Shelly found a relatively clean spot to set her bag down. Pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves, she moved up shoulder-to-shoulder with Liam and reached for the edge of my soaked jacket.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, as she pulled it back. “I hope I can remember everything from my classes in herpetology.”
Fresh liquid flowed out sluggishly, like gelatinized crude, pulsing in time with Nagura’s failing heart. Shelly winced as she knelt and plunged her gloved hands into the gaping wound. I wasn’t sure if that was from the nature of the blood or its high temperature. Pulling on a second pair of gloves, I stood by to help any way I could.
“Artery under here is torn,” she announced. “Can’t use adhesive on that. Dayna, I need a clamp and a two-inch swaged needle. Should be in the bag’s upper pocket.”
“Got it.” I moved to hand it over, and Shelly got to work.
A ‘swaged’ needle was a sterilized, pre-packed eyeless needle attached to a pre-measured length of suture thread. It could be a real time-saver at the end of an autopsy, and I was lucky that Shelly knew how to use it on a still-living body.
The clamp only remained in place for twenty seconds at most. Shelly’s hands were a blur of motion as she sutured up the torn blood vessel. She removed the clamp and sat back as liquid surged through the repaired vessel.
“That’s the worst, anyway,” she gasped. “Pray that it holds. Dayna, your friend here has already lost a lot of blood. We got any idea how much blood a wyvern has to begin with?”
“I’m afraid that you know as much as we do,” I said.
Shelly sat back on her heels. “Then it’s in the Almighty’s hands whether she lives or dies in the next few minutes. If her heart doesn’t have enough to pump, it’s already over.”
I reached out and put a hand on Nagura’s flank. I couldn’t find a spot to take her pulse, but her sides kept heaving slowly as she breathed. That was something, anyway.
And besides, I flat-out refused to think about the alternative.
“We have to assume she’ll pull through,” I said. “What about the rest of the wound?”
Shelly was already probing around the torn edges. “The rest of this is muscle and epidermal damage. Meat and skin. Still too dang wide for liquid bandaging. I need some disinfectant first. Then the largest suturing needle I got left, and the entire roll of surgical thread.”
“Just a second,” I said, as I hunted for the requested materials.
“You’re a real handsome buck,” Shelly said, as she glanced over at Liam. “But can you move that compress of yours a smidge to the left? I need another quarter-acre to work with here.”
“Of course,” he said, and my friend shifted position. “There you are.”
“Don’t I already know you?” Shelly asked. “You look a lot like this young deer I kept seeing in my dreams. Did you ever say anything to me?”
Liam cleared his throat. “Moo?”
“Gosh darn it all to heck! I knew you looked familiar!”
I handed over the bottle of disinfectant. “I hope this works. I don’t know if wyverns even get infections.”
“Better safe than sorry,” my friend pointed out.
Shelly began by daubing the edges of the wound. Then she shook her head and motioned for Liam to stand back. She turned the container over and squeezed it in both hands like a plastic ketchup bottle, moving it back and forth over the gash.
Nagura shuddered and let out a groan, the first real sound she’d made. Her eyes opened. She groped for her marker where it had fallen to the ground.
I took the disinfectant from Shelly and handed over the suturing materials. She threaded the needle and found the first spot for insertion. With a grunt, she managed to push the needle through Nagura’s scaly hide, beginning the process of closing the wound.
“Let me see how Nagura’s holding up,” I said. “Don’t be spooked when you hear her voice.”
“Spooked?” Shelly didn’t look up from her work. “Darlin’, as far as I’m concerned, everything in this world seems to know how to talk.”
I grabbed Nagura’s dry-erase marker from where it lay in a puddle of her own blood. I wiped it clean as best I could on my shirt and placed it in her hand. Her grip was so weak that I had to help wrap her talons about the writing instrument. Slowly, the wyvern queen managed to bring it to her board. Her magic-created voice sounded as weak and wavery as her writing looked.
“Dayna…there is not much time left. We must beg for a boon from you.”
Thanks to my time at the Royal Court, I’d learned that a ‘boon’ was an archaic word for promise. I swallowed hard at what that implied.
“Nagura, we’re working hard to save your life,” I said, as I did my best to sound encouraging. “Don’t give up! You’re going to pull through this!”
“We can sense our life essence,” she said. “It is low, yes…but it shall not flicker out, thanks to you and your friends. But you must grant us this boon, for we shall not speak again.”
But she said we saved her, I thought frantically. I can’t lose another friend!
Aloud, I said, “I’ll grant you anything I can. I owe you my life twice over.”
“And we owe you our life twice over as well. Place our body in the cavern below the palace. Fitzwilliam’s palace. Our family’s home. We wish to be near the eggs sensed down there.”
“I…I promise. The King will agree, I’ll make sure of it. But you’re going to live! We’re not burying you down there!”
Nagura’s eyelids began to droop. She scribbled shakily, fighting against a deadline only she could sense.
“You do not understand,” she said. “We Hakseeka can survive wounds that would kill most others…but it is at a price. Our bodies heal by returning to the deep sleep of time, much as how our hive entered slumber deep below Keshali.”
The deep sleep of time. With a sick shock, I remembered yet again how some creatures lived and experienced time in a radically different way that humans.
“How long?” I whispered.
Nagura’s reply was even softer. “Centuries. We weep.”
“You…” But I couldn’t go on. A bead of moisture formed in the corner of Nagura’s eye and ran down to splash, steaming hot, on the flagstones.
“We weep, because when we finally wake, all shall have turned to dust. You and your friends shall be no more than like a dream to us. A pleasant dream, a welcome dream, but of no more substance than mist and smoke.”
With that, Nagura’s eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell, even more slowly now. Her voice stilled, the marker falling slowly from her limp hand.
The ancient Queen of the Hakseeka passed on into dreamless slumber.
Chapter Eighteen
The King was furious.
Any way you sliced it, this day had been an utter catastrophe. Silverbane’s mangled corpse sprawled across the flagstones. Nagura’s prone form lay nearby, immobile save for the slow rise and fall of her chest.
Grimshaw remained above and watchful for threats, while Liam patrolled the boundaries on his own, searching for any traces of magic. Galen put the finishing touches on securing Vandegrift for his transport to the House of Hospitalliers. The foolishly brave Dragon Knight had suffered massive bruising, cuts, and broken bones. The Wizard’s pain remedies worked, but they’d rendered Vandegrift nearly as comatose as the wyvern queen.
“This ‘Damon Harrison’ has declared war upon me and my subjects!” Fitzwilliam thundered, as soon as the Hospitalliers had taken his friend off on their stretcher. He swung around to address me. “Dame Chrissie, this surely is the work of the Creatures of the Dark. The same forces which used dragons and owls to smash my throne room! The same which sent wyverns to poison me!”
“Yes, your Majesty,” I said wearily, as I removed my stained nitrile gloves and stuck them inside an already-spattered pocket. “These forces are one and the same. The only question in my mind is whether Harrison has orchestrated these attacks alone, or if he is in the
employ of others behind the scenes.”
“Then I charge you to find this man,” he gritted. “Hunt him down. Gain what information you can before slaying him. Only do not leave him in possession of the field. Should I be so fortunate as to meet him in battle, I swear that I would trade my life to end his evil!”
The King’s words sounded rash, but I understood the emotion behind them. Harrison’s magic had wreaked havoc on both of our friends. The courtyard around us reeked of gore. Commander Yervan approached his King and spoke respectfully.
“Sire, I have taken the liberty of calling the Royal Litter for you. Given how tired you must be from the recent battle, may I ask you to make use of it?”
Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow as the contraption drew near. Four pairs of attendants approached, carrying a European-style sedan chair between them upon their shoulders. The sedan chair had room for two, and was enclosed by an eggshell-white carriage fixture complete with a fleur-de-lis pattern.
“I appreciate your concern,” Fitzwilliam stated. “I shall make use of it…but how come I never even knew about this device?”
“It had been put into storage since you ascended the throne,” Yervan explained. “Your father made use of the Royal Litter whenever he was…shall we say, ‘top heavy’ from sampling too much ale.”
“Yes, I can see where that might have come in handy,” the King sighed. He turned to address me once more. “I have agreed to Nagura’s boon, Dame Chrissie. Commander Yervan shall remain to see it carried out. Is there anything else you require?”
I was about to shake my head when Shelly spoke up. She’d bagged her bloody gloves and draped her medical kit over her shoulder. Even so, she managed a perfect curtsey as she addressed the King.
“Your Majesty,” she ventured, “I’m not up on the manners of this world, so hope I’m not talkin’ in church here. But could you assign someone to show me the way to the Parliament Building? I’d be grateful for the chance to see Albess Thea.”
“I shall do better than that, Shelly of the Land of the Angels,” Fitzwilliam said, gesturing to the Royal Litter. “Come, take the second seat. I shall convey you there directly.”
My friend’s eyes flicked over to me. “Dayna, are you all right with my going off here? If you need me…”
“I needed you for what you’ve already done,” I said gratefully. “Go see the Albess. When you’re done there, ask any of the Royal Pages – they’re young men wearing light blue – to bring you to the Dame’s Tower. That’s my demesne, you have free run of the place.”
Shelly let out a little girl squeal at that. Then her expression turned sober.
“Oh, Dayna…I’m all torn up inside. What happened to that poor creature I treated…it’s horrible, yes. But this world…I feel like I did when I was twelve years old and got to visit Disneyland for the first time!”
“Believe it or not, that exactly how I felt,” I said. “But we can talk about that later. You’re holding up the Royal Litter, and you don’t ever want to make the King late for anything.”
One of the litter attendants held open the sedan’s tiny side door for Fitzwilliam, and even extended a hand to help Shelly up into her seat. The attendants set off at a fast walk, carrying off the litter’s occupants.
Commander Yervan looked to me next. His distinctive gold-trimmed armor glinted in the sun. He made a slight bow as he spoke.
“Dame Chrissie, my men are dispersing our curious on-lookers. Yet I am not sure how to proceed with fulfilling the King’s boon to the wyvern queen.”
I considered the problem. “You have a point. Nagura’s a good-sized burden.”
With a clop of hoof on flagstone, the Court Wizard came to stand next to me. He cleared his throat. “Might I make a suggestion?”
“Your suggestions are always welcome, Galen.”
“The Palace Guard should be well within their power if they requisitioned any farmer’s or merchant’s wagon for a kingly purpose, correct?”
“That would be correct,” Yervan acknowledged. “The fulfilment of his Majesty’s boon would definitely count as a kingly purpose.”
“Once the desired number of wagons are requisitioned,” Galen continued, “I would secure a section of Nagura’s body to each wagon bed, taking special care of the bandaged and sewn portion around her neck. Then they could roll out together, allowing you to reach the palace proper.”
“That does sound like a good plan. Only…what next?”
I took it from there.
“Are you familiar with the Royal Dungeons?” I asked.
Yervan nodded. “I am indeed.”
“Nagura needs to be returned to a cavern below those dungeons. It’s reached through a stairway leading down from the cell where Regent Magnus was once kept,” I explained. “As for getting her there…well, you’ll have to enlist all of your Palace Guardsmen. But if you line them up and have them work in tandem, then you could lift Nagura’s body the way you might carry a large roll of carpet, or a length of timber. You’re in luck, the wyvern queen is more flexible than either, and the stairway leading to her chamber is wide enough for you to carry her down.”
The Commander bowed again. “I shall see that it is done.”
I wiped my brow as Yervan left to gather his men. “That’s one thing taken care of, at least.”
“And yet it leaves another question unanswered,” Galen said grimly. “Nagura said that she had translated those four rune symbols you found inside the Los Angeles ‘midrise’. Yet she was more concerned with meeting King Fitzwilliam than she was with telling anyone what they were.”
“You’re kidding me,” I groaned. “Please, tell me you’re kidding me!”
Sadly, the Wizard could only shake his head at that. For a moment all I could do in response was gape at him. There went Dayna Chrissie’s luck again.
If it ever happened to magically rain soup in Andeluvia, I’d be the only person stuck holding a fork.
Chapter Nineteen
As I got the latest bad news from Galen, Shaw made one last circle above before landing next to us with the solid clack of griffin talons on stone. Liam also came trotting up, his noble deer face a study in disappointment.
“‘Tis nothing amiss or hostile in the area,” the drake reported. “At least, nothing mine own eyes could spot.”
“I too have little news to convey,” the Protector said. “I sensed no spoor of any kind in this vicinity. Nothing wizardly, nothing ethereal, and certainly nothing demonic.”
The Court Wizard nodded. “I would have been surprised if you had. After our encounter with the Old Man of the Mountain, I fashioned wards about the palace grounds to prevent ethereal beings from entering without my leave.”
“Then we’re still in the dark about how Harrison made that phone call,” I sighed. “And how he knew it was the right time to strike at us.
“And strike he did, with deadly intent,” Galen said, with a firm clop of his forehoof. “The King was nearly killed upon his return!”
I stopped pacing.
Something about that didn’t ring true.
I cast my mind back to the other time that an ethereal creature had struck at Fitzwilliam. The dust-shadow form of the demon known as the Old Man of the Mountain had shot poison-tipped darts at me and Fitzwilliam. Luck had spared us, while poor Captain Vazura of the Royal Air Cavalry had fallen.
Something in the back of my mind shouted back.
No! That was wrong, you’re misremembering!
“Wait a minute…” I whispered, and my friends went quiet. “We figured that one out. Luck hadn’t spared us. We were never the target to begin with.”
What did that attack and this one have in common?
My jaws clenched as my mind put things together with a massive click.
“That first attack,” I breathed. “The one where the Old Man of the Mountain used twisted pine-needle darts tipped with sodium cyanide? King Fitzwilliam wasn’t the target then. He wasn’t the target this time, eithe
r.”
“And you weren’t the target either,” Liam ventured hesitantly. “Isn’t that right? Due to your being a vertice?”
“Yes, yes,” I said, as I untangled what my decidedly oddball brain had set before me. “Stop and think about it. Who was killed or wounded in these two attacks?”
“During the first attempt, nearly a year ago, death came for Captain Vazura of the Royal Air Cavalry,” Galen recalled. “This time, Silverbane the dragon lost his life. As for Captain Vandergrift, his injuries are extensive. Even if he lives, I doubt that his lucidity will return for some time. And Nagura, the wyvern queen of the Hakseeka, is effectively lost to us.”
I ticked the names off on my fingers as I recited them. “Vazura. Vandegrift. Nagura. And we were just about to learn if Silverbane could communicate with the wyvern queen. Each of these people had one thing in common: they have extensive knowledge of dragons.”
“Vazura said that Dragon Knights have knowledge that’s never found its way into the libraries of this world,” the Wizard added. “And much conflict in your world has been generated by my recent project for the King. That is, Crossbow Consulting’s duplication of my Archmage-level weapons project. The one they named the Demon.”
“Mose Wainwright, Karl Nystrom, and at least a dozen other people are dead because of it,” I agreed. “Everything points towards eliminating threats to dragons. Big, ancient ones like Sirrahon. And I’m betting that there’s an easy way to confirm it.”
“Thy brain is always a wonder to watch in action,” Shaw said. “What dost thou have in mind?”
“It’s simple. Vandegrift spoke of the realm’s three Air Cavalry commanders. He was one. Vazura was the other. As for that last Captain…he passed away shortly after Vandegrift left on his overseas mission. If we find out who he was, then we can find out where he was interred. We exhume him, and I can confirm whether this man was murdered or not.”
Dragon with a Deadly Weapon Page 10
