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

by J. J. Thompson

He tore his gaze away from the sight and looked at Heather.

  This is it, he thought. Let's hope I've done this right.

  “Okay then, here it is. You have my true name in your possession, right? So, where do you keep yours?”

  Simon watched the woman closely as he asked his question and saw her hand twitch involuntarily toward her throat before she gave him a look of disdain.

  “Did you really think I would tell you that? And what does it matter? You cannot use your magic on the one who knows your true name, little wizard. Don't you know that?”

  She looked up quickly.

  “Now, make your decision, Simon. Join us and live. Deny us and die. Those are your only choices.”

  “Actually, there's a third choice,” he said and stepped back quickly. “Now!” he shouted.

  “What?” Heather said, confused. And then the ground around her exploded in all directions.

  A half-dozen earth elementals leaped upward and grabbed her, pulling her off her feet and slamming her to the earth.

  Simon moved forward while the former witch was pinned by Kronk and his fellow earthen, but faltered as Heather laughed.

  “What a fool you are, Simon,” she said as she looked up at him. She was spread-eagled against the ground, her arms and legs held down by the enormous strength of the little elementals.

  “I have your true name. And now you've forced me to use it. Ah well, at least your death at my hands will be quicker than what the green dragon would do to you.”

  She grinned evilly up at him.

  “Good bye, foolish wizard.”

  An incantation spewed from her lips, spoken so quickly that Simon couldn't even tell what spell she was casting. But instead of trying to stop her, he simply stood and watched.

  “Master!” Kronk cried out from where he held one of the woman's shoulders against the ground. “Quickly, you must stop her.”

  Simon smiled at his little friend and shook his head.

  “Let her dig her own grave, Kronk,” he said tightly. “She's more than earned it.”

  Heather finished her incantation and then hesitated, looking up at Simon in confusion.

  “You want to die, do you?” she asked him.

  “No, and for all you've done, I don't want you to die either. Surrender and you can keep your life. All I will take from you is your true name, and your power.”

  She hissed and spat at him, then laughed crazily.

  “Oh, is that all? I have you, fool. Now burn! I invoke this spell with your true name.”

  With a great convulsion, Heather pulled her shoulders out of the earthen's grasp and pointed at Simon.

  “Invectis ienna Nomis!” she cried loudly and then cackled, watching him with anticipation.

  Her laughter turned to screams as Heather burst into flames; fire covering her as if she'd been soaked in kerosene.

  The earthen moved back quickly. They weren't harmed by the fire but simply stepped back while the former witch writhed and convulsed in her final agonies.

  Part of Simon regretted her death, but a very small part. He remembered the heap of bodies in that burned-out farmhouse. Mundane humans or Changlings, it made no difference. They were innocents, cruelly destroyed by Heather for her own ambitions.

  The fire that the wizard had involuntarily called down upon herself was so intense that within moments she had burned to ashes. If she had been wearing her true name around her neck, on a pendant or something, it was consumed. Nothing remained but a faint outline that hinted at a human figure.

  Around the field, the wall of thorns shuddered and faded from a vibrant green to a dead brown color. It shivered and collapsed into itself, snapping and crackling as it dried out and died. A smell of dust swept across the field from the remains of the barrier.

  Simon sighed and wiped his sleeve across his forehead.

  Well, he thought, that was step one. Now things are going to get really bad.

  “Master?”

  He looked down as Kronk hurried over to him. The little guy pointed up at the swirling sky.

  “I was listening below ground, master. Is the green dragon truly on its way?”

  “I'll go out on a limb and say yes.”

  The wizard looked up at the intensifying colors swirling high above them.

  “But moving something as large as a dragon through a Gate probably takes more time and power than it would for just a person. Hopefully we have a few minutes before it arrives. Come on.”

  Simon turned and ran back to the cottage, Kronk hard on his heels.

  Inside, he grabbed Bene-Dunn-Gal and tore the cloth off of it. The staff purred happily at his touch.

  “Yeah, nice to see you too,” Simon told it as he hurried to the witch's table and searched through the heaps of detritus that littered its surface.

  “Ah, thank God,” he exclaimed with relief as he found his rawhide necklace with the dragon crystal and the dwarven token still attached.

  He slipped it over his head and tucked it inside his robe, found his shoes and put them on and then headed outside again.

  “I'm glad to get that crystal back,” he told Kronk as they rejoined the five other earthen. All of the little guys were watching the now huge round spot in the sky with trepidation.

  “At least the dragon won't be able to absorb my magic when it gets here.”

  “But master, I don't understand something.”

  Simon leaned his staff against his chest, wiped his face off again and pushed back his hair. Then he planted Bene-Dunn-Gal butt-first on the ground and looked down at his little friend.

  “What don't you understand?” he asked, looking up from time to time in anticipation.

  “The witch, wizard, whatever she was,” Kronk gave the pile of ashes that were Heather's remains a quick glance, “had your true name. Her spell should have done to you what it did to her. Why did it not work?”

  Simon smiled a crooked grin.

  “Call it my own paranoia, I suppose. You remember last year, when I learned that I needed to know my own true name before I could use magic most effectively?”

  “Of course, master. You asked us how wizards kept their names with them, what items they used.”

  Simon nodded slightly as he glanced skyward again.

  “Yes, and I said then that a bracelet or ring would be a bit obvious and that if a wizard were captured, their names could be stolen and used against them.”

  “But, master, that is what happened!” Kronk said emphatically. “You wisely decided to inscribe your true name on your belt buckle but the witch found it anyway. I heard her use it when she cast her spell.”

  “Did you?”

  Simon looked down at the earthen and grinned.

  “What did you hear?”

  “Your secret name, master. It was...”

  Kronk hesitated and the wizard nodded encouragingly.

  “It was Nomis, master,” the little guy said, almost whispering.

  Simon couldn't help it. He began laughing. There was a slight note of hysteria in the sound, but he could feel some of his fear diminish in the honest rush of emotion.

  He calmed down and shook his head.

  “Kronk, my little friend, Nomis is just Simon spelled backwards. Heather's spell was aimed at no one and so it rebounded on her.”

  The little red eyes widened as the earthen absorbed what the wizard had said.

  “Then, then, the name inscribed on the buckle was just a ruse,” he said to himself.

  “Yes, Kronk. It was a trick. I took Aeris' suggestion last year, the one that I initially thought was nuts, and decided to run with it.”

  “His...?” Kronk frowned, obviously trying to remember what was said in that long ago conversation. He gave a little jerk as he finally recalled what they had talked about.

  “You put your name on your body itself?” he asked Simon in a small voice.

  “I did. I won't tell you exactly where, but I don't think I need to. You saw me limping for a day or tw
o after that.”

  Kronk looked at Simon's feet, looked up at him again, and the wizard winked at him.

  “Master, you are brilliant,” the earthen said in awe.

  “Not brilliant, my friend. Just lucky. I...”

  A blast of hot wind, smelling of damp weeds and rotting plants suddenly swept down from above and sent Simon reeling, wiping his stinging eyes.

  “Sir wizard, it comes!” one of the earth elementals called out. They all looked up and Simon felt fingers of fear crawling up his spine.

  An enormous shadow, vague and monstrous, could be seen through the red haze of the circle in the sky. Vast wings flapped slowly and then folded close to the body and out of the Gate shot the overwhelming figure of a dragon, hurtling earthward like a gigantic bird of prey.

  Simon and Kronk exchanged looks.

  “Here we go,” the wizard said and he raised Bene-Dunn-Gal.

  Yeah, he thought. Here we go.

  Chapter 25

  The green dragon was not built the same way the black had been and Simon was taken aback slightly. It looked more serpentine, writhing in the air like a winged serpent. Its body was hundreds of feet long but narrow and snake-like, with glittering green scales the color of pond scum.

  Around the diving dragon, a toxic cloud of emerald-colored gas seemed to seep out of its body and leave a trail like smoke behind it.

  “All of you, get underground, right now!” Simon shouted at the elementals.

  They all stared at him for a moment and he made a savage gesture downward.

  “You can't help me in this. Get to safety.”

  They disappeared into the earth as one, except for Kronk, who hesitated.

  “Go, my friend,” Simon told him gently. “Just wish me luck, and go.”

  “Good luck, master,” Kronk said in a little voice and bowed before he slipped into the ground.

  Freed of all distraction, Simon watched the dragon winging toward him. When the huge body was no more than a hundred feet above the clearing, the monster extended its wings and halted its dive toward the earth, hovering on lazily flapping wings as its horned head dipped down to scan the ground beneath it.

  Simon had no idea if a dragon's vision was all that good, but he guessed that it was. Probably as keen as a hawk's, at least.

  The dragon seemed to take in the entire scene at a glance. Heather's ashes were still scattered on the ground, moving a little in the wind blowing down from the massive wings.

  It looked from side to side, perhaps looking for tricks or traps, but finally the head pointed straight down and huge yellow eyes caught Simon's own in a hate-filled gaze.

  “So you are the wizard,” roared a voice like thunder. Simon staggered at the sound, but drew himself up and held that draconic glare as best as he could.

  “I see you have destroyed my servant,” it continued, the head turning slightly to look at the ashes. “Well done. You are more powerful than you seem, I think.”

  Simon didn't answer. After all, what could he say?

  “Did she, perhaps, make you an offer before you took her life?”

  The wizard nodded silently.

  “Ah, I see. Then the answer was no, I assume. That is unfortunate. We could use a talent like yours.”

  A light whiff of chlorine slipped by Simon's face and he turned away, coughing violently. Over his head, a hissing laugh echoed down from the dragon.

  “Ah yes, I am rather difficult to approach for you little humans. My breath is rather...toxic, I believe is the word.”

  Simon waved a hand in front of his face and looked up, eyes streaming with tears.

  “That is why I have not come down to see you, tiny wizard. My very presence would mean your death. And now, we are at an impasse, aren't we? I presume you have some little surprise in store for me, a trick perhaps, like the ones you used against my sibling?”

  The dragon's gaze intensified and Simon could feel its power beating down on him.

  “Vile, ignominious, cheating way to destroy such a noble being. Instead of matching power for power, you used subterfuge to claim victory. Well, such tricks will not work on me. I am above them and I intend to stay above them.”

  My God, this thing loves the sound of its own voice, Simon thought. But he also realized something else. The dragon actually sounded cautious, nervous. Was it possible that the huge monster was afraid? Afraid of a human? He wished he could believe that.

  “Well, I have things to do, wizardling. Places to go, humans to kill. You know how it is. After all, you've just killed one yourself, haven't you?”

  The dragon chuckled deeply in its throat, a wet, satisfied sound. It was as if it could feel Simon's guilt over Heather's death and was using it against him.

  “I don't kill innocents!” Simon finally roared up at it.

  “Ah, the wizard speaks. How gratifying. You don't kill innocents, hmm? Well, neither do I. Neither do any of my kin. Your people raped and pillaged this planet for their own selfish needs. Our return has actually saved your world from you! We are not killers, we are saviors. Think on that, little one. Oh, and while you do that, allow me to give you something to pass the time. Consider it a gift, since you seem eager for battle.”

  The dragon dipped down and approached the open field. Simon raised Bene-Dunn-Gal.

  “Shield,” he barked and an opaque globe surrounded him, immediately purifying the air of the stink of chlorine and allowing him to breathe freely.

  He waited for the dragon to attack, thinking of the spells he had imbued his staff with; would any of them be effective against...that?

  But the dragon only dropped to within fifty feet of the ground, its monstrous, writhing body blocking out the sky. It seemed to shiver along its length and Simon backed up so quickly he tripped and fell over. He pushed himself back along the ground, moving like a crab on his hands and feet as he realized what was happening.

  The green dragon wasn't covered only in scales. Pieces began to flake off of its body, pieces that Simon recognized, not as scales but as drakes.

  Horrible miniature versions of the dragon, these wingless mini-dragons looked like their host but their serpentine bodies were only ten feet long. They slammed into the ground at the far end of the field and Simon pushed himself to his feet frantically, thinking of a spell he could use against the creatures.

  When a dozen drakes had been shaken loose, the dragon flapped its wings strongly and rose up again to hover at its original height, apparently watching the battle with interest.

  The drakes were slow to get to their feet, seemingly dazed from their fall from the dragon. While he had time, Simon wracked his brain for a proper defense.

  He scanned the field, looking for some sort of inspiration. A boulder, half buried and too large to have been removed by Heather, stuck out of the ground near the cottage and Simon nodded to himself.

  Good enough, he thought. I need to get off the ground for this to work.

  He raced toward the boulder, his shield moving with him, and leaped to the top of the rock. He was now about three feet off the ground and he turned just in time to see the drakes form up and move as one toward him.

  They moved like snakes, their sinewy bodies pushed along by their vestigial legs. They were hissing with the sound of high-pressure steam vents and small puffs of chlorine trailed along behind them.

  Okay, this better work, the wizard thought. If it does, I'll thank Kronk later. It was his idea, after all.

  He pointed Bene-Dunn-Gal at the ground in front of the boulder and felt the staff bite deep for its tribute of blood. With a shudder, Simon shouted, “Quicksand!”

  The ground leading from the base of his perch out toward the rapidly approaching drakes began to bubble and steam, ripples of water suddenly rising from deep underground to loosen the hard earth. The drakes either didn't notice or didn't care about the ground in front of them. They were all staring hungrily at Simon, shooting toward him like mindless missiles, their hisses rising in volume until th
ey were almost ear-splitting.

  The swampy earth kept radiating outward, approaching the drakes who continued to race forward.

  When the snake-like monsters hit the wet, soft dirt, for a moment their momentum carried them forward and they seemed oblivious to their suddenly precarious situation.

  But dumb creatures or not, they finally realized that something was wrong.

  All of the drakes stopped moving at once and looked around in confusion. The expressions on the snaky faces was almost comical, until they tried to move forward again and found themselves trapped and sinking in sticky, loose mud.

  The resulting chaos was deafening. The drakes shrieked and roared. Trying to pull their limbs out of the quicksand only made them sink faster. They bit at the mud, blasted it with their poisonous breath, leapt upward as if trying to fly. But it was all useless.

  One by one, hissing, screaming, they were pulled beneath the sucking muck, their cries turning to loud bubbling and gurgling. A few moments later, all that was left were patches of foam on the wet ground and the occasional pop of a muddy bubble. The drakes were gone.

  Simon had watched impassively, but he was disgusted by the whole thing. Killing, even these evil brutes, was not something that he did lightly. When he was certain that the drakes were deep enough to remain trapped, he canceled the spell. The ground shook and cracked, drying out almost instantly until it looked arid and sere, dessicated like soil after a drought.

  He transferred his staff to his left hand and wiped the blood off of his palm. Then he switched it back to his right hand and looked up at the watching dragon.

  There were no roars of anger from the green, no immediate attacks. It didn't seem to care that Simon had just destroyed a dozen of its minions. But the wizard wasn't fooled. He remembered how enraged the primal black had been when he had killed a handful of its drakes.

  Simon squinted up at his foe. This one is tricky, he thought. Cunning. Sly. Just like a snake in the grass, it's biding its time, looking for a weakness, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

  I have to get it down to ground level for the plan to work. He grimaced to himself. If it works. Odds are I'll be smashed to jelly or get poisoned to death.