Accidental Sorcerer (30 page)

function, she will die a slow excruciating death. So you can see, Gerald, it's in her best interests that you mind your manners.'

Damn.
His heart thudded painfully. 'You're lying.'

Lional shrugged. 'It's possible. But are you willing to bet Melissandes life on it?'

/ should he but ...
'You won't hurt Melissande. You can't. You need her. She's a part of your crazy plan.'

'A small part, yes. But without the dragon it's all meaningless, Gerald. Which makes my sister meaningless too.'

'And what if the dragon kills you?'

Another shrug. 'Then she dies. But I've already-told you, Gerald. That isn't, going to happen.' He tossed the staff.

Gerald caught it midair. Inspected it closely as a buzz of latent thaumic energy prickled his skin.

'That was Bottomley's staff,' said Lional. 'Inadequate tor my purposes of course, but -' He stared.'I fail to see what's so amusing.'

Chased into the gold filigree, an audacious claim:
Stuttley's Staff's, Finest in the World.

'Nothing,' he said, and with an effort throttled the urge to laugh ... or weep.'Nothing.'

'Then I suggest you get to work.'

'The lodestone?'

Lional snapped his fingers.'Is now deactivated.'

For one dreadful moment Gerald almost attacked. His fingers spasmed on poor Humphret Bottomley's staff and the words of yet another incant Reg shouldn't have taught him caught fire in his racing mind.

You have to. He's evil. Melissande would understand ...

'Incidentally,' said Lional, closely watching. 'Melissande's
is
not the only life you hold in your hands. The entire palace is under my control. That's hundreds of lives, Gerald. Think about that before you do something unfortunate. I promise you will never remove the binding incant yourself

Damn. Lional
had
to be lying. Making it up as he went along.

But what if he isn't?

His fingers unclenched; blood rushed back, painfully.'How big do you want this dragon?'

Lional smiled beatifically. 'As big as you can make it, Gerald.'

'What about the
sympathetica?'

'I'll trigger it once you've made the dragon. Now, no more
questions.
Get on with it!'

He nodded. 'You'd better stand back. If this works the cave is going to get . . . crowded.'

As Lional retreated to the furthest stretch of wall Gerald turned his attention to the still-motionless lizard. Closed his eyes and sought the words he'd used to change Tavistock from cat to lion. And there they were, burning in his blood.

Damn Reg for ever sharing them. Damn me for making them work.

A thought struck him. What would happen if he just ...
changed
them a little? Sowed a seed of destruction within the incant itself? Some kind of time-delayed unravelling spell perhaps, that could -

' Gerald ...'

He opened his eyes, praying his expression was blank. /
can do this, I'm redeemed
... 'I need to concentrate, Lional.'

'Of course you do. Most of all on
this ...'

The staff slipping from his grasp Gerald dropped to his knees, felled by a single searing flame that licked along every last nerve in his body. He would have screamed if there'd been room in him for anything but pain. Gasping, he forced himself to meet Lional's blazing eyes.

'Don't take me for a fool, little man. I'm sure the thought is very tempting but I'll know if you try to spoil things.'

'I wasn't, I -'

Lional's fingers closed into a fist. Gerald felt himself spasm, felt his spine and all his frozen muscles twist and tangle in one huge convulsion of agony.

'Of course you were,' said Lional, impatient. 'I
know
you, Gerald. You're an honourable man. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise! But even honourable men have their limits ... and we both know that I've found yours. I suggest you end this pitiful self-delusion and do as I ask.'

Bowed almost in half, vision smearing and blearing, Gerald managed to nod. To grunt, 'Yes. Yes.'

'AH right then,' said Lional, releasing him. 'But remember. I'm watching.'

When the last whispers of pain had faded into silence he retrieved the staff, used it to regain his feet and shuffled around till he was facing Lional's immobilised lizard.

If
you're listening, gods of Kallarap, this would be an excellent time to strike me dead ...

The gods of Kallarap chose not to oblige.

The gold-filigreed staff thrummed in his sweating hand. Blanking his mind of everything but the terrible words he was about to say, Gerald pointed it at the lizard.

'Inuocuasi cumbadalarum! Amini desporati animali contradicti draco dracorumV

For the second time in his life he felt the stirrings of an immeasurably formidable power as the transmogrification spell formed in the invisible ether.

'Incantata magicata spellorantum infinatuml Enlargiosa dragonara expellecta lizardizoV

For three frantic heartbeats, no response. And then the kaleidoscope fracturing of his mind. The rush of energy like a hot dry wind, pleasure and pain and a wild, wild freedom. He closed his eyes, buffeted by a catastrophic glory as the golden staff shuddered and writhed. The chaos of power consumed itself and vanished ... and he opened his eyes.

There was a dragon in the cave.

It was thirty feet long from nose to tail. Twelve feet tall at the shoulder. Like the lizard it used to be, its hide was banded crimson and emerald. Its massive wings, folded neatly against its breathing sides, were crimson. Its eyes, the size of soccer balls, were a fathomless and glowing black. It opened its mouth and yawned: a spittle of green poison trickled down one long, daggerish tooth and puddled on the cave floor. The dirt melted.

Itwas beautiful.

It was a monster.

Itlooked at him, eyes blinking lazily.

Gerald stepped back.
Oh God. What have I done?

Lional laughed then raised his right hand, fingers pointing.
'Manifesti asbsolutuml Tantigliani sympathetica obedientium singularum mi! Nux nullimiaF

The dragon froze. Deep in each dark eye a crimson flame flared to life, burned sun-bright then subsided into a glowing ember like a coal at the heart of a banked fire.

'Did it work?' Gerald croaked. 'Can you control

it?'

'Let's see,' said Lional. Throwing his head back he slowly, slowly extended his arms out to each side. Slowly, slowly, obedient as a reflection in a mirror, the dragon unfolded its wings and stretched them until their tips brushed the sides of the cave. Lional smiled. His eyes drifted shut. He lowered his outstretched arms and the dragon's wings echoed him. 'What an extraordinary feeling!' he whispered, his face alight with wonder. 'I'm in her mind. Such a hot and hungry place ... and beautiful. So beautiful. It's like coming home. Ah, my love, my lovely. The things we'll do together, you and I ...'

Gerald risked a sideways shuffle. When neither Lional nor the dragon objected, he retreated all the way to the nearest bit of wall and collapsed against it, the staff slipping from his fingers to the ground. All its gold filigree had melted, the oak beneath it charred and spoiled. His legs were trembling and his heart hurt with pounding.

/ made a dragon. I made a dragon.

Lional was crooning to the creature, a song of welcome and delight. His hand pressed against one crimson-scaled cheek. The dragon's tail lashed lazily across the cave's dirt floor and its enormous eyes blinked as it drank Lional's worship like wine.

'And now, my darling ...' Lional whispered. 'Let us explore the limits of our power.' His voice was dreamy and in his half-lidded eyes Gerald thought he saw a glimpse of something ... inhuman. Lional drifted towards the rear of the cave, fingers caressing the dragon's hide as he passed, and came to a halt before the rough-hewn back wall.
'Revellati!

The rock rippled ... and disappeared.

Gerald swallowed his shock. Beyond the vanished cave wall was a dawn-kissed valley; in the burgeoning light he saw fields and flowers and trees but no hint of human habitation.

He breathed in the fresh air.
Freedom.
It was just scant steps away.

'Gerald ...' said Lional. 'Please don't. We would hate to hurt you."

He turned away from the dawn. 'I thought you were going to kill me now you've got your dragon.'

Lional smiled, and the dragon bared its teeth, i was. But then I thought - what if one dragon isn't enough? She might like a mate. A squadron. An
armada.
Until I've decided, I think you'd better live.'

Was that good or bad? He had no idea.
I made a dragon. I'm going to hell. A
sweet breeze was teasing the nape of his neck. He tried to ignore it. 'So. Lional. What now?'

'Now?' Lional looked into the rising sun. 'Now we spread our wings, Gerald. We survey our kingdom ... and we taste the new day. Come. You won't want to miss this.'

He stared. 'Come where?'

'Where do you think?' said Lional, eyebrows lifted. 'Into the sky, with us.'

For a moment he couldn't grasp what Lional meant. Then he looked at the dragon and choked. 'You're going to
fly
on that thing?' He took a step back. 'Not with me.'

'Cornel'
said Lional. His eyes flickered crimson. 'Don't make me chastise you, Gerald.'

So he was going to die after all. Smash himself to pieces falling off the dragon he'd so cleverly created.

Some might call that poetic justice.

He watched as Lional called the dragon to him; the creature went eagerly, tame as a kitten. Then he stepped out of the cave after it, treading with care. The sunlight was warm against his chilled skin.

'Come closer,' said Lional. 'She won't bite you. Not until I tell her to.'

Reluctantly he approached the dragon.

With a combination of oiled muscle and metaphysical suggestion, Lional tossed him onto the monster's back. He landed with a thud behind the massive juncture of wing and body. The heat radiating from its hide was
fierce;
he could feel it like a furnace though his trousers.

Then Lional vaulted lightly behind him and all he could think of was that he was sitting on a beast created from myth and magic and there was nothing to hold onto and the enormous wings were lifting ... lifting ... and Lional was laughing ...

...and then the ground fell away in a sickening swoop as the impossible beast leapt into the blushing sky, a hissing shriek bursting from its throat even as Lional, still laughing, cried aloud in glee.

Desperately Gerald clutched at the knobbly protrusions at the base of the dragon's wings and concentrated on breathing, just breathing, because fear was a fire in his chest, consuming oxygen. Consuming him. He closed his eyes.

Lional's merciless hand clasped his shoulder. 'Don't be afraid, Gerald! We won't let you fall. Look!
Lookl'

Reluctantly, he obeyed. Rising before him was the dragon's crimson and emerald neck, round as a tree trunk and just as solid. The crested spines lay flat to its hide, their poison quiescent. On either side ol him the giant wings rose and fell, rose and fell; he could feel the slick slide of bone and muscle between his wide-stretched legs as the dragon's rib cage expanded and contracted, each stroke cleaving the air with a crack like thunder. The cold air streamed into his eyes and all his exposed flesh chilled.

And then he looked down ... and the fear returned, roaring, to burn his churning insides to ashes.

They'd left the hidden valley far behind. Beneath them unrolled field after field of grain, of grazing cattle and somnolent sheep. Farmers toiled, slaves to the rhythms of the natural world. As the dragon passed overhead, roaring and lashing its tail, they looked up ... Heart breaking, he saw terror and disbelief contort all their faces, human and animal alike. Plough horses screamed and bolted, cows stampeded, the sheep huddled shoulder to shoulder and bleated their distress.

Then he cried out as the dragon dived lower, neck outstretched, mouth wide and gaping. Behind him, Lional was breathless with laughter. 'Not yet, my lovely, hold your hunger at bay! We shall feed soon, I promise you sweet one! We shall feed till our belly bursts with blood!'

The dragon wheeled away, head swinging from side to side in grumbling resentment. Gerald wanted to turn back, to shout his warnings and his regrets to the tiny fleeing figures on the ground far below. Fresh guilt seared him, churned his guts and spasmed his legs about the dragon's heaving sides.

Now in New Ottosland there'd be widespread panic ... running and screaming and lives plunged into terrified chaos ... and it was all his fault.

/ should've made him kill me. I slwuld'vc found a way.

Then, as he continued to clutch at the base of the beast's wings, he thought he
felt
something. Or heard it. Two voices whispering on the far edge of reason. One human, one not. Closing his eyes again he strained to hear what the voices were saying.

Behind him Lional was crooning again, a ceaseless, sibilant, disconcerting song. Startled, he recognised it as the human voice he could feel through his contact with the dragon's hot hide.

Which meant the other voice belonged to the dragon. No words, there. Just a burning stream of thought and feeling, like lava flowing down a mountainside.

As the countryside unrolled beneath them like a map unfurling, as fields surrendered to houses and paved roads, he tried to see and hear more clearly ... and was startled almost into falling to his death.

Lional and the dragon's voices - their
minds -
were twining like two separate cords, crimson and black, weaving and counterweaving through and about each other to form one dissoluble thread. Soon there would be no unravelling one from the other. They would be a single entity, a unified intelligence. A man-dragon. A dragon-man.

Despite the seething fear and the pain as he blistered his fingers on the dragon's wings, Gerald turned around. Lional's face was frozen in an expression of bliss, lips soundlessly framing the words he could still hear as faint echoes in his reeling mind.