by LeRoy Clary
“I just want to kill you.”
Damon didn’t flinch at the venom in the words. Instead, he moved a step closer and said, “Before you can do that, Kendra will call on her dragon and send it your way. It will find you. It has been searching for you this whole time.”
There was a long pause. Then the voice of Emma said, “How did you figure that out?”
“I didn’t, but you’re not scared of anyone here, yet you traveled with us and tried to prevent us from reaching here. You tried to stop us from leaving Trager, and then at Vin, you had the army trying to stop us, but you were a little too late. So, they attacked us after we left Vin and then again when we were closer to Dagger.”
“Why?” Kendra asked in a whisper.
Damon continued, “You tried to stop us and then when that didn’t work, you tried to get us to go anywhere but to Kaon. You even had us captured to be sold in Kaon, but we would never have lived that long to reach the auctions. You had Princess Elizabeth taken to Dagger, so we would follow her there and try to rescue her.”
The thing that was Emma shimmered as if losing power and it said, “We can make a deal. I’ll let all of you go free. Go back to Dire where you belong.”
“No deals,” Damon snapped.
How he managed to speak for all of us without consulting us was a mystery to me. For me, at that time, going home seemed a deal worth considering. He had taken charge and acted as I would have wanted—or wanted myself to act. He never asked permission, he simply did what was right and we allowed him to continue. He moved another step closer and waited.
Damon said, “You’re made of smoke and imagination. You can’t hurt us.”
Emma threw back her head and laughed so long and hard it changed from laughter to a continuous screech. I wanted to cover my ears. Then it ceased as quickly as it began. “You’re right and wrong.”
“Don’t play with words,” Damon said.
“There are other ways to hurt you. Flier, it was so convenient of you to tell me where your family is on that farm beside the sea. Yesterday I sent a small Vin army to gather them and bring them to Kaon. And Princess, the servant for the Heir Apparent is being held near here, a knife at his throat by one of my trusted associates.”
Damon said, “Kendra direct your dragon to Kaon. Do it now.”
The image of Emma smiled. “I watched two small boys playing this game one time. Each threw a knife near the other’s feet, daring him to flinch.”
“And?” Damon asked when Emma quit talking.
“One boy got a nasty knife wound in his toe.”
I hated to admit it to myself, but Emma was right. Both of us had made their threats, and one would flinch, or be hurt. There seemed no way out.
However, the entire conversation had the “feel” of two boys roughhousing. Perhaps the story the Young Mage had told about the boys with the knife shifted my thinking in that direction. No matter the reason, my impression was that the Young Mage was properly named. The thought of a mage under the age of twenty with special magical powers filled me with fear.
Boys that age are often filled with hormones that rage through their bodies. They will listen to no one, do as they think, and fear nothing. They rail against any who disagree.
My father has set an age limit on recruits for the Royal Army of Dire, as had almost all armies, he said as he leaned closer as if to reveal one of the great secrets of the world. “Those under twenty-three or four will accept orders to charge right into the face of a superior force, believing they will survive because they are immortal. They cannot be hurt. However, those over twenty-five will stop and think. They’ll tell their captains and lieutenants, ‘Hey, let’s think about this.’”
My father was right. All wars are fought by young men and boys, never by those old enough to fear death. Those older had achieved enough rank to be trainers or to order others to attack while they observed.
In short, wise men, especially wise old men, avoided conflicts. The Young Mage was forcing a conflict. Damon was a little too eager to fight, and while he understood how to push back against the Young Mage, he didn’t know how to be ruthless enough to win.
Knowing two key things could tip the balance in a battle. We knew three. The Young Mage was probably no older than twenty, he was scared of the dragon, and he hadn’t yet faced his mortality. Those three things could be used against him—but Damon had pushed too far.
The Slave-Master said to Emma, “I doubt I could get ten silver coins for you on the auction blocks.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” the Young Mage said with a measure of heat and anger.
The Slave-Master chuckled, which was an ugly sound.
“You think this is funny?”
“I do,” the Slave-Master admitted. “You believe we are so stupid we came here unprepared and knowing nothing. You overheard some things that we intended you to hear, and not others. Those are what you should worry about.”
“Like what?” the irritation in the boy was evident, as was that the Slave-Master was prodding him like a herdsman directing his cows to pasture.
“Like you know that Damon can speak with his mind to Anna. He once tried it with you, and it didn’t work, but if I was you, I’d ask myself who else he has been mind-speaking with? Who else knows all he knows?”
There was an uncomfortable pause before the Young Mage asked, “What else?”
“Well, you might ask how that might harm you, or how Kendra is sitting there composed while directing her dragon to do who knows what? It has already destroyed two cities, what’s another? Especially if you’re in it.”
“What if I’m not?”
“Well, that is a little better, if you ask me, but not much. Once the city burns, everyone will leave, including farmers. Where will your food come from? And if you go into public, who is waiting to put an arrow or knife in you once word of what you’ve done leaks. Of course, we’ll see to that. We will tell everyone in five kingdoms who you are and what you’ve done. That way, if we don’t kill you, someone else will.”
“You don’t know anything.”
The Slave-Master said, “I do know this. The more you talk with us, the easier the dragon can find you, and you won’t even know it’s coming because you’re too busy making an image of a little girl for us to watch.”
Emma winked out of existence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Damon
Once the Slave-Master started talking, the Young Mage had become confused at his abruptness and was intimidated by him as well as me, although my magic was small in comparison. He didn’t like that I had any magic, I suspected. He was suspicious and wary. While I had watched Emma, I had considered touching minds with Anna for her assessment, but decided against it, in case we were overheard, if that’s the correct way of putting it with speaking directly from one mind to another.
Besides, the Slave-Master was as much as playing a game of blocks with the Young Mage, bluffing with a weak hand masterfully. He pretended as if we were in a better position—and did it masterfully. My respect for the man grew.
Princess Elizabeth saw it too. Her hesitant stance revealed her thoughts. We held little power, the Young Mage held it all, but he was unsure of himself because of the act the Slave-Master put on. The Young Mage was afraid to act like so many young people, afraid to make a mistake and appear weak or worse, silly. He had yet to gain the self-assurance that comes with age. And he revealed that he was not only scared of the dragon; he was terrified.
Again, I wondered at his reaction. We believed magic was connected to the last dragon, and while Wyverns also shared Essence, they contained far less. So, in one respect, he needed the dragon for more power. In another, he feared it. Either we were wrong on some basic point, or there was more we didn’t know or understand.
Elizabeth said, “Three things for us to remember and work with. He’s young, scared, and overconfident. How can we put those things to use?”
The Slave-Master turned to
her. “I think he will leave us alone if we depart for another kingdom, at least for a while, especially all of you. That’s been his main consideration the entire time. He does not want us, or the dragon, entering Kaon. I think he will bargain.”
Elizabeth’s voice rose. “So, you suggest we go away and use our time to make better plans before returning to fight him? Or before he comes after us and our kingdom and kills all royals? You’re suggesting we go home and just sit and wait for the day we know he will come and kill us?”
“No,” Kendra almost shouted.
“Why not?” Elizabeth asked, not reacting to the emotion in Kendra’s voice because she was watching the Slave-master closely. She wanted him to reveal more about himself. She didn’t fully trust him.
Kendra was on her feet and suddenly moved closer to Elizabeth than was acceptable in polite society. I hadn’t seen her move, but she was standing nose to nose with her. Kendra said, “Because that’s what he wants. The Young Mage wants us to leave him alone. While we’re somewhere else planning how to defeat him, he will be planning how to defeat us, and he has all the power on his side.”
My sister was right. We were still camped not far from the Waystone on the ridge that had allowed a mage to watch us approach from across the desert. It was a crossroad for us. Whichever direction we took would determine our futures, and the campfire had been fed continuously while we discussed our options, until only a few small sticks remained to be burned.
As with most campers, we normally went to sleep shortly after dark, but tonight was different. It was in the air. We all felt it. Tensions were high. We’d all taken turns searching for wood to burn, scavenging what we could find on the hillside. The scant amount nearby meant we would either search out in the darkness or go without fire soon.
I surreptitiously looked at each of my companions. All were tired, dressed in rags, thinner than a few weeks ago, and weary. Our minds were much the same, but all were determined to continue to Kaon to fight the Young Mage.
A chill in the night air didn’t deter us. Blankets were over our shoulders. We needed a plan of attack, but devising one against a magical being, or a being who used magic, whichever he was, was not easy. There might only be one chance for us to succeed. Delaying was a distinct possibility because at least we could search for more information—the one thing we lacked.
The Slave-Master pointed north and said, “Ahead, in Kaon, we will all probably die. Are you prepared for that?”
Flier said, “Don’t forget, the Young Mage has my family, and your friend, Avery. He will widen his net and take more prisoners, like the family of the princess. He will hold them hostage until he is ready to conquer us or kill them. Only the Slave-Master is immune from that threat.”
“Not true. I have a sister in Kaon. Nobody is aware of that, I hope, especially him. I am sharing that information in good faith and to convince you of my sincerity.”
A few hundred steps away a slave cried out in pain. The muffled grunt of a Kaon guard sounded, and the quiet of the desert returned. We were restrained, almost used to ignoring their pain and suffering in favor of fighting the Young Mage and hopefully ending slavery.
In case we chose to enter Kaon, the slaves were part of our disguise. That disagreed with me, but for now, I’d let it stand. Later, slavery would be challenged, and perhaps a few of the slaves in the darkness would forgive us.
The others seemed to have similar unspoken thoughts.
“Kendra and I only have each other,” I added to the Slave-Master’s statement, for some reason wanting to fit in with the shared group-misery.
*Is that how you really feel?*
I spun to face an angry little girl with flashing eyes sitting near Kendra. *No. You can’t accept what I say without considering the circumstances. It has always been just Kendra and me. Now it is the three of us. I should have said that sooner. You are one of us.*
*Thank you.*
*I’m sorry. We can talk about this later.*
Kendra was unaware of our private spat. While we hadn’t discussed Anna’s future but she had somehow become one of us. Kendra turned to the Slave-Master and said, “If you smuggle us into Kaon, I can command my dragon to follow us. It can stay out of sight, but close enough to fly to our rescue. If the Young Mage does not want the dragon in Kaon, then I suggest it is what we do. We can figure out why he is afraid of it and that might tell us all we need to defeat him.”
“Then what?” the Slave-Master asked. “Are you going to use your dragon to burn down a third city? My home?”
Kendra stood, and as she did, the two throwing knives appeared in her hands as if by magic. She must have been practicing when I hadn’t noticed. Her eyes blazed at the Slave-Master.
“Stop it!” I growled but didn’t dare move because it looked like any sudden movement might set her off, and the knives would fly. “Both of you need to calm down.”
The Slave-Master interlocked his fingers over his ample stomach, the touch of a smile at the corners of his mouth. In a soft, calm voice he said, “Have you ever heard of being too close to a problem? So close you do not understand what you see?”
He talked as if he was willing to share something and had our total attention.
The Slave-Master continued, “While I do not know much of what has transpired in your world, I know about mine, and what I have overheard from all of you. I know more about my world than you and have listened and learned since our first encounter. I also know how to solve problems. I consider what is most important and work from there to meet my objectives, and that skill has made me wealthy. The one you call the Young Mage is behind most, if not all, of what has happened in replacing kings with ruling councils. That is the central issue to think about.”
Elizabeth said, “Go on.”
“His magic skills are greater than any other mage. But magic is not free. He draws it from outside himself, as do all mages.”
We listened to the Slave-Master because he seemed to be leading us to a conclusion. However, his time was growing short, as far as I cared. I was about to tell him to make his point when he turned to me.
“Damon, you know your magic increases when you are closer to a Waystone. We proved it with the fire you created, and it grew as you moved closer. You all know there must be a source of magic, and that is Essence that comes from a true-dragon. Essence can only be used when a dragon is nearby.”
Elizabeth said, “That is not true. There is only one dragon, and Kaon is a long way from Dire, yet this Young Mage, and all mages wherever they live have been using their magic for centuries. Besides, Wyverns also produce Essence, from what little I know. Theirs is less effective, but still good enough if they are close, like with the ships at sea.”
The Slave-Master still wore the same slight smile, which was transforming into a self-satisfied smirk. “All true. Yet, you keep missing the obvious answer, which is the Waystones.”
“They allow mages to travel from place to place, we believe. How does that answer anything?” my sister asked, clearly growing as frustrated as I felt.
“Because,” he continued as if not interrupted, “you have already found the answer. Allow me to explain. You said your dragon was kept chained on a mountain in Mercia for hundreds of years, but you never asked, why. Now, I am asking you that question.”
We exchanged blank looks.
He shrugged. “Instead of all the other problems, distractions, emergencies, deaths, and cities burning that you’ve been dealing with, including endless storms at sea, illness in your families, and entire cities like Trager starving, you’ve missed the central issue. Not that I blame any of you.”
*Her eggs!*
I answered Anna with an exclamation in my mind, *There was one at the mountaintop in Mercia. An egg, I mean.*
*One that a mage stole from that open Waystone.*
Anna’s talk struck a chord with me. One phrase in particular. She said open Waystone. I nearly shouted, “The container on the mountaintop was a Wayston
e, but the top was open to accept newly laid eggs. It had the same symbols carved on the outside.”
“It was also warm to the touch,” Kendra added.
I said, “The one in Mercia was a “collector” of some sort. The eggs were either laid inside or moved into the Waystone and sent elsewhere via other Waystones. As Kendra suggested once, the dragon eggs power them, but not forever. When the Essence weakens, a new egg is needed to replace the old.”
The Slave-Master allowed his smile to develop fully. “Yes, it’s all about the eggs.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Princess Elizabeth
“It’s all about the eggs.”
We sat around the campfire while considering the words of the Slave-Master. He’d given us a direction to take, but there was more. There had to be. I no longer felt cold, or impatient. In order to survive in the nasty business of slaving, he had to provide food for his newly acquired slaves but feeding them too much kept them strong and able to revolt. If they were too weak, their value would drop.
He also had to pay his guards, provide food and shelter for all of them while in foreign lands, resolve differences in expectations, work with local bandits and legal representatives, and a hundred other daily things. In short, he was an accomplished manager who was required lead, much as any ruler, not the ignorant craven destroyer of lives I’d pictured at first. My respect for his intellect grew.
Not that he was any less moral for choosing such an occupation. But my mind had accepted him as smart. Smarter than me in many ways. I said, “It’s all about the eggs. Tell me how to use that statement to fight him.”
“Controlling the dragon eggs is power. All mages need Essence, or they have no magical powers,” he said as if addressing a ten-year-old.
“Kendra controls the last dragon,” I said. “Does that mean she can defeat the Young Mage?”
