The Dragons of Neverwind

by K R McClellan

  “Silence! Be gone before I find a more terrible punishment than the dogs. Away with you, and next time you come here you better have sufficient tribute. Old man, escort them out.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  We turned and followed Quint back towards the entrance while the dogs continued to feast on the poor farmer. I forced myself to look away, even though I wanted to keep an eye on the animals for fear they lunge at us. As we passed through the exit of the chamber, three older women rushed in with mops, water buckets and canvas bags for what I would guess would be cleanup. We slowly made our way back down the long stairs, keeping pace with the tiring Quint. Halfway down he stopped, begging for a break.

  The guards looked a bit uncomfortable having to stop and wait, even within sight of the door to the palace.

  “You mighty warriors go back to your posts. I am sure there are more important things to worry about than these strangers that simply want to help us. And see that they get their weapons back. Can’t have them unarmed out in this dangerous land.”

  They looked at each other, and first one nodded, then the others did as well. They walked past us and headed out the door of the palace.

  “Now, you want to see the Spellcrafter?”

  “Yes, can you take us to him?”

  “No. Not now. When you get back down to the city level, go to the very back of the plateau. You will see a large bush; the only one in Devigon with green leaves. Wait there.”

  “Is the Spellcrafter there?”

  “Just be there and wait. It might take some time for him to get there. He’s getting old himself. And bring an offering. Something good. He isn’t cheap.”

  “I understand,” the wizard said. “Thank you, Quint. Why are you doing this?”

  “Not all of us like the King. Some of us simply wish to survive day-to-day.”

  With a little more pep, the old man continued down the stairs, with us following along. When we hit the bottom of the stairs he held onto the railing and pointed to the main entrance.

  “Go. Go now. Be at the back when the Spellcrafter arrives. You only have one chance. If you are not there when he arrives, you will not get a second chance.”

  “Understood. Thank you, Quint. I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “Just be there.”

  “We will.”

  And without further conversation, we went straight to the door, where a guard stepped in front of us, blocking our exit.

  “They are free to go, you big ogre!”

  Gnath turned to look at the old man, his eyebrows furled in confusion.

  “Not you, my good man. The oaf at the door.”

  “Ah,” Gnath grunted.

  The guard stepped aside, and we slipped out the door and headed for the drawbridge. A guard was there to return our weapons and handed them over with a scowl. They lowered the drawbridge once again and we began our winding journey, a bit hurried, down the ramp to the city below.

  Chapter 17

  It wasn’t easy finding our way around the southern side of the base of the plateau. Houses and shops, as well as storage barns and warehouses, stables and mills were all blocking direct access to the base of the plateau. I was beginning to believe that we’d gone the wrong way. Still, because we fully understood time was of the utmost importance, we hurried along, taking side street after side street to get us closer to the base, often being funneled back out into the city again when there was no easy access to stay close.

  Finally, as we approached what I estimated at being halfway to the other side, the buildings subsided, and we discovered a footpath that followed the base of the plateau. It was only a short time before we discovered the bush, the only bush with green leaves, waiting lonely at the base of the natural stone wall created by the rising rock formation that supported the castle.

  We looked at the bush and searched both sides of the formation, and we could find nothing of an entrance, or exit, where someone might come out. Unless the Spellcrafter was going to come walking along the path or drop down from above, there was no way for him to get to us. Quint seemed sincere in his offer, but he now appeared to be crazy.

  “Do you think we missed him?” I asked, expressing what everyone was already thinking.

  “That’ always possible, but the old man had to know how long it would take us to get here. It seems logical to me that he would need to give us plenty of time.”

  “Or he’s batwing crazy,” Nyssa said. “Maybe this is all a big joke?”

  “It is no joke, young lady,” came the voice of the old man. We turned to face the rock wall, and somehow before us, was an entrance to the side of the plateau.

  “Quint? Where is the Spellcrafter?” I asked.

  “He is waiting for you. Follow me.”

  The wizard led us inside behind the old man, ducking down a bit to not hit his head in the low tunnel. Nyssa and Rika barely had to bend their necks to get in, while I, of course, had no trouble at all. Poor Gnath, however, had to almost walk on all fours to make it in.

  “Do not worry, my giant friend,” Quint said, “It opens up here soon and you will not have to stoop so low.”

  Gnath grunted his understanding, and true to Quint’s word, the tunnel did open and even Gnath could once again stand up straight.

  “We are almost there, my friends,” Quint reassured us, pushing onward in his bent-over sort of way. He approached a room with an open wooden door. Candle and torchlight flickered within. As we approached the door, we could see bookcases full of old tomes, possibly spell books, and recipes for incantations and the like. We followed Quint into the room, and as I entered, I could see no one else in the room.

  “Where is the Spellcrafter?” Arick asked. “I thought he would be here?”

  “He is here.”

  “Is this some kind of trick?”

  “No, my good wizard. I am the Spellcrafter.”

  “You magnificent beast,” the sorcerer said, petting the snout of the young dragon. “You have instilled fear into the hearts of the entire northwest, and word is spreading throughout Neverwind. Even the King of Edenkeep has vowed his allegiance to me… to us, and his armies are now at my disposal.”

  The dragon snorted, a wisp of smoke billowing from its nostrils, and his black eyes fixated on the sorcerer. The metal collar around his neck kept him chained in the dark chamber, but would soon have to be resized, as the dragon was growing at an alarming rate.

  “In three days, we will escort the King’s navy out and around the Cape of Faith, after which we will lay siege on Angkrage. From there we will sail down the coast to Bane, and then Faradore. You, my pride, will lead the charge. You will confuse them whilst we bombard their walls and send in landing parties. It will be glorious!”

  The dragon snorted once again, a few sparks joined the puff of smoke jetting out, then extinguishing inches from the sorcerer.

  “You must control that, Diatsig. Do not forget who your master is.”

  The dragon settled down onto the floor, its head lying inches from the feet of Zaleus. It closed its eyes and exhaled a long, slow breath.

  “That’s good. Rest now. You have had a busy couple of days. Rest, and in a few days our glorious attack on the west coast will begin. You have done well.”

  The dragon didn’t respond. It was already asleep.

  “You are the Spellcrafter?” I asked in disbelief.

  “You were expecting someone younger, maybe? Someone with less curve to his spine, maybe? Yes, I’m the Spellcrafter.”

  Arick the wizard stepped forward, practically pushing me to the floor in his haste. “Can you craft me a spell to get us back to Neverwind?”

  “Neverwind? You’re from Neverwind? We don’t get many visitors from your world. What brings you to Devigon?”

  “The evil sorcerer Zaleus sent us here so he would be free to use his dragon to conquer Neverwind. He fears me because I conquered the last of his dragons two hundred years ago.”

  “You are the Defeater of Dra
gons! Impressive. Yet here you are, trapped,” the old man said, shaking his head. “How are you able to defeat the dragons, and but you are helpless against him banishing you to Devigon?”

  “We are all susceptible to trickery.”

  “That is true. And after you defeated his dragon, he turned Devigon into a dark, dead place. Our world has never been the same. People can do a lot of suffering in two hundred years.”

  “I didn’t even know of this place back then, and I had no way to know he had cursed you. I thought he was simply defeated and would suffer in his failed existence in solitude. I never thought he would rise back up and somehow manage to get another dragon. This was not my doing.”

  “An unfortunate turn of events that has caused us ages of pain. Even King Willum only has enough power to stay alive, for now. As soon as someone is bold enough to cut his throat, he will be forgotten.”

  “Can you craft us a spell to get us back to Neverwind?”

  “And what do you have as tribute? I don’t work for free, you know.”

  “As we were told. Our tall friend Gnath has in his sack something we believe you will like.”

  The wizard motioned for Gnath to retrieve the talons of the gryphon from his sack. The look on the old man’s face confirmed what Anni had told us. The talons were a big prize indeed.

  “Where did you get these,” Quint asked, taking one of the large talons into his hands.

  “We took them from a gryphon ourselves. Killed it but one day ago not far from here.”

  “They’re fresh! Wonderful. Wonderful!” The old man held onto one of the claws like he was holding a baby, and I thought that any moment he would kiss it lovingly. He walked it over to an old wooden table in the center of the room and placed it standing up like so sort of obscure trophy. “Come, my giant friend. Put the others here on the table next to it. I want to savor the sight of them for a moment.”

  “Great Spellcrafter,” I said, “there is going to be an attack tonight on Ebony Castle. We don’t have much time. If the payment is sufficient, may we please get on with crafting the spell to get us home?”

  “You have until tomorrow evening. That’s when the attack is happening, is it not?”

  “The attack is happening tonight.”

  “But you told the King… Oh, I see. Very well. Then we best hurry. But it will still take some time. Crafting spells, especially ones as complicated as this, don’t happen quickly.”

  “I understand. I pray that you will do your best.”

  “Pray that the king doesn’t send guards down to get me to help defend the castle. Have a seat. I will get to work.”

  Chapter 18

  Under the cover of darkness, the Lionborne made their way through the outlying city without resistance. The few people that were out and about paid no mind to the advancing army lead by Lord Frantis. The thousand-man army marched, quietly and out of step, and without torches. Any and every bit of surprise would only work in their favor.

  The ranks carried over a dozen tall ladders for scaling the great wall at the top of the plateau. Archers were bringing up the rear, their mission would be to take out anyone interfering with erecting the ladders.

  As they climbed the sloping roadway to the door of the castle, the switchbacks making the transitioning of the ladders from one direction to the other difficult, but it became old hat by the time they reached the top. Lord Fantis was surprised, as was everyone else, that there had been no alarm. Quietly, he directed the ladder crews to place their scaffolds on each side of the drawbridge and for the warriors to begin their ascent.

  But it was when the intruders had breached the top of the wall that the guards, sitting with their backs against the parapet, realized they were under attack. Too late for them, their lives ended with a sword cutting their throat; others down below ran to sound an alarm. With blood spilling onto the narrow catwalk, the others on the ladder pulled themselves over and the attack was underway.

  Several of the earliest attackers made their way down to the ground level and released the mechanism for the drawbridge. Slowly it began to drop, creaking in protest against the thin, ratty ropes that were trying desperately to hold it back.

  The drawbridge landed on the ground outside the castle entrance with a loud thud sending clouds of dust flying everywhere. With a loud war cry, the Lionborne charged inside, cutting down anyone that might have been in the way.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  The Spellcrafter looked up from his work, his elbow resting next to his spellbook. Several ceramic mortars filled with various powders and herbs sat before him on the table. With a pestle in his hand, worn from years of use, he continued grinding together the leaves of some long since dead plant and the bones of a small animal to a fine powder. The flame of a small oil-fueled burner lit his face, and several small crucibles sat ready to be put to flame as needed. He cocked his head to one side, like a dog trying to zero in on a sound in the distance.

  “It has begun.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Nyssa said.

  “Of course not. Your ears are not in tune with this world. Trust me, the attack has commenced.”

  Arick, with a concerned look on his face, said, “Are you close to being finished?”

  “Not close enough. Very shortly the king will be sending men down to retrieve me – two, maybe as many as four warriors – to assist in repelling the attack and to protect him. They will be armed and will not like seeing you here. In fact, I hear them now.”

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  “Well, you can let them take me from here, or you can see that they don’t. Your choice.”

  “Then, I say we see that they don’t. Gnath, be ready at the door.”

  Gnath jumped next to the door, ready to pounce. Rika took position on the opposite side of the door, dagger ready. The rest of us took moved to the side of the room, out of the way of potential swinging swords. The room became eerily silent. It wasn’t long before our Neverwind hearing detected the incoming footfalls of the rushing guards. And they were coming fast.

  In an instant, the door flew open followed by two guards rushing into the room.

  “Spellcrafter, the king requests…” and he never finished his sentence. Gnath, faster than I’d ever seen him move, reached out and grabbed his head, snapping his neck like a twig. Nyssa, equally as fast, stepped out from behind the door and before the second guard could react, plunged her dagger upwards through his back into his heart. They both fell to the floor in a heap, blood spilling from the chest of one, the mouth of the other.

  “You didn’t have to be so messy, young lady,” Quint protested. “How about cleaning that up?”

  Dumbfounded, Nyssa looked at the pool of blood gathering near the door and leaking onto the floor.

  “You heard the man,” I said. “You need to clean that up.”

  The look I got from Nyssa caused my chest to hurt, as though she had stabbed me as well. She looked up at Gnath. “Give me a hand?”

  The two reached down grabbed one body at a time and dragged them out of the room, down the hall and into an open room off the passage, leaving a trail of blood and footprints as they worked. In that room, they found a pile of old linens, dusty and threadbare. Nyssa grabbed several sheets, shook the dust off and went back into the Spellcrafter’s chamber to mop up the mess.

  “Of all the things I imagined doing today, mopping a floor is not one of them.”

  “Couldn’t you have simply broken his neck like Gnath did?” I suggested.

  “Yeah, next time.”

  “If I could have a little quiet here so I can work? That would be very nice, thank you. And just so you are aware, there will be more of the king’s men to come down to get me if the first two don’t return soon with me in tow. Probably more than last time.”

  The Spellcrafter returned to his work, mixing bits of this, and a bit of that, then scraping the mixtures into a crucible. With metal tongs, he would hold the crucible over the flame
until a puff of smoke appeared and then he would set it down onto a hotplate and go about mixing more of his elements and herbs. After a bit, he turned the page in his spellbook and continued with his mixing. When needed he would get up from the table to get another ingredient from his shelves, like a chef retrieving spices for a prized stew, the Spellcrafter was working on his masterpiece.

  The footfalls in the passage outside broke the virtual silence that had taken over the room. It was clear that there were more guards this time, as Quint had predicted.

  “Come on, big man!” Nyssa said, tugging at Gnath’s arm. They went to the door where she readied an arrow into her bow, and Gnath adjusted his grip on his massive sword. Without notice, Nyssa leapt out into the passage and fired at the incoming fighters, catching them off guard, dropping one to the floor. Quickly she pulled another arrow and fired, taking out another. The Remaining four guards stopped, saw that the passage was blocked and fearing that there might be an army waiting for them, turned and ran back up the passage.

  “Quickly, we have to go after them before they alert the whole damned army!”

  Nyssa and Gnath took off in a run after the retreating guards. I looked out the door just in time to see them disappear down the dim, torch-lit passage.

  “I better go with them!” I said, taking off after the others. What am I doing? I found my legs running after them, even though I was still questioning in my mind the sanity of such an act. The passage turned into stairs and I could hear the muffled sounds of armored humans struggling their way up while being chased by my large and intimidating friend and Nyssa. As I rushed onward and upward, I eventually heard the unmistakable sounds of metal against metal; swords against swords. The fight was back on, but it didn’t last long. The cries of dying warriors were brief and pitiful. Gnath had made short work of them. Within seconds I had caught up to them as the blood of the king’s men drained down the cold, stone stairs.

  “So… How’d it go?”