by JManess
“What foolishness do you speak, human? I have taken no human lives this migration. If you keep that up, you will expend your own life energy on magic that is so clearly not working.”
“You lie, monster. You demand sacrifice or you will flood the valley with the burning wave, the red nightmare that flows over all in its path and kills everything it touches. You have already flooded us numerous times, though the elders have offered the tribe’s most beautiful and purest daughters as sacrifice to you, including the last one, my own sister. She was only six rotas old!” The youth seemed unfazed by the method of communication; his words came through, accompanied by grief, pain, anger, and frustration.
Tolmac couldn’t believe what he saw in the boy’s mind. What incredible nonsense was this? Sure, his magic kept the volcano from erupting, which was probably why the pressure released every time he left for a long hunt. He didn’t see the need to maintain any spells on it, since he didn’t mind rebuilding his lair and tunnels each time, but he’d never asked for any sacrifice. He’d long since learned the folly of eating humans—they tasted terrible, adorned themselves with all manner of sticky bits, and inevitably caused indigestion. He hadn’t eaten a human in ages.
“Who fed you these lies, human? I have demanded no sacrifice, nor have I eaten the children left at my door.”
“The elders have been told by their vision quests that the only way to stop the flow of the fiery death was to sacrifice a virgin to the monster that lived in the mountain that thunders. They have done so and none of the sacrifices have returned, so it is you who lies!” The youth stopped casting fireballs and indeed suffered for the great expenditure of magic. He slumped heavily on his wooden stick, a hopeless grief enveloping his features.
“Ah, I see. I was supposed to eat those hapless little creatures.”
“You make light of such an atrocity. They were just children, my sister …” The youth nearly choked with his rage and grief.
“I make light of it, as you say, because I have wasted my time transporting
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the young humans to a sanctuary of Vivacel over the mountain, when I could have simply returned them to their tribe and avoided all of this nonsense.” The youth paused, shook his head as if he wasn’t sure what the dragon just said, and then his face lit up with tentative hope.
“Are you saying that they, that my sister … is still alive?” Tolmac shrugged, sending an image of the temple where he’d taken the girls. The aging nuns there had been pleased to receive new novices and looked upon his arrival as a blessing of the goddess Vivacel. They wished to pass on their knowledge of resurrection and advanced healing. The girls would live a life of comfort and knowledge and possess the sort of power most could only dream of.
The boy appeared amazed, awed by his sister’s good fortune. He cried, and Tolmac sighed again, turning away to leave him, when he demanded, “Take me to them! I must see it for myself. I must be certain this is not a trick!” Tolmac turned back to the boy, amazed at his arrogance in issuing orders to a dragon. Tolmac believed he’d been very patient and forgiving to the youth for bothering him, and now the human thought to give him orders. Still, if it would get the other humans off his back …
Tolmac did take the boy, whom he learned called himself Ulrick, to the nunnery. Ulrick was thrilled to see his sister and all of the other girls. None of them wished to return home, though his sister offered to if he could not bear to be without her. Since they’d both been orphaned soon after her birth, he’d raised her himself. Now seeing her happier than she’d ever been, he reluctantly left her there, finding himself suddenly alone in the world.
Tolmac thought he would be able to simply drop Ulrick off and be done with the whole mess, but he hadn’t counted on the boy’s audacity.
“Is there no way you can stop making the mountain spew forth death?” the youth asked, determined to at least return with answers for the elders.
“I do not make the mountain erupt. I can stop it, yes, but why should I bother?”
“Because if you don’t, more humans will come and bother you, but if you do … I can go back and tell them that you will no longer threaten them again, and they will never send another helpless child your way.”
“And what about a foolish boy who believes himself a wizard?” Ulrick grimaced, embarrassed by how poorly his one magic spell, incredibly valuable to his people had affected the great dragon. “I will make sure that no 224
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one will ever bother you again; I will post warnings around your lair that no human must pass. I will see to it that it becomes law that this land remains forever forbidden to human trespassers.”
“Very well; I will make certain that the volcano does not erupt again, as long as no human enters my territory. But if any one of your humans invades my home again, then your people shall feel my wrath.”
“It’s a deal, great dragon. I will see it done.” The boy scurried off, his tall, slender figure leaping and climbing gracefully down the mountainside.
It wasn’t the last time Tolmac would see Ulrick. Indeed, it was only the first of many times. The boy didn’t consider himself included in the “any one of your humans” category, and pestered Tolmac relentlessly until he finally taught the boy some real magic just to give him something else to do besides bother Tolmac. Of course, rotas later, Ulrick repaid the favor and saved his life after he nearly died from his battle with the frost dragon. That healing changed Ulrick forever, and Tolmac still suffered some guilt over the incident.
It had been a long time since Tolmac thought of Ulrick, though the procedure that saved his life linked the two of them until the day Tolmac himself died. They had bonded like brothers, similar to a clutch bond, but Tolmac discovered that the blood bond with a human proved much more powerful—not to mention more intrusive and potentially annoying.
It was a fireball spell that awoke him. This one held far more power than the first one Ulrick threw at him so many rotas ago. It was a spell Tolmac himself had perfected, and it melted the ice around him and warmed his blood enough that he came awake to glare angrily at the man before him.
“Wake up, you old grump! Have you come here just to lie down and die?” Ulrick looked different from when he was a boy. His face and head and most of his body were almost entirely covered by blinding white hair, the change in his glorious black mane a side effect of the immense power he wielded. His black eyes twinkled in the small portion of his face still visible past that ridiculous beard he accidentally enchanted to life during an unfortunate experimental mishap and now refused to shave off because he feared he would kill it.
Most humans noticed only the white hair and purposely stooped form, failing to see that no creases marred his skin, and he still possessed the lean, powerful body and incredible height he had when he was a man in his prime nearly a thousand rotas ago.
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He waited impatiently for Tolmac to respond and grunted in irritation when the massive dragon turned his head away to close his eyes again. Ulrick hit him with another fireball, the tip of his elegant wizard’s staff glowing an angry red to reflect his own temper.
“You listen here; you had no right taking off on that poor girl like that! I’ve never known you not to fight for something you wanted, and judging by the way you nearly tore up the entire valley, I have to assume you wanted that girl something fierce.”
Tolmac turned his head, pinning the wizard with one red eye, his own flames stoked with rising anger. “It was your fault! You did this, all of it! You transformed her, didn’t you?”
Ulrick was unfazed; he’d witnessed many displays of anger over the centrotations. Tolmac would never actually strike out at him; the big dragon was full of fiery bluster but held a nobler heart than any hero in a bard’s tale.
“I did; I admit it, though I did not entirely plan what happened next.
Honestly, I was just hoping to teach the girl a lesson. She had the most unfortunate ideas, most distressing in one with her talent. I knew you wouldn’t harm her when she encountered you, but I didn’t anticipate what would happen next…” Ulrick paused at the glare Tolmac cast him. “Well, I didn’t. How could I predict that? What do I know of that sort of thing? Anyway, it all worked out in the end, except for your part, you overgrown swamp lizard! You have to get up and go back now!”
“Worked out? Worked out!” Tolmac had risen to his feet by now and towered over the wizard; the wind from his shifting wings blowing back Ulrick’s hair and beard, the heat from his anger melting the ice around him. “It did not work out, in case you hadn’t noticed! Sondra is a human!”
“Bah! Only on the outside. I know you wouldn’t have been fooled if she hadn’t possessed the spirit of a dragon, and a beautiful one at that. You saw it yourself; if she’d just been any old human you would have spotted her right away and you wouldn’t be lying here moping around now. And falling prey to that insidious water goddess, mind you. Besides, Sondra’s a princess. That should be good enough even for you.”
“Princess? Good enough—are you mad, wizard? Has the weight of the rotas warped your mind? She is human and I am a dragon! You cannot change that.”
“What? Of course I can! I’m a wizard. So can you, and you know it. You’ve 226
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done it before. By Morbidon’s bony jaw, you taught me to do it. I’ll just change her back into a dragon and all will be well. Once we have her back.”
“You forget about her human lover. Why would she want a dragon when she already loves a human? Wait—what did you mean by—”
“Ah, yes, Lord Derek—a fine man that one. That’s a tough one, but honestly, I still believe she prefers you to him. In fact, though I haven’t had a chance to ask her personally, I do think that she may very well enjoy being a dragon and it shouldn’t …”
“Wizard!” Tolmac’s roar cut into Ulrick’s monologue. The wizard stopped talking and looked up at the towering dragon.
“Hmm … yes?”
With a heavy sigh, Tolmac asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘once we have her back’?”
“Oh, yes, that’s why I came to find you, of course. Crazy bit of bad luck, that. Seems that she’s been stolen away. Don’t know where to, but since you have a bond with her, I suppose you could find her. That is, if you really want to …”
“Stolen away?” Tolmac felt as if the icy chill around him coalesced and stabbed right through his heart, freezing him from the inside out. “When, where, who dares take her?” he roared.
“I’m not entirely certain, but if you are going, I suggest you travel in a less conspicuous form. Ahem, I’m afraid that those who took her might be interested in the whole dragon thing. They may have wizards that know a thing or two about draconic wards and such.”
“I don’t fear those weak wards.”
“Yes, but, um—they may decide to use her as leverage to get to you once the wizards see what you are. Oh, yes, and you should hurry before Aquea returns.”
“Worried, wizard?” Tolmac grinned, a smile of glittering fangs.
“Ahem, no, of course not, it’s just that she has a nasty temper.” Tolmac grunted in agreement. He thought about what Ulrick wanted him to do and despised the idea but admitted to himself that it would be best to travel inconspicuously. Sondra was in danger and every minute he delayed could mean her death. Suddenly, it didn’t matter anymore whether she wanted him and life as a dragon. All he needed was to know that she was safe. He had to save her, even if it meant doing something he really hated.
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“Fine! But don’t get too used to this form; it’s gone as soon as she is safe!” The air around Tolmac swirled, the fires within his body blazed to an inferno that engulfed him, his wings folded around his body, and he melted, his shape shifting into a smaller, slighter form. When the lights of the fire faded away, Ulrick stood over a shorter, but by no means less deadly, man.
Tolmac had once known a great fighter, a human with the skill to kill a man with his bare hands and the wisdom to avoid doing so. This man belonged to a people that respected Tolmac’s kind, and the man treated him as though his presence was a great honor. That man was a highly regarded warrior in his lands where he taught many others his art.
On a whim, Tolmac assumed the form of a human and went to learn the methods this great teacher taught. It was the first and last time Tolmac ever took human form. He learned many things from his instructor: he learned to use his new body as a weapon, to move in silence, to fight with honor and courage, and, lastly, to grieve as humans do. In the end, the man, now old and dying, told Tolmac that it was his honor to teach a dragon his humble art.
Tolmac could only reply that it was his honor to learn, not in the least surprised that the man had seen through his human form.
Tolmac had never been close to that warrior, not as he was with Ulrick, but he remembered that human as being the first he ever respected, and so it was this reason and his memory of the man that inspired Tolmac to take on his former teacher’s youthful form when he once again assumed the appearance of a man.
He looked at Ulrick, struggled a bit to remember how to form the words he wished to speak with fleshy lips, and finally bit out, “You must transport us back; I will need rest after the shape-change.” Ulrick smiled triumphantly, raised his staff, and called out, “Two trips back to Ariva, coming right up. Give us a hand, Ethelda!” A strong wind swept through the lair, picked up both men, and sent them flying at high speed toward Terroc’s Ring and the Valley of Ariva.
Over a cycle later, the spires of ice known for so long as Aquea’s Teeth shattered, firing shards into the Frozen Sea for miles around as the sound of a sonic shriek of rage reverberated through the waters, disintegrating any living creature within range. Aquea had returned and discovered Tolmac missing.
Once again, the fire god had escaped the clutches of the water goddess.
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CHAPTER 23
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This was the place. Lord Derek received a lucky break when he crossed the border into Halidor. In the small border town of Halinden, one evening spent listening to the gossip in the town’s only tavern led him to a man by the name of Black Jack. Th is man, according to
rumor, had received a fat purse of gold to steal away one of the royals that lived in Ariva. Th
e purpose of the kidnapping wasn’t mentioned, but the speculators assumed it was for ransom since the attempted invasion didn’t proceed as expected.
Derek kept his face concealed by his hood, and his body language warned anyone off, including the overly friendly tavern wenches. When he hunted down Black Jack, he discovered that the man earned his name from a lifetime spent living in the underground, performing odd jobs that may or may not be legal, depending on the amount of gold offered. He was a big man, formidable and strong, but he proved no match for Lord Derek, and the Warlord soon had his answers about where Sondra’s captors held her. Black Jack didn’t survive the interrogation, but he welcomed Morbidon’s reaper with open arms, more afraid of the brutal and lethal warrior than of death itself.
Derek learned that Prince Onian himself had ordered Sondra’s kidnapping and had specifically requested the youngest princess. It seemed that the prince believed that Sondra was a habitual shapeshifter, and he felt he could force or coerce her to join with him and use her dragon strength and magic against her own homeland.
Derek still didn’t understand how Sondra had become a dragon, but based on what he’d learned about Prince Onian, if she couldn’t do it again, things 228
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would not go well for her. That was the thought that harried him through the dying of the sun and into the night as he spurred his mount on to the prince’s country esta
te, a poorly maintained castle half a cycle’s ride from Halinden.
Fortunately for Derek, the prince wasn’t expecting an attack or rescue attempt within the borders of his own kingdom, and indeed the roads remained remarkably clear of guardsmen or soldiers. A small group of bandits did provide a brief delay but soon discovered it was in their best interests to flee in terror from the furious madman on horseback as he slaughtered them as effortlessly as he might swat a fly. After that, nothing impeded him.
He arrived at the weed-choked and overgrown castle grounds. The castle itself was little more than a dilapidated manor home, not actually a proper fortress, and Derek nearly sighed aloud in relief. The sun would be reborn in only a few hours, and he needed to find the princess and hopefully escape this gods-forsaken place before then.
Derek surveyed the area. A sickly yellow light barely illuminated the entrance to the manor, cast by the flickering flames from two sconces framing the iron-studded front door. He averted his eyes from the source of the light to avoid ruining his night vision and instead used its wan glow to seek out the sentries he suspected patrolled this area. Sure enough, he saw the first one stalk past, barely taking note of his surroundings, obviously bored with his sentry detail. Derek waited until a few minutes later, and another came by, moving stealthily, his head swinging from side to side as he searched the shadows. He also kept his eyes averted from the light of the entrance, and Derek grinned in anticipation. This guard might provide a challenge—something he was looking for after all the worry and frustration he’d suffered on his long, lonely ride.
He remained motionless as the guard passed after carefully scrutinizing the weeds and scrub brush that Derek crouched behind. Derek suspected that any movement or misjudgment on his part would send the guard crying out an alarm. Fortunately, he wasn’t spotted, and he prepared to attack, drawing his sword and moving out of his crouch, when another man appeared from the darkness, and in a blur of arms and legs, took the guard down as quickly and silently as the shadow he at first appeared to be. Derek fell back into a waiting crouch, surprised but unwilling to reveal his position before he evaluated this new threat and the purpose of the other man’s attack on the guard.
