The Dragons Revenge (Tales from the New Earth #2)

by J. J. Thompson

  “Yes. Well, that sword that our large friend swings around so freely has an unexpected bonus when it cuts through undead flesh.”

  “It does?” Simon looked at Richard. “What is it?”

  “They explode,” the big man said with a sudden grin. “Literally. They burst into flames and continue to burn until they are cinders. Gregory, our smith, swears he didn't know that would happen, but says that he can add the same enchantment to any metal object.”

  “And?”

  “And so we thought that if we had a moat surrounding Nottinghill and planted metal spikes imbued with this enchantment, we could stop the undead, and any that follow them, before they even reach the walls.”

  Clara sat back, smiling happily and waited for Simon to comment.

  The wizard thought about their idea. It sounded slightly mad, but it could work, he supposed. Certainly Kronk, along with a handful of earth elementals, could dig the moat. But there was one snag in their plan, he thought.

  “Yeah, Kronk could do the job, Clara. You know him, always happy to help.”

  Aeris made a gagging sound but Simon ignored him.

  “But the problem I see is, it will take hundreds, perhaps thousands of these metal spikes to line the bottom of the moat. How long would it take your blacksmith to forge them? And do you have enough metal to even start such a project?”

  Simon was waiting for a negative reaction to his questions, afraid that his friends hadn't quite thought this through. Instead, Clara just beamed at him.

  “Those are good points, Simon, but we've already thought of that.”

  She looked at Richard inquiringly.

  “We have indeed,” he said. “We've had some luck on our side. Or the gods help, if you believe the way our dear cleric here does.”

  Clara stuck out her tongue at the big man and he chuckled.

  “Anyway, our trading partners, the dwarves, appeared the day after the first attack. Be it providence or luck, they showed up and we told them what had happened. It was their idea to construct the moat, sir wizard, not ours. And they promised to supply us with enough spikes to do the job. Gregory will still have to enchant them, but he says that he can do that in bunches and that he could have them done in a day. We've been holding off though until we spoke to you.”

  Richard looked at Simon closely.

  “So what do you think?”

  “Think?” Simon looked around at the hopeful faces watching him and grinned broadly. “I think it's a wonderful idea! You have more than enough room around the circumference of the town for a moat and, if it saves lives, my friends and I,” he looked at Aeris who nodded vigorously, “will do whatever it takes to help you.”

  There was a general cheer from the group and Clara leaned over and gave him a quick hug.

  “Thank you so much, my dear friend,” she whispered. “I've been at my wits end trying to save my people.”

  Simon returned the embrace and then released her.

  “You take too much on yourself, Clara,” he told her quietly as the others laughed and talked loudly around them. “Cleric or not, you are only one person.”

  She gave him a teary smile and shrugged helplessly.

  “What else can I do?” she said and then, with a quick squeeze of his hand, she stood up and joined the others talking around the fire.

  Simon sat back and watched them as they sorted themselves out and then began to leave in groups.

  Everyone thanked the wizard as they passed him heading toward the door. Simon nodded and smiled at each of them and soon found himself alone with Clara and Aeris.

  “Come along, Simon, and I'll make you some tea,” the cleric said and waved toward her quarters at the rear of the hall.

  He stood up, grabbed his saddlebags and his staff, and followed her through the room. He winced a bit as he walked; it had been a while he had ridden and his butt was tingling uncomfortably.

  Inside her rooms, Clara got Simon settled on her leather sofa and went into her kitchen to make some tea.

  The wizard dropped his saddlebags next to the door and sat down with Bene-Dunn-Gal lying across his knees. He always kept his Magic Mouth spell in memory now and, using the staff to make it easier, he quickly cast the spell.

  “Kronk, can you hear me?” he said clearly. Aeris was floating above the arm of the sofa to his right and listening closely.

  “Master? Hello! I did not expect to hear from you until tomorrow at least.”

  “Yeah, I know. We've had some news since we arrived here. Let me fill you in.”

  And he did, explaining what had happened at Nottinghill and what they wanted to do.

  “Could you and your friends actually dig a moat around the town with the ground frozen?”

  “Of course, master! We would be happy to do it. If it will keep the cleric and her people safer, it is worth the effort.”

  Simon winked at Aeris, who smiled with some relief.

  Clara came back into the room carrying a tray with a teapot and cups on it. She set it down on a table and pour the tea while obviously listening to the one-sided conversation.

  “Excellent. Why don't you give them a call in my name, so they will answer the summons, and head down here when you're ready. You can start on the moat in the morning. Don't forget to lock up the tower and the gate before you leave.”

  “Very well, master. We should be there by sundown. And I always lock up before I leave,” he added tartly.

  Simon chuckled.

  “I know, my friend. So we'll see you when you get here.”

  “Yes master.”

  Simon ended the connection and then accepted tea from Clara.

  “Thanks,” he said to her and sipped the hot brew appreciatively.

  “My pleasure,” she said and sat down at the end of the sofa. “So, Kronk is going to help?”

  “Naturally. You know how eager he is to please.”

  The cleric smiled and then sat back with a sigh.

  “I am so relieved. These past few days have been trying. I've never lost people before and for one of them to be a precious child...”

  She shook her head helplessly.

  Simon watched her sympathetically.

  “I can't begin to understand how that feels, Clara, but with any luck, once this moat is installed, you won't have to face that horror again.”

  The cleric sipped her tea quietly and then looked at Simon, her expression bleak.

  “Won't I? The dark gods and their damnable dragons want us all dead. Yes, this moat may save my town for now, but what about the future? Walls and ditches won't stop a dragon.”

  Simon looked at her, began to speak and then sagged slightly in his seat.

  “I have no answers for you,” he said finally. “But I'm resolved to try to stop them, somehow. My powers are growing beyond even my expectations and, in a few months, I may be ready to at least try to plan an attack on one of the primals. The next most powerful dragon is the green, so that will be my target.”

  “That's absurd,” Aeris snapped.

  Both Simon and Clara looked at him in surprise. The elemental hadn't said a word since they'd arrived and now he floated to the middle of the room so that he could look at them both simultaneously.

  “You almost destroyed yourself once by trying to regain your powers too quickly, my dear wizard. And now you want to tempt fate again? You will not be capable of facing a dragon in a few months, and certainly not one of the remaining primal dragons.”

  Simon frowned at him.

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence, Aeris. But my convalescence is over with and I have passed beyond your babysitting.”

  He stood up and glared at the elemental.

  “I will decide my own fate now. And if and when I choose to face the dragons again, it will be my decision, not yours.”

  Aeris gaped at him, obviously surprised at the wizard's sudden mood change.

  Simon's resentful anger faded as quickly as it had come and he smiled ruefully at the
elemental. He sat down and picked up his tea cup.

  “Look, bud, I owe you and Kronk more than I can say. But the time for caution is quickly passing. Clara's right about the future. It is bleak. Unless we begin making plans, and soon, that poor little baby's death will only be the first of the next generation to fall.”

  The misty figure floated closer to Simon and watched him quietly for an uncomfortably long moment. Then he nodded abruptly.

  “You're right, of course,” he told the wizard in a quiet, serious voice. “Both Kronk and I are, perhaps, too close to you to see the big picture on occasion. We don't want you to die, Simon. It's that simple. But, well...” He looked almost helplessly at Clara. “The good cleric is correct, I suppose. Losing her people the way she did brings the horror of the future close to home.”

  He floated up to Simon's right and perched on the arm of the sofa again. His expression was more vulnerable than Simon had ever seen it and he felt a rush of guilt for snapping at the little guy.

  “Aeris, look. I'm not going to waste all of the good work you guys did getting me back on my feet and back to normal. And I promise you that I won't suicidally attack the first dragon I see. But when the time is right, I'll take my shot.” He grinned at Aeris' sudden eye roll. “And I hope you'll be there with me.”

  The elemental nodded once and looked past Simon to smile at the cleric.

  “Now you see what I have to deal with, day in and day out. It's worse than being a babysitter.”

  Clara had watched the interplay silently and now her gloomy expression gave way to giggles.

  “You two should take that act on the road, do you know that?”

  Simon chuckled.

  “I thought that we had,” he replied. He finished his tea, stood up and stretched to loosen up his stiff back.

  “It will take Kronk a few hours to get here, Clara. And, since I'll be at loose ends until then, I'd like to do a little reconnaissance before it gets dark. So, exactly how far is it to that cemetery?”

  Chapter 9

  Simon rode Chief away from Nottinghill, following the clear mess of staggering tracks left by the undead in the scattered drifts of snow. Aeris floated beside him resignedly, having exhausted all of the reasons that he'd thought of to convince the wizard that this was a terrible idea.

  “Aeris, it's still broad daylight,” Simon told him as he rode. Chief was lifting his hooves lightly as he moved, frisky and still full of energy even after the trip from home. He was the only one of the three who seemed to be in a good mood.

  “Even I know that zombies, or whatever these things are, can't rise until it's dark. So relax.”

  “Relax? Are you joking? I could understand if you were scouting out the source of these monsters for any good reason, but you're just going there out of curiosity!”

  “Supposed source,” Simon told him. “None of the folks from town actually know that the undead are coming from there. Something about these attacks doesn't feel right and I want to find out what.”

  “Which part?” Aeris asked sarcastically. “The part where the dead are rising? Or the part where they are slaughtering the living?”

  Simon sighed and guided Chief around a clump of brush on the trail they were following.

  “I mean the fact that Nottinghill has been attacked for three nights running and, by all accounts, Clara and her people have destroyed dozens, possibly a hundred of these creatures.” He halted the horse abruptly and looked at Aeris. “I've been to that town. Back before the Burning, I dropped by there several times for supplies. They had a great country store. It had everything. And I remember the quaint little cemetery on the edge of town. It had maybe a dozen tombstones; no more than that. It was a tiny place.”

  He gave Aeris a significant look and chirped at Chief to get him moving again.

  The elemental hovered in place for a moment and then hurried to catch up with Simon.

  “Wait a minute,” he said when he was beside the wizard again. “So you're saying the undead couldn't come from that cemetery?”

  “That's exactly what I'm saying,” Simon said grimly. “So if they aren't coming from there, where exactly are they coming from?”

  Aeris became quiet and thoughtful and they continued the journey in silence.

  Although the trail to the town was blocked by the occasional deadfall or high, crusty snowdrift, the path that the undead had forced through these obstacles had ironically made it easier for Simon to get to his destination. By about two in the afternoon, the remains of the small town came into view.

  The wizard remembered that the town had had a church with a lovely, delicate steeple soaring overhead. But now, as he looked across small mounds of snow and bare patches of brown, churned-up earth, all he saw was the shell of a building.

  The steeple had been smashed to the ground and lay alongside the gutted remains of the church. Fire had touched the quaint little building and blackened timbers leaned drunkenly in all directions, turning the church into a shapeless ruin.

  Simon directed Chief carefully through the town. The path of the undead was still leading him to his destination and they crossed through backyards, over broken roads and, most sadly, they made their way around the town's tiny war memorial.

  The wizard was reminded sharply of the melted slag that had been Ottawa's famous memorial. He had seen it when he had visited his home city and now here was another one.

  Simon stopped and dismounted. He dropped the reins and Chief stood quietly as the wizard walked a few steps to stand in front of the cenotaph.

  A bronze plaque, twisted and scarred, lay by a pile of rubble that must have been the marker that had listed the names of the several local soldiers who had died in one war or another. The writing on the bronze sheet was obscured by a scummy drift of snow and Simon squatted down and brushed it away slowly. Revealed beneath was only one legible word: 'Unconquered'.

  He stared at it blankly, his mind grasping for meaning. Slowly, Simon's mood changed from a hollow feeling of loss to one of kindled anger.

  Who did the simple people of this unnamed town ever hurt? All they had wanted to do was to live their lives, raise their kids, maybe find some happiness. Some, as commemorated by the cenotaph, had patriotically gone away to war, to fight and die for their home and country.

  He stood up and turned slowly, scanning the area, taking in the desolation. His vision blurred and he shook his head incomprehensibly. From the depths of his being, an cry boiled out of him.

  “Why?” he shouted in helpless rage.

  Aeris had been watching disinterestedly as Simon had poked through the ruin of the little memorial. At Simon's painful cry, he jerked upward and retreated a few feet. Then he stared gaping as the fragile-looking young man stood trembling in the middle of the ravaged town.

  “Simon?” the elemental ventured hesitantly. “Are you...okay?”

  The wizard wiped his eyes with an abrupt gesture, turned and mounted Chief again.

  “I'm fine,” he muttered. “Let's go while the daylight lasts.”

  He pulled the horse around and began walking along the churned path of the undead again, Aeris following behind. The elemental watched the wizard closely but remained silent.

  When they had reached the far end of the town, Simon pointed ahead.

  “There's the cemetery,” he told Aeris as they approached a storm fence that had been trampled and torn apart.

  “It looks like the monsters came from that place after all,” Aeris replied as his eyes followed the broken trail created by the undead.

  “Maybe,” the wizard said.

  When they reached the dismantled fence, Simon pulled up Chief and he and Aeris looked across the graveyard.

  It was indeed a small plot of ground. Dirty, faded tombstones lay toppled or tilted crazily in all directions. Simon totaled them up and looked at Aeris.

  “Fourteen,” he said as he waved at them. “That's all there are. Only fourteen.”

  Aeris darted ahead and follo
wed the frozen footprints into the cemetery. And out the other side. He turned and waited while Simon and Chief crossed the small square of land.

  “You were correct,” the elemental said with a rueful smile. “The undead came through the cemetery, but they came from somewhere else.”

  “Yes, I can see that. The question is, where exactly is that?”

  “The path continues into the trees there. Who knows how far? We should head back to Nottinghill, Simon. I doubt if you will find any answers today.”

  Simon stared at Aeris long enough for the elemental to begin to squirm.

  “You seem awfully anxious for me to return to Clara and the others,” he said.

  “Of course I am,” Aeris said. He waved above them at the sky. “It's only an hour, maybe two until nightfall. Surely you don't want to be caught out here after dark? Not with hordes of undead roaming the countryside?”

  Simon was torn. He wanted, no, he needed to get some answers about the source of the undead attacks. He had a strong feeling that something was going on; something more than random corpses rising from their graves.

  But Aeris was right. Getting attacked by those creatures alone in the wilderness, especially when he wasn't back to his full strength yet, was tantamount to suicide.

  With a resigned shake of his head, the wizard pulled Chief around and started back the way he'd come.

  “You win,” he told the elemental. “We'll head back. But I'm not done with this. I'm going to discover where those zombies are coming from, with or without your help.”

  Aeris looked relieved and took his place on Simon's right side.

  “With my help, actually,” he said.

  “What?”

  “My dear wizard, have you forgotten an air elemental's original function, back in the old days of magic? I am first and foremost a scout. If you'd like, at first light tomorrow, I'll endeavor to locate the source of these abominations. And then you can decide what to do about them.”

  Simon had to grin.

  “I thought you said this was a waste of time?”

  “No. What is a waste of time is you tramping through the woods looking for dead, crawly things. Your energies are best used to deal with these things once you have the proper information. And I will get that for you.”