by R. E. Fisher
The guild had once objected to a killing they had performed and had sanctioned an in-house contract on the twins. Because of the stature of the twins’ victim and the public way it had been carried out, the city guards had pursued all known assassins and their associates. Three assassins had been hanged in the square for the actions of the twins. The leaders of the assassins’ guild had placed sanctions on them, offering ten thousand gold pieces for the head of each. Soon afterward, the assassins’ guild was in disarray. They found that every guild leader who had supported sanctions for the two had been murdered, along with their entire families. Afterward, the twins were left to their own pursuits, regardless of whom they might offend.
The twins hadn’t been summoned by the mage, but then, Eod had realized long ago, they never had to be summoned. When he had need of them, they appeared. He considered the milky steel-blue eyes of each man. “Make the prisoner realize the hopelessness of his situation,” Eod instructed.
The two men turned and moved to the dungeons. They came to a huge steel door, and Machakos lifted his gloved hand and hammered on it. The door opened, and a small creature in ragged robes shut it behind the assassins as they passed over the threshold. The small figure scampered in front of the twins and rushed to another door, opening it for the two men. This game of leapfrog continued as the party moved deeper into the dungeon. After the first door closed, they had all been surrounded by a pitch-black void, but no one needed a torch. The half-elves’ vision allowed them to see the varying degrees of heat throughout the dungeon, down to the heat the little figure’s footprints left on the cold stone of the walkway. All three came to a stop in front of the large wooden door to the cell holding Dmitri captive. The small creature opened the door, and the twins stepped into the darkness. The creature stepped to the left of the door after closing it and waited for them to finish.
Under another, much deeper portion of the castle where Dmitri’s screams couldn’t be heard, the dragon bellowed, “Come!” and two bloated, stench-ridden creatures rushed into the room carrying torches. The two trolls wore a mixture of leather and chain armor. Though they carried no shields, their thick arms looked sinewy enough to stop any blade. It didn’t hurt that their thick, stone-colored skin also prevented bladed weapons from doing much damage. Tilk and Timikin clambered down the steps, huffing and puffing. The closer they came to the dragon, the more nervous they became. They hated being so close to the mammoth beast, but orders were orders. Eod instructed them to assist the wyrm any way it felt necessary. The trolls came to a stop at the bottom step and lifted their torches, trying to get a glimpse of the beast.
“Yes, your worshipfulness?” Tilk stammered, his voice weaker than one would have thought for a creature standing almost eight feet tall.
“Prepare my mount; we’re going on a journey,” the dragon stated.
“Where is we going, your leadership?” Timikin asked.
Both trolls smelled something sweet in the light breeze that began to flow over them, neither of them recognizing it. Surprising them, an eye as tall as the trolls suddenly opened, lit up by the torches they held. The eye peered at them from over a huge mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. The trolls noticed that the warm breeze they felt was coming from the dragon’s mouth. With a speed that belied its size, the dragon grasped the questioning troll in its razor-sharp teeth. Timikin let out a horrified squeal as the dragon tilted its head upward and swallowed the troll in a single gulp, silencing it.
Tilk stood his ground, even though he had let loose a quiet squeal from his own rubbery lips. He rushed to clap a fat hand over his snout to ensure that no more squeals erupted from it.
“Does the other pig have any questions?” the dragon asked.
Tilk began shaking his head from side to side, and couldn’t seem to get it to stop. He tilted his head upward to look at the dragon in the light from the torch Timikin had dropped. The torch sat burning in the crook of one of the great forelegs of the dragon. The dragon didn’t even seem to notice the smoldering torch lying on his flesh, impressing Tilk. While the troll was looking up, he noticed that his own hand still covered his snout. He dropped his hand from his snout, performed a chest salute, and fled the room.
Jeresette, the dragon, grinned and morphed into his human form. After he had done so, he let out a long, loud belch, which echoed about the chamber.
“I hate trolls,” Jeresette said to no one.
The now black-haired, golden-eyed, human-looking beast walked to a closet, pulled the door open, and began to don his armor. The armor was made with the scales of an ancient black dragon. Jeresette had insulted the black even further by having its scales edged in gold, as if to tell everyone about how the dragon had died at the whim of a gold dragon. He smiled as he looked at his scarred arm and pulled up his grieve, thinking it a small sacrifice if his plan came to fruition.
He removed a huge two-handed sword he had left leaning against the closet. Before strapping the blade onto his back, he pulled it slightly from the scabbard. After a small wisp of smoke drifted away, he could see that the sword glowed with a crimson hue.
“And how’s Ember today? Hmmm?” Jeresette asked the blade. The glow increased and a flame leapt from the blade, striking the dragon in the chest. “Anxious, I see. Don’t worry; you’ll not have long before your might will be let loose upon this world. All will tremble before our rule, especially that damnable mage,” he finished, letting the blade drop back into the scabbard.
The dragon snapped his fingers, and the huge chamber lit up. Jeresette walked over to a shelf and pulled down a red book that looked to be bound by leather, but wasn’t. The cover had been crafted with the flesh of a long-dead Elfaheen. The book was unadorned, except for a rune that Jeresette touched with his index finger. The rune began to glow, and Jeresette opened the cover; smoke seeped from the book, flowing to the ground like water. From within the smoke, a figure began taking shape: a beastly skeleton, resembling that of a human. Muscle began forming over the bones while rotted flesh covered the muscles. The head of the demon elongated, its jaws extending forward and filling with teeth of metal. The silver-fanged demon knelt in the middle of the smoke—the same demon that had been summoned by Eod earlier.
“How much longer must I suffer that idiot, Master?” the silver-fanged demon asked.
“As long as necessary, Carion,” Jeresette replied. “We’re close to regaining a foothold in this realm without the aid of human, dwarf, or elf!”
“I understand, Master. It is fortunate that he does not suspect who you are! What would you have of me?”
“I’ll be taking a journey to determine whether the outworlder is the one who will lead me to the sword.”
“My master should know this one didn’t come here alone.”
“What do you mean, Carion?”
“There were three; each of them came within moments of the other.”
“How did you find this out?”
Carion replied, “The ‘wyrm master’ summoned me moments ago. I had expected him to ask me about the three, but he only asked about the one. We watch for the prophecy, too, as instructed, sire.”
“How fortunate you are so impassioned. Where are they now?”
“Noli Deron, sire.”
“Now I know where I journey,” Jeresette said as he looked to the demon. “I’m sorry I used the portal spell, but if you appeared, his cantrips would alert him of your presence.”
“I understand, sire.”
“Now it is time for your departure.”
As Carion began to fade from the room, Jeresette praised the demon. “It was wise to withhold the information from the mage. Well done.”
Carion smiled a malevolent grin as he faded from sight. Jeresette turned and moved down the stairs. He walked from his massive chamber into the tunnel leading to the keep. As he entered the keep, maids, pages, and everyone else moved from his path. They had already heard what had happened to Timikin. They figured the dragon was in a foul mood, but littl
e did they realize how wrong they were. Jeresette hadn’t been in a mood such as this for centuries. He whistled as he passed through the kitchen and entered the courtyard.
Tilk and another troll stood next to Jeresette’s mount, waiting for the dragon.
“You, number three, heel dung! Don’t ask lord nuthin’. Him hates that.”
“What happen to Timikin?” Timulsif asked with a grunt.
“Him a future fart,” Tilk giggled with a squeal and a grunt.
As Tilk finished his squeal, Jeresette walked further into the courtyard toward his mount. The wyvern shuffled restlessly as Jeresette neared. Her charcoal color, which carried flashes of silver through its hide, was accentuated by its silver-linked bridle and black leather tack trimmed in silver. The saddle had a high front pommel and a high back panel. The stirrups were high, where the rider’s knees would be above his hips. The beast extended her long neck toward Jeresette, waiting for the wyrm to scratch it. As the wyvern extended her neck, Tilk began to pull on the bridle. A sharp glance with his piercing golden eyes, and the troll released any tension he had on the bridle.
“How are you, my cousin?” Jeresette asked the miniature dragon, in keeping with his charade.
The wyvern pushed her head against Jeresette’s chest, and a not unpleasant purring sound escaped from deep within the wyvern. Jeresette reached up and scratched the beast’s scaled, elongated head, and then mounted the beast. Tilk handed the reins to the dragon, who took them from the troll, leaned forward, and whispered something in the wyvern’s ear. The beast turned its head forward and extended its wings from beneath the edge of the saddle. It took three quick, jumping steps and was then airborne. The wyvern circled the courtyard, still within the confines of the keep’s high walls. As the beast gained height and cleared the wall, it turned south. The two false dragons disappeared from sight, and the two trolls breathed easier. They picked up their travel packs as they passed through the gate and shuffled down to the waiting boat below.
Chapter 11
“If knowledge is King, then wisdom is its Queen!”
(A.Py., 2.31 - Book of Air, Tenets of Pyramael, Chapter 2, Verse 31)
Nestled deep within the shadows, between a wooden closet and the head of the bed, Eivy watched as she had been told to. Hindle didn’t like mistakes. He didn’t trust this Elfaheen, either. The small shoulder-drake moved about unnoticed, as long as she was careful. She was allowed throughout the Tower of Knowing because it was Hindle’s domain, but was forbidden to be in any of the other towers. Those masters had felt like she was spying on them, which she had been, so they had forbidden her. She realized that if faced with failing her mage or getting caught, she would rather be caught.
The ingrained bonding that had occurred within her when she answered his call was akin to a deep, unhealthy love. It gave her a need to meet his every expectation regardless of her ability to provide it, and she had no desire to leave. The spell of calling he had cast ensured that unless he crossed very specific lines, which he didn’t, she would remain his servant.
She could travel freely throughout any of the outer buildings or the acolyte compound, which is where she sat, watching Tetra. The Elfaheen sat studying a tome of instruction that one of the Tower Masters had given her. Eivy couldn’t see which tome, so she didn’t know which mage had provided it to her. Hindle might have a desire to know, but she also didn’t want to let the Elfaheen know that she was there. She was supposed to be surreptitious in her watchfulness, according to Hindle.
“You can come out of the shadows,” Tetra said aloud without looking up.
Eivy’s ears perked up at that. How had she known she was watching her?
Tetra looked up from the tome and in the direction of Eivy, toward the shadows in which she was hidden.
Now embarrassed, Eivy realized that she had been discovered.
“No one here means you any harm, little one,” Tetra said, lightly tapping the table above the tome that lay open in front of her.
Tetra slid her wooden cup in the direction of the shoulder-drake as she peered into the shadows Eivy hid within, thinking she might be thirsty.
“Suit yourself. I was going to tell you how I once had a friend who was a much, much larger version of yourself…but if you don’t want to know, that’s okay.”
Eivy watched Tetra as she went back to studying the tome; but she was thirsty, she realized. She crept out from the shadows, thinking that since the woman somehow knew she was there, what would it matter? Her black leather wingtips, adorned with razor-sharp talons, clicked along the stone floor as she made her way toward the table. As she neared the edge above her, she leapt upward and came to rest on it easily. She moved cautiously toward the cup, like housecats did when stalking prey. Once there, she drank deeply, lapping the cool water into her mouth and tilting her head back to let it flow down her throat. She watched Tetra from the corner of her eye, looking up at her each time she tilted her head to take a drink.
Eivy watched as the Elfaheen smiled. A sense of peace filled the shoulder-drake just considering those strange eyes. She knew that this woman would not harm her. Eivy knew that she looked like a smaller version of a dragon; but still, being smaller didn’t mean that there weren’t some who would seek to harm her. Eivy realized that Tetra wasn’t one of those people.
Eivy couldn’t speak, but she and Hindle both seemed to know what the other was thinking when they were close together. Perhaps it could work that way with this one? She wanted to know how she had come to be friends with a full-grown dragon!
“You were thirsty!” She heard the woman giggle.
Eivy blinked and tilted her head up and down in agreement.
“So, which was it? The water or the story?”
The shoulder-drake bounced up and down slightly, not leaving the table.
“Ahhh…the story…” Tetra smiled, leaning forward over the tome, looking at the now oaken color of the drake that matched the table she had climbed onto. “Ohhh…that’s beautiful! You can change colors! How marvelous!” Eivy heard the woman coo while wishing she would get on with the story.
“What’s your name?” she heard, ignoring Tetra slightly since she wasn’t going to tell her the story. Eivy lay down on the table and pulled her winged legs close, looking at the Elfaheen and becoming bored.
Eivy realized she could watch her from there just as easily as from that uncomfortable stone floor. At least the table wasn’t cold.
“His name was Rhastrashaa. The dragon I mentioned, that is,” Eivy heard her say. “He was the second dragon. Some of my brothers and sisters created him. I helped raise him.”
Eivy looked at her and mewled, “How could that be? Everyone knew that dragons were spiteful, greedy beings that cared about no one else!”
Just then, Telerex stepped into the room, catching Eivy off guard. She leapt to the other side of Tetra, looking up at the tall man as he neared.
“He is ready and has asked me to let you know, Mistress,” Telerex said.
Tetra stood and looked at the shoulder-drake, whispering, “I’ll tell you that story later, little one.” To Telerex, she said, “Thank you, Tel,” touching his arm as she passed him, heading toward the door.
Telerex looked at the shoulder-drake with a smile and said, “Not all of us are like that, cousin.”
Eivy watched him as he turned and walked from the room, noticing for the first time that he had the eyes of the wyrm.
“Hmm…” Eivy thought to herself, confused. She rushed to catch up with the Elfaheen, remembering the edict Hindle had placed upon her.
As she made her way to Hindle’s tower, Tetra thought about the lessons she had already received from the other Tower Masters. She had learned some magic from each of them, but not the most powerful magic they could wield. They were concerned with showing her too much before she was ready, or so they had told her.
She had already learned that mages pulled their power from the elements. Everything that happened in the environment
created tones and vibrations, and those who were gifted with magic could hear these tones and feel their vibrations. Their gift enabled them to pull both together and hold them within themselves, restructure them, and release the magic back into the world as something completely different. Tones that, to the uninitiated, were indistinguishable from the noise of raindrops striking the earth, waves crashing, the tones of the ever-trembling earth, those that fire made as it consumed air or earth, and those created by the winds or storms.
She was being taught to listen to those patterns and weave them into those things that mages found useful. For Tetra, it was much like music. The talented knew when to overlap notes from various instruments to create—as did mages, but with much different results.
Tetra realized that she had begun walking along the loose stone path that neared Hindle’s tower; she looked up at the stone tower, then at Hindle, who stood waiting for her at the entrance. She watched as he waved for her to enter. She stepped across the threshold and immediately felt ill at ease. There was something about him that was disquieting, as if he had his own agenda and she had interrupted his plans somehow.
“So, who have you trained with so far?” Hindle asked.
“Authen—” she began, but he cut her off quickly.
“Good, good. The four basic pillars: air, earth, fire and water,” he said as he sat in a large overstuffed chair that Eivy was sharing with him. Hindle began stroking the shoulder-drake softly between her wings.
Not wishing to interrupt him as he had her, Tetra remained silent until he looked up at her.
“Yes, yes…go on.”
“Phistic, Yargo, and Veluna also showed me how to work with their quatrains.”
“Is that it so far?” he asked.
Tetra nodded her head in affirmation, smiling at Eivy, realizing how quickly the shoulder-drake could travel.
“So, the four weakest disciplines are out of the way; that’s good. Now the real work begins. Do you know what divination is?”
