by B C Penling
“It’s not,” Kijo piped up. He had just finished packing Zen’s gums with a thick herbal paste that he wrapped in cheesecloth.
Zen scowled. “Tastes awful.”
“It’ll help slow the toxins, even if they are induced magically,” Kijo replied. “We need to find the source.” He looked at Dooley.
“I’m not the source,” he said firmly. “I would not harm the one that, despite his hatred for my kind, allowed me to live.”
“I don’t think you’re intentionally killing him,” Kijo said. “I think you’re the source without knowing it. No one else here has foul magic like Warisai do. Only Malworn and there are none here.”
“I don’t have anything,” Dooley retorted. “I can’t cast spells like that, not without any stones.” Dooley’s eyes narrowed. “Unless…” He growled discontentedly. “Donovan.”
“What are you thinking?” Kijo asked.
“I don’t have a stone to cast anything. I’m also not as strong as Donovan is. I can cast control spells but not spells that inflict harm, to that magnitude, upon others. Unless Donovan snuck a stone beneath my scales, there’s no possible way for me to do something that bad.”
“Check beneath your scales,” Kijo said. “Check them all. Pan, help him search his back.”
Dooley untied his belt and tossed his makeshift tunic to the floor. He began searching the scales on his chest, working his way down one by one, systematically pulling at one after another to expose his soft skin beneath. Panthigra copied him, starting at the base of his skull and working her way down. Thankfully, his scales were easy to lift but unthankfully, they were grimy beneath and they smelled when they were lifted.
“You need to bathe,” Panthigra grumbled.
“I already did,” Dooley said.
“Maybe you’ll get a chance to scrub all the nooks soon,” Panthigra said.
“I’m new to bathing,” Dooley added. “Warisai don’t bathe.”
“Yug,” Panthigra exclaimed. “The smell of many must be atrocious.”
“After being away from that and smelling the clean air for awhile, I’d say so,” Dooley agreed.
“Your back is clear, no stones or rocks beneath them, only grime.”
She moved onto his left side and then his right. He checked his arms and shoulders then Panthigra moved onto the back of his legs. She found nothing there either. His wings and tail had nothing, not even a shard remnant of one.
“Nothing,” Panthigra said. “I found nothing.”
“I saw nothing, too,” Tigthero said. He had been scrutinizing Dooley from the front, watching every move he made and ensuring the emptiness of each small pocket beneath his scales.
“There’s nothing beneath his scales?” Kijo asked, alarmed.
“Nothing,” Dooley said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Well, you’re a part of us so you better start thinking quickly,” Tigthero said.
Dooley shrugged. “I was hopeful of change. This is disheartening.”
“He’s dying,” Panthigra said. “Please, help him.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how,” Dooley replied sullenly. “My magic is weak and I only know foul magic. More bad magic can’t help them.”
Panthigra sadly looked at Zen then to Tigthero. He was blinking slowly and looked to be nodding off while he was standing up. He stood oddly, his feet out more to his sides.
“Tig?” Panthigra asked alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
“I think,” he said. “I think I have it, too.”
“No,” Panthigra said. “No! You can’t.”
Tigthero turned around and walked rigidly to the straw pile and lay down. “I don’t feel well all of a sudden. My muscles ache. My heart is pounding. I… feel like I can’t breathe.”
“That’s me, too,” Zen said slowly.
“I don’t have enough herbs to treat you both,” Kijo said gravely.
“Tig,” Panthigra said. “Please don’t die.”
“I can’t promise you anything, Pan,” Tigthero said softly.
“Desertion spells!” Dooley exclaimed so suddenly that Panthigra jumped and stared at him, teary eyed. “It reminds me of the desertion spells. It’s a spell my brother uses to deter defectors and keep his troops under more control. This has to be it or something similar.”
“How do we stop it?” Panthigra said.
“I don’t know. I know that’s not what you want to hear,” Dooley said quickly. “This isn’t exactly behaving like a desertion spell. The desertion spell spreads from the carrier to others in the party, which seems true here. With a large party and all the troops having stones, the spells spread to everyone equally and they die almost simultaneously after prolonged suffering. However, this is the problem, I should already be dead since I was alone and there was nothing the spell could transfer to other than me. I should’ve been dead or well on my way to dying by the time they found me.”
“It also needs a stone?” Kijo asked to clarify.
“Yes,” Dooley said, “and I’m clear of them. All I have now is what you gave me. No stones upon the tunic and no stones beneath my scales.”
He dropped his arms to his sides. “I had a glimpse of hope for my kind,” he said quietly. “That glimpse is gone now and it has made me feel something different.”
“Sadness,” Zen mumbled.
Dooley shrugged. “I was watching the little humans play. They were laughing.” He turned to the crowd at the door. “I saw an idea to make my kind better. If any one of you has magic or wards to keep poison and foul magic away, please allow us their use, to save them. In turn, it could help our world.”
“Oh, I have some healing stones,” one lady said. She gathered up her white dress and hurried away. Another lady said nothing but left in a different direction.
The ones that had left to gather medicinal items when Panthigra had asked were starting to return. The twins walked in, struggling with a half-full bucket of water that they placed close to Zen and ran off to retrieve another after seeing that Tigthero had fallen ill. The women returned with herbs and spices and other medicinals.
Kijo thanked them and asked for more. He then packed Tigthero’s gums with herbs for detoxifying and cleansing. The woman brought in her healing wards and placed them where she felt they would be most helpful in comparison to human anatomy. She was apparently a healer for mild ailments and although their problems were far beyond her ability to cure, she helped anyways.
“The hospitality of Ouris never ceases to amaze me,” Kijo said.
“Unless you look like me,” Panthigra said. “Then you have to go elsewhere to find a family.”
“I regret that ever happened, Saia,” the healer said.
“In ways, I don’t,” she replied. “My name is Panthigra now and Tigthero is my brother.” Her voice choked a little and her emotions surged. “I feel like I’m losing him.”
Her eyes darted around the room, desperately looking for something to help them faster. They fell on Dooley and immediately she was overcome with rage. She sprang up and charged him, flailing desperately; punching him repeatedly.
“All of this has to be your fault!” she screamed.
Dooley stepped back, unwilling to fight her. He allowed every punch to land, retreating from her until his back bumped up against the wall of the stable. She continued hitting him until he grabbed her arms and held them.
“I would not intentionally harm any of you,” Dooley said. “If this is somehow connected to me, I’m sorry.”
Then, to the surprise of the onlookers, Dooley released her arms and pulled her in close to him. He hugged her, something he learned while watching a mother and her child on the town green. Her tail dropped to the ground and her muscles relaxed. Her arms hung at her sides. She leaned into him and sobbed. Dooley then stroked her hair on her head, another learned behavior from briefly watching the humans.
“I’m sorry, hairy one,” he said softer. He knelt down and looked her in the eyes.
<
br /> “He’s my family,” she sobbed. “I know we have no blood relation but that doesn’t matter to me. He’s more of my family to me than my own mom. She’s over there helping Tig but acts like she didn’t miss me. She only responds with dry words, just like before.”
Dooley’s face became stern and he looked at the woman. “That’s your mother?”
Panthigra nodded. “She was. I’ve moved on because she stopped loving me when I started looking like this.”
Dooley whispered jokingly, just loud enough for Panthigra to hear. “Want me to eat her?”
Panthigra stifled a laugh through her tears and wiped her face.
“Listen,” Dooley said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve done a lot of horrible things in my life that I cannot change. Many of the things were ghastly, the materials of nightmares that gripped Dagan. Yet, here I am, of all creatures, among all of you. I’ve changed my ways. I was given chances to show I’ve changed. Perhaps she needs that, too. And perhaps they all need to do the same for you.”
“There might actually be something good in you, Dooley,” Zen mumbled. “Don’t lose that.”
Dooley stood up, walked over to Zen and knelt beside him. “I won’t.” Dooley reached up and pet Zen’s head.
Zen growled, and then winced as his pain intensified. His wings twitched and his muscles spasmed, sending his body into convulsions. He writhed in agony as pain seared through his body. He grappled at the floor, tearing out cobblestones. He roared and snarled. His body became rigid. He cried out for Lana and then fell still.
CHAPTER 33
FLIGHT AND FOLLY
“Zen!” Lana screamed. She awoke suddenly from an awful dream that felt so real. He was on the floor inside of a building and he was in agony. He called for her and it was her own reply that woke her.
She sat up, heart hammering with panic, and looked around the empty room. There was a plate of vegetables on her bedding and a fire crackling in the hearth. The firewood was evidently aged, burning hot and lively. No one else was there. She was alone but it was apparent that Turtleback had been there recently while she was asleep. Donovan had Turtleback feed her still and she assumed it was because he couldn’t be bothered or he hoped she would kill or harm him.
Whatever the reason, she was happy about that. If there was one Warisai she never wanted to see again, it was him. Sure, the two guards that brought armfuls of wood looked at her as if they wanted to eat her but at least she knew Donovan would kill them if they did. They knew that, too.
She appreciated that small amount of protection, if one could call it such. Donovan, however, she felt was the worst of them all. She despised him.
She sobbed and feebly shifted the chain that bound her to the wall. Since Donovan made Turtleback make her more comfortable, she had only one wrist that was burdened by the weight of captivity. She moved the chain from beneath her legs and pushed it towards the wall. There was no escaping the harshness of the iron cuff around her wrist that rubbed her uncomfortably.
She buried her face in her hands. She missed Zen. He felt real enough to touch and yet there was something wrong with the dream; none of his wings were broken. It couldn’t possibly be happening now, could it? Maybe her last dream of him was telling the truth and he had his wing repaired. If that was true then maybe this dream was, too.
The noise outside Dansrivan was louder than normal and was quite the clamor compared to other nights. She wondered what was happening and thought they must be getting ready for another raid.
Just on the other side of the doors, she heard footfall and thumps that sounded as if Warisai were dropping firewood in the hall. She heard them complain down the hall and then all was silent for a few moments.
Then, something scraped the doors as if grappling at them and trying to open them. The doors quivered slightly as if a stiff wind was assaulting them. There was a sound like scraping metal on stone before all went silent again.
Lana’s heart fluttered with a surge of anxiety at the thought of Donovan entering the room. Her head pounded with the beat of her heart, making it difficult for her to hear anything else; including the noise outside.
She took deep breaths, attempting to calm herself but it fell short. She didn’t want to see the likes of his ugly face and most of all, be around his toxic, evil personality. He was disgusting, inside and out. She loathed him and, for the first time in her life, she wished for negative things to happen to someone. His failure in all aspects of his life would please her immensely, especially if his life was to fail. If he were to die, she'd be satisfied.
If she ever got the chance to kill him, she would; and she had planned various scenarios many times over in her head. He brought out the worst in her and she hated him even more for that.
Her heart had nearly returned to normal and slowed even more once she realized that the doors never opened and the noise had ceased. Believing it was the wind, she turned her attention to her plate. She picked up a green leaf and turned it over in her hands to examine it. It was clean, no insects crawled on it and nothing else tainted it. Turtleback was getting better at picking quality vegetables for her. Maybe having him try Magnen's claw had something to do with it.
She ate the leaf before reaching for another on the plate. A bright orange tuber quivered and rolled slightly. Lana withdrew her hand. Her stomach turned at the thought of there being a fat, nasty grub beneath the leaves that the tuber sat on. It made her feel extra glad that she learned to carefully inspect each piece of food.
There was a sudden, crisp snap and a piece of the tuber disappeared. Lana scooted back on her bedding, dragging the chain with her. She dreaded some ugly insect popping out from inside the tuber and her stomach grew queasy at the thought of the possibility that she had eaten one of whatever it was. The tuber rolled and another piece disappeared with noticeable crunching sounds following.
The tuber lifted up off the plate and started floating toward her. Lana picked up the chains and was preparing to hit it, preparing to squash whatever it was that made the tuber fly. Then, quite to her surprise…
Don’t hit me! Caeda exclaimed in her head, appearing suddenly.
“Caeda!” Lana exclaimed. She grabbed her and hugged her. “You’re alive! I thought I lost you. I thought you were left behind with Zen.”
It was tough but I stayed with you the entire time.
“I never felt you,” Lana replied quietly.
You wouldn’t have. When you were with the bird, I was on its back so it wouldn’t squish me. When it was fighting the shark, I was swimming right behind you. When it took you from the water, I grabbed its tail. Then, after it landed on the roof, I hopped off and followed you. I was there when you were in the dungeon. I watched Donovan, too. I watched him kill his own father with poisoned drinks. It was very disturbing but it has provided us an opportunity.
Caeda held out her hind foot and presented a bronze key. It had been Caeda at the door, wriggling underneath them; the scratching and rattling and the sound of metal on stone was the key upon the floor.
“Where’d you get that?” Lana asked.
Turtleback hung it on the wall in the dungeon. I spent time watching which keys he used and then took the right one. I left the others so they wouldn’t make noise.
“Can we put them back afterwards? Turtleback might get in trouble once they realize I’m gone.”
Donovan was with him when the keys were hung. He even looked at this key before he left the room and he left after Turtleback. We must hurry, Lana. There isn’t much time. They’re executing the one that was framed for murdering Donovan’s father, so we must move quickly. I think all the Warisai are out there watching. I’ll scout ahead and guide you from corridor to corridor. We can also return the key on the way outside.
Lana took the key and shoved it into the padlock around her ankle. A moment of dread swept over her. What if it wasn’t the right one? Turtleback had many keys.
“Please be the right one,” she whispered.<
br />
She twisted it. To her relief and exhilaration, it clicked loudly. She shed the cuff that rubbed on her wrist and stood up.
Now hurry!
Lana took a step forward then stooped down suddenly. She grabbed the tuber and jammed it into the padlock in an attempt to make it appear as if she disturbed the lock enough for it to open. It was stupid looking but most Warisai seemed daft and she was hopeful it would protect Turtleback to an extent. She turned around. Since it was late night or early morning, she couldn’t tell which one exactly, she felt her lighter clothing would be more noticeable than darker things.
Lana.
She darted quickly to the chair and took Donovan’s thick black cloak. Oddly, Warisai seemed to enjoy adorning their victim's clothing. The cloak was too large for her and it smelled nasty but at least it could provide some cover from the eyes of Warisai; camouflaging her in the darkness. She flung it over her shoulder and drudgingly donned the dreadfully smelly cloak. She walked quietly to the door, her heart hammering in her chest.
The hall is clear. Stay by the wall, and stay low, so nothing can see you from below.
Lana slowly opened the door and peeked out before sidling through and into the corridor. She crouched low and hurried quickly, quietly to the staircase.
The stairs are clear. Nothing is coming up.
Lana descended the stairs; stepping on each on toe to heel, toe to heel, quiet as a prowling cat. She held the cloak up to prevent it from dragging on the floor, not wanting it to make even the slightest sound.
Hurry, while it’s still clear. There’s nothing down here either.
Lana stepped onto the landing. Her heart was racing even harder, faster than it had before, as she made her way silently down the vacant hall. After Caeda said there was nobody in the room, Lana opened the dungeon door, entered, and then slid the key back on the heavy ring it came from.
“Now what do we do?” Lana asked.
The gragon tilted her head and looked at her with bright eyes.
I know how to get you out of the city. But, I’m not sure where we can go from there.
