by Dante King
Penelope laughed and loosened up a little.
“You’re the one doing me a favor, Pen,” I said. “So, thank you. You’re going to make a hell of a mother of dragons.”
I pulled on my shirt and looked up at the storm blowing a gale above us. More rain was finding its way down to the forest floor now, hinting at a proper downpour. The thunder boomed, and the wind roared like the ghosts of a thousand dragons.
Inauspicious weather just before heading off on a journey into the unknown.
“You said that it sounded like the gods were fighting up there,” I said, squinting up at the rain, “but I think it sounds more like the demons are beating their wives.”
Penelope looked up and said something that was lost in a sudden undulating wave of thunder.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I said that it’s a good thing that dragonmancers have never been the particularly superstitious kind,” the Librarian said. Her face contradicted her words in some way.
“But Knowledge Sprites are…?” I asked.
“Knowledge Sprites spend a lot of their time with their noses bent over the musty leaves of books,” Penelope hedged. “You’re not superstitious at all?”
I shook my head. There was no bluster in my answer, no bullshit. You see a lot on the streets of Los Angeles. Those streets can be some of the meanest, most cynical, cleverest teachers that a man will ever know, if he lets them.
“Nah,” I said, “not in the least. I’ve always reckoned that you can make anything you don’t understand mean anything, you know? It’s been that way since the dawn of time. And because we don’t know things, we often fear them.”
“And that fear, in some way, breeds superstition, you think?” Penelope asked me, pulling her robe more tightly around her.
I checked that I had all my Etherstones on me and fastened my sword belt. “Yeah, I guess. Fear and ignorance mixed make up all of our superstitions, probably. They have a lot to do with cruelty too.”
“An interesting idea,” Penelope said, linking her arm through mine. “Has anyone ever told you, Mike Noctis, that you’re not just a handsome face.”
“It’s been said,” I replied.
Chapter 7
Penelope and I returned to the encampment, through the woods, as all around us the world became a darker and more ominous place. Storm clouds bulled in from over the mountains, gargantuan thunderheads stuffed to bursting with rain and malice.
When we emerged from the shelter of the woods, the camp was a hub of activity. Women and men, soldiers and civilians, were busy securing all the tents. They were hammering down tent pegs with heavy hammers, checking ropes, lashing down tarps, and ensuring that any crates stacked more than two high were not wobbling and in danger of blowing over.
As we had observed under the eaves of the forest, the rain was already starting to fall. Great fat drops plopped from the heavens, kicking up little puffs of dust where they landed on the roads and pathways.
We moved quickly through the early dusk until we reached the cluster of tents belonging to the dragonmancers and the senior officers. Will, the will-o’-the-wisp was floating outside my tent, and I absentmindedly went to pat him like a dog before I realized he was about as substantial as a shadow, even if he did glow like a silver paper lantern.
Will seemed to relish the attention, bobbing around happily. I smiled down at the funny little wispy guy. Then, I ripped open the tent flap to the accommodation that I shared with the other female dragonmancers and ushered Pen inside before following her.
Elenari, Saya, Renji, and Tamsin were already waiting inside, lounging around on the fur-covered pallet beds.
“There you two are,” Saya said briskly, “I was beginning to worry that this storm was going to catch you before you got back. I thought you might have been blown away.”
I exchanged a brief glance with Penelope. “Well, in a manner of speaking I did get blown away.”
Elenari smiled to herself, and Renji chuckled.
“Up to no good, hm?” the blue-skinned djinn asked.
“On the contrary,” I said, “Penelope and I were doing what needed to be done. Weren’t we, Pen?”
Subconsciously, and before she could stop herself, the Knowledge Sprite placed her hands to her stomach in that special way that told everyone precisely what had just gone down.
As a chorus of congratulations and words of delight swept through the room, Tamsin cocked a sharp black eyebrow at me.
“You two made another dragonling, but where did you get the Etherstone from?” the hobgoblin asked.
“The Overseer,” I said. “It was her that was waiting to have a meeting with me and General Shiloh. She gave it to me after I left.”
I began to launch into an explanation of what had happened in the General’s tent, but before I could get into the meat of it, Renji held up a hand.
“General Shiloh has already been to see us,” the djinn said in her calm, slow voice. “We know what has gone on. She said that the information was classified but, seeing as you would doubtless tell us all when you returned, she had decided to brief us personally.”
I nodded my head understandingly. That was a plus, that all my fellow dragonmancers now knew the situation and were up to speed. It would save me some time repeating what I had already told Penelope.
“She also filled us in,” Elenari said as she checked the sharpness of one of her emerald-pommeled daggers, “because she said that we were going to go with you.”
“Damn right,” I said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re about to jump from the frying pan into the fire, so far as I can see. This might be a diplomatic mission, but we’ll be traversing a land that no Mystocean soldier has traveled in for many years. I wouldn’t take anyone along that I didn’t trust with my very life, and I hope you guys feel like you can do the same with me.”
“Admirable words, Dragonmancer Noctis,” General Shiloh’s voice said from outside of the tent flap. “And ones that almost encapsulate the very spirit of the Mystocean Empire’s armed forces.”
The candles and lamps guttered as the tent opened, and the heavyset, bear-like General stepped through. She was speckled with damp from the growing rain, and her chestnut hair was mussed.
Whether it was because General Shiloh was, well, a general, or because all of us felt the growing sense that we were in not-fucking-around time, all the dragonmancers got to their feet and pulled the claw salute—index finger crooked in a crude talon against the heart.
The tent, which accommodated six dragonmancers with ease, suddenly felt a lot smaller now that General Shiloh had joined us. It wasn’t simply because of the General’s physique either. The woman bore an almost tangible air of authority and command, like a physical aura.
“Yes,” General Shiloh continued, “those are the sorts of good, clean, simple sentiments that I like to hear from a soldier. It takes me back to when I was in your boots.”
She looked thoughtfully up at one of the lamps hanging from the low ceiling of the canvas tent. Watched as it rocked gently in the rising breeze that was building outside. She looked very much like a woman taking a pleasant stroll down the lanes of past glories and recollections.
The General grunted, and her shrew eyes dropped back down from the light and moved steadily across the faces of those gathered in front of her.
“Yes, indeed,” she said. “This might be a diplomatic mission primarily, but at the end of the day, what you have to remember is what all warriors must keep at the forefront of their minds: fight for the warrior next to you and allow them to fight for you. Survive, ladies and gentlemen. Survival is paramount. Everything else is just gravy.”
She took a deep breath. Her broad chest strained under her sable dragonmancer robes with the claw-shaped pauldrons.
“You know where you’re going: the Vetruscan Kingdom. You know why: to deliver Dasyr and Tanila safely to the Queen of Vetrusca so that they may perform the Transfusion Ceremony on three be
armancers of her choosing. In return, she will give you the rough location to a very powerful thaumaturgical relic that had been lost for centuries.”
“General,” Renji said, “is it not possible that, on having her three bearmancers empowered via the Transfusion Ceremony, that the Queen might not…”
“Clean house,” Tamsin said, smiling a grim smile and running her thumb across her throat.
General Shiloh considered this for a few long seconds.
“Queen Frami is, from what I’ve heard, is a mancer of honor,” she said. “If she says that she says she is willing to give over the rough location of this relic, then I am inclined to believe her. However, she would not have struck this bargain if she truly believed Mike Noctis would be able to sniff it out. I think she is gambling that we hold more store in our treasure hunting abilities than we actually possess.”
“In that case,” Renji said, “if we do get hold of this relic, what is to stop the Queen of Vetrusca from reneging on our bargain and trying to steal it back?”
“Nothing, Dragonmancer Corvar,” General Shiloh said, with a bitter twist of the mouth which, under a flattering light, might have passed for a wry smile. “Only her word. But the word of a queen holds power. It is not some light thing that can be whipped away by the wind. It carries weight. Personally, I do not think that she will betray us. The Vetruscans hold a lot of gravity to their honor. It is not something that is casually cast aside.”
“Once we have this item that we’re going to be seeking, General,” Elenari asked, “what then? Do we return to Galipolas?”
“Ideally, yes,” the General said. “Dasyr and Tanila are under strict instructions from the Empress Cyrene to return here as soon as they can. They are extremely capable mancers in their own right, and once they have upheld their end of the bargain, the threat to them should be minimal.”
The General spread her hands then. “However, once—if, I should say—you manage to find this relic, who knows what will happen. This plan, your plan, should remain fluid. There is always, in military operations as in life, the possibility that things turn, at the drop of a hat, into a complete clusterfuck. Bear that in mind.”
Silence pervaded the tent then. It seemed as if all had been said that needed to be said.
“Okay,” I said, “in that case, seeing as we all know what we’re doing, I guess we should get suited and booted and get the hell out of here as soon as we can.”
General Shiloh gave me an approving look and nodded.
“That’s right. Get yourselves sorted and prepare to leave as soon as it is full dark. I fear that the weather is going to be rough, but that will actually aid you. I have had five rucksacks packed with bedrolls, waterskins, and provisions for you already. They are just outside under a waxed cover. Get them when you move out.”
“Five bags?” Saya said. “But there are six of us, General.”
“Penelope is staying here,” I said, speaking the words before I had even given them any thought. “She carries the next dragonling. We can’t risk her. I guess that’s where your head was at, General?”
The General nodded.
Penelope appeared as if she might have liked to object to be left behind, but I shot her a look, and she closed her mouth. She was, as everyone knew, extremely well-endowed in the brain department. Staying behind until she birthed the new dragon made complete sense.
General Shiloh looked around at the five of us that would be making the journey. Her gray eyes shone with a barely concealed anticipation. Clearly, she ached to come with us, if only her position allowed it.
“Good luck, all of you,” she said. “Tanila and Dasyr will be waiting for you just outside the encampment, on the only road that leads north toward the Vetruscan Kingdom. As some of you may or may not know, there is only one way to get into the Vetruscan Kingdom: through the Acquiescent Breach. It is the only pass in the great, unclimbable, natural wall that divides the Mystocean Empire from that of the Vetruscan Kingdom and has acted as a divider between our two lands for eons passed.”
“Surely, we’ll be seen going through this Acquiescent Breach then, General Shiloh,” I pointed out. “Any ruler with half a brain would have scouts or watchers posted around there to mark the comings and goings.”
“Quite right, Dragonmancer Noctis,” General Shiloh said. “That is why Scrutor will be showing you to her secret passageway. It is a route known only to a very few on our side. So far as we are aware, the Vetruscans are unaware of it. That should puzzle Queen Frami a little, and make her realize that she is not dealing with greenhorns.”
Scrutor was the Head of General Shiloh’s shady scouting network. A very tall, very thin woman with angular features and blue hair shaved into a severe mohawk. Her tanned face was covered in intricate tattoos that might have been runes of some kind. Her hands were like those of a concert pianist, and her long, clever fingers fluttered constantly at her sides. Last time I had seen her, she had been dressed in worn, comfortable traveling leathers. All in all, she gave the impression of someone who had spent more nights sleeping under the stars and more days walking at the mercy of the weather than most of us had had hot meals.
As the others began gathering their weapons and personal effects, General Shiloh pulled me over to one side.
“Dragonmancer Noctis,” she said, her voice gruff and earnest, “I’m trusting your judgement here. I’m trusting that the Overseer’s faith in you has not been misplaced. You’re a damned capable dragonmancer, no two ways about it, but you can be reckless too.”
I opened my mouth to protest but the General held up a warning finger and cut me off.
“Nothing wrong with a modicum of the death-or-glory attitude, but this mission…” General Shiloh licked her lips. She looked like she could use a drink of Hangman’s. “This mission is going to require tact. You might be forced to use a big-ass stick by journey's end, but you might also be required to use a bit of carrot to win the heart of Queen Frami too. Use your head. Follow your nose. Listen to your gut. Instincts more than instructions will serve you best on this assignment.”
I nodded and in a flat, even voice said, “You can count on me, General Shiloh. You can count on us to get the job done.”
“See to it,” said the General.
She turned to leave, pulled back the flap of the tent, and went to walk out into the building storm. Then, she paused.
“And for the sake of all the gods,” she added, raising her voice over the howling of the wind, “make sure that no ill befalls Tanila and Dasyr. Jazmyn and Ashrin are currently occupied with matters concerning the Empress and her Twelve, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring the Lorekeepers’ safety. I’m not sure if you’ve ever been flayed alive, but to say that the Empress would be displeased if anything were to happen to them would be a gross understatement.”
“You’ve got it, General,” I said.
The General nodded.
Then something else occurred to me.
“General,” I asked quickly and in a slightly lower voice, “I don’t want you to think that I don’t back myself and my abilities, or those of the others, but why are Ashrin and Jazmyn not coming with us?”
The General’s eyes narrowed slightly. She ran her tongue over her teeth. She looked as if she was weighing up whether it would be more or less trouble to tell me the truth.
Finally, she said, “They have business elsewhere. More pressing business even than this. Orders that come straight from the Empress, so that even I am only hazily aware. Do you understand?”
They’re doing something for the Twelve, my brain supplied.
“Is there… Is there a rogue dragonm—” I began, but the General cut me off with a blazing look and stern gesture.
“Enough,” she snapped. “You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. Concentrate on finishing what you’ve been given before you start asking for more. Understood?”
My mind was awhirl with the ramifications of what Ashrin, Jazmyn and the rest of the elite T
welve being out on a job might mean.
“Yes, General Shiloh,” I said vaguely.
“Good,” the General said, and was gone.
* * *
Now, I wasn’t really a dude who was brought up in the sort of socio-economic bracket where horse riding was really an option, nor had I been much of a scholar back on Earth. I had, however, read a few books, a few of the classics. As Bilbo Baggins once sadly observed: adventures could not be all pony-rides in May sunshine. And so, it proved to be on the next part of my own personal adventure, working as a bodyguard, diplomatic ambassador, and treasure hunter for the Mystocean Empire.
The rain was near torrential when Elenari, Saya, Tamsin, Renji, and I set off from our camp. We did not need Scrutor, the tall and angular leader of General Shiloh’s scouts, to show us the way to the correct edge of the encampment.
It might not have been the most auspicious start for a journey but, really, we couldn’t have asked for a better one. Setting off in the dead of night, with no moon or stars and the rain coming down like hammer handles and pitchforks meant that no one was going to mark our leaving, not unless they were a mancer of some kind.
We found Tanila and Dasyr right where General Shiloh had indicated we would. They were waiting patiently, not too far from the edge of the Galipolas Mountain camp, taking advantage of the scant cover afforded them by a spreading elm tree.
Dressed in identical robes of deep crimson with shadowy cowls, Tanila and Dasyr looked alike in the same way that all humans probably looked alike to them. I wasn’t sure what race they were, and I had never found a polite time to ask.
Tanila had the striped ears of a white tiger protruding through the shock of white hair that covered her head. Faint lines marked the skin on her face, although whether they were stripes of pigmentation or light tattoos, I couldn’t be sure. Although much of her face was hidden by her hood, her bright blue eyes gleamed like a couple of bioluminescent cat’s eyes. Her white and black-striped tiger’s tail whipped the rainy air in lazy lashes, and her black-clawed fingers gripped a traveling satchel under her arm.
