by Nick McNeil
“What’s so funny?” Polly rubbed her eyes as she gauged her surroundings. “What happened?”
“She’s awake.” Edfrid stood and walked over to Polly. “How are you feeling?” He put the back of his hand against her forehead. “You did quite a number on those bats back there.”
Polly cocked her head. “I did what?”
“You set some thousand bats on fire, Polly,” he explained. “To tell the truth, you saved us all.”
“Oh.” Polly looked down and slumped her shoulders. “I see.”
“Don’t dwell on it, Polly.” Edfrid placed his hand on Polly’s shoulder. “I know you didn’t want to do it, but you were saving your friends.”
“I know, but those bats didn’t know any better.” Polly appeared pale and saddened. Her eyes were moist with tears that threatened to spill. “They were only acting on instinct. That doesn’t mean they deserved to die.”
“Oh, Polly, don’t you worry about that.” Edfrid chuckled and patted her on the back. “A little fire isn’t going to stop a horde of mountain bats.”
“Really?” Polly asked. She managed a weak smile.
“You may have gotten a few.” Edfrid shrugged. “But there are still plenty left to ruin our trip out of here, trust me on that.”
Bertly cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt.” He looked to Edfrid and gave a forced smiled. “But I have something I want to ask you, and I don’t know when else I will have the time.”
Edfrid peeked at Polly, then looked back at his son. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“It’s okay.” Bertly shook his head. “I think Polly already knows anyway; she’s just been too nice to come out and fully say it.”
Polly looked confused.
“Aye.” Edfrid gestured for Bertly to continue.
“Before I went to the Academy”—Bertly tugged on his earlobe—“you left me a notebook.”
Edfrid’s face paled. “Aye.”
“I don’t understand.” Bertly undid his bun and wove his fingers through his hair, attempting to pull out the knots. “It’s filled with a hundred times more human spells than the Academy archives contain.” Bertly saw by the relaxed look on Polly’s face that she understood exactly what he was referring to. “Who is she? Am I actually fully human?”
Edfrid gasped and choked on his own spit. “Sweet Cordelia, yes, you are a human.” He cleared his throat. “Look, your mother was obsessed with spells, magic, and treasure. The issue was, treasure was the only thing she could achieve. She believed if she practiced magic hard enough and long enough, she could learn it.” Edfrid stopped fidgeting with the sabretooth necklace. “She believed all humans had magic, and it was just tucked away somewhere.” He glanced at the ceiling. “We traveled everywhere, and we came across many journals and spells. Over the years, it all added up.” Edfrid peered back at Bertly. “I think it’s good that you have it now. That journal and map will serve you much better than they have me.” He looked down. “They’ve brought me nothing but old memories.”
“What map?” Roderick asked.
Bertly jerked his head and frowned at Roderick. His apprentice’s eyes were shut and his hands were under his head, serving as a pillow. “You’re supposed to be asleep.” In Bertly’s peripheral vision he saw a puddle not too far from Roderick. He snapped his fingers and splashed the water across his apprentice’s face.
Roderick leaped to his feet. “It’s not my fault, sir.” He used his sleeve to wipe the water from his face. “You should have taken that walk your father suggested if you truly wanted privacy.”
“It’s true, sir,” Devdan added. “I was only resting my eyes.”
Bertly’s face turned red. “And you two didn’t think to speak up?”
Bertly’s apprentice and Devdan turned to each other. “Well, no. It sounded too interesting, sir,” Roderick replied.
Bertly looked to Devdan for his explanation—he only nodded in agreement with Roderick. Bertly snarled and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
“Don’t put too much stress on it, Bertly,” Polly chimed in. “I don’t think Roderick or Dev will say anything.”
Bertly glared at the elves.
They both shook their heads, and Roderick waved his hands about, signaling that they wouldn’t say a word.
“Good.” Bertly adjusted his shirtsleeves and stuck his nose in the air. “Let’s be on our way, then. I’m sure you’ve all had enough time to rest.” Bertly grabbed his travel sack and marched deeper into the crypt and the mysteries it contained. His companions followed close behind. The alternate paths and dead ends ceased to spring up. What was once a maze had turned into one long route.
Edfrid cleared his throat. “Roderick,” he grumbled.
Bertly’s apprentice perked up. “Yes, sir?” Roderick asked.
“Hold out your hand. I have something for you.” Roderick reached out as he was asked and Edfrid placed the necklace he’d crafted into Roderick’s palms. “It’s a gift.”
Roderick blushed. “A gift?” He ran his fingers down the tusks of the sabretooth. “Is this from the tiger?”
“Aye.” Edfrid squeezed the back of Roderick’s neck. “This trophy is yours. Not many folk can say they’ve stopped a sabretooth tiger dead in its tracks.”
“I get it, sir. Dead in its tracks.” The little elf chuckled. “That’s a good one, sir.”
“The joke isn’t funny when you point out the punch line, Roderick,” Bertly said.
Roderick didn’t respond to Bertly, but instead continued to inspect his necklace. He ran his fingers across each tooth. “The fangs looked much larger when it was chasing us.”
Edfrid placed his hands in his pockets. “Aye, they were,” he replied. “But they were much too large to go around your neck.”
Roderick smiled, untied the knot that held the piece together, and tied the necklace around his neck. He tucked his chin into his chest, in what seemed like an attempt to examine it on himself.
“It looks great, Roderick,” Polly said, with a kind smile stamped across her face.
Bertly’s apprentice puffed his chest and stuck his nose in the air. He walked with a new strut, which looked familiar to Bertly, but he brushed the familiarity off for that moment. Bertly was proud of his apprentice’s accomplishment, and even though he struggled to take him seriously considering his rosy cheeks, Bertly knew his apprentice was attempting to hold back his excitement at the gift he’d been given as well as the pride he surely had in himself.
Bertly and company persisted with their search through the Dragon’s Crypt. The hallways seemed to stretch far over the horizon, and every time Bertly thought he saw a turn coming up, he found it was only his eyes playing tricks. The damp and cramped passageways were lined with triggered traps. Scattered around the traps were yet more pieces of abandoned armor and skeletal remains.
“Sir, I think this is probably a great sign that we should turn back,” Roderick said.
Bertly sighed as he watched the apprentice in whom, moments ago, he’d had all the confidence in the world as he bit his nails like a forest rat. Bertly had no clue how he managed to do so considering they’d already been bitten to the quick.
“Wrong, Roderick. It is important to always learn from the mistakes of others.” Bertly, fighting the urge to smack at it, pulled Roderick’s hand out of his mouth. It had, after all, been abused enough for one day. “These kind fellows have taken the time to show us where not to step.” Bertly winked.
“But, sir, what if we are the ones showing the next explorers where not to step?” Roderick drew quotation marks in the air with his mutilated hands.
“Think about it, Roderick.” Bertly squeezed the back of his apprentice’s neck and gave him a shake. “Why would someone go through all the effort to set up dozens of traps if not to protect something very important?” Bertly raised his eyebrow and peered into Roderick’s eyes. “Hmm?”
“Maybe…” Rod
erick fiddled with the cuff on his cloak. “It’s a diversion, sir?”
Bertly straightened his posture and peered ahead. His eyebrows narrowed, and his lips pressed together and made a slight pop when he opened them to speak. “Fair point, my apprentice.” Bertly pointed his finger in the air. “Nonetheless, carry onward,” he bellowed.
As Bertly walked, he noticed a glowing halo ahead. It did not have the same illuminating effect as the altar had—its light was not as concentrated. He had seen many unique light sources; however, every time the light had eventually revealed itself to be a torch. Bertly squinted, and this time, he saw something different. He did not see a single light, but a rectangular-shaped light.
The group reached the end of the tunnel, where an ominous wooden door blocked their path. Shining through the cracks of the door was a bright light—the first they had seen that wasn’t from a spell or torch. Bertly pulled the lever and pushed the squeaky door open.
In the center of the room, a pile of skeletons and miscellaneous bones was stacked two heads taller than Bertly. The walls were painted in dried, crusted blood, and the floors were stained in more places than not.
“I think this is the wrong room.” Roderick whipped his body around and dashed back out the door.
Edfrid snagged Roderick by the collar and lifted him into the air. He held the small elf apprentice up to his eyes and shook his head at him.
Bertly and Devdan drew their weapons. “No, my apprentice, I believe this is the right room,” Bertly replied. Clearly reassured that he’d gotten the message, Edfrid placed Roderick back on his feet, and when his hands were free of the whiny elf, he used them to remove his hammer from its holster.
Filling the wall behind the pile of skeletal remains was a golden sculpture that towered several stories high. The statue was carved into the shape of a magnificent dragon. Every feature from the missing scales to the battle scars was etched into the piece, and pouring out of the eyes were two streams of water that fell into a large pond, then settled at the feet of the statue. The golden dragon shined bright, illuminating the entire underground hall.
Bertly felt a sense of wonder—happiness consumed him. “The King of all Dragons.”
“You did it, Bertly!” Polly rejoiced. “You led us to the King of Dragons.”
“Aye, but where is the dragon?” Edfrid asked. The group bobbed their heads about, surveying the room. They did not venture far from each other, nor did they travel much beyond the cave entrance. Bertly looked around as well, but it appeared to be a barren, empty room with no recent signs of life. The bones of the dead had no meat left, and the dried blood was dark and flaking. He walked over to the pile of stacked bones to examine their size and shape. Mixed with human bones, to his surprise, were dwarf and elf bones. Most nonhumans did not know of the Dragon Crypt’s existence, let alone where it was.
“S-sir?” Roderick stuttered.
Bertly glanced toward his apprentice, who was pointing to something across the room.
“What’s that?” Roderick’s hand shook as though he were meeting someone for the first time.
Bertly concentrated on what the young elf was trying to show him. Across the room was a massive object with long brown fur covering it.
Bertly placed his finger over his mouth and gestured for Roderick to join him. Together they tiptoed and gathered the rest of the group. “Across the hall is the largest land creature I have ever seen. It would have that sabretooth for supper.” Bertly surveyed his friends’ faces—all had gone pale.
“I’m unsure of what it is. I know of nothing that grows to that size…unless it’s the first furry dragon.” Devdan snickered, which Polly quickly responded to with an elbow in his side.
“Stay here. I am going to try to get a better look at it,” Bertly declared.
Edfrid grabbed Bertly’s wrist as he stepped away. “Devdan and I will wrap around the far side so we can come in from behind if things go south.”
Bertly nodded and tiptoed past the pile of bones, toward the furred beast.
As Bertly crept closer, the improved proximity did not help him identify the creature; its head was turned away from him. Bertly needed to get closer, but he couldn’t conjure up a plan on how to do it. If the creature awoke while Bertly was within striking distance, it could be a quick ending for him.
Bertly slipped off his heavy boots and snuck on the soles of his feet—he needed to be as stealthy as possible. Bertly’s brain froze; everything about him seemed to move at light speed while his body was stuck, motionless. Visualizations of turquoise liquid consumed his sight. Memories of Alestar and the stealth elixir they’d created rushed into his mind. He rifled through his travel sack and pulled out a filled vial. Everything snapped back into place and Bertly regained his focus. He shook his head to rid himself of the intrusive thoughts. He hated how they emerged from nowhere and afforded him no answer as to why they came.
Bertly popped the cork out of the vial and looked back at his friends. Bertly tipped his glass, drank the liquid, and then he vanished. He looked down and could not see his own hands or feet.
Although being invisible did give him a confidence boost, Bertly took slow, cautious steps toward the beast. For all he knew, the creature could smell him better than it could see him; it did dwell in a dimly lit cave, after all. Without his shoes, his footsteps were silent. He rounded the front of the creature and examined its massive head. The animal’s skull was far larger than Bertly’s torso, and its snout could’ve fit half of his arm. The features of the furred beast were familiar; it looked no different than a standard bear, apart from its size.
A crash came from the center of the room and echoed throughout the area. The screeches of bats traveled through the crypt. Bertly lashed his head toward the racket and couldn’t help but notice Roderick as he stood immobile behind a collapsing pile of bones. The skeleton pieces slid out and spread across the floor in a macabre avalanche.
The furry beast grumbled and stretched out its hind legs. It rolled onto its four legs and stood up. The bear’s face was an arm’s length above Bertly, and its shoulder blades were as tall as a giant. It lifted its front paws off the ground, straightening its spine. The brown bear rubbed its back against the cave walls, highlighting the top of its head, which spanned well over two stories. Bertly had planned on encountering a grizzly bear at worst. However, this beast was nearly three times the size of any grizzly he had ever laid his eyes on.
“Over here.” The bear glanced at Edfrid, and so did Bertly. Bertly’s heart sank as he watched his father taunt the animal. “I’m right here. Come and get me.”
The furry beast plopped back onto all fours and turned its attention toward Polly and Bertly’s apprentice.
Edfrid smacked the head of his war hammer into the palm of his hand. “My throne hall needs a new rug.”
The bear whipped its head around, saliva foaming from its mouth.
“I see that got your attention.” Edfrid went into his battle stance, and Devdan was a step behind him with his sword drawn and ready to fight.
Tension spread through Bertly’s body, clenching all of his muscles while his mind replayed the previous brushes with death they’d faced on their trip. It had taken two miracles to save them from near death—one from Roderick and the other from Polly. The group was pressing their luck, and it was probable they would not be so fortunate a third time.
This beast was far more dangerous than either the mountain bats or the sabretooth. Bertly guessed this bear could’ve had a tiger for a snack if it so wished. Thoughts accelerated through Bertly’s head, and he wanted them to slow down so he could focus, but they wouldn’t. He had to make a quick decision. The bear was creeping in Roderick’s direction. Bertly couldn’t help but remember why he’d chosen this specific spirit quest. It wasn’t just so he could collect a scale from the King of Dragons—it meant much more to him. Bertly’s ultimate goal, since he had first learned of soul-bonding, was to bond with a
dragon, and he knew there was no better choice than the greatest dragon of all time. To become the greatest champion of all time, Bertly was certain, he needed the greatest spirit animal of all time.
Bertly darted toward the gargantuan beast and placed his hand against its back leg. His finger sank deep into the animal’s long brown fur. Bertly grew dizzy as everything around him spun, and his world appeared as though he were looking out through the eye of a storm. He could feel the energy escape his body. He tried to pull his arm from the bear, but he couldn’t break the connection.
Thel’s teachings rang through his memory: “The greater the creature, the more of your soul you must give up.” Bertly tried to remember what came next, but his mind was drawing only blank space and shades of white, black and gray; he couldn’t put together a complete thought. He was exhausted. Bertly knew it was illogical, but he wanted nothing more than to sleep. His body was pulling him to the ground, and he allowed it. He couldn’t move. Bertly’s vision blurred and light slowly faded to black. Sounds muted, and the racing of his heart echoed through his head. It was all he could hear. His body was paralyzed, and he was completely invisible.
For some reason or another—he felt oddly comfortable.
XVIII
“Roderick, are you asleep?” Bertly slammed his fists on the table. His apprentice yelped and flailed his arms, scattering the parchment laid out in front of him.
“No, sir, of course not.” Roderick rubbed his eyes and scampered around the table, gathering the displaced materials and flipping through them in search of his quill. “I was only resting my eyes.”
“That is the definition of sleeping, Roderick,” Bertly snapped.
“Well, sir, I was conscious. My eyes were just closed.” Roderick stacked all the papers, placing them in one orderly pile. “That isn’t quite sleeping.”
Bertly closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “Roderick…what is the last thing you have written down?”
