Dragonslayer

by Matthew Lang

  “… is importaint to consydor the mystical energies captured by each of the elements you plann to use. The redcap toadstool, fore all its poison, is a potente source of katalytic energies—iff ye are trying to cast enchantments of decaye. Atteympting to use thee redcap in a poultice of healing or balm to turn the blayde of thy foes, wille nott worke. However, harnesfyng the strengthe inherant in claye, or etched stone will yield positive rysults. Alfo importynt are quantities, wych muft be in proportion to each other iffe the enchantment is to work. For example, the throwing of a balle of flame has allways been much prized by practitioners of the magickal arts, but the preparation of such a spelle is never as symple as they would have you believe. Whilft there are many wayes to achieve the desired effect, moft of the spellf I know of perfonally include the noxious smelling, yellow brimstone. Thys is combined with the Salt of Petreus, or catalyzed through the firey amber, but for best effyct, no more than twice the weight of brimstone than amber should be ufed, and no less than seven parts Salt of Petreus to one parte of brimstone iffe the El Quikaes school of thought is to be believed.”

  “What have you got there?” Duin asked.

  “A book on magic,” Adam said. “I think.”

  Duin grimaced. “Beyond me, then. I don’t know how people keep that in their heads.”

  “It looks a lot like science,” Adam said. “Chemical reactions and all that—just with a different understanding of energy and catalysts and—” He glanced up at Duin’s uncomprehending stare. “—alchemy,” he said after a brief pause.

  Duin laughed. “I don’t understand that either. I mean, turning lead into gold?”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Adam said. “At least not without having a solution of gold ions or something that had gold in it that you could extract with an electric current, and that would probably cost more than the gold itself, especially now, but… sorry, I’m talking my world again, aren’t I?”

  Duin smiled. “Yes, but I do not mind as long as you don’t expect me to add to the conversation.”

  Adam grinned. “This is what I study back home,” he said. “The alchemy at least, not the magic. Still, the fundamentals seem remarkably similar.”

  “Great,” Duin said. “You keep going with that, and I will get food. I’m famished, and I know you must be too.”

  “Actually, I should be okay for a bit longer,” Adam said. “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”

  “No, I can manage,” Duin said. “And I’m not much help with reading. It is hard enough working out what the words say, but when the pages are torn out of the covers….” Duin shrugged.

  “What?” Adam asked, rising to his feet.

  “This book,” Duin said. “Someone’s torn the pages out.”

  “Someone?”

  Adam and Duin shared a long, thoughtful glance. Wordlessly, Duin picked up the battered cover and handed it over.

  At first glance, the book looked much like any other that was sitting in the pile—slim, unassuming, and bound between thin sheets of cloth-covered wood.

  “The Book of Solmento,” Adam read. “Who’s he again? That name sounds familiar.”

  “According to legend, magister to King Henricus… or one of the King Henricuses anyway,” Duin said. “He foresaw the events of the Fall of Selune and the Long March. When the dragons first came from the skies, he was possessed by the gods, crying out horrible prophecies about the end of Aracao.”

  “Did he?” Adam asked skeptically.

  “So I’m told,” Duin said. “A number of them have come true. Selune has abandoned us, and we hide from the skies like children under the bed.”

  Adam blinked at the simile, coming as it did from someone who used the plainest speech possible most of the time.

  “His words,” Duin said. “That’s about all I can remember being taught when I was a child.”

  “You said he was ‘possessed by the gods,’ is that the same as being crazy?”

  “I… do not know, but if you are saying his speech made no sense and he sounded like a madman, then yes, I believe so.”

  “Then who wrote down what he said?”

  “Mennos, the high priest of Selune, I think.”

  “Okay. Why would Xavier want that book?” Adam asked. “If the book is that important, don’t the Aergonites have copies?”

  “I… think that is something we should ask when we find him.”

  A loud crash from the other end of the room dragged their attention back to the present, and a guilty-looking Zoul was backing away from a barrel of yellow powder, most of which had clumped together into a solid mass. Or had been before the lizard toppled it, causing a fair amount to spill onto the floor. Suddenly the great lizard turned away and sneezed, a complicated, multipart movement that saw his eyes squinch shut before his head jerked violently down, the ripple of the sneeze passing through much of his body, even pulling his foremost pair of legs off the ground entirely for just a brief moment.

  “Zoul…,” Duin began.

  “I love you, you big scaly beast,” Adam breathed, staring at the caked yellow powder.

  “What?” Duin said.

  “That stuff,” Adam said, “is going to make everything a lot easier.”

  “It is?”

  Adam grinned and threw his arms around Duin’s neck, then kissed him soundly. “I hope so,” he said. “Just trust me. Go and find us some food. I have work to do.”

  When Duin returned with a meal of barbecued cokudrillo and apples, Adam was pouring the last of a fine mixture into some of the small clay containers, then plugged them tightly with bunched rags.

  “You reek of brimstone,” Duin complained, wrinkling his nose as he entered the study. “And you’re as filthy as if you’d been crawling around in the muck all day.”

  Adam stared down at his stained clothing and nodded. “I suppose I am.”

  “And you were doing what, exactly?” Duin asked.

  “Alchemy, I hope,” Adam said. “Come on, we should finish up and go find Xavier.”

  “Yes,” Duin agreed. “I suppose we should.”

  Neither of them mentioned Esmeralda—or Darius.

  Duin continued to badger Adam for details throughout the meal, and especially when they packed the small round rag-plugged pots into a makeshift carry-harness for a less than enthusiastic Zoul. However, his questions stopped when they pushed along the corridor, past the turnoff to the kitchens, and down to what would have been a guard barracks. The barracks was the last door they were able to enter, the passage, and a good two-thirds of the room having been lost to the cave-in. It also stank. In other circumstances, this would have been something they would have expected—after all, water trickling into the once lush furnishings would cause rot and decay, especially as the room was now far from watertight.

  However, while there was certainly mildew, rot, and the first evidence of vermin Adam had expected to see throughout the rest of the keep, the former barracks smelled not just of rotting billets and slime, but of blood, death, and putrefying flesh. It also contained two dead bodies. Just inside the door, barely at the edge of the light being cast by the other stone light Darius and the others had been carrying, lay the corpses of a crested riding lizard and one captain of the guard. Both bodies were mangled and showed signs of battle. Darius’s corpse lay facedown with his right hand still on the hilt of his blade, and even to Adam’s inexperienced eyes, the lizard’s corpse bore the slashing wounds more likely to have come from the captain’s blade than anything else. A lizard’s bite would normally create a u-shaped series of puncture wounds, like the ones that could be seen through the holes in Darius’s shirt. Adam wasn’t sure where his armor was, but it appeared that the lizard’s attack had taken him by surprise.

  Farther into the room, the scene was even stranger. Esmeralda was backed up against the far intact corner. She had slumped to her knees, but both of her hands were raised above her head, palms out, a sphere of scintillating silvery white energy sur
rounding her form. Inside, Adam could see her arms trembling with effort, and her long dark hair was plastered against her forehead and hanging limply around her face.

  Magister Xavier stood closest to the light bowl, one arm stretched toward Esmeralda and the other stretched out toward the collapsed wall. Tendrils of fiery orange light played over everything, seemingly drawn from the rubble and across Xavier’s body before arcing out to strike against the globe encircling the princess. The magister himself was soaked with sweat, his pale green spider-silk robe stuck to his form, clinging to each muscle as his body strained under the magic he was channeling. His eyes widened when he spotted them in the doorway, and he called out to them.

  “Help me!” he cried. “Something… it’s trapped her. We have to get her out before she fades.”

  Adam hesitated, reassessing the situation. Duin, however, reacted instantly. As fur sprouted out across his body and his muzzle lengthened, Duin hurled his bamboo spear directly at Xavier, who managed to dodge the unwieldy weapon, its nonaerodynamic design doing little to help it fly true.

  “What was that—” Adam started.

  “He’s lying,” Duin growled, regaining his human features as the glow from the orange energy faded from the air.

  “Who’s a clever moonchild, then?” Xavier snarled, getting back to his feet. Raising his hands once more, he made a pulling motion, the muscles in his arms straining as he tightened his fingers into fists. In response, blocks tumbled from the wall, and a shower of dirt and pebbles rained down onto them. A large ivory-colored claw thrust into the room, pushing aside giant stones, and Adam’s eyes widened as the tongues of orange fire danced across the old dragon bone.

  For a moment they stared, transfixed, and then Adam, Duin, and Zoul scattered in three different directions to avoid the burst of energy that Xavier sent hurtling toward them. Adam ran into the room, Duin scrambled to the left, and Zoul ducked back into the corridor outside, all avoiding what appeared as filaments and strands bunching together into a tangled weblike mass that splattered into the ground, missing them. Adam had expected it to burn, to set something on fire, but instead, the energy twined its way across the floor and soaked into the corpses of Darius and whichever lizard had wound up dead on the floor. Whichever lizard. Adam didn’t even know its name.

  Then both Darius and the lizard twitched, shuddered, and jerked to their feet, eyes and mouths weeping flame. Darius’s fingers once more gripped his sword, and he slashed at Duin, who leapt for the fallen stone blocks. Despite his pluck and hunting experience on the surface, Adam knew Duin was not a trained fighter and that he relied on being able to outwit, outmaneuver, and when all else failed, outrun his opponents. Being stuck in an enclosed space with only one exit and friends in danger would be a recipe for another dead body, and Adam found his own route barred by the mass of the dead lizard, its mouth slavering for the first time since Adam had known it. His broadsword, ever an extension of his arm in practice and duels, suddenly seemed inadequate. Resolutely he struck forward and scored a blow across its snout. He would have expected it to have been able to dodge the blow—Zoul would have certainly—but perhaps the old zombie shuffle had some basis in fact. Fact. Zombies. Right.

  Even against a larger opponent, the drills he’d gone through back home, the mock battles, and the recent training with Darius came to him as naturally as breathing. Still, he felt the only thing keeping him from being snapped like a twig was the clumsy lack of control that Xavier was exhibiting. Adam had thought the magister would have played the corpses like puppets, but then Xavier screamed and the dragon bones stopped their push into the room, the tip of a snout and teeth now poking out of the rubble, allowing Duin to swing out of reach of Darius, who faltered momentarily. The once proud lizard too, collapsed in a heap, shaking uncontrollably, and Adam risked a glance over its form to Xavier, who was directing orange fire down to the shards of ice that had thrust out of the ground. Esmeralda had got to her feet and was leaning up against the wall, one hand gripping the stone and the other pushing upward through the air; her face strained with effort. Then her shield wavered, and Xavier lashed her with a torrent of flame—and this time, it burned straight through her defenses and wrapped around her. Gritting his teeth against Esmeralda’s scream, Adam darted past the reanimating lizard and swung his sword down hard at Darius’s corpse, the force of the blow jarring his blade, his muscles numbing as the vibration traveled up his arm.

  “You missed?” Duin said incredulously.

  Darius, or rather Darius’s corpse, turned its head and lashed out at Adam with its right hand. Or rather, its right hand stump, Adam’s initial attack having sliced off Darius’s hand at the wrist. Grinning, Adam kicked the sword away, only to be punched in the chest, the blow sending him reeling backward, as much from the heat as from the force of it. The flames coursing through Darius’s form were quite literally that—flames. Luckily for Adam, his stumble took him out of the path of the lumbering lizard, and he was pushed farther back as it barreled past, forcing Duin to jump even farther up the rubble pile, narrowly avoiding being crushed as a second great claw knocked more rubble into the room. Adam himself was scorched by the heat of the lizard’s passing and fell back against a warm scaled form. With a cry that was very nearly a scream, he whirled to face a very surprised Zoul, who let out a high-pitched chirp, his crest rising as he backed away.

  “Zoul! Don’t sneak up on me in battle,” Adam said, realizing immediately how ridiculous that sounded. Then he whirled around, worried about his exposed back, only to find both zombies were trying to knock Duin off his perch. And if the riding lizard worked out how to use its feet properly, or Xavier managed to draw the dragon bones far enough in or got enough power out of them to incinerate the lot of them….

  Zoul hissed menacingly and butted Adam, the clay bottles clinking gently in their padded bag.

  “Zoul, no!” Adam said sharply, pressing his free hand back against the lizard’s snout.

  Xavier glanced over at Adam, gesturing with his right hand, and the now one-handed Darius turned and stumbled toward them. “That is the first smart thing you have done so far,” Xavier said, his chest heaving. “You know her quest has nothing to do with you,” he said, jerking his head in Esmeralda’s direction. “And I know as well as you do that all you really want… is to go home.”

  “You don’t know that,” Adam said, pushing Zoul back step by cautious step, trying to keep both Darius and Xavier within his sight.

  “Of course I do,” Xavier said. “I saw it inside your head—back when her magnificence Khalivibra first flew over us.”

  “You?”

  “Of course. Someone has to lead us back to glory, and do you really think it’s going to be someone like you? Or her?” he said, sneering in Esmeralda’s direction. “As she said herself—it’s not like she’s qualified to lead a disparate people.”

  “And the dragon is?”

  “Well, with the right guidance, yes.”

  “The right guidance… being you?”

  “She has shown me the future and asked for my help. Does it not make sense?”

  “Yeah, well, unless that future was ‘roasted,’ I think you’ve been had.”

  “I have seen the proof of her ascension, and with her power and my guidance, we will lead the people into the light.”

  “So why kill everyone?” Adam asked, his free hand bumping into the padded fur pouches he and Duin had tied onto Zoul’s back. “Unless by people, you mean zombies.”

  Xavier smiled. “Well, I can’t have anyone—woman or cursed beast—who’s going to try to work against her golden glory.”

  “What, you’re saying Duin’s a threat?” Adam asked.

  Xavier shrugged. “Not for very much longer.” Overhead, the dragon’s jaw pushed through the wall, toppling the block Duin was standing on, and he was forced to jump to another, scrambling to stay out of range and avoid the fiery energy that crackled over the dragon’s skull, its lower jaw falling to the floor
with a clatter.

  Adam lunged forward, pressing one end of the formaldehyde-soaked rag he’d used as a plug against Darius’s face, shoving hard enough to send the corpse shuffling backward. “Catch,” he said as he lobbed the jar in a wobbly trajectory toward the necromancer.

  Xavier stepped back, easily avoiding the jar. “You really sh—”

  Then Adam’s impromptu grenade exploded, sending shards of glass and pottery and smoke in all directions, and for the second time, Xavier faltered. As the zombies collapsed into quivering heaps, Duin jumped, rolling as he hit the floor. One clawed hand grabbed Darius’s fallen sword, and then he was on his feet with the blade sliding through Xavier’s chest. Xavier gasped and stared down at the blade protruding from his breast, slick with his blood. Then he toppled over, his knees collapsing as he hit the floor.

  Chapter 13

  THE SUDDEN silence was deafening. As the light faded back to pale Aergonite green, Adam walked slowly into the room, barely noticing Zoul following him in. Duin paused just long enough to slit Xavier’s throat before stepping over the sudden pool of blood to help Esmeralda to her feet. As he brought her into the circle of light, Adam could appreciate how vicious the magical battle had been. Esmeralda’s eyes were dark with lack of sleep, her clothing largely in tatters, and her skin covered in welts and burns where Xavier’s attacks had scored.

  “Are you all right, Your Highness?” Adam asked tightly.

  Esmeralda nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice weak. “Thank you.”

  “Yes,” Duin agreed. “What was in that flask?”

  Adam shrugged. “Gunpowder. I mean, exploding powder and whatever shards of debris I could find to improvise a bomb with. Not really enough force to kill outright, but enough to cause some damage and a lot of distraction.”