“Can you speak to it?”
“I can’t.”
“Is there a special way to communicate with it?” Ben asked. He started tapping on the table. “Maybe it understands code.” He rapped his knuckle on the table. Tap. “One for yes.” He rapped twice. Tap. Tap. “Two for no. That should suffice. What do you say, little fella?”
The dragon hissed at him. Lightening crackled inside its mouth.
Ben edged away and said, “Alright, I’ll let you handle this one.”
Bayzog nodded at him and said, “It’s a good idea, Ben. Let me try something along those lines.” He searched his mind for the proper incantation. He tried to thumb through the pages of his book, but the dragon’s tail was blocking it. “Do you mind?” The dragon remained still. Its tail dropped over the pages, back and forth. Of course, it was entirely possible the tiny dragon understood everything he said but was unwilling to reply. Nath had told him that much about dragons. Many were familiar with the common tongue, but it wasn’t always easy to prove it.
“Ben, will you go into my quarters and fetch the small box that rests by the mirror?”
“Sure,” Ben said, wandering away and quickly back again. “Is this it?” he said, setting down an ebony box trimmed in silver. “It’s the only box I saw.”
“Thanks, Ben,” Bayzog said, scooting the box in front of him. It was Sasha’s jewelry box. He opened it up and stared inside. It was half-filled with rings, bracelets, and necklaces. Elven made. Each a treasure of precious metals and sparkling stones.
“That’s a nice little dragon hoard you have,” Ben said with bright eyes. “What do you plan to do with it?”
Bayzog turned the jewelry box around to face the dragon.
It let out an excited hiss and dove right in, wallowing in the treasure.
“He’s a greedy little thing, isn’t he?”
“They all are to some degree,” Bayzog said, “and some more so than others.” He glanced at Ben. “They say there are trenches filled like this in Dragon Home.”
“It’s hard to imagine, and I can imagine plenty,” Ben said. “Nath told me about some of it once, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. What would you need that much treasure for, anyway?”
Bayzog smiled.
“Good question.” He clapped his hands. “But the real question is, ‘Where are Sasha and my sons now?’” He started thumbing through the pages. There had to be some way to get the dragon to communicate with him. The only thing he had done before was to give them his commands, or rather, to ask for their help. At least one of them had responded. Now he had to unravel the mystery that surrounded the fruit of his work.
“Look,” Ben said. “He’s wearing a ring around his neck.” He bobbed his head. “That would make for a fine portrait. Especially if you put me in it.”
“If you say so,” Bayzog said, immersing himself in his work. He blocked out every sound and utterance. His mind became the narrow edge of a razor. Time lost all meaning until Ben started tapping him on the shoulder.
“What!” Bayzog said, irritated, still focusing on the huge open book.
“I think you need to see this,” Ben said.
Bayzog huffed, rolled his violet eyes, and turned, saying, “What is so important that I—”
A dragon sat perched on each of Ben’s shoulders. One cherry in color and the other citrine. They cocked their heads back and forth at him.
“I told you that you needed to see this,” Ben said, careful not to move any other muscles. “They’ve been here over thirty minutes.”
“Thirty!”
“I didn’t want to bother you, and I don’t think they’re going anywhere, but their claws are digging holes in my shoulders,” Ben said, wincing. “Do you think you can lure them off?”
The dragons’ wings buzzed, but they didn’t lift off. Bayzog noticed the cherry dragon had a tiny parchment inside his mouth. It was rolled up like a scroll. He leaned forward and said, “That’s interesting.”
“Oh,” Ben said, “I noticed that too, but he won’t let loose of it. What do you think could be written on such a tiny letter?”
“Hmph,” Bayzog said, rubbing his finger under his nose. “It’s either a tiny letter, or it was shrunken by someone.”
“Shrunken?”
Bayzog’s eyes lit up. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a tiny scroll.
“Are you alright?” Ben said.
“Just … reminiscing.”
“About what?”
“A little something from years long past. A good thing.” He held his slender hand under the dragon’s snout. “Give it.”
The dragon held the scroll fast in his mouth.
Bayzog harnessed the power of the jaxite stone.
“Give me the scroll, please.”
The dragon’s mouth popped open, and the scroll dropped into Bayzog’s palm.
“Thank you,” he said, inspecting the tiny object. “Now, can I remember how this goes?”
“How what goes?”
Bayzog paid Ben no mind and began reciting quick intricate words. The scroll expanded in size. Sasha used to send Bayzog tiny messages when he courted her long ago. It was her way of showing off what she’d learned about sorcery. It did his heart good to see her using it again. The tiny red dragon growled at it. It flew from Ben’s shoulder onto Bayzog. Its ruby eyes were intent on the parchment. He unrolled it. The parchment had a circle with two slash marks cut through it and words in the middle that read:
We are all safe. You know where to meet up. Sasha.
His eyes misted over.
“What does it say?” Ben asked.
The tiny cherry-scaled dragon spit a ball of flame at the parchment. The scroll caught fire and disintegrated in a whoof of flame.
“That little scaled varmint!” Ben cried out.
“It’s alright,” Bayzog said, staying the man with his hand. “We have everything we need now.”
“So, what did it say?”
“It said it was time to go.”
“Go where?” Ben said, shooing the dragon. “And how do I get this dragon off my shoulder?”
Bayzog pointed at the crack in the wall, and all the dragonettes took off. He said to Ben, “Get your gear. We have one quick stop before we depart from here.”
***
The Grand Gardens of Quintuklen. Ben followed Bayzog back toward their bench. With determination and a dangerous look in his eye, the part-elf wizard almost glided through the streets. Ben had seen it a few times before. He’d seen those violet eyes put a shimmer in a man’s bones.
Ben hitch-stepped to keep up, and his gear jangled. He had his heavy pack strapped over his shoulders. Two swords hung from his hips, one his own and the other Fang. Akron was snapped behind his gear along with a quiver filled with arrows. He had Brenwar’s chest tucked under his arm.
I think Bayzog could carry a little more than his staff. By the sultans, this is heavy!
Bayzog carried the Elderwood Staff and nothing else. As soon as he passed beneath the iron archway of the Grand Gardens, leery eyes slipped his way. Ben could feel a presence now. Something he’d never felt before. He thought about the dragonettes. Wouldn’t mind having them with me now.
Traipsing through splendid walkways lined with bountiful plants and flowers, he followed Bayzog back to their usual bench. Again, the odd men and women in strange garb of many colors shunned them. That was fine with Ben. He didn’t want anything to do with their weird and haunting faces. There was just something so strange and uncouth about the manners of all of them.
“Stay close,” Bayzog said, scanning the garden. “No farther than arm’s length. And keep your sword inside its sheath, no matter what.”
Ben pulled his head back, looked down on Bayzog, and said, “What do you have in mind, Wizard?”
“When she comes, I’ll do all the talking and all the doing. Just stay close to me.”
The muscles in Ben’s jaw clenched. He plucked a piece of spiced rawhide from h
is pouch and started chewing. He didn’t have any idea what Bayzog was doing, but the part-elf could be odd like that. He’d gotten used to it. But if it were up to him, he’d have left Quintuklen already and headed after his wife and family. He must be setting them up for something.
An hour passed, then two. Ben’s back and knees began to groan. He couldn’t stand for days on end the same as he used to. He was almost fifty now.
Bayzog remained a statue. Hard-eyed and focused.
Certainly by now, their enemies knew they were ready to go somewhere. Ben stretched his back and twisted his waist. Kept switching the chest from arm to arm. This is worse than my Legionnaire days.
“Bayzog,” he said, “I don’t know what you’re planning, but let’s just go.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Bayzog said. His eyes drifted up the left path. “Ah, company is coming. Just a moment longer, Ben. And remember, stay close.”
The same woman as before came down the path, but she was not alone this time. Two large men, both bigger than Ben, flanked her backside. Tall and heavy shouldered, they were the biggest acolytes of Barnabus he’d ever seen. Each had a sword belted to his robe. Ben’s hand drifted to the pommel of his own sword. Bayzog eyed him. He pulled it away.
“It’s your show, then,” Ben whispered to him.
“Are you going on a journey?” the woman said. Her dark ghostly features were intent on the Elderwood Staff. “You know that you are not to leave the city.”
“I thought it was time you took me to my wife,” Bayzog said. “I need some good faith this time.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but that is not how this works. I’ve been very clear about that.”
Ben wondered if the Clerics of Barnabus had any idea that Sasha and her sons had escaped. It seemed they did not.
“Do you have a family?” Bayzog said to her.
“Barnabus is my family,” she said.
“Have you a husband? Or children, perhaps?”
“Let me say, Bayzog,” she began, cocking her head, “I believe I can relate to your circumstances. But these circumstances will change for the worse if you become persistent about leaving.” Her eyes kept drifting back and forth between Bayzog’s eyes and his staff. She backed between her men. “And this public garden is no place to start anything. That would be foolish.”
Ben felt the muscles between his shoulders begin to knot. The air thickened with tension.
“I agree,” Bayzog said, easing his stance. “That would be foolish.”
Ben’s breathing eased.
“But,” Bayzog continued, “it wouldn’t be nearly as foolish as taking the wife and sons of a very powerful wizard.” His eyes sparked with bright fire. His staff flared with brilliant life.
Swords ripped out of men’s belts. The woman recoiled back, and mystic red claws sprang from her hands. Her voice became a shriek.
“Don’t be a fool, Bayzog!”
Bayzog and his staff erupted with fervent white power. The air shimmered. Ben shielded his eyes. A disintegrating force exploded forward in a thunderous flash. Ben gasped for air inside his lungs, coughing and gagging. A strong hand seized him.
“Are you alright?” Bayzog said.
Ben looked into the part-elf’s eyes and then behind him. The woman and two guards were skulls and bones, piled on ash. Similarly ashen was most of the garden behind him. Ben gaped.
“You did that,” he said.
Nearby, terrified onlookers stared. Others fled on unsteady feet.
“I did!” Bayzog yelled, raising his staff. “And I’ll do more if any more of you murderous deceivers comes any closer!”
More ran, but some stayed, evil eyes flicking to the skies now and then.
“Great Guzan, Bayzog! I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Hang on to my robes,” Bayzog said.
“Why?”
The dark-haired wizard pointed his staff toward the sky. A flock of black-winged dragons were whooshing through the air right at them. Ben counted at least a dozen of them. He clasped Bayzog’s arm.
“Now what!”
Streaks of fire erupted from the dragons’ mouths.
“Hold on!”
The Elderwood Staff blasted lightning into the sky, tearing a hole through two dragons. Flames exploded all around them. A split second later, Bayzog brought the end of the staff to the ground—and everything Ben saw disappeared.
CHAPTER 12
Nath sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed. He hadn’t meditated since he was a boy. It was something his father had taught him. A tool to maintain focus. Nath had never considered himself a deep thinker, but now it seemed time to be one. His brow furrowed. He envisioned himself with wings. He envisioned himself as a dragon.
He slammed his fists into the bed.
“Drat it all!”
He slung a pillow across the room.
“I can make fireballs out of flames, but I can’t turn into a dragon again. This makes no sense!”
He stormed out to his balcony, tripping over the feline fury’s tail.
“Will you go away?”
The big dragon-cat, lying down, yawned and reclosed its eyes.
Nath shook his head and leaned over the balcony’s edge. It was nearing midday, and people milled about the streets, staying uniform to their daily business. He could even hear some of them singing songs and praises in his name. He folded his arms over his chest. That’s right, heap praises on the dragon who is not a dragon at all. Preposterous!
The citizens of Narnum had been in unusually high spirits since the day he defeated Kryzak in the arena. Nath, after all, had been named the champion. And the people loved their champions. Still, everything seemed too ordinary. The smiles were too big. The laughter too loud. And there were odd disturbances. Fires and small riots that were quickly snuffed out.
Nothing is ever as good as it seems. He sighed. Four more years of this. I’m not sure I can take it.
He glanced back at the feline fury. The dragon-cat filled up half the balcony. Nath rubbed his chin and said, “You’re pretty big. Maybe you can take me for a ride, perhaps.”
The fury rose upon its paws and arched its back. Smoke snorted from its nose. It brushed by Nath, leapt straight off the balcony, and soared away.
“Great Dragons!” Nath said, yelling after it. “I’m not that bad of company!”
The fury vanished among the buildings.
Nath went back inside his room and closed his balcony doors, muttering, “I don’t need your company anyway.”
“Well that’s a shame. I came all this way to see you.”
Nath’s head snapped up.
“Sasha!”
He rushed over and hugged her.
“Easy now,” she said, patting his back. “I’m breakable.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said, letting go. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” Sasha said, laughing. “I was just teasing you.” She hugged him again. She wore a traveling cloak. Leather boots covered her ankles. Her auburn hair was soft and fragrant. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “It’s been so boring here.”
“Boring?” she said, eyeing him. “I’ve heard nothing but talk of your exploits in the arena since I got within five leagues of here.”
“Really?”
She clasped his hand, looked at him with soft eyes, and said, “It does my heart well to know that Kryzak is vanquished, and that it was done by your hand makes the tale even sweeter.”
“He had it coming.”
“He did,” she said, toying with the pendant on her neck. “How about we sit? Talk?”
“Maybe we should go for a walk,” he said. “I could use it.”
She grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a sofa and sat down.
“I’ve walked more in the past few weeks than I’ve walked all my life.” She patted the spot next to her. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He smiled and said, “No, ce
rtainly not. I assume you’re tired.”
“That’s an understatement, but I made it a priority to come and see you as soon as I returned. I was worried.”
“About me? Nath Dragon?” He nudged her. “You know I’ll be fine.”
“I can see frustration in your brows, Nath,” she said. “I can feel the tension. I know you. You know that. What is going on?”
“Sasha,” he said, “I actually became a dragon! A full-sized flying dragon!”
“You did?”
“Yes, and I could fly and everything!”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I turned back into this, and now I can’t turn back into the dragon,” he said, frowning, “and I don’t understand why not. I am a dragon. I should be able to turn whenever I want, the same as Selene.” He brushed his own auburn hair out of his eyes. “It’s frustrating. More than frustrating.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard,” she said. “I think you need to relax. You always put too much pressure on yourself. It makes me think of Bayzog.”
“Hmmm,” Nath said, rubbing his chin. “And how is he?”
“He’s holed up in Quintuklen, spending time with his sons and doing well enough. But he is a little crankier these days.” She pulled her legs up underneath her. “He sends his regards. That’s about it, seeing how he’s a man of little words.”
“And how are other things in this world?” he said. “I’m only getting bits and pieces. Selene says we are soon to travel abroad, but I’m not so sure I believe her.”
“You’ll be pleased, Nath. The Truce has brought about many great things. Honestly, Nalzambor hasn’t felt so wonderful in a long time.” She yawned and stretched her arms. “And I’ve tried the most wonderful foods from all around. I even had a conversation with a pixlyn named Gorgy. A black-haired little sprite with plenty more attitude than size.”
“I’m happy for you,” he said, “but have you seen any dragons? Not the ones that are black winged and tailed either. My kind.”
“They are hard enough to find as it is,” she said. “And I can only say I’ve heard a few tales. Nothing noteworthy.”
War In The Winds (Book 9) Page 5
