The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age)

by Scott Bury

  “I want my dagger!” he shouted. Inside the armoury, Philip and Theodor fussed over equipment. Javor’s dagger still protruded from the shield, set up on a wooden frame near the big window.

  The bells ceased but Javor still heard ringing in his ears. He couldn’t understand what the others were saying to him and realized they were all still shouting.

  How can I get the dagger out of the shield? But before he could take a step toward it, the big window, the whole height of the wall itself, exploded toward them. Shards of glass flew all around, slicing Photius’ blue robe and Austinus’ arm. They all threw up their hands to shield their faces, but even so Javor felt shards scratch his face.

  They all blinked as the glass settled, then blinked again. The dragon! My dragon!

  It was bigger than before, long and sleek and shining in the torch-light. It narrow, triangular head was as long as Javor’s arm and its neck curved like a snake’s. Its front left foot, with terrible curved claws, was now almost the same colour as the rest of its leg.

  The dragon swivelled its head, looking at each of them in turn. “Don’t look into its eyes!” Javor yelled and ran for his dagger.

  But the dragon was far faster. In a blink, it was between Javor and the shield. Casually, it took the dagger’s handle in its claw and effortlessly removed it from the shield.

  “My dagger!” Javor tried to pull the dragon’s front leg to free his dagger, but he couldn’t get a grip: the scales were too hard, too smooth.

  Javor. I am not your enemy. The voice was calm, even, deep.

  “You know my name?”

  The dragon lowered its head to Javor’s level. I am Sarbox. We have no quarrel, you and I.

  “You killed my parents!”

  No, not I. It was Ghastog, the … the troll. The ogre. I do not know all your terms.

  “You’re stealing my dagger!”

  It is not yours. It comes from my ... race.

  “It comes from the earth!”

  Yes. As I said. Human languages cannot describe ...

  “Javor! Don’t talk to it! Don’t fall into its spell!” Austinus yelled. But Javor realized he was looking into its yellow, cat-like eyes. So like the other dragon’s, yet … yet he wasn’t falling into a spell. He could look away, he could see—

  He could see Malleus throw a net over the dragon’s back to Theodor, who quickly secured the rope to a beam. At the same time, Philip charged forward, screaming, and drove a spear into the dragon’s chest.

  The dragon stumbled back into the net. A swinging front leg knocked Javor to one side, its flailing tail knocked shields and other gear skittering across the stone floor. Philip pushed the spear harder.

  The dragon opened its mouth, revealing terrible, long, pointy white teeth. It spat a green liquid toward Philip that hissed and steamed where it hit the stone floor. Some of the spit hit Philip’s forearm, and he fell screaming to his knees. His skin bubbled, smoked, cracked and blackened, then began to melt and drip off. The bubbling spread, down toward his fingers, which shrivelled, dissolved and fell off. The bubbling spread upwards toward his elbow, dissolving more and more of the arm.

  Malleus swung a long sword, neatly severing Philip’s arm at the elbow, then fell on the stump to staunch the spurting blood. Philip’s screaming stopped with a horrible choking sound.

  The dragon pulled the spear out of its belly scales. I have no quarrel with you, it repeated, and Javor only then realized its voice made no sound. It moved fluidly, like a snake, toward the opening it had smashed through the wall.

  “Wait! Give me back my dagger!”

  No. It must return to where it belongs. I do not wish to harm you or any of your people. But I must go now.

  Clear of the building, it spread its immense black wings, flapped, jumped and was gone.

  How can anything that big disappear so fast? The sky was filled with smoke and the glow of fires. The whole city seemed to burn, filled with screams, the clash of metal and the sound of running feet.

  Behind Javor, Philip moaned. Theodor and Malleus pushed rubble and scattered gear to try to help him, Austinus bellowed. “Bring Brother Thalos immediately! You—buckets of water, lots of them, hurry!” The dragon’s spit smoked and stank on the floor, and Philip’s severed arm slowly dissolved into a sickening puddle.

  Javor looked back out the shattered window at the night sky, which was still filling with smoke. He felt sick and empty. I’ll never get my dagger back. What do I do now?

  Chapter 29: When the Danube was blue

  Bright sun warmed Javor’s face, but the breeze blowing down the river made him shiver. He pulled Photius’ old blue cloak tighter around him and looked for a place to sit down.

  I like boats, he decided, leaning against the gunwale and settling down on the deck. They were peaceful. If you can sit down for a few minutes and watch the shore go by. He looked at the Danuvius gently waving. The tree-choked southern bank rose steeply up to thickly forested, conical hills. There was not a sign of human habitation anywhere.

  He turned to look over the northern shore—actually, the way the river twisted, he wasn’t sure if it was still north. That was on the right side of the boat, or “galley” as its captain insisted it was called. It was steeper than the opposite shore: the Montes Serrorum reached down to the great river there in thick forested slopes interspersed with harsh grey rock cliffs, too steep for anything to live on. Sometimes, as the slaves on the deck below slowly rowed the galley upriver, he could see glimpses of higher mountains, bare cliffs that reached sheer up against the bright blue sky.

  Besides the green trees and occasional flowering bush, the only signs of life were small birds that sang in the trees and great hawks that circled lazily over the grey cliffs, and the fish that flapped as crewmen pulled them out of the river using hooked strings attached to poles—an innovation that had amazed Javor when he had first seen it. And the bugs: tiny bugs that swarmed under the trees if the galley got too close to one shore, and great blue and green dragonflies that darted and hovered and flew sideways. Javor liked the dragonflies.

  He leaned his head back against the gunwale and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun. It was one of those late spring mornings when the sun feels so deliciously warm, and Javor’s body wanted to let the sun heat it up, but the air still remembered the cold weather.

  How long ago was the attack on Constantinople? How long since the dragon stole my dagger? Javor tried to push the disturbing thought aside and enjoy the sunshine. He knew it was only a short time before Austinus or the boat’s captain or someone else gave him some chore.

  But the images wouldn’t stop. Javor remembered how Malleus had carefully bound up poor Philip’s arm and carried him to the infirmary, and he remembered how surprised he had been at seeing a gentle Malleus.

  The monks and novices had poured out of their barracks, crying and shocked at the damage and hurt, astounded to see a wall smashed down.

  “What happened?” Brother Jaccobbeas had asked, while Father Peter just stared, slack-jawed, at the stump of Brother Philip’s arm. Flaccus came up beside Javor, mouth moving with no sound.

  “A dragon attacked,” Javor had said flatly.

  “This is no time for your dry jokes!” Flaccus protested.

  “It’s no joke,” Brother Theodor had replied. “It was a dragon. It smashed the wall of the Armory and it may have killed Brother Philip.”

  Lepidus and Quadratus had come up, bloodied and bruised. Fleetingly, Javor wondered about their condition, but he was distracted when Flaccus asked “Why would a dragon attack us?”

  Theodor gave Javor a warning look. “Why indeed? It is a question we are all wondering.”

  “Did you recognize it, Javor?” Lepidus asked. Suddenly, he believed Javor’s story.

  “Yes. It was the same dragon that I saw in Dacia.”

  “I thought you killed the dragon in Dacia!” Lepidus protested.

  “No, I killed a dragon on the closer side of the mountains
, not in Dacia. And that dragon was bigger. But what happened to you?”

  “Barbarians,” said Quadratus. “Barbarians attacked the city.”

  “There are fires everywhere!” said Lepidus. Javor had never seen him so excited, so frightened. “They must have attacked all along the city walls at the same time! They must have had people inside the city, too. There was fighting all over the place. We got knocked over by a stampede of Greens running away from a company of barbarians near the Forum of Constantine.”

  Javor could not understand how any army could hope to conquer Constantinople. The walls were too thick, the armies too numerous. And General Priscus had just arrived with his triumphant Legions!

  “It was a raid. Companies of barbarians attacked at different points in the city,” Lepidus said. “They came in, lit fires, killed as many soldiers as they could and took away the barbarian princess that Priscus brought here.” At that point, the sun rose over the southern walls.

  The monks had worked through the night, trying to clean up and tend the wounded, the people hurt by falling glass, those traumatized by the sight of a dragon. Women from the adjacent convent pitched in. Many were crying; some of the older nuns said the dragon was an illusion of the devil, others that it was a message to cease sinning.

  Javor found Austinus as he was going into his private rooms. “I think I know where the dagger is.” They sat in the room that overlooked the street. Everyone in the city seemed to be on edge, fearing another attack. Austinus sat forward, eyes intent on Javor, but he said nothing. “I can feel it,” he admitted, blushing at the ridiculousness of the statement.

  Austinus did not laugh. He continued to peer into the young man’s eyes. “It is heading north,” Javor continued. “Somehow I can sense where it is.”

  The Comes thought this over long enough for shadows to move across the room. A monk brought bread, and as he left, Austinus asked him to bring Mother Tiana. Austinus did not say anything until the mother superior of the convent appeared at the door in her white robes.

  “Young Javor says he senses the dagger moving northward.”

  Tiana looked at Javor intently. “Then we must follow.”

  The next day, Javor was traveling in a horse-drawn wagon with Austinus, Malleus and for reasons he did not know, Brother Theodore. Austinus brought plain, drab clothes for them all to wear. Javor had never seen Austinus without his striking and sleek black and silver garb. “We must not appear to be too prosperous,” he explained. “That only invites robbers. Hence, these simple clothes. And no jewelry. Javor, keep your amulet well concealed.”

  The Emperor had sent a whole Legion, a thousand men, in pursuit of the Slav and Goth raiders, to punish them and to take back Princess Ingund, Austinus explained. They were headed north, and for protection as well as convenience, Austinus planned to follow them. There has to be a connection, Javor thought.

  When they were well beyond the city walls, traveling past planted fields, Austinus said, “It’s time you told us about your amulet.”

  Again, Javor felt that shock and that feeling of the bottom of his stomach reaching to his knees. Even his amulet felt uncomfortable. “It’s nothing, just a medal from my mother…”

  “Javor, do not presume to underestimate my intelligence!” It was the first time that Javor had seen Austinus angry. “I have read the inscription. Now tell me where it came from.”

  Javor felt his face redden. “It was part of my inheritance from my great-grandfather. The monster, Ghastog stole it. I used the dagger to kill it and retrieve the amulet. Photius said it protected me—it hid me from the supernatural sight of monsters and dragons, even when the dagger drew them to me.”

  “And did you find that it, indeed, protected you?”

  “I—I think so. I don’t think the dragon that attacked the fort in Dacia could really see me. And…” he hesitated before telling Austinus about his encounter with Ghastog. Well, he knows about the amulet. “When I came upon Ghastog, it was holding the amulet. I had the dagger. The monster grabbed me, and I thought it was going to crush me—but the amulet actually flew out of its hand into mine. After that, Ghastog didn’t seem to be able to harm me.”

  “You mean, the amulet protected you against Ghastog?”

  “Yes. And its claws didn’t hurt me. It didn’t even scratch me.”

  “You say the monster took the amulet, but not the dagger?”

  “Well, I had the dagger with me, and I had left the amulet behind. I didn’t think it was useful.” What was he getting at?

  “And yet, the amulet hid you from the dragon. Doesn’t that strike you as curious?”

  Javor hadn’t thought of that before. “Maybe…Ghastog was drawn by the dagger, but it found the amulet first, and took it?”

  “Maybe,” said Theodor quietly, in his soft voice. “Or maybe, the amulet was what it wanted all along. And maybe the dragon wants the dagger, instead.”

  Weeks later, sitting on the deck of the barge on the broad Danuvius, Javor shivered as he recalled those words.

  He thought back on their trip. Every bit of the countryside along the road was tended: farms and plantations as far as he could see. There was not a wild stand of trees that was not part of the agricultural plan for sustaining the New Rome, Constantinople. Hour after hour, day after day they rolled north-west through pastures and wheat fields and orchards tended by armies of slaves who toiled without a break in the industry required to feed an empire.

  At a town called Perinthus, Austinus gave an innkeeper false names. The next morning, following Priscus’ Legion that marched at forced speed ahead of them, they turned north-west. “This is the Via Militaris, which allows the Empire to send legions quickly to the borders against barbarian incursions,” said Theodore.

  As they approached the Empire’s boundary at the Danuvius, the countryside became less populated. They passed through remnants of towns and burned-out, blackened shells of barns and homes. Once-tended fields had gone wild. “These lands have borne the brunt of barbarian invasions. Armies have fought across these fields and zones of control have swept back and forth,” Brother Theodor explained. “Once, the Empire went right up to the Danuvius, and even beyond—”

  “When you wiped out the entire Dacian nation,” Javor interrupted.

  Theodor looked Javor right in the eye. “Yes, the Empire did. Trajan ordered it destroyed, that it no longer be a threat to Rome. But those days are long past. A century ago, the Huns demanded that the first 100 miles south of the great river be empty, uncultivated, to prevent any trade, any shadow of civilization from seeping into their lands.”

  “Why?”

  “They had no desire to become Roman.”

  They reached the Danuvius at a town called Viminacium. Austinus and Malleus sold the wagon and teams in the market and bought passage upriver on a galley. The crew, Javor learned, included slaves to row and a dozen tough-looking Goths as a bodyguard. “Who protects us from the guards?” he asked.

  “You do,” Austinus answered with a grim smile.

  There were many peaceful moments on the galley. But Austinus ruined many of them by pestering Javor with questions about what he knew about dragons, what he remembered about Dacia and the monster, Ghastog.

  When they reached Drobeta, the Roman fortress town at the head of Trajan’s famous stone bridge, the rowers couldn’t overcome the current, so slaves walking along the bank pulled the galley upstream using ropes.

  Javor remembered parting ways with Antonio here, as he and the other Legionnaires who had survived the dragon hunt had returned to their Legion. Were they accepted or executed as deserters? He wondered what they had told their commanders. Would anyone believe they had fought a dragon? Thinking of them made him feel like he did when he thought of his parents.

  They reprovisioned in Drobeta and left early in the morning, trying to catch up with the Legion that was pursuing the Goths and the Princess Ingund. They rowed past tall cliffs that seemed to be trying to squeeze the river closed.
“The Iron Gates,” said Austinus.

  “What are they gates to?” Javor asked. The way that the mountains on each side plunged into the river was striking. He could hear the current swirling and splashing against the grey rocks on each side.

  “A figure of speech. It’s a gate for the river through the mountains.” Austinus gestured left and right: “The Serrorum to the north and east, and the Balkans to the south and west. Once we get past the narrow part, the land opens up into the great plain of Pannonia.” His tone changed. “What do you know about your great-grandfather, Medvediu?”

  Javor watched a hawk spiralling higher and higher over the cliffs that looked like they were dipping their toes in the river. “Not much. He died before I was born.” The river narrowed as they rowed upstream.

  “How did he happen to come by that magical dagger?”

  “I’m not sure. I told you he was in the Legions. He fought in the Persian wars. My mother always told me that he killed a giant in the Caucasus and took it from him.”

  Austinus nodded. “Yes, that is the old story.”

  “What do you mean?” Behind Austinus’ shoulder, the sun was getting lower. Black against the light and the clouds, high over cliffs, more hawks circled. They almost seemed to be dancing in the air, or fighting.

  “It’s an old legend: giants live in the far-distant mountains and have fantastic weapons. A legendary hero slays one and brings back treasure. Tell me, did your great-grandfather bring anything else back? Gold coins, perhaps? Cups and plates of gold and silver? Diamonds the size of your fist?”

  Javor shook his head. “Nothing but the amulet—at least, nothing I ever heard about.”

  The galley slowly rounded a bend of the river and, ahead, tall cliffs pressed closer. Javor could hear the galley’s captain exhorting the slaves to greater efforts as the current got stronger. High above, the hawks were wheeling, spiralling higher. One made a sudden dash into the mountains, flapping its wings. Is that a tail? Is that—no, it can’t be. But for a split second, Javor thought he had seen the dragon—his dragon, the one that had followed him down from the north, the one that had stolen his dagger. But then, it was gone, hidden by the craggy slopes.