“Hey, let's not go overboard here,” Simon cut in. “I'm just one guy and not all that important.”
Kronk shook his head and shrugged at Aeris.
“He's doing it again,” Aeris said. He sounded exasperated.
“Yes, I know. No matter how many times we tell him, master will not change. Oh well, that is our burden to bear, I suppose.”
Simon carefully lifted the tray from his lap and set it on the low table beside the bed. He took his teacup off of it and stared at the elementals.
“And just exactly what am I doing?” he asked as he sipped the warm liquid.
“Denigrating yourself, as you always do,” Aeris said.
He put the back of his hand to his brow and gazed at the ceiling.
“Oh me, oh my,” he said dramatically. “Whatever shall I do? The world depends on poor little me, yet I am but a simple peasant boy who means nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
Aeris put down his hand and looked at Simon.
“That's what you sound like.”
“I do not!” the wizard objected. “For one thing, I'm not a peasant boy, whatever that is. And I don't sound so...theatrical either.”
Kronk stayed silent and Simon frowned at him.
“Don't hurt yourself rushing in to defend me or anything,” he told the earthen.
“I would defend you with my life, master,” the little guy said carefully. “But, with all due respect, Aeris has a point.”
Simon was speechless.
“Hear me out, master,” Kronk hurriedly said. “It is just that you are very important to this world, or at least to your people's place in it. You are their only wizard, and their most powerful spell-caster. When I said that the whole world was in Aeris' debt, I meant the human portion of it.”
“Hmm, okay, I get you. I don't think that I agree, but I can see your point of view.”
The wizard cautiously drew back the covers and sat up. He turned his body until he was sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Isn't it a bit soon to be moving around?” Aeris asked as he flew back a few feet to give Simon some room. “You've only been healed for a day. Perhaps you shouldn't rush it.”
“Be careful, master,” Kronk told him nervously.
He hopped over to stand on the bed next to Simon and looked up at him with obvious concern.
The wizard looked from one elemental to the other and felt grateful at how much they obviously cared about him.
“Guys, relax. I'm all better now, really. I needed to sleep and I could use a few more meals, but I'm okay. Aeris, could you head home now please? I don't like leaving the place without one of you in charge.”
The air elemental looked at Simon narrowly.
“Are you worried about something in particular? Some threat?”
The wizard frowned down at his knobby knees without seeing them, his mind elsewhere.
“It's nothing specific; more like a feeling. Those goblins didn't just happen upon me by chance; they were told exactly where I was. That much was clear from what that damned dark wizard said when he was questioning me. Now that I'm out of their grasp, whoever or whatever was directing them may move against the tower. I want you there to coordinate its defense, should that become necessary.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
Aeris winked at Kronk.
“Take over for me,” he said and waved toward Simon. “You know he needs minding when he's recovering from an illness.”
“I will watch him. Do not worry,” the little guy replied. “Master is in good hands.”
“Um, hello? I'm right here,” the wizard said in exasperation. “Stop talking about me as if I'm not even in the room. Okay, we'll be home soon, Aeris; probably later today.”
“Got it. I'll make sure that the tower is ready for your return.”
He disappeared with a loud pop.
Simon looked at Kronk.
“Ready to catch me if I fall?” he asked jokingly.
“Always, master. Always.”
“Okay, here we go.”
He pushed himself to his feet and stood still, swaying a little bit until he found his balance.
“Hey, not as bad as I thought it would be,” he commented.
A few seconds later he began to fall backwards.
“Whoa!”
A strong push against his lower back kept him upright until he had regained his stability.
“I have got you, master,” Kronk said from behind him.
“Thanks. I never doubted you, my friend. Whew, that was a close one.”
“The bed is soft, master. You would not have been hurt.”
“My pride would have been,” Simon joked.
He took a tentative step, stopped, then took another.
“Ah, getting better. I can feel my muscles adjusting.”
He made it to the table across the room, turned and leaned back against it.
“I don't get it,” he said impatiently to Kronk. “I've only been off my feet for a few days. Why am I so weak and uncoordinated? I've been flat on my back because of sickness or injury before and didn't react like this.”
“But master, you weren't tortured by goblins then. I do not know exactly what horrible things you had to endure, but I can guess. To be honest, I am impressed that you are even able to stand.”
The wizard thought about that for a moment and began nodding.
“You may have a point there. The goblin wizard drained my powers while I was his captive. Maybe that plus the physical abuse is why I'm slow to recover. Hmm. I suppose that energy is energy, magical or otherwise. Drain that and subject the body to trauma,” he winced at the memory, “and you can really screw someone up. I'm getting better though, that much I know.”
He looked down at his gangly body in disgust.
“You know, if you had any meat on you, this would be a lot easier,” he said to it.
Simon looked around the infirmary and spotted a tall cupboard. He cautiously made his way toward it.
“The fact that you and your people actually constructed a lot of the furniture in this castle, as well as the building itself, amazes me, Kronk,” he said as he moved, carefully watching his footing.
“Thank you, master, but much of the furnishing was constructed by the dwarves. At least the finer bits like the beds and chairs. We did make the tables and cupboards though.”
Simon stopped and looked back. The earthen was standing several feet behind him, watching him closely.
“Still think I might fall?” the wizard teased him.
“I would rather err on the side of caution, master,” the little guy replied seriously. “Where are you going?”
“I'm looking for something to wear, actually.”
He looked down at the underwear hanging loosely from his hips.
“I doubt that wandering the halls of Nottinghill Castle in my skivvies would be considered socially acceptable by the inhabitants. Plus, these things are barely hanging on as it is. I hope that Elaine has a spare robe some place.”
He was in luck. The cupboard contained a row of robes on hangers, all of different sizes and colors. He found a dark blue one that fell to his ankles and put it on happily. It was made of light wool and Simon immediately felt warmer and more comfortable.
“Ah, that's more like it,” he said as he wrapped his arms around his chest tightly. “I didn't realize that I was cold until just now.”
Kronk smiled up at him.
“Did you plan on leaving the infirmary, master?”
“Definitely. I appreciate all of the effort that Elaine and Liliana put into my healing, but I feel like I'm stifling in here. Let's go out and poke around, shall we?”
“As you say, master.”
Simon chuckled at the little guy's cautious reply.
“Relax. I'm not going to overdo it. I'll take my time, I swear.”
Kronk gave him a dubious look but only nodded silently.
There was a pair of plain sandals in the cupb
oard that fit the wizard well enough and he put them on before heading for the door.
As he and Kronk left the infirmary, the earthen began guiding Simon toward the main hall.
“That is where the leaders have been meeting, master,” he told the wizard. “We may run into someone there.”
“Good idea. I'd like to talk to Tamara and the others as soon as possible. I still have this nagging feeling that something is wrong.”
The journey to the hall was slow but steady. Simon became more confident as he walked and his muscles loosened up, and Kronk moved up to walk beside him instead of behind.
As they turned a corner and approached their destination down a short hallway, the pair heard raised voices and Simon signaled for Kronk to stop. He leaned against the nearest wall and bent his head, listening intently.
“And I will say it again,” a voice that he recognized as Malcolm's was stating loudly. “If I had known that Simon was imprisoned a few miles down the river from where Veronique and I searched for him, I would have tried to rescue him. Hell, I would have stormed the place myself, goblins and magic be damned!”
“No one is questioning your loyalty, Malcolm,” the wizard heard Tamara say, obviously trying to calm the man down. “Or your bravery. We all know that Simon is your friend as much as his is ours.”
“Really? That's funny because I'm sure that I've heard a few whispers and gotten some side-glances from a bunch of people in this castle,” he fumed. “Including a few of you in this very room, in fact.”
“Sir warrior, if you are accusing someone of something, just spit it out and be done with it.”
Simon frowned; he didn't immediately recognize that rough voice. It seemed familiar somehow, but he could only tell that it was a man.
He looked at Kronk, who was also frowning in puzzlement.
“They seem to be blaming the warrior, master,” he whispered. “But it was not his fault that he did not find you.”
“No, it certainly was not,” Simon said firmly. “Come on, let's get in there before Malcolm bursts a blood vessel.”
He pushed himself off the wall and stumbled toward the arched doorway. Kronk skittered along behind, watching the unsteady wizard anxiously.
Simon entered the great hall and stopped, looking at all of the people gathered together. They were seated on both sides of an immense banquet table. Kronk had told him that the table had been dragged in from another part of the castle because the old one had been destroyed when they had Gated in from the Grand Canyon. The wizard had no memory of that event at all.
He recognized Malcolm and Aiden, Tamara and her brother, and the sisters, Sylvie and Veronique. Several other people that were present were strangers to him, although he vaguely remembered that one young man in flowing robes was named Barnaby.
He guessed that the two young Chinese men, one of whom was wearing armor and the other a robe, were the Zhang brothers. He'd never actually met them.
And Liliana was there, barely visible as she leaned against the wall next to the large fireplace. Her face was lost in shadow, but Simon saw the glint of her silvery armor.
What surprised him the most was not that Malcolm was standing up at the table, towering over the entire group, his face red with anger. It was the fact that there were two dwarves seated side by side across from him. One Simon didn't know; he looked like some sort of wealthy merchant. The other dwarf though, dressed richly in ornate leather and wearing several large jeweled rings, was the king's seneschal Ragar Blackrock.
There were exclamations from some of the gathering as Simon was spotted standing and swaying in the doorway. Tamara jumped to her feet, as did Sebastian, and the siblings rushed over to support him; each of them grabbing an arm.
“I'm not an invalid,” he said sharply and then disproved his assertion by tripping over his own feet.
“Obviously,” Tamara said dryly. “But let's get you seated anyway, shall we? For my sake if not your own.”
“Fine, fine,” he said irascibly as he stumbled forward. “You do realize that you're helping someone who is physically no more than seventeen years of age, don't you?”
Sebastian laughed as they half carried Simon to the nearest empty chair at the table and got him seated.
“What, teenagers don't get injured?” he asked with a grin. “That's not how I remember my adolescence.”
“That's not how I remember it either,” his sister said, giving him a withering look that only made Sebastian smile wider.
Kronk hopped up on to the table and stood close to the wizard. He looked worried and the wizard gestured reassuringly.
“I'm okay,” he muttered. “Just a bit groggy.”
“Yes master, if you say so.”
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Aiden said with a broad grin. “You look great, considering.”
“Gee thanks,” Simon told him, his happiness at seeing so many friends erasing his irritation at his own limitations. “You really need to learn how to lie better.”
Malcolm sat down and laughed, his anger immediately replaced with delight.
“But he's right, Simon,” the big man told him. “For someone who spent time in a goblin prison, you look a lot better than I expected.”
“Thanks Malcolm. I'm grateful to be alive. And let me make it clear to everyone at this meeting,” the wizard said, raising his voice and looking up and down the table, “that I don't blame you for not finding me when you were searching around the Grand Canyon.”
The warrior reddened again, but this time because he was blushing.
“Um, you heard that, I guess,” he said.
“I'm guessing that half the castle heard it,” Simon said and grinned when Malcolm looked at him. “But you are not responsible for my imprisonment, my friend, and I will fight anyone who points a finger at you and tries to make you feel guilty. Somehow the damned goblins knew where I was when I foolishly decided to take a world tour on a whim. I walked right into their trap with my eyes wide open and my brain apparently set on stupid mode.”
He looked up and down the table again.
“I want to reemphasize this: I am the only one to blame for my misfortune. If any of you hear anyone in the castle badmouthing Malcolm, I'd appreciate it if you would correct them. And if they won't listen, let me know and I'll deal with them myself.”
Simon pronounced this last sentence firmly and no one who heard him had any doubt that he meant it.
“Thank you,” Malcolm said simply.
“No, my friend, thank you, and everyone else who risked themselves searching for me. I'm just relieved that no one was harmed because of my own idiocy.”
“You're being too hard on yourself,” Tamara told him. “But you've made your feelings known and I doubt that we'll hear any more grumbling about placing blame around here. Now, how about some tea?”
Sebastian served the wizard a cup of hot tea and Simon sipped it appreciatively.
“Thanks, this is just what I needed.”
He looked down the table to his right and caught the seneschal's eye.
The dwarf bowed in his seat and Simon returned the gesture.
“I'm surprised to see you here, Ragar,” he said. “I thought that you never left the king's side.”
The dwarf nodded in agreement.
“I normally do not, sir wizard, but his highness specifically requested that I journey up to the castle. Mostly to confirm your continued good health. He was worried about you.”
“Then you can reassure him that I am well. And thank him for his concern.”
“I shall. But I was also tasked with passing along a message.”
The seneschal looked at Tamara, who was listening closely.
“I wanted to wait until I had seen the wizard for myself, lady mage. But now that I have done so, may I have your permission to address this meeting?”
“Of course, sir. The floor is yours.”
Ragar stood up with a grunt and walked over to stand in front of the fi
replace. Although the room wasn't particularly cold, a fire was blazing behind him and it threw odd shadows across the ceiling as the dwarf stood there.
The seneschal folded his arms and carefully looked at each person, his expression cool and emotionless. Liliana moved across the room to stand next to Simon's chair, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze.
He smiled up at her and then waited to see what the dwarf had to say.
“Lords and ladies of Nottinghill Castle,” Ragar began, speaking in a stilted, formal tone. “Greetings from Shandon Ironhand, ruler of the dwarven nation. My king wishes you well as you settle into your rebuilt home. He also wanted me to reconfirm the allegiance between our two peoples and to tell you that if you should ever have need our aid, you may call upon us and we will respond.”
“We appreciate that, Ragar,” Tamara told him. “Please thank Shandon for us.”
“I will, lady. And now, I must pass along a message of more gravity.”
Simon leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea.
Here it comes, he thought. Whatever it is.
“You all have heard of the actions of the argent dragon, have you not?” the seneschal asked.
The wizard sat up alertly, shaken out of his comfort zone.
Tamara stood up and rested one hand on the back of her chair as she stared at the dwarf.
“Some of us have, yes. Some have not. But how did the dwarves hear about it, I wonder?”
“Yes, I am sure that you do,” Ragar said dismissively. “The means are not important. It is the results that we must focus on now.”
“What is he talking about?” Barnaby asked blankly. “What has the dragon done?”
The dwarf ignored him and continued speaking, obviously intent on passing along his message without interruption.
“Shandon Ironhand wants you to know that the dragon's actions cannot be tolerated. We will not allow a new generation of primal dragons to be born and raised to continue their accursed race. Simon O'Toole has gifted us with a world almost free of their menace and he has our thanks for that.”
He nodded at Simon, who sat still and listened, his stomach beginning to churn nervously in anticipation of what Ragar would say next. Aeris had already told him what had happened when he had found the queen's nest, and given him something else to worry about.
The Queen of Dragons (Tales from the New Earth Book 8) Page 30
