“At one time, yes. But that is not the case now. The enchantment has been thrown off by Archer himself, but in such a way that the original caster would not easily notice.”
“You have struck in the gold, centaur,” the former Dragon Knight confirmed. “I am my own man, though it took a great deal of time to arrange it. Would you care to know how I came to be ensorcelled, and how I freed myself? It is a long story, but ultimately worth listening to.”
I couldn’t help but appreciate the irony. I’d said something similar to Archer’s compatriot, Captain Vandegrift, when I’d brought him up to speed on things in Andeluvia.
“I’ve always liked stories,” I said. “I’m not sure where this one is going, but I’m hoping to have a say in how it ends.”
Archer chuckled at that.
“So do we all. And that brings me to the other reason I’m glad that you brought along a friend.” He reached down and brought up a skinny, notch-shaped weed remover. “I can always use extra hands when it comes to gardening. Come along, I’ve been neglecting things here.”
Grayson Archer pulled on a set of gardening gloves, stood, and walked a little way down the length of the deck. He squatted next to a badly overgrown flowerbed and began to work on it.
I traded yet another look with Galen. He spread his hands as if to say: Don’t look at me, I didn’t expect this either.
As before, it didn’t look like we had much of a choice. We stepped down off the deck. On the ground below were two more pairs of gloves and a matching set of weeders.
Galen and I each pulled on a set gloves and chose a weeder before kneeling next to Archer. The Wizard watched us carefully to make sure he understood the process. He watched me poke the tool into the soil, grab the weed with one hand, and then give it a tug while pushing the handle down. In less than a minute, the centaur was following suit.
“I find that I come up with my best thoughts here,” Archer remarked, once we’d fallen into an easy rhythm. “For example, everyone wants to be the King or Queen of their personal universe. Perhaps gardeners are expressing that desire for control, even if it’s just over a small piece of earth.”
“I’d have thought that they were just happy to be close to nature,” I ventured. “To watch things grow.”
“Maybe. Yet if that were the case, no one would bother weeding.”
He had me there. But I’d finally gotten Grayson Archer to talk, and that’s what I really wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I thought that I could sate my desire with knowledge,” Grayson Archer continued. “With magic. Yet I soon discovered that the more one knows, the more one realizes that their course is constrained by fate.”
Galen nodded as he tossed another weed aside. “All those who study magic learn that very thing. To change the universe is a dangerous thing. One’s destiny even more so.”
“I had to learn that bitter lesson on my own,” Archer didn’t look up from his work, even as he shifted further along the plant bed to the right. “I had to teach myself magic, even as I turned away from my father’s Knightly Order. It had a less than stellar reputation, but I hear that one ‘Dame Chrissie’ has turned it around and made it into something better.”
“It’s a work in progress,” I acknowledged, as I moved my knees to one side to follow him. I was glad that I’d worn jeans this morning. My knees felt damp, but otherwise the denim kept me comfortable.
“I suppose that you know about my service in the Air Cavalry. How I eventually became the Supreme Dragon Rider and Defender of the Realm of Andeluvia.”
“Yes, and that you only held the title for a few hours before being dismissed for claiming that men with your talents should be ruling the land.”
Archer let out a snort. “That was only the last straw. The lords at the Royal Court were jealous that I had the King’s ear. They spread rumors that I spoke with demons. That strange lights were seen in my palace quarters – the same quarters that you currently occupy, centaur.”
Galen looked up at that, clearly surprised by the news. But he caught my glance and didn’t comment. Archer paused to rip out a particularly stubborn patch of crabgrass before going on.
“I suppose the rumors had a grain of truth. Shortly before my last promotion, I had found an old tome written by one of the last human members of the Deliberati, one that talked about travelling between worlds. In my explorations, in my attempts to bring allies into the fold, I ended up here, in this world.
“You can imagine my surprise at seeing the wonders of this place. But I watched, I learned, and when I was ready, I approached the local ‘lords’ of this realm, as I then thought of them. A few handfuls of gold coins was all it took. I soon had my own plot of land and the cards of identity I needed to blend in.
“In my earnestness, I spoke to King Benedict. I whispered of the glories of this place. The magic they possessed to strike men dead a thousand, or even a million at a time. He deemed me mad, and that was when I told him who I thought should rule.”
“And that was what led to your dismissal,” I concluded. “As well as the demotion of the other two Dragon Knights.”
He nodded. “In the folly of youth, I swore to myself that I would return. Not as a glorified servant, mind you, but as the master of the kingdom. To do that, I needed more knowledge and power. I learned of the hidden lair of the unicorns and sought them out. I humbled myself before Master Dekanos and presented myself as a knowledge-hungry acolyte.
“I studied with Master Dekanos long enough to learn what I needed. A spell to bind dragons to my will. But I needed more raw power than any human possessed to weave that epic sort of magic. Thus I worked out a spell that would lead me to what I needed to fuel my ambitions.”
Galen stopped in mid-dig. “I would surmise that you created a spell…to lead you to one of the so-called Hearts of the Mother.”
Another nod. The morning sun continued to rise, as did the temperature. Archer wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, but I wasn’t sure that it was due to the heat. His voice picked up a notch in volume and tempo now.
“I cast the spell repeatedly in my travels throughout Andeluvia. And I wasn’t just active in my native-born world. I spent more and more of my time here, creating a company that might also bring me what I wanted.”
“Crossbow Consulting,” I concluded, with a shake of my head. “No wonder you decided to create a business that dealt with mercenaries and arms-trafficking. Your ‘Plan B’ was to simply show up at the palace and kill anyone who got in your way, wasn’t it?”
“I thought long and hard about seizing the throne by force,” Archer allowed. “I’m not sure that I could have gone through with it, but I will never know. Because just as I was about to give up, my spell located a Heart. I traveled across the Weatherglass Sea and through the lands of the far south to find it. And when I did…it was huge. Almost as big as a cottage. And to my horror, I found that it had been hollowed out. That it contained a creature inside.”
I dropped my weeding tool in the dirt. A dozen half-remembered nightmares flashed before my eyes. I had to force myself to speak.
“That was the crystal I saw in your company’s warehouse. The enormous ruby that the demons called the Scarlet Crypt.”
“I have heard it called that by the Ultari,” Archer gravely acknowledged. “What lies inside it now, when I saw it at the warehouse, is new. Different. All I know is that I fear it.”
Great, I thought crazily. What’s inside there now is even worse. And that’s supposed to be the thing that ends me.
“Don’t leave us hanging,” I said aloud. “What did you see inside of the ruby? I mean, when you first found it?”
“Curled up inside that crystal, as if in the egg itself, was the greatest captain of the dragons,” Archer replied, as if the answer had been obvious. “He slumbered in the deep sleep that only a few creatures have ever survived: the Seraphine, the Ultari, and Hakseeka.”
So three thousand-year hibernations are
not normal for dragons, I noted. Then how did this one do it?
“The greatest captain…” Galen breathed. “You mean Sirrahon! The ancient stone dragon who fought in the Old War!”
“None other. The crystal was much too small for him in his natural form, of course. He’d used magic to fit inside the chamber that had been carved into the gem. I immediately knew that he was the key to controlling my destiny. Here was the ultimate dragon for me to ride whilst on my way to conquest!”
“You woke him,” I declared, and my voice was dagger-sharp. “You woke the most dangerous creature in the entire world, just for your petty revenge!”
Archer couldn’t meet my gaze for a moment. When he did, his expression remained under control, but his hands shook.
“Yes. In my arrogance, I woke Sirrahon. I cast my domination spell upon him, seeking to control him. I was a fool.”
“And a dangerous fool, at that,” Galen muttered. “One cannot cage a dragon’s will and channel its fiery rage forever.”
“Not for long, no,” Archer agreed, and his voice quavered at his next words. “I learned, to my horror, that dragons can live for hundreds of years. But they cannot sleep for eon upon eon, the way Sirrahon had done. Not without help. Not without…changing.”
I could only stare in horror at the man.
“Changing?” I could only speak in a dry whisper. “Changing into what?”
Chapter Thirty
Changing? What did Sirrahon change into?
Grayson Archer sat back on his heels and set his weeder down in the dirt. He paused a moment to stop his voice from shaking and then went on. Now he spoke carefully, as a man skating over ice thin enough to shatter if pressed too hard.
“The so-called ‘Creatures of the Dark’ lost the Old War. They were either slaughtered or sealed into the very stones of the mountains. The greatest captains of Dragonkind and the Ultari flew south together to safety. They knew that their only chance was to bide their time until the world had changed. Yet the Scarlet Crypt was the sole source of magic that could sustain both creatures.”
Galen let out a snort. “They could not conceive what that crystal might do to them if they entered it together!”
“Yet enter it they did. Once inside, Sirrahon solved the issue by binding and consuming the demon. In doing so, he transformed into something that has no name. Something that had never been seen under the sun before. A chimera of both spirit and fire.
“When I woke that being, I saw into his mind, saw all he intended. I wanted a mount, a fiery steed with which to return to Benedict in triumph and throw him down. Sirrahon had other ideas. Other wants.”
Abruptly, Archer stood. He kicked the weeds he’d pulled into a rough pile and led the way back to where we’d started. Then he turned and sat back down in the same spot as when we’d first seen him. For a moment, he looked utterly drained. But we needed more information, and I wasn’t about to let the tap run dry yet.
I intentionally used his Andeluvian honorific. “Sir Slate, what did Sirrahon want?”
Finally, it seemed my words sank in.
“At first? He wanted to wake his allies, those that remained from the Great War. But that was merely a means to an end. The moves he made were designed to destroy those who now infested the Sacred City of his kind. The ‘sister’ that remained pure and whole. And who became the holy center of the universe.”
The ‘sister’ that remained pure and whole.
I had to take my own seat on the deck again as my head rocked with that revelation. I’d heard that phrase before. Nagura’s sister Kyratha had called her city, Teyana that very thing. And that meant trouble.
“That’s Fitzwilliam’s city,” I breathed. “The Capitol. The holy city of the Hakseeka…could it also hold the same allure for Dragonkind?”
Even as I said it, I knew it to be true. One of the final lines of prophecy from Belladonna of the Reykajar Aerie came to mind.
The humans dwell upon the bones of their nemesis.
King Fitzwilliam’s palace was built upon the ‘bones’ of a different species’ sacred space. It didn’t seem right that the peaceful Hakseeka could ever be the nemesis to humanity.
But it made perfect sense if those ‘bones’ could be claimed by the dragons.
“The idea is not that far-fetched,” Galen put in. “Queen Nagura alluded to the fact that dragons and wyverns share much common ancestry. They also share common mythos, such as the ‘Hearts’ of the Mother. Similar sacred spaces are not out of the question.”
“There is more to it now,” Archer said. He poured himself another glass of tea and took a sip. “Sirrahon believes that somewhere in the palace, hidden from the view of the Creatures of the Light, lie the last eggs of his kind. Sentient dragons. Ones who can think and plot. Not the feral brutes that I rode to war on.
“Sirrahon broke my spell with ease. Then he in turn placed a geas on me, one that forced my actions to conform with what he wanted. He sent me back home to beg for my job. To be a spy on Benedict’s court. I fought as best I could, but the effort only drained my health until no one questioned the fact that I’d finally died.”
I thought back to Captain Vandegrift’s words: Then there was Benedict’s favorite, the ‘young old man’…I’m no sawbones, but he had a waster’s illness or something.
“You faked your own death,” I said flatly. “Why? What did you stand to gain?”
“I didn’t have anything to gain. Not in Andeluvia, especially. Who said it was my idea?”
I made a disgusted sound. “I’m finding it hard to believe that Sirrahon made you do all this. It sounds a little too much like…well, in this world, someone like Shelly would give your ear a twist if you claimed ‘the devil made me do it’.”
“What if it were the truth?” Galen said bluntly.
I turned and gave him a look. “Don’t tell me that you’re buying all of this!”
“A geas can be a subtle, complex thing,” the Wizard insisted. “Magical sight makes it perfectly clear. What I or a fayleene would see wrapped about Grayson Archer looks like an anchor chain. One that is pitted and broken, yes, but the links are still there. And one more thing, Dayna.”
Those last two words sounded ominous. “Yes, Galen?”
“You have felt the touch of mind-magic before. From the Old Man of the Mountain.”
I grimaced as I recalled that ugly time. The Wizard had me there.
“You did not even know that you had been touched,” Galen reminded me. “Sir Slate did. He bore these magical shackles with no more ease than a prisoner on the rack would.”
“Sirrahon was weak from age and hunger when I woke him,” Archer continued. “He’d spent almost all of his energy forcing my actions. But he’d also gotten into my mind, my memories. To continue his recovery, he wanted me to bring him to this world. He had me arrange my faked death so I’d be freed from attending Benedict’s court. We came here. And soon, he felt safe and strong enough to start moving things behind the scenes.”
Immediately, I thought of yet more of Belladonna’s words.
The greatest of dragons vanishes from beyond sight.
“But–” I began to object.
I caught myself before I could go on. Why was I having such a tough time believing this? What was I missing?
My brain finally put it together with one of its weird clicks. Finally, I understood what had been in front of me all along.
“Of course.” I looked over to Galen and shook my head ruefully. “I always assumed that Sirrahon would be like the other dragons I’d met. Just like how we thought Nagura would be like the other wyverns we’d fought. Powerful, but not intelligent.”
“I had suspicions,” the Wizard corrected me. “Sirrahon reacted rather intelligently to a warning sign given by the Protector of the Forest during our first encounter. He has also appeared to be the motive force behind waking the Quondam Seraphine and Bonecarver of the Ultari.”
I groaned. I had been so blind to what h
ad been right in front of me.
“That’s right. I looked past all of that. I figured that someone had to be controlling the dragon. Not that the dragon would be the one pulling the strings.” I turned to Archer once more. “That brings me to the next question: if you brought a creature as large and attention-grabbing as Sirrahon into this world, how did you keep him from being discovered?”
The man gave a sour look. “It was a lot easier than you might think. The dragon melded with an Ultari, after all. Among other things, it gave him the ability to shift size and shape. Sirrahon created a new form to step into, though that form retains all its ancient dragon toughness. You should believe me on that point, if nothing else.”
My mouth felt sandpaper-dry as I spoke.
“Why is that?”
Grayson Archer gave me a thin smile. “Because you saw it the night I shot him.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I stared at the former Dragon Knight in disbelief.
That’s crazy, my mind babbled. If he’s talking about that time at the warehouse, then doesn’t he mean…
Archer saw my confusion. Or perhaps my last shred of willpower to disbelieve. He snatched up his pen off the redwood deck. Then he found a spot on the folded-up newspaper and began to write.
“I chose the name ‘Grayson Archer’ because I thought it was clever. A riddle, based on my lineage and my father’s history with the Order of the Weasel,” he said, as he flipped the paper to add another line of text below the fold. “Sirrahon has a similar love of riddles. The name he chose to be known by in this world is a simple re-scrambling of letters.”
He held up the paper’s top fold for me and Galen to read. I made out a single line written bold block letters.
DAMON RIAGA HARRISON
Dragon with a Deadly Weapon Page 15
