in the guild league.
Jim inquired as to how things stood along the Far Coast, for as he was painfully aware, the relationship between the King’s Court in Rillanon and the Western Realm was growing strained; Calis might not live in human society anymore, but he was attuned to it and spent a fair amount of time around Crydee Castle.
“The young duke, Lester, is a lot like his great-great-grandfather, Martin. A good hunter.”
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“Good?”
Calis nodded once. “Very good.”
“Elf good?”
Calis grinned. “Not that good.”
Jim said, “Were it only that simple that the qualities of rulers could be summed up with something as basic as tracking skills.”
“Politics?”
“Always. The Western lords are growing fractious and debate in the Congress of Lords has risen to the level of open insults and threats of duels.”
Calis shook his head in regret. “Great men once ruled the Kingdom.”
“The conDoin name is still one to be honored, but I fear we’ve not had a strong hand at the helm of the ship of state since King Borric’s day.”
“I knew him, you know,” said Calis.
“Really?”
“Not well. I was much closer to his younger brother, Nich -
olas.”
“I’ve heard stories of the two of you.”
Calis sighed. “It was a long time ago, yet sometimes it feels like yesterday. I miss Nicholas. He died a hero’s death, but he died alone.” He looked over his shoulder, as if he could somehow see through the boles of trees and leaf-covered branches to where his wife labored or his sons hunted. “It’s a bad thing to die alone, Jim Dasher.”
“I have no plan to do that, Calis,” said Jim.
Calis said, “There’s someone in your life?”
“If I have anything to say about it,” Jim answered with a widening grin.
Tomas reappeared and nothing in Jim’s speculations came close to preparing him for his reaction. Tomas was resplendent in golden armor, and a white tabard and shield, both emblazoned with a golden dragon. His helm was fashioned to appear as if a dragon lay on top of his head, wings down on either side to form the cheekguards. It also had a noseguard to protect his face. The effect was to make his eyes even more vivid, and the already pow-1 74
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erful figure was now even more so in this extraordinary garb. He was a figure to inspire awe and terror in a foe.
Tomas said, “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I can ever be,” Jim replied softly.
Calis nodded and gripped his shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Jim Dasher. You may not be much of a hunter, but you are among the best storytellers I have met. You must come again for a visit and soon, when the reasons for your visit are less dire.”
“I look forward to that day,” said Jim honestly.
“Come with me,” Tomas said, leading him quickly away.
Despite his size, Tomas was as nimble as any elf, and Jim was hard-pressed to keep up without stepping off a pathway into thin air. At last he reached the ground safely and caught up to Tomas on the edge of a great clearing. “Prepare yourself,” was all Tomas said, then he shouted something in an alien tongue, repeating a phrase three times. Then he fell silent.
“Now what?” Jim asked.
“We wait,” Tomas answered.
Minutes went by, and soon an air of expectancy grew. Elves all around them paused lingering to see what came next. Jim had no idea, but long ago had learned there were times when it was best to simply shut up and do as he was told.
The moments passed slowly, and just as Jim was starting to feel his patience wane, a distant sound of flapping wings could be heard. At first Jim thought it was some large bird—an eagle or vulture perhaps—but the rhythm was off, the beats were too slow, and the sound was growing too loud, too quickly.
Suddenly a vast shadow appeared on the ground as a massive shape loomed overhead. Jim looked upward and felt his throat constrict, for the first time in his life feeling close to panic.
The creature that was landing—and from his point of view it appeared to Jim it was going to land right on top of Tomas and himself—was a dragon. Not only was it a dragon, it was a dragon the size of a small ship!
Like most citizens of the Kingdom, Jim had heard stories of dragons all his life, but he had never believed anyone who had told him that they had seen one.
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Now Jim could scarcely credit his own senses. Softly he said, “No one will ever believe me.”
Tomas turned and smiled, the smile removing some of the awe he induced in Jim in his guise as a Dragon Lord. “Those who know the truth will, and that’s all that matters.”
A voice thundered from deep within the throat of the creature. It spoke a language Jim did not understand, and he spoke seven fluently and could puzzle out a dozen more. Tomas answered in the Common Tongue. “I seek a boon, old friend.”
The creature was ruby in color, with highlights sparkling in the sun of silver, gold, crimson, and even a flash of blue. The creature had a huge crest that began between its eyes and rose up and back, descending to just above the base of the neck, the color shifting among reds, orange, and gold, looking like iridescent flame, with silver streaks along the base, and stood tall like a cockscomb. The dragon regarded them with eyes as black as onyx.
“Speak your boon, Dragon Rider,” it said.
“To the Peaks of the Quor must we speed, to distant Baranor, for the sake and safety of all our peoples, eledhel and dragon kin alike.”
The dragon lowered its massive head, which was easily as big as a farmer’s wagon. “Long have you been dragon friend, you who were once our master. Your word is bond and I shall carry you.”
“And my companion,” said Tomas.
Jim felt the color drain from his cheeks. “What?”
“There is no need to fear,” said Tomas to Jim. “I have magic that will ensure your safety, and this is the fastest way to reach Kaspar and his men.”
“Wait!” argued Jim. “I have this device. It will take us to Sorcerer’s Island. Miranda can take us—”
Tomas smiled even more broadly and said, “Trust me when I say, this is a better way to make an entrance.”
Jim sighed. “Very well. If you say so.”
“I do. Follow me and step where I step. For all his size, Ryath is sensitive.”
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Pushing aside an almost irrational urge to giggle, Jim followed Tomas, watching where he placed his feet, and grabbed hold as the white-clad warrior climbed up the side of the dragon’s face. Tomas walked down the length of the dragon’s long neck holding lightly to the large crest, and when he reached the base, he sat down, wrapping his legs easily around the creature’s neck, which was about the size of the barrel of a good-sized warhorse just before it met the neck. “Sit behind me,” Tomas told him.
When he was firmly seated, Jim said, “I’m ready.”
“Hold tight,” said Tomas, and suddenly the ground seemed to leap away below them as the dragon sprang upward with a terrifyingly loud beat of its wings, the force of which cracked through the air like the thunderous boom of massive drums.
The ground fell away below and Jim for the first time in his life felt dizzy from the height. Then the dragon leveled off its flight and turned toward the southeast and started to accelerate.
Jim forced himself to breathe and then realized he was holding on to Tomas’s waist like a baby clutching his mother. He assumed the powerful warrior wasn’t discomfited
for he didn’t seem to notice.
Jim looked down and saw the forest below and realized they were moving at an incredible rate. He could not even begin to judge how fast they flew over the treetops—many times the speed of the fastest horse he had ever ridden—but suddenly they were out of the elven forests and into the foothills of what could only be the Grey Tower Mountains.
Higher and higher they rose and faster and faster they flew.
Jim was too overcome with awe and amazement to speak, and even if he could, didn’t know if Tomas could hear him.
The air turned cold, but not bitter, and given how high above the peaks they sped, Jim assumed magic was at play—this high up he should be freezing to death and unable to breathe.
Still they pressed on and even faster they went, until the ground below was almost a blur of features. Then they were above a large expanse of blue water, and Jim’s eyes widened as he realized they had swept out over the Bitter Sea! They had crossed 1 7 7
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the largest range of mountains in the Western Realm and over the Free Cities of Natal in minutes!
The dragon spread its wings out and soared and then leveled out its flight again, as if it had reached the limit of its speed. But even so, the velocity was staggering. Jim saw an island appear on the horizon, pass below, and vanish behind before he could recognize it as the island Kingdom of Queg. Then Krondor was below and onward they flew.
Jim’s mind reeled as he tried to comprehend details in the fleeing landscape below, and his senses were confounded as the sun lowered behind them. They were flying east and soon night appeared on the horizon as they raced into darkness. Never had night fallen so fast for Jim, and he marveled at the magnificence of a city appearing below, a thousand torchlights flickering on the ground. The large moon rose over the eastern edge of the world, and seemed to hurtle into the sky, the small moon trailing after it like a pup following its mother.
Jim heard Tomas’s voice. “That’s Malac’s Cross we just passed over. We should reach the Peaks of the Quor at dawn.”
Through the night they flew and Jim found himself too en-thralled by the experience to feel even a hint of fatigue or hunger.
They passed over villages where only a lantern or two illuminated the streets, but which they could clearly see from on high as Middle Moon joined the other two in the sky and a cloudless night revealed the landscape below.
Jim felt the dragon turn and bank, angling now toward the southeast, and he knew they must be approaching the shore of the Kingdoms Sea. In the east the sky was lightening by the minute, first a faint hint of grey, then a lighter grey, then suddenly a rosy hue was quickly followed by a golden dawn. The rise of the sun as they sped downward was breathtaking, just as the rising of the moon had been what seemed barely minutes earlier.
Whatever magic made it safe to ride the back of the dragon also seemed to make it impossible to judge how quickly they were moving, Jim thought, for he knew that even at the dragon’s prodigious speed, it had still been a journey of hours, even if it felt as if only minutes had passed.
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In the distant morning light Jim saw mountains and looking down could see the grey shapes below resolve themselves into sea and land. They were passing over the eastern coastline of the Kingdom just north of the border with Great Kesh, and the mountains in the distance could only be the Peaks of the Quor.
“Where exactly?” came Tomas’s voice.
“Look for a cove a third of the way down the coast from the tip. It has a large outcropping of boulders to the north, with a high bluff rising up behind it. It’s very deep and our camp was about a mile up a trail—”
“I see it.”
“Follow the trail north. You should find the elves’ enclave quickly.”
The sun had crested the horizon and now day was fully upon them. The dragon slowed and now the flight was almost leisurely compared to how fast they had flown through the night. Jim tried to make sense of the landscape below, then saw the trail. “There!”
“Yes,” said Tomas.
The dragon banked and slowed even more and they flew down to barely more than treetop height. Then Tomas said,
“Ahead!”
A band of men, armed with bows, lay waiting in ambush, as on the other side of a large clearing elves moved down the trail in plain sight. “I know them—those are Kaspar’s men! They must have escaped and seized weapons!”
“I must stop this!” Tomas said.
He ordered Ryath to land in the middle of the clearing, and with a thunderous crack of its wings, the dragon did as it was asked.
Jim didn’t wait to be told to dismount when they touched the ground. He swung a leg over the dragon’s neck and slid down its shoulder, landing on his feet. He took half a dozen steps toward where the ambushers crouched, shouting, “Wait!”
The men stood up with amazed expressions and one by one walked out from their place of concealment. Jim saw Kaspar pushing forward from a position on the far side of the clearing and heard him shout, “Jim Dasher?”
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Jim looked around and saw that elves were walking into the clearing from the other side, their weapons shouldered. They looked entirely at ease. They did not look at all like guards seeking escaped prisoners.
“Don’t fight!” Jim shouted. “Lord Tomas will sort this all out!”
Kaspar came right up to Jim. “Fight?” With a barking laugh, he said, “What fight? You and your friend just ruined a perfectly good hunt.”
“Hunt?”
“The elves were beating the brush and driving a nice little herd of elk toward us.” Kaspar put his bow over his shoulder.
“The elk bolted when they caught sight of that dragon coming down out of the sky. They’re probably halfway to the City of Kesh by now.” He put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Good to see you got away, and lived, and even better that you’ve fetched help.”
He regarded the dragon who now sat in repose on the tall grass. “And I must say your arrival was like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before.”
“You should try riding one,” said Jim. “What happened?”
“Come along,” said Kaspar, and he motioned to his men.
“Start back to the enclave and we’ll organize another hunt later.
This one is over!” he shouted.
The men acknowledged his order and Kaspar turned back to Jim Dasher. “Since you left, I’ve had a good chance to speak at length with Castdanur. He’s not a bad sort once you get used to his elvish ways.” As they reached the spot where Tomas stood speaking to the elves, Kaspar said, “Let’s say we’ve reached an accommodation.”
“Accommodation?”
“Yes,” said Kaspar. “We’re going to help these elves survive, and they’re going to help us save Midkemia.”
Jim couldn’t believe that a tiny band of ragged elves could render much help to those forces already poised to defend this world, but after what he had seen in the last three days, he decided that rash judgment was a poor choice. Suddenly feel-1 8 0
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ing exhausted again, he said, “You’ll have to explain it to me, Kaspar.”
Kaspar laughed. “Willingly, but first let me meet your companion. I know him only by reputation.”
Jim grinned, then shook his head in disbelief. The last thing he had expected up to moments ago was to be standing here making social introductions.
The elves revealed more emotion when confronted with Tomas than they had shown the entire time Kaspar and the others had been confined. Castdanur and the other older elves were visibly moved by the sight of the man in the white and gold armor.
“Valheru,” said the old elf as Tomas walked into the central compound.
“No,” said Tomas, “though I have his memories. I am as mortal as you, leader of the anoredhel.”
“But the old magic lives in you,” said Castdanur.
“Does the old knowledge also reside with you?”
Tomas said, “Some, but there are . . . memories that are missing. Yet, I know of you and your brethren. In our complacency we assumed that hearing nothing meant you were well.”
He looked around and said, “It appears otherwise.”
“Let us take counsel,” said Castdanur. He motioned for Tomas to precede him into the central hall, then said to Kaspar and Jim, “You should attend.”
The two men exchanged glances, and Jim whispered, “What happened here?”
Kaspar said, “I’ll give you the details later, but the heart of the matter is you did well in not killing Sinda and his friend. Had you killed those two, we would all most likely be dead by now.
Sparing him and giving him that trinket convinced Castdanur that I spoke the truth about . . . certain things. I’ll tell you more later.”
They entered the hall and sat in a circle, with Tomas opposite the old elven leader. Two other ancient elves sat on either 1 8 1
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side of him and Kaspar and Jim took up positions on either side of Tomas.
“Know, Dragon Rider, that we are a free people, according to your own words.”
Tomas remembered the last flight of Ashen-Shugar, when the Valheru whose armor he wore had flown around the world freeing every servant of the Dragon Host, letting all know they were a free people. “I remember,” he said, not wishing to debate the nuances at this moment.
“You know the mandate,” said Castdanur, and suddenly Tomas did remember. As in times before, memories came unbidden.
All elvenkind had been slaves of the Valheru, and while the Dragon Host rose to challenge the gods, Ashen-Shugar, the last of the living Dragon Lords, flew the skies of Midkemia, freeing all the peoples once in thrall to his brethren. But the anoredhel were unique, elves given a special duty. “You are the protectors of the Quor.”
“A task set to us in the times of our ancestors, and one we have discharged to this day. But our number has diminished and we stand at peril, and so do the Quor.”