by LeRoy Clary
Thinking back, I remembered an incident. I’d been on one of the high ramparts at Crestfallen looking to the west where the mountains stood. A black wall of clouds approached. I turned to go to my quarters when I noted a mage lurking near a window. He also looked to the west. On my way, I took to the back stairs and as I passed an alcove, the same mage was telling a Royal in hushed tones that he would call up a storm.
“Call up a storm,” those were his exact words. Sure enough, the very storm I’d seen building in the distance arrived later that day. Crops were destroyed by the flooding. I could have predicted it. The mage may have enhanced the storm—or he may have done nothing.
Maybe mages were not as powerful as generally believed. Maybe they claimed natural occurrences as their own creations. That storm I’d seen might have been a natural phenomenon, or perhaps it was enhanced by that mage, or he may have created the entire thing. Not always, but there were times they could lie and who could cry foul? Especially if they claimed responsibility after the occurrence.
That was the easy way to do magic. Take credit after people were convinced you could. A tree might fall across a road. A mage who had nothing to do with it might apologize for felling the tree accidentally. It would be so easy to convince most people.
While that might be true of some, I’d seen, felt, and fought the storm that held us from sailing to Dagger. That magic had been real. That was the creation of the mages on the ships Kendra’s dragon sunk.
Or was it? Could the mages have been props for the Young Mage? Actors playing a role? The storm could have been created by the Young Mage who remained in Kaon, the only mage I knew who controlled real power to perform magic that powerful.
It seemed everything I knew needed to be reevaluated. I trusted nothing. Not even things seen with my own eyes. My hand reached out and drew the sword from my scabbard. It flashed in the cloudless air.
Instead of just looking at it with admiration, I used a thread of magic to reach out and contact the tip. A tiny flame ignited there. I snuffed it and used a tendril, a soft and inquiring link to begin at the tip and slowly move along the cutting edge until I reached the guard.
My magic flowed up the handle to the pommel. There were no stores of power inside, such as Essence from a dragon. No source of power in it at all.
If that was true, how had the sword sung when in range of the other of the pair? Just as Prince Angle’s had sung back. There must be some sort of power behind all physical reaction. I probed harder.
The handle was vacant of magic. Inside the leather-wrapped handle was the same.
My mental inspection moved along the flat of the blade, where a minute amount of an unknown power concentrated. It felt like a sound just slightly above what a man can hear. The sword blade constantly vibrated and that caused a keening too high-pitched to hear.
When it came into close proximity of the other sword of the pair, the harmonics that were ever-present joined together like tuning forks placed beside each other and the swords sang.
Kendra joined me at the railing. “Feeling down? Or ready to stab someone?”
“Just the opposite. I’ve figured out a few things,” I told her. Then I went on and explained my thoughts. She was the kind of person who listened without making judgments.
When I’d finished, she said, “You have been doing some serious thinking. Now, if you could solve my problem.”
“Going into Landor scaring you?”
She chuckled. “It should. But no, my problem is the dragon we have not named. It now refuses to even fly to feed itself.”
“Have you considered it is hurt? Or that it’s so old it cannot fly?”
“That is my problem. If either of those things is true, I have to go to it. This is my way of asking if you’ll go along.”
“Of course, I will.” There was no hesitation in my answer, and she smiled softly. We were in some things together.
Anna joined us as if she sensed our private conversation had ended. She said, “Sorry to be so quiet for the last couple of days. I think my mind has discovered a new trick.”
“Trick?”
“Instead of words, I can form pictures,” she said. “Since Damon makes me learn the letters, and by the way, I’m ready for the next one, I’ve been practicing.”
It didn’t sound impressive to me. I did it all the time.
*A forest with pine trees filled my mind. A deer grazed, sniffed the air, and bounded away.*
The image was so perfect, I could smell the scent of pine trees, the air was chill on my cheeks, and I heard the twitters of chipmunks. It turned to her in awe.
“I saw that forest when we crossed the mountain pass when we left Trager. I added the smells and sounds as I remember them.”
Kendra asked me, “You saw, heard, and smelled what she described?”
“And even felt the chilly air.”
Kendra said, “I wish I could sense that with you.”
Anna smirked, “And I wish I had my very own dragon, one so powerful nobody would ever cause harm to my family, which is you two. Oh, and it would fly to Kaon and eat the Young Mage. But he’d probably hop into one of his Waystones and escape.”
We laughed at her youthful exuberance, but there was truth in her every word. The sun was setting, the sky turned shades of reds and oranges, and the light grew dusk. Captain said, “Land up ahead.”
“Landor?” Elizabeth asked.
“Better be, or you need to find a boat with a superior sailor at the helm.” Captain laughed at his own joke.
Elizabeth still sat beside Will and asked Kendra, “Do you have any idea of what you’re going to do in Landor?”
Kendra said, “No. Not one thing, but I will listen to people talking, be nosey, and stay out of trouble. I’m not going to talk to royalty, cause any trouble, or anything to draw attention to us. I’ll search for anything that might help when you and Damon get there. I’ll be listening for anything to do with magic or the health of the king and avoid anything that reeks of the Young Mage.”
Elizabeth said, “That might be one of the most useful things that can be done. Did I hear your dragon is ill?”
“It won’t talk to me, fly or eat,” she said.
A few lights appeared in the distance, not ships, but houses on the shore. They helped guide us as we turned north. Ever since rounding the bottom Dead Isle, we’d sailed north and east, so Landor wouldn’t be far away.
I went to sit beside Will. “Take care of them.”
“You really don’t want to be separated, do you?”
“Not for a moment. The idea of going to Malawi has me excited because of my sword.”
He said, “I know yours is special, both because the king gave it to you and because it sings, which is amazing and wonderful, but I have a request too.”
“Anything.”
“As a soldier, I value fine weapons.”
Before he could finish the request, I did it for him, “If there are swords for sale made of good steel like mine, I’ll bring one to you.”
Before reaching Landor, we passed five other fishing boats, all small and much like the one we were in. More lights appeared on the shore and it was getting later, full-dark behind us. Ahead, a massive display of light, candles in windows, cooking fires in fireplaces, oil lamps, torches, and probably other things displayed a stone wall high on a hill. Castle Landor.
It was a city in itself. Outside the wall, far below the top of the ramparts, were more lights, smaller and fewer, which were the overflow of people. We sailed directly for all of that and started hearing the sounds of civilization.
First, we heard two men shouting at each other. Shortly after that the sounds of a group singing, or trying to sing, the same song drifted over the water to us. They were a ruckus, out of tune, and it seemed only a few knew all the words until it came to the chorus when everyone joined in, sprinkled with drunk laughter.
I said with feigned enthusiasm, “It sounds like you three are going to have fun.�
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Captain sailed unerringly to the docks, and in the gloom, eased the boat to the end of one. Kendra, Anna, and Will quickly climbed out. We handed them their things and almost before we could say good-bye, Captain pushed us away and used the tiller to push the boat out from the others.
He released the sail and pulled it back to gather air. He was a master in maneuvering the boat without help and quickly had us sailing into deeper water where nobody would see or remember us having been there.
It felt like something had gotten stuck in my throat. My breath came hard, tears flowed and dripped from my chin. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I refused to turn and look back.
Later, the lights grew smaller in the distance as I imagined the three of them entering a city where they had never been. I tried and failed to imagine what they’d encounter in the next few days.
Elizabeth was at my side, not talking. Her arm was over my shoulders, her body next to mine. She understood my feelings. We stayed that way for a long, long time.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The boat sailed on into the unknown sea and dark of night. We watched the few lights on the shore, but Captain kept the boat safely out in deeper water. Twice he examined charts by moonlight. As the night grew on, I started to wonder if he ever slept.
When I offered to relieve him, he refused, telling me he’d doze where he sat, and if the sail or tiller changed position, he’d awaken. He assured me our boat would find Malawi around mid-day. His charts revealed the coastline, with the information a fisherman or sailor required. They told nothing of what lay inland, or what the cities looked like, their size, or political makeup.
Elizabeth fell asleep and I remained on my feet. The known problems we faced worried me, but there were other things, too. One, in particular, had taken hold in my mind and refused to let me sleep.
It concerned me. My magic. And what little I knew of the world of magic. My magic had been with me since I was a small boy. Later, when Kendra and I went to free the dragon, my magic increased or waned depending on the distance to that dragon—or to Wyvern. The dragon provided far more essence, but my magical abilities were so small that even when they were close, I could only move a few drops of water or similar feats.
Things had changed. Kendra’s dragon was across the sea, somewhere at the edge of the Brownlands south of Dagger, several days sail away. There were no Wyverns or at least none we’d seen. Yet my powers had increased instead of diminished.
No, that was too slight a description. They had expanded, increased, and evolved. I could ‘speak’ with Anna in my mind, seemingly from any distance. Creating storms, albeit small ones, had become routine. Condensing water at my fingertip a daily task. I even tamed lighting and reformed it into a crown for my princess.
But two points kept me awake. There was no essence nearby to draw from, and yet my powers were increasing. It was not a matter of learning more. I felt magic growing inside me, taking charge. How and why were to pair of questions that bothered me.
“Better get yourself a bit of sleep,” Captain said. “While you can.”
I moved to the bench opposite him. “Are you sure I can’t help?”
“Done this a hundred times, don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t sleep. Things on my mind. Listen, I’m sorry to put you in this situation and hopefully, your family doesn’t suffer.”
He didn’t answer for so long I thought he wouldn’t. When he did, it was simple. “If I didn’t help and your Young Mage came for us, as he will for everyone, wouldn’t it be my fault? At least part of it?”
“That’s a generous way to look at things, Captain.”
We sat in silence. Eventually, I stood, gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder and joined Elizabeth sleeping under the tarp at the bow.
The morning sunlight woke me. Elizabeth now sat beside Captain. Gulls circled above, screaming, diving, and calling to us for scraps. It seemed they were familiar with fishing boats and the bounty to be had with what was discarded.
The land was still in sight off to our left, barren and rocky. The heat already told of a hot day ahead. I found a bruised apple in my pack and took a bite as I looked around.
Four black dots in the sky ahead drew my attention. Their odd manner of flapping their wings was familiar. They turned slightly and flew directly at us.
Wyvern. Four of them. I shouted and pointed, “Look!”
Captain quickly lowered the sail. I leaped to the bow and grabbed my sword. Elizabeth did the same, as Captain hefted a long club used for killing large fish the nets hauled in. I stood in the bow, Elizabeth near the mast, and Captain the stern.
One of them screeched as if to alert the others and flew faster. The other three did the same. Their eyes were locked on us.
I’d fought them before, the first time on the mountain top in Mercia where the true dragon had been chained. They had dived in and slashed with beaks or talons. We had nowhere to hide, much like now. I remembered Anna asking about swimming to shore. That might be our only option, soon.
The lead creature swept down and flew past. I dived just in time to avoid the claws reaching for me. They were faster than I recalled, but back then I also had a dragon twice their size fighting with me.
Another dived and approached just above the surface of the water. I was better prepared. While ducking, my sword slashed above my head, at first encountering nothing, then it was almost yanked from my hand as the blade cut deeply.
A Wyvern screamed in pain and blood splattered. I turned to look. A cut as long as my leg along the thigh bled and blood streamed from it. However, it pivoted and aimed for us again.
Captain yelled, “When one of them hits the boat, we’ll sink. Grab something that floats and use it to head for shore. We’ll meet up there.”
That was a plan. Not a very good one because the Wyvern would snatch us from the water at will. None of us had a bow. I searched around for a weapon that would keep them at bay. There was nothing.
Or, was there? My mind had stalled when I’d spotted them. I had my magic, my new and improved magic. I just didn’t know how to use it very well.
With a Wyvern winging directly at me, I calmed my mind, reached out and quickly gathered the energy from the sun that created the first crown I’d made for Elizabeth, the one that set her hair on fire. I drew it tighter, then focused on a place in the air in front of the Wyvern. I forced the energy to form a ball, then ‘scattered’ it like blowing leaves in the fall.
The brilliant golden ball of energy forced the Wyvern to dodge to one side, the silent explosion of golden light scared the creature, even if I’d misjudged and missed it. It beat its wings harder and flew higher and faster, turning away.
“Look out!” the call came from Elizabeth.
I ducked just in time to avoid the slashing beak of another. It scared me, and my anger soared with that fear. Without thinking, I formed water on the breast of the Wyvern, then heated it to steam. It screamed, fell from the sky until barely recovering almost at the surface, and it flew awkwardly away.
I think I scalded it, at least scared it as much as it had scared me. The one bleeding flew in the direction of land. That left one still with us. It circled high above, either waiting its turn when we were not paying attention or spying on us and probably telling the Young Mage our position. I sent water to form on it, a lot of water, enough to cover its entire body. Then I heated it to steam again.
The Wyvern managed one weak scream then tumbled awkwardly from the sky, spinning and shrieking, trying to flap its wings and regain control. It struck the surface of the water with a great splash, floated for a short while, then sank.
“You did that?” Captain asked.
Elizabeth said to him, “You don’t want to tell anyone about what just happened, whatever it was.”
Captain said with a wicked grin, “Some already think a few of my true tales are lies. This one never gets told or they’ll know for sure I’m a liar.”
Elizabeth no
ticed how I gripped the railing on the edge of the hull, how my knees grew weak, and maybe my glazed eyes. She rushed to me in time to help lower me to the rough boards of the deck. I heard her asking if I was all right, but the sound of her voice seemed distant and unimportant.
I passed out.
I woke with Elizabeth kneeling over me as I lay in the bottom of the boat. It was under sail again, the sun seemed higher, so the time had passed. My memory triggered the attacking Wyverns and I sat abruptly upright, as I checked the empty sky.
“Easy,” she soothed me.
“What happened?”
She stroked my forehead, “We think you used so much energy to do whatever you did back there, that it sapped your strength. Just rest for a while.”
I did as she said, not because she ordered it, but because my body was so weak. My eyes closed again, and I slept until she shook me awake late in the day. “We’re almost there.”
Standing on wobbly legs, I looked ahead to find the entrance of a long, narrow bay, both sides lined with stone buildings, some three stories tall. Near the edge of the bay were docks, piers, warehouses, and merchant ships, fishing boats, ferries, and barges. The activity reminded me of the Port of Mercia in Dire, only exaggerated ten times.
Captain called, “Better get your things together.”
He didn’t intend to remain long. He’d already explained his family would be worried, so he planned to sail home as fast as possible. I refilled his water jugs to overflowing. It was the least I could do.
He sailed to a dock that had a few boats tied up on the other side, none too prosperous from the looks. I climbed out first and reached back to pull Elizabeth on to the dock.
“Hey, you can’t tie up here,” a rude and officious voice shouted as a portly man stiffly walked in our direction. His face was red.
Captain tossed our few things after us on to the dock as he shouted back, “I’m on my way, sir. Sorry to use your dock without asking.”
