22. DEVIN, YEAR 496
Devin leaned against the railing of the barge, his eyes focused on the mountains to the north even as the lazy current nudged the boat west towards the sea. The leaves had just begun to turn and the mountainside was a riot of bright colors. The mountain and the sea both had quaint, local names, but Port Eclare was the only name that mattered. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw the punter stationed on the stern sigh and dip his pole into the water. Devin gripped the railing, anticipating the rough jolt as the punter braced his pole upstream against the muddy bottom and pushed the boat along.
The artifice mage thanked the five gods for his black, leather boots and matching, albeit slightly burnt, star-spangled cape which draped over his shoulders as both his flesh and metal foot failed to slide on the wet deck. Styx's black, peaked hat completed the outfit. Devin relaxed his grip as the boat shuttered again. It wouldn't do for the crew to see him clutching the rails. He had to maintain a certain gravitas. The rocking and the stiff, salty breeze threatened to knock the mage hat off his head. Devin jammed the brim over his eyebrows, gaze traveling past the river banks and up towards the mountains.
The mountain range stretched into the north like a sword blade half buried down its length in the dirt. The sun rose before it like a banked forge fire, replacing the sleeping night with blinking colors and yawning shadows. Somewhere far, far in the barbarian north was the hilt where the mountains split, but Devin wasn't trying to find the hilt. After two seasons of traveling and then following the river, he had finally reached the tip of the mountains where the river curled around them and spilled into the sea. And in the long shadow at the tip of that mountain blade lay the ruins of Port Eclare.
Devin could see more hints and glimpses of the abandoned city crafted from white stone the closer they got to the sea. He had started smelling the salt and hearing the gulls in the air the day before. It almost felt like coming home. The mountain tip curled around the city like a dragon talon, forming a natural defensive barrier against the river and the sea. Broken, pale marble spires built to resemble dragon heads stretching their necks and peering over the walls rose at regular intervals along the parapet snaking atop the mountain ridge. Reposed dragon statues carved along the wall stretched between and draped over the towers. At least, Devin's boggled mind assumed they were statues until a large, silver maven threw back her head and roared.
So many dragons. The youth stared with rapt glee. One by one, the statues began to move.
As the sun seeped into their muscles, even the smaller dragons on the wall grew more mobile, stretching their limbs and twisting their necks. The largest dragon, the roaring silver maven whose head was larger than one of the spires, began swatting younger animals off the wall. After the leviathan had cleared her basking territory, one of the younger dragons, a golden drake knocked over the river side of the wall with one wing hanging limp at his side, clawed his way up the blocks and bit the tip of her tail. The silver dragon screeched and shook her tail, knocking the young drake off the wall again.
The drake launched a second attack, this time striking the delicate membrane of the female's wing draping over the wall. First he scratched. Then he chewed. Then he flamed. She shook her wing and screamed as this just made his teeth and claws more effective. As he shredded and burnt her, it was as though passing a signal. All the other smaller dragons the old leviathan had beaten down rose up and attacked like a swarm of fangs and fire. Devin smiled as the large, silver brute writhed and screamed in pain as her rivals exacted their brutal vengeance. The young drake with the broken wing climbed to the summit of the leviathan's hips, stretched his head into the sky, and sent a roaring flame of victory into the heavens.
Once again, these so-called beasts impress me, Devin thought. They are real magic creatures, calculating and precise with their sorcerous breath, not the flaming, mindless animals from the fairy tales. All the magic and power in the world are useless without a winning strategy.
The winning strategy required cooperation among team mates, the artificer murmured.
Bah! Those other dragons were nothing more than pawns, the mage snorted. The individual is key.
It's how the pieces work together that matters, Devin realized, whether parts of a machine or parts of a team. Unwittingly, he thought of the brass watches and the mess of gears and widgets tucked away inside them. And how exactly do all those parts team up to drain my magic? Could disrupting a key individual component disrupt the entire team?
The barge soon left the dragon battle on the wall behind. After they passed the bend in the river, Devin could better examine the remains of the city. He saw the broken, scattered bones of something glorious. An unbroken circle of five towers shaped like alabaster dragons raised on their haunches sitting eye level with the mountain peaks dominated the center of the valley. The dragons' massive stone heads faced downward, their cold, eternal eyes surveying the dead city. The dragon towers were pristine, their masonry unblemished as the devastation and dust of the centuries swirled and fell around them. That alone would evoke fear in the locals, not counting the pale, eternal dragon fire.
In the dawn light, Devin could see a pale glow emanated from the mouths of the dragon towers which bathed the center of the pale city ruins with an eerie luminescence. The rising sun had begun to overpower the weak, blue light. The city rubble stretched into the inlet where fishes roamed the abandoned buildings. The port in Port Eclare had long since survived the marauding dragons only to fall to shifting sands and the fickle sea. Or so he had heard.
Dragons wheeled and screeched over the ruined city as if daring men to return. The majestic, scaled predators perched on mountain peaks and launched themselves into the ruins to snatch what foolish, foreign seagulls migrated into the range of their jaws. The local gulls knew better and stayed away. The local human populace had not, but in the past, the dragons seemed content to let the barges ply their trade so long as nobody dared contest their claim on the city itself.
For some reason, all the barge traffic mysteriously disappeared at the river's mouth and locals blamed the dragons. Devin had offered his talents as a latter day battle mage to placate the fearsome beasts in exchange for free passage and a small sack of coins. The hairy, barrel-chested first mate had not believed the boy's claims. The man's broken arm was still swathed in bandages and the other sailors stopped teasing him about his blistering, hard boiled head days ago. He wondered what they thought one wizard could do against a catastrophe of dragons, but his services came cheap. Most of the other sorcerers pretending to uphold the ancient, lost traditions of the battle mages were wearing the colors of the King's Army. But a soldier wasn't a battle mage; he was just a magician wearing armor.
“Sorry for the jolting, young sir.” Captain One Eye Ollie clapped a rough, callused hand on Devin's shoulder. “The old Ripscale River, she's a pushy dame back east, but she gets tired so close to the ocean, see? And then Long Arm Andy gets to earn his grog money.”
“A beautiful sunrise and an impressive city,” Devin said for want of anything to say.
“Bargemen do avoid it like the shoals. I had hoped to pass the outer city in the night, young sir. I wanted to put into the inlet before dawn while the wyverns slept,” Captain Ollie sighed. “The Ripscale is a fickle mistress. See how the shadows loom over the ruins yonder? Those five, ancient towers? Did I ever tell you the mournful tale of Port Eclare?” the man asked, setting his elbows on the railing and hunkering next to the boy wizard.
Devin made his face assume an expression of hopeful expectation as he turned towards the captain. “No, Captain Ollie, never. Why, I've love to hear it.” Only every chance you get. A day on this boat would not be complete without the Tale of Port Eclare. When I boarded, it was all so distant and dry, a historical curiosity. But the closer we've gotten to port, the more wet and grisly your tale becomes. I wonder if you're hoping to scare one of us off our mutual destination, my good captain?
“Well,” the captain said.
“Port Eclare sank into the seas of history long before the kingdom rose from the depths as it were. It was all city states in the days of yore: no kings, no queens, no emperors. The city was captained by a group of wizards. Five dragon towers for five dark, powerful wizards. They say the wizards joined hands and made the entire city in a single day, towers to port. Then they stretched their arms and bent the very mountain range to their whim. Some say those men thought they were the five gods themselves.” He glanced at his young, magical companion. “All wizards don't think such blasphemous thoughts, do they, young sir?”
“Occupational hazard.” Devin smiled. “When you can create a city in a day and wrap a mountain around it, delusions of godhood come naturally.” He shrugged. “All I've ever built was a cabin. Hardly divine.”
“They trained the first battle mages here to fight wyverns,” the captain spread his arms, “and capture more of the giant, mystical beasts. Every city state fell before them and became another realm of slaves to feed their awful pets. Have you never seen a wyvern feed? Like giant scaly sharks with wings and fire. Brutal beasts, young sir. They toy with their prey, too. A wyvern can shuck a knight from his armor like we would crack an oyster. Or just roast him.”
“A grisly sport, Captain,” Devin said. “A point of fact, I have seen a dragon toy with . . . ”
The captain shook his head mournfully. “The whole horrible society worshiped wyverns. I know modern mages don't hold to this, young sir, but they believed wyverns were the source of their terrible powers. The five dark wizards kept their wyverns fat and happy and kept the citizens content. A city enslaved to magic. Slaves built this town, not with muscles, but with the flesh and fluids of their bodies. Wyvern magic, young sir. Blood magic.”
“Blood magic is a myth,” Devin laughed. “Magic comes from the well within our souls. Besides, ask ten different wizards where they get their powers and you get fifty different answers.”
“Laugh if you like,” the captain said, pointing to the glowing towers, “but soon a few pets wasn't enough. They sent the battle mages out like roving pirates to capture more wyverns, capture more slaves. More beasts, more magic, more power. They turned their entire city into a lure for the wyverns. It was their doom, young sir.”
“Ha! They got more dragon than they could handle,” Devin said, gesturing to the beasts sunning themselves on the walls. “But how did they attract the creatures?”
Captain Ollie shrugged. “Nobody knows. But their spells hold power to this day. Those towers are anchored in time, surviving even as the city crumbles around them. Every year the new adults reach a certain size and their bodies change; they set course like ships on a trade wind and every young wyvern, drake and maven both, flies west to Port Eclare. They look like a dark storm cloud on the eastern horizon, young sir.”
“Every year? How do they all fit?” Devin asked.
“Oh, the spell seems to wear off eventually and the beasts rotate out like ships on a docking slip. The lads used to make a game of drake-spotting before the troubles began.”
“Then all those dragons spread along the mountain range?” Devin asked.
“The Black Peak Mountains, yes. But now all the dragons are riled and the barges are vanishing. Still think you can fight all those scaly monsters now you can see them, young sir? Can you handle undead, dark wizards, too?”
Devin held up his hands. “I promised to placate the dragons, not fight them. I have a good idea what's gotten them riled, Captain. Once I remove that distraction,” he spread his hands, “then the Riptide River shall be peaceable once more.” And something tells me it's not dragons sinking all those ships.
“You mean the Ripscale River, young sir. What of the undead? They say the ghosts of the five wizards and their sacrifices haunt the city. It's not just light that comes out of those towers at night. Moaning, screams, curses. Some say the blood sacrifices have resumed. They say the dragons feast on human flesh once more.”
I bet they do. They feast on Black Guards, Devin thought, turning to face the captain. The thought of his enemies in the belly of a dragon made him happy and wistful at the same time. “You hired me to solve your dragon problem and make the river safe again, Captain Ollie. Investigating haunted cities and solving ancient mysteries will cost more than you can afford.”
Three ship masts came into view as the river bent around the mountains, hints of sail and black and red imperial flags flapping in the breeze, but everyone's attention rose higher to the circle of dragons flying above the masts. As the barge approached the beach, one of the dragons, a smaller, dark blue specimen, folded its wings and dove towards the barge. The dragon lowered its head and flames spewed between its mouth while smoke curled from its nostrils like twin chimneys.
Everyone but Devin covered their heads and dropped to the deck. The youth could feel his neck bristle and smell the hairs singe as the beast passed overhead, angling down, disappearing towards the inlet beach.
“Now was that brilliant blue beauty of a dragon. A young drake or a small maven, do you think?” Devin asked, tapping the quivering shoulder of a crew member huddled behind the railing.
The man screamed. Devin sighed as the barge carried him closer to the beach. Everyone still sees them as dumb beasts. Why can't they appreciate the dragons as I do?
Large, seafaring ships below the three masts came into view as the barge was caught in an eddy and drifted into the inlet on the concave side of the curving mountain range. Two of the ships were burnt husks and the last was half sunk in the shallows. A fat, crescent moon shaped beach rose from the sea and abutted the low, crumbling western wall of Port Eclare. Dragons basked along the top of the wall, watching the commotion on the beach with lazy disinterest as one of their number fought the guards. The rising sun behind the city cast a shrinking shadow on the sand. Loose rubble and foundations of long forgotten buildings extended beyond the wall and littered the beach.
The dragon, a black drake even larger than the silver maven on the wall with massive, twisting bone auger horns, was surrounded by a barricade of shields. The beast flamed and swatted at the pikes protruded through gaps in the shields. The dragon's hide was bristling with open wounds and weapons. The creature tried to launch itself into the air, crying piteously as it's shredded wings flapped in the sea breeze before crashing back to the ground. The guards made a game of flanking the creature, stabbing and cruelly twisting their pikes in it's hide. The dragon snapped and flamed the threat, exposing it's bleeding flanks to the next attack. The knights cheered each fresh wound. Several lay battered or dead on the ground in the human wall arena they had created, armor broken and smashed, but not nearly enough of them.
There was something not quite right about that armor and it tugged at the back of Devin's mind. Who cares about their armor? Devin thought. That poor dragon.
The captain peeked over the railing. “Cor, those men are playing with the wretched beast.”
“Indeed they are Captain Ollie. And it's time I joined the game.” Devin kicked off his boots, stripped his hat and robes and passed them to the bewildered captain before vaulting over the railing. His feet splashed as he hit the shallows and he took a moment to admire the liquid light dancing across his metal shin.
The black dragon flicked the wall of shields and red armor with his tail and Devin was reminded of the flags flying on the ships. When was the last time I saw the imperial flag? he wondered. Red. The armor is red. This is the army. Where are the Black Guard? Why is the army here? Why aren't the other dragon helping the black one?
The dragon screamed as the next attack drove pikes into his neck. Devin shook his head. None of that matters. The dragon fights alone. The youth smiled at the memory of the one-winged, golden drake leading the charge. But he doesn't have to.
Devin ran down the beach, driving all his energy down into his toes and clenching it within hims body until his feet began to glow. He advanced towards the dragon, leaving a path of steaming glass footprints in his wake.
The gigantic, black drake ignored the youth and focused on finding chinks in the barricade. As Devin watched, closing the distance, a gray bearded man stepped through the shield wall and launched his helmet at the dragon.
Devin saw a large white general's insignia painted on the man's red chest plate He could not help but think of the toy soldiers in the shop window at Ingeld.
The general's beard snapped in the wind like a bushy pinion hanging from his chin as he reached over his shoulder. The man drew a large, two-handed bastard sword which he held poised over his head. The dragon turned to snatch the helmet and the man threw his sword. The blade sliced through the wind in a savage, flat arc, embedding hilt-deep into the beast's left eye. From a distance it looked like a knife stuck in a yellow wagon wheel.
“That was for all the boys in the 12nd Brigade, you scaly bastard,” the general screamed.
The men behind the shield wall cheered even as the dragon bellowed and swatted the general with a flick of a big, scaly wrist. The man hit the ground with a loud, tin plate clatter. The cheering ceased.
The dragon paced within the barricade, trying to keep a safe distance from the bristling pikes and halberds, blinking his left eye furiously. The creature's chest heaved and his breathing was ragged. He hissed at the tiny, metallic creatures.
Devin marched through the rear of the barricade. The soldiers were too bemused or bewildered to stop him. And that was before they saw the glass footprints he left behind.
He raised his glowing foot and touched the tip of the beast's tail. He swore he could almost feel the flesh twitch beneath his metal toes as though a magic spark had passed between dragon and man. They shared a connection. He pushed his foot deeper, sinking through scale, muscle, and bone. The dying beast groaned. Soon, you may sleep, Devin silently promised the drake.
The Artifice Mage Saga Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 46
