“Grimoire!” Dark screamed. “You will pay for your nephew’s sins!”
Ennius straightened his suit coat. “We will all soon pay for his sins if we don’t do something about it. That’s why you’re here.”
Dark stole a glance at Norwyn. “Tell me one reason why I should not destroy this place.”
Norwyn wrinkled his scales into a scowl. “Do you not remember anything I showed you earlier today? Do you think anger and violence is the answer to everything? Stand down—I would not have brought you here if it would have wasted time.”
Frog helped Dark up. His mind was reeling from the encounter. But he trusted Norwyn.
“What do you want of me?” Dark asked.
“We want the same things,” Ennius said. “I don’t blame you for being angry. But Mr. Dark, before we talk business, I owe you a tour.”
***
Dark took in the long, shadowed hallways of the Hall of Governance in wonder. The walls looked as if they were made of stone. In a way, it reminded him of his palace. Oh, his palace! How he longed for it again. But he tried to push it out of his mind, for it was gone forever.
“Are you impressed, Mr. Dark?” Ennius asked. He led the way. Egg-shaped windows in the walls shone sunlight that reflected off his bald head. “You’ll be pleased to know that the architects took inspiration from your old palace. Austerity and awe were the values they wanted to convey. What a splendid job they did! The Hall of Governance is for all races. The hallways are generously tall and wide enough for a dragon. The entire building is nearly two hundred thousand square feet. It houses all three branches of our government—our legislature, our courts, and the executive branch. Both my office and residence are here.”
“Impressive, indeed,” Dark said, looking around. They passed a row of paintings of elven men and women, all in suits.
“Our elders,” Ennius said. “They are elected by the populace and represent them here at the Hall.”
Dark listened as Ennius described the government, and Magic Hope City’s way of doing things struck him as a somewhat reasonable alternative to a dragon lord. It explained why the city was so large and so orderly. He could not imagine anything so large in the ancient times. A city of such magnitude would have destroyed itself.
Ennius led them though a vaulted archway. They emerged into a giant room full of machinery, pipes, and bundled wires all over the floor. A giant cylinder rose from the floor to the ceiling, and the pipes and wires fed into it. It was extremely large and reminded Dark of a crypt—wide enough for a dragon to lay in, and surrounded by metal tubes. Imprinted in the cylinder’s metal side was the emblem of the Magic Hope City skyline, and the words For city and civilization.
A circular stained-glass window at the top of the ceiling filtered in light, making the stainless steel of the cylinder look like a mosaic full of of runes. Norwyn’s orb beeped and dropped to the floor, rolling past Dark’s foot.
“Norwyn?” Dark asked frantically. “Where are you?”
“It’s all right, old friend,” a voice said. A shadow emerged from behind the cylinder. It was Norwyn’s physical body. The hologram had been true to form—the white dragon walked with a limp, and his scales were wrinkled. But his eyes were still as blue as Dark remembered them. He walked forward, bowing his head to Dark.
Dark embraced him.
“For a while I thought maybe the hologram was a joke!” Dark said. “But it is truly good to see you in physical form again, Norwyn.”
Dark let go and looked around the room gloomily. “And where are we now?”
“This is the Abstraction Chamber,” Norwyn said.
XXI
“You’re wasting our time, human!”
Amal held up her hands to calm a ferocious uproar of dragons. Twenty Keepers and Crafters surrounded her in a room that resembled a hollowed-out cavern. The walls were made of limestone, and torches burned on the walls. Even though she was in Dragon’s Hollow, a skyscraper in the heart of the city, it felt like she was back in time in a place that existed long, long ago. The air was smoky and the dirt floor was strewn with gold coins.
“I am not here to waste your time,” Amal said.
A pomegranate-colored Crafter sat coiled up in front of her. With a beastly shriek, he silenced the room.
“Let the human finish her proposition,” the dragon said, “The sooner she is finished, the sooner we can dispense of her.”
Amal swallowed. She second-guessed coming here, into this den of dragons. It sounded like a good idea when she told Demetrius, but now she wasn’t so sure she would escape alive.
“Dragons,” she said, gesturing around the cavern, “It’s a wonder of modern magic that you can live here in the middle of Magic Hope City without living in Abstraction. How did you do it?”
Redtail, the pomegranate Crafter sneered. “We are older dragons, human. We remember what it was like to live in a truly magical world. You should worship our magical use, but we won’t make you do that.”
“I won’t worship you, but I’ll give you credit,” Amal said. “This place is remarkable.”
“If we had known you had come to admire our architecture, human, we would have declined your invitation. But that’s not why you’re here.”
The dragons could see through her. She kicked herself for stalling. Building rapport never worked with dragons. In all her forty years of life, she had never quite figured them out.
“You talked about older times,” Amal said. “Is that why you refuse to go into Abstraction?”
“Does a cat willingly submit itself to be declawed?” Redtail asked. “We would rather die than live without our magic. Technology is not a substitute for our divine gifts.”
“I understand,” Amal said. “But there’s something that I do want know. Why haven’t you endorsed a candidate in the race for governor?”
The dragons whispered among themselves.
“If you feel so strongly that Abstraction is the wrong path for this world, why haven’t you challenged your dragon counterparts?”
Redtail laughed. “Why would we challenge dead dragons?”
“They’re not dead.”
“They might as well be,” Redtail said. “We believe in the old ways, and we are loyal to them. Neither Ennius or Lucan Grimoire will change that, and you certainly can’t convince us.”
Now was the time. Now was the time to pitch them. She’d driven the whole way here thinking about what she would say and how she would say it and how she would avoid ending up in a dragon’s jaws. But her mind blanked and she spoke without thinking. “What would it take for you to support me?”
The dragons roared in laughter, stomping the ground so hard that the room shook. The quakes knocked Amal onto her knees.
Redtail calmed the group. “When you can cast spells, we will reconsider our support, Shalewood.”
“Seeing as I can’t cast, I’ll take that as a never,” Amal said. “But what if I could offer you something that Ennius and Lucan couldn’t?”
“And what is that?”
“Hope for the future. Magical conservation.”
“We appreciate your sentiment,” Redtail said. “But this world is beyond saving.”
A voice echoed from the other side of the chamber. Several of the dragons stepped aside as someone made their way through the room.
It was Demetrius.
Amal frowned. She had told him to stay outside. She had to do this. He would open his mouth and ruin her rapport with the dragons. And now, here he was.
He walked to her quickly, with a tablet in his hand.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“Sorry, baby,” Demetrius whispered. “But I thought you should know.”
He showed her the tablet. On it was an official letter from the government.
18 M.H.C. § 4516 - COURT ORDER - RESOLVED
Mrs. Shalewood,
The court order issued regarding the incident at the Ancestral Bogs has been lifted. Indictments have bee
n ordered. You will not stand trial, but you will be required to testify. Thank you for your cooperation.
Her eyes widened.
“Something happened,” Demetrius said. “And whatever it is, it wasn’t good.”
Amal pushed Demetrius aside gently. “Dragons,” she said, “I will always support magical conservation, but I have something else that you may want to hear.”
“Out with it, human,” Redtail said.
“I heard that dragons love stories,” Amal said, smiling. “I’m going to tell you a good one.”
XXII
Dark inspected the Abstraction Chamber. He sniffed the metal and sensed fire, smoke, and the reptilian scent of dragons. His eyes wandered up the tall cylinder and wondered how it created the dragons he’d seen in the city—amalgamations between dragons, magic, and architecture.
“How does this machine work?” he asked.
Ennius walked over to a control panel that was lit up with buttons, knobs, and LCD displays. “I am sure that you of all dragons will appreciate this, Mr. Dark.”
He tapped a button on the LCD panel and a nearby screen in one of the walls lit up. It displayed a diagram of the Hall of Governance. A blinking orange dot showed their location. A bundle of blue lines traced themselves from their location down through the many floors and into the basement of the giant building, where horizontal pink waves rushed underneath the building. Dark cocked his head as he tried to understand the diagram.
“The government has been buying land for decades,” Ennius said. We own more land in the city than anyone. Magic Hope City was built on a large aquifer point. The Hall of Governance sits in the center of the city, which sits in the center of the largest aquifer point on the western continent. However, if we were to simply use the aquifer beneath us, we would have run out of magic a long time ago. So we stopped buying land and we focused instead on buying the aquifer.”
Dark snorted. “How does one buy an aquifer? That’s absurd.”
Ennius swiped a finger across the LCD panel, magnifying the pink waves. “It’s not as absurd as you think, Mr. Dark. You see, there are many dragons on the continent who willing to give up their shares of the aquifer in exchange for a societal benefit. In case Norwyn hasn’t told you, we’re in a magical shortage.”
“He told me,” Dark said. “And I assume you’re the one to blame?”
Ennius laughed. “Hardly. I am simply a steward of the problem now. And it’s a tough job. Very tough! But all three races have been working together to solve the problem.” He pointed to the pink waves, which swelled as he spoke. “For every share of the aquifer we purchased from dragons, we increased our cache. Of course, we gave dragons land. That is why they inhabit our buildings in Abstraction. But the result is that we have more magic to work with, and more resources available to solve the magical crisis.”
“Some job you’ve done,” Frog said. Dark snapped at him and told him to be quiet.
Ennius gave Frog a suspicious look. “This is not a time for politics. Or, maybe it is. Mr. Dark, from this you can clearly see that I have one hell of a job to do.”
“The challenge is daunting, no doubt,” Dark said. “Daunting, indeed.” He shook his head at the diagram. “Norwyn, what is the solution here? It seems to me that there is none.”
“We’re doing the best we can,” Norwyn said. “That is why we will be glad to have your input, my lord. The future of the world depends on us.”
“Speaking of the future,” Ennius said. “I promised you an explanation as to why I am not your enemy.”
Dark turned up his nose. “I’m listening, elf.”
Ennius grinned. “Lucan is my nephew. I’m the governor of this great city, and Lucan is running against me. If he wins, all the good work that you see here will be undone. He has no plans to conserve magic and solve this crisis.”
Dark took another glance around the room. “How would I know that without allowing him to defend himself? If I recall, he kept me prisoner in a large, magical facility. How do I know he is not attempting to do the same thing?”
“He manufactures magic,” Norwyn said. “He’s part of the problem.”
Dark’s face went long. Yes, Lucan’s facility was a magical factory. He thought of the giant stacks of white cards, the glitzy magic they produced. He shook with anger at the memory.
“Lucan is our mutual enemy,” Ennius said.
“It seems you are correct, elf,” Dark said.
“Really, Mr. Dark, you can call me Ennius.” He walked across the room toward the vaulted opening. The stained-glass window above streamed crimson rays of light across his face. “To celebrate our friendship, I would like to offer you a gift. All I ask in return is your loyalty.”
“State your offer.”
“I’ll tell you exactly where to find my nephew,” Ennius said. “You can have your revenge tonight.”
XXIII
Alvia woke up to a warm, licking sensation on her face.
She opened her eyes, coming softly from a dreamless slumber.
Pepper greeted her, licking her cheek.
She smiled, wrapping her arm around the dog.
Her head hurt. She explored her hair and found a thick knot on the back of her head. It was tender to the touch, and she grimaced.
The smell of green tea entered her nostrils and she sniffed.
Where was she?
Slowly, her eyes focused and she noticed her surroundings. She was in a sparse apartment. She was lying on a couch. Wood floors. Crooked blinds that diffused the sunlight in slats across the room. The walls were painted blue, and a light fixture shaped like a fish hung over her.
An elven home, though it was a strange one.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the barista. She recognized him, still in his apron, with tousled hair and elven ears. He gave her a warm smile and offered her a porcelain mug steaming with tea.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “You took a really hard hit. You saved your dog. A few minutes more and he would’ve been a goner. I’ve never seen anyone stand up for a monster before. He must be special to you.”
The apartment lost focus, but Alvia blinked hard and everything sharpened up. “Where am I?”
“You’re in a safe place. They won’t hurt you here.”
The barista extended his hand. “My name is Tony. Tony Dyer.”
Alvia took his hand softly. With the other she rubbed her head, wincing at the pain. “Alvia Marlow. This is my dog, Pepper.”
Tony looked down at the dog approvingly. “She’s pretty friendly for a fire dog. She practically ate out of my hand.”
“We’re travelers,” Alvia said, sitting up on the couch. She sipped from the mug. The tea warmed her throat. “We’re just passing through.”
“I’ve never seen an elven woman wear robes,” Tony said. “You’re from the Order, aren’t you?”
Alvia nodded. “I don’t want any trouble. I’ll finish my tea and we’ll be on our way.”
She tried to stand. Pushing through the pain, she swung her feet over the edge of the couch.
“You’re in no condition to just waltz out of here,” Tony said. “You hit your head on a bench. Pepper is dehydrated and I’d guess you are, too.”
“It’s been a long journey.”
“From where?”
“We stopped at the Temple of Unity,” Alvia said. “We walked from there.”
Tony looked at her curiously. “Yikes. That’s a crazy long walk. What did it take you, a few hours?”
“Time doesn’t matter,” Alvia said. “I’m just glad…to be free.”
Tony moved into the kitchen. He rubbed his arm. A slung hung on a hook on the side of the refrigerator.
“Are you hurt?” Alvia asked.
Tony rubbed his arm gingerly. “It’s almost healed. I’ll be fine.”
He prepared himself a cup of tea. He scooped tea leaves into a tea bag and dipped it in a porcelain mug. He leaned over the counter, waiting for it to stee
p. “What are things like in the Order? I heard they are pretty strict.”
“They regulate every aspect of everyday life,” Alvia said. “I was lucky to escape.”
“Escape?” Tony asked. “So you mean…you’re running away from them?”
“Sure. If you want to call it that. Though I doubt anyone’s going to come looking for me. I’m already a wasted investment.”
“Ah.”
Tony took his bag out of the mug and joined her on the couch, sipping his tea. Alvia noticed his eyes—they were handsome, but they looked troubled.
“Do you live here alone?” she asked.
Tony looked away. “My dad and I lived here, but he’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
It wasn’t her business to probe. She reached down and petted Pepper, who was lying at her feet. “Thank you for helping me, Tony. I don’t have much—”
“You don’t have to pay me,” Tony said. “Just one elf helping another.”
Alvia smiled.
“Where are you going?” Tony asked.
“I’m just a wanderer,” Alvia said. “I don’t know where I’m going. I’ll know when I get there, I guess.”
“Do you really believe in the end times, thing? That the world is going to end any day?”
“I don’t know what I believe,” Alvia said. “Now that I’m out of the compound, I don’t know what’s real and what’s false. I’m sorry that I can’t answer your question.”
Tony laughed. “Well, I don’t know anyone that can tell between truth and lies anymore. I used to think I knew, but I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not so sure of anything. I at least thought that someone from the Order would have it all figured out.”
Tony turned on a television in the corner of the apartment. A commercial advertising Meah and Mynthia’s concert at The Cistern played. He puffed. “You’d think they’d pull that ad after what happened.”
Old Wicked (The Last Dragon Lord Book 3) Page 9
