Accidental Sorcerer (36 page)

'Greetings, Your Highness,' Zazoor said calmly as Rupert stamped to a halt before him. it is good to see you again, although the circumstances are -'

Rupert waved away the pleasantries. 'Look, Zazoor, if you've come for a wedding I'm afraid I've bad news. It's nothing personal so don't be offended but -'

Gerald cleared his throat, it's all right, Rupert. The sultan's not marrying Melissande.'

All the determination drained from Rupert's face, returning it to foolish uncertainty.'He's not?'

'No.'

Rupert frowned. 'Then who is he marrying?'

'Trust me, Rupert,' said Zazoor, revealing his teeth in a smile. 'When the gods have decided you'll be the third to know'

'Then what are you doing here? With an
armyV

Before Zazoor could tell him, one of Kallarap's warriors shouted, pointing.

'Draconi! DraconiV

Lional's dragon was coming.

drawn, his gaze darting between his sister and the dragon.

'Monk's getting you out of here,' he said. She snorted. 'No, he's not.' 'Who's Monk?' said Rupert. 'I am,' said Monk. 'Pleased to meet you, Your Highness.'

Rupert looked bewildered. 'Yes. Certainly. I'm sorry, I don't understand ...'

Gerald growled. 'He'll explain it later. In Ottosland. Monk -'

'I can't go to Ottosland, Gerald,' Rupert objected. 'There's a murderous dragon loose in my kingdom.'

'I know. And I'll take care of it.'

'How?' demanded Melissande. 'Look at the thing, half a mile away and it's
still
enormous!'

Shaking his head Rupert bleated, 'Really, Gerald, I can't leave now, I -'

He raised his hand, fingers widespread.
'Impedimentia assolutaY

Melissande and Rupert froze in mid-protest, voices silenced.

'Whoops,' said Reg. 'They're not going to like
that,
sunshine.'

Too had.
'So long as they're
alive
to not like it I really don't care!' he retorted. 'Monk, listen. You have to go. Get the Department off its backside,
and
the UMN. Raise merry hell till somebody does something. Melissande, Rupert and Reg can help you, foreign royalty always gets attention. Come back with help, lots of it, as fast as you can.'

'And in the meantime?' said Monk. He'd gone very pale.

In the meantime, I die.
'I'll do what I can to keep Lional and his dragon preoccupied. Stop them from hurting anyone else. But you'd better hurry, mate. So go. Now.
Please!

Monk pulled the portable portal out of his pocket. His hand was unsteady. 'Dunnywood, for the record, I'm telling you this is a bad idea.'

He tried to smile and couldn't. 'Probably. Monk -'

With a hiccuping sob Reg threw herself into his arms. 'No, no, I'm not leaving you, Gerald! You
need
me! I can
help
you!'

Tenderly he lifted her to eye level. She felt suddenly small and fragile, a frantically beating heart inside a brittle cage of feather and bone. 'Darling Reg,' he whispered, and kissed her. i'm sorry but you can't. Not any more. Now if you love me ...
leave!

'Gerald ...' she protested helplessly as he returned her to Monk's shoulder.

'All set,' his friend said. 'Ready when you are.'

He nodded. 'Take care of each other, you two. And our royal friends. Don't let them boss you. And Monk?'

'What?' said Monk, wrapping one arm round Melissande, the other round Rupert and triggering the portal.'Gerald,
what?'

He undid the immobility incant. Dredged up a smile. 'Good luck with the princess. You're going to need it.'

The portal opened and they disappeared.

*
*
*

Zazoor said, 'Wizard, that was honourably done.'

The stern voice released Gerald from his trance. He let out his pent-up breath, the relief so great it was like a pain.
They're safe, they're safe, thank God, they're safe.
Whatever life was left to him now, be it hours or minutes or scant swift seconds, at least he could face it with some kind of peace. His friends wouldn't pay the price for his myriad failures.

He turned and looked at Kallarap s sultan. 'You think I'm the kind of man who'd let one more innocent life be lost if he could prevent it?'

Shugat fingered his staff. 'The kind of man you are is yet to be revealed,' he said before Zazoor could reply.

The dragon was almost on top of them now, flames and smoke billowing in its wake. The clear air trembled.

He sneered. 'What's that, Shugat? More of your gods'
wisdom?'

'Yes.'

Damn the holy man and his cryptic utterances. He took a step towards Zazoor. 'Magnificence, don't listen to him. That dragon's dangerous, you -'

'Oh
lookV
cried a lilting voice, it's a party and we weren't invited. Do you know, we think our feelings are
hurt'.

Lional.

Cold with inevitability, Gerald looked to Shugat and the sultan. Unmoved, they watched Lional make his suave, insinuating way through the ruined flowerbeds to the edge of the carriageway where grass met gravel.

He turned to Zazoor, the blood pounding in his head. 'This is your last chance. Help me.
Please!

Unmoved, unmoving, Zazoor sat on his ebony war camel and stared down at his holy man. Shugat inspected the tip of his staff, leathered face creased in thought, then glanced up at Zazoor. After a moment of silent communion they closed their eyes.

So. I'm alone.

Something ... some hope or belief or faith in the ultimate goodness of man ... broke inside him. Bled swiftly, quietly, flooding all the cracks and chasms of his soul.

Lional laughed. 'Gerald, Gerald. Why are you surprised? Didn't we tell you they're a dreadful bunch?'

He snapped his fingers ... and in a beating of wings, with a hissing song of welcome, the dragon touched lightly to the ground at his side. Sunlight trembled on its scarlet and emerald scales, striking sparks from the diamond-bright sheen of its spines. Poison, green and glowing, oozed from each razor-sharp tip. Dripped harmlessly down the dragon's brilliant striped hide and Lional's green silk arm. Fell to the ground ... which at its touch dissolved in a cloud of noxious smoke.

Kissing his palm to the dragon's cheek, Lional sighed. Some subtle flow of flesh and bone rippled beneath his skin. Seemed to elongate his skull and dagger his teeth. Gerald thought he saw a shimmer of crimson scale, swift as fish-scales in a river.

'We were hunting,' said Lional in a soft and singsong voice, subtly not his own. 'The sheep, the boar, the bullock, the stag ... blood like crimson nectar ... but before we'd killed our fill we felt the air change. Smelt the rank unwelcome coming of the nasty little man with his stone of power and we thought ...'

Abruptly, Lional blinked. The dragon blinked. They stirred as though waking from a dream. Then Lional smiled, a bright flashing of teeth, and the shadows beneath his skin sank from sight.

'Well, well, well,' he drawled. He sounded himself again. 'Hello, Zazoor. What brings you and your holy lapdog to my kingdom?
And
without an invitation. So
rudeV

If Zazoor was unnerved by the ravening beast just feet away he gave no sign. He might have been attending a tedious tea party or receiving a tiresome guest in his own home. 'What brings us here, Lional? Fate. Destiny. The will of the Three.'

Lional's smiled widened. 'Can't you make up your mind? Well, it's nice to see some things never change.'

Zazoor's answering smile was deadly. When we were at school, Lional, I knew you for a cowardly boy who bullied and cheated to get his way. Now you are a man grown and you resort to torture when bullying and cheating no longer suffice. Indeed you have the right of it, my old school chum: truly, some things never change.'

Lional's smile vanished. His caressing fingers - with nails longer and thicker than they'd been just yesterday - dropped from the dragon's face and his blue eyes darkened, the flickering red flame in their depths leaping high.

'Burn them,
my darling. Burn them to
ash.'

The dragon roared, lower jaw unhinging to reveal a cauldron of fire. Flames writhing green and scarlet burst from its dagger-toothed mouth. Swift as a striking snake Shugat snatched the stone from his forehead and held out his hand. A bolt of blue-white light collided with the gushing fire. There was a hissing of steam and stinking smoke like hot lava striking an arctic sea. The dragon screamed, rearing on its hind legs, wings thrashing. Lional, fingers clawing desperately at his mouth, screamed with it.

Gerald turned on Shugat. 'See? You can hurt them! For God's sake, Shugat, you
have
to help me!'

Shugat glared, his eyes like the heart of a distant sun. He opened his mouth as if to speak ... then froze. His eyes rolled back
in
his head, his arms flung wide and his tight-clutched staff began to shiver and twist.

The stone he held exploded into life.

Its surge of power drove Gerald to his knees. As he struggled to breathe he heard Lional, shrieking, and the dragon's echoing roar. He looked up.

Lional's fingernails had gouged deep furrows in his face; blood flowed from his cheeks, his lips, his chin. The dragon was wounded too, its scales cracked and blackened, thick gore bubbled and stinking. But within moments the scales healed, and Lional's wounds. His hands came up, fingers curved into talons, and his eyes were soaked in scarlet.

Shugat moved in a blur of speed. As a stream of foul curses spewed from Lional's lips he swept staff and stone in an arc that encompassed himself, his sultan and the entire Kallarapi army. In its wake sprang a translucent domed shield; motionless within, Shugat and Zazoor and the warriors of Kallarap waited.

Stranded, unprotected, Gerald watched Lional and his dragon throw flame and vitriol and the worst curses in history at the holy man's shimmering shield. Spittle flew from Lional's mouth and green poison poured down the dragon's teeth, turning the ground beneath their feet to acid mud as the attack went on and on.

Still the shield held.

Exhausted, half fainting, Lional fell back, one hand grasping at his dragon's spines to stop himself from falling. Equally spent, the dragon lowered its head and panted, wings limp and splayed upon the ruined grass.

Inside the barrier Shugat's eyes unrolled. He sighed, arms falling to his sides. Looked at Gerald, one wild eyebrow lifting in sarcastic invitation.

Oh. Right.
Gerald ran.

The flowerbeds at the far edge of the palace gardens had somehow escaped untouched, with unburned blossoms rising rank upon perfumed, bee-buzzed rank. With the last of his strength he dived headfirst into a cloying collection of hollyhocks, daisies and snapdragons. Ha.

Panting, he snatched up his arms and legs thinking:
hedgehog.
This far from the palace, to his shamed relief, he couldn't smell the stench of the dragon's kill. Thank God. Images of Lional and the dragon rose like flames before him.

Kill
them?
He'd
never
kill them.

I'm going to die . . . I'm going to die . . . I'm going to die . . .

Some six inches from his nose a rustling of leaf litter. He sucked in moist, compost-rich air, unmoving. Another rustle. And then a lizard, a skink, skinny and brown with only one good eye, darted out from under a leaf and stopped, nervously scenting the air with its tiny tongue.

Gerald held his breath. Memory replayed recent, desperate words.

I'm the only wizard with a hope against Lional. But only if I fight with the same weapons he's got\

When he'd said it he was convinced that meant using
Grummen's Lexicon.
But what if... what if...

You know what they say. Fight fire with fire. Or ... dragon with dragon?

His stunned mind reeled. No. He was mad. How the hell could it possibly
work?
As lizards went, this one was pathetic. With its left eye shrivelled, practically
crippled.
Its matrix would make a piss-poor dragon; even with the strongest magic this little skink could never hope to match the brute muscularity and mindless viciousness of the bearded spitting lizard from Lower Limpopo. The dragons would never be equal: magic could only do so much.

But hey, Dunwoody. Remember your mantra: beggars can't be choosers, and it's the only lizard you've got. Even if all you can do is distract Lional ... tire him out... buy enough time for Monk to return with reinforcements ...

He didn't have a staff but that didn't matter. He had no need of staffs any more.

'Impedimentia implacatol
On the brink of bolting, the little lizard froze and stared at him with its one good eye, cream-coloured sides pumping frantically for air.

He swallowed a sudden stab of conscience. Poor little thing. So timid. So frail. Did he have the right to do this? Change it? Distort it? Pit it against Lional's dreadful dragon, most likely to its death?

There's no choice. I have to.

'Sorry little lizard,' he whispered, it's you and me or everyone else. I promise I'll make you as strong as I can. I just hope you survive transmogrification.'

And if it did, there remained the matter of
his
survival. Not just physical but mental. The
Tantigliani sympathetica.
If Lional, with the stolen
potentias
of five powerful wizards, couldn't resist its seductive destructive undertow, then prodigy or not, what chance did he have?

Little to none.

Fear like a tidal wave smashed him to the dirt. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, or see anything in his future but a slow and bleeding insane death.

You took an oath and then you broke it. Here's your chance to mend it, just a little.

With infinite care he raised his head high enough to see around the garden, straining sight, hearing and wizard senses. No Lional, no dragon. But the respite wouldn't last. Withdrawing into his scented hiding place he scrabbled in the dirt for something sharp. His questing fingers found a rock, chipped on one side.

It would have to do.

Setting his teeth, he unclenched the fingers of his left hand and struck into its palm with the piece of stone, again and again until he breached the sealing skin and freed the blood below.

The pain was a welcome distraction.

Next he summoned from memory the exact sequence of blotches Lional had made on the crimson and emerald lizard's back to set in place the
Tantigliani sympathetica.

When he was sure of it he opened his eyes, whispered
'Absorbidato complexus'
and painted the skink with his hot, dripping blood. Then he ran his finger along its meagre length.
'A4anifesti
retarto'.
Finally, after checking it was still safe beyond the flowerbed, he picked up the skink and crawled out into the garden proper ... where he set the lizard down on the close-clipped grass, took a deep breath and turned it into a dragon.