Disenchanted (15 page)

Rather than head back north and take the east-west road to Avaressa, he planned to go through the mountains into the Kingdom of Blinsk and then head north. Boric knew that there was a pass through the Kalvan Mountains to the southeast, but he couldn’t say within twenty miles where it was. The threfelings might have known, but he hadn’t dared to ask them for fear that if pressed they would reveal his route to the other wraiths. Even if the wraiths split up to cover more territory, they were unlikely to anticipate him taking the mountain pass. Now if he could only find it.

He walked east until the foothills became impassable mountains and then turned south, looking for a break in the peaks that might indicate a pass. He hadn’t found it by sunrise and took refuge in a small cave for the day. At nightfall he continued to the south, but still found nothing looking like a pass. Some time after midnight he concluded that he must have missed the pass and did his best to retrace his steps. Unaccustomed to navigating by the stars, he lost his way and only by luck managed to find a cave just before dawn. As he settled into the cave, he noticed a chalk drawing on the cave wall. His initial excitement that this was perhaps a sign of some kind faded when he realized it was the drawing of his brother Yoric fornicating with a sheep that he had drawn a day earlier: he had been walking in circles. If he had been able, Boric would have burst into tears. Instead, he lay down on his back and determined never to get up again. He was, after all, a corpse, and it was about time that he started acting like it. How bad could eternity be anyway? At least he wouldn’t have to sleep next to Urgulana anymore (they hadn’t seen much of each other over the past few years but still usually slept in the same room to keep up appearances).

Boric had experienced only about six hours of eternity when he heard a sound he had heard only once before: a great, rhythmic throbbing, followed by a rush of wind through the cave. He leapt to his feet. The mighty wyndbahr had alighted at the mouth of the cave. On its back sat the beautiful blond Eytrith. She slid off the creature and strode toward Boric.

“Nice cave,” she said. “Did you decorate it yourself?”

Boric moved in front of his drawing.

“Still holding onto that sword, eh?” she asked.

Boric made a noise halfway between a growl and a hiss.

The Eytrith folded her arms across her bosom. “Hey, don’t blame me, pal,” she said. “I’m not the one who traded his soul to become King of Ytrisk. I looked into you a little after our last meeting. Turns out you are seriously cursed.”

“Yeah,” said Boric. “I know.”

“My name’s Viriana, by the way,” she said.

“Charmed,” said Boric flatly. “So am I stuck here forever?”

“Beats me,” said Viriana. “All I know is that I can’t take you to Avandoor as long as you hold that sword.”

“But is this my last chance?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were going to return in seven days. It’s been seven days, right? I mean, the way you said it, it sounded like I was only going to get one more chance. So is this it? Is this my last chance to get to Avandoor?”

“Oh,” said Viriana, absentmindedly stroking the wyndbahr’s neck fur. “I can probably get you another week. Nobody’s asked about you yet; you’re not really that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal!” Boric exclaimed. “I slew the Ogre of Chathain! I minced the Trolls of Trynsvaan!”

Viriana snorted. “That thing with the ogre was an assist at best. And trolls? Really? Nobody hangs their reputation on troll-mincing anymore. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’ve got a decent ranking. Eighty-seventh overall, I think. But you’re no Greymaul Wolfsbane.” She snapped her fingers and her eyes went wide. “You know what you should do?” she said excitedly.

“What?” asked Boric.

“You should try to
break the curse
!”

Boric wondered what the penalty was for strangling an Eytrith. How much worse could they possibly make things for him?

“I’ve been
trying
,” growled Boric. “It’s not exactly easy, you know. First, I don’t know
how
to break the curse. Even the Witch of Twyllic didn’t know. And I’ve got these damned wraiths chasing me, and I can’t be out in the daylight, and this bloody mountain pass is impossible to find…”

“Mountain pass?” asked the Eytrith. “Why are you trying to find a mountain pass?”

“I need to get to the Library of Avaressa to figure out how to break the curse, and I can’t take the road, so I’ve got to go through the Kalvan Mountains and east into Blinsk. And then I have to go north through the Valmac Pass and into Avaressa. It’s going to take me days. Maybe weeks. And that’s
if
I can find the damned pass!”

“Wow,” said Viriana, frowning. “That sounds
boring
.”

“I know!” howled Boric. “I’ve been walking for
days
. I’m sick to death of it. Even if I find this pass, it’s going to take me more days of walking to get to Avaress. Just hundreds of miles of pointless walking. I never would have guessed it, but I think that the worst part of this whole walking corpse deal may actually be the
walking
part.”

“Well, all right then,” said the Eytrith. “Hop on.”

“Wait, what?”

“Get on the wyndbahr. I can get you to Avaressa in twenty minutes. I’m heading that direction anyway.”

“Seriously? Can you do that?”

“Sure, why not? I mean, Eytriths aren’t supposed to interfere with what’s going on down here, but between you and me, we aren’t supervised very closely.”

“Okay, but I can’t really leave the cave. The sunlight…”

“Oh, because you’re a wraith, right. All right, well, let me go pick up this knucklehead who’s about to get himself eaten by fire wolves in the Wastes of Preel. I’ll be back at sundown.” She climbed onto the wyndbahr, which launched itself into the air. Boric lay down on the cold stone floor for another eight hours.

At sundown, Viriana returned as promised. “Okay, hop on,” she said. “I’ve got a stop to make on the way, but you should be in Avaressa within the hour.” She climbed onto the back of the wyndbahr and helped Boric get behind her. The great winged beast leaped into the air, soaring above the Kalvan Mountains. Boric held tightly to Viriana’s waist.

“Hey, look!” she shouted.

“What?”

“There’s your pass! It was just on the other side of that hill. Wow, I can’t believe you missed it. It’s so obvious.”

“From up
here
, yeah,” growled Boric. “Try walking it sometime.”

“No thanks,” said Viriana.

They climbed higher, and Boric was suddenly blinded as the wyndbahr soared into the blanket of clouds resting atop the Kalvan Mountains. “Can you see?” he asked Viriana nervously.

“Not a thing,” replied Viriana. “But then I have my eyes closed.”

“Well, open them, for Grovlik’s sake!”

“Why? We’re in a cloud bank. Don’t worry, Bubbles can see. He’s never run me into a mountain before. Besides, you’re already dead. You should lighten up.”

She’s right, thought Boric. I’m a dead man riding a winged bear named Bubbles. What could possibly go wrong?

But then they dived back down below the clouds. “Now what?” asked Boric.

“That stop I was telling you about. I need to pick up this other dead guy.”

“What other dead guy?”

“Clovis the Dragon-Slayer. He’s number twenty-seven. Be nice to him, and maybe he’ll let you sit next to him in the Hall.”

“Clovis the Dragon-Slayer? You mean Clovis, the Prince of Blinsk? The one with the eye patch? He’s never slain a dragon!”

“Not yet, no,” said Viriana. “But give him a few minutes.” The wyndbahr was now plummeting toward a rocky ridge below. Boric became aware of a tiny figure moving along the ridge. Behind him was a cliff wall into that was carved the opening of a cavern. As Boric watched, a massive reddish-gold reptile emerged from the opening, spread two great, leathery, bat-like wings, and leapt into the air toward Bubbles and his riders.

“Move!” yelled Boric. “It’s heading right for us!”

“Calm down,” snapped Viriana. “We can’t be seen by the living. That is, I can’t, and Bubbles can’t, and you can’t as long as you’re on his back. So just hold on and shut up.”

Boric was immediately embarrassed by his panic — the dragon hadn’t been aiming for them, it had only been getting some altitude to pursue the man running along the ridge. Bubbles soared some thirty feet over the man’s head and Boric got a good look at him. He carried a sword and wore an eye patch: Clovis, Prince of Blinsk. Boric noted that Clovis carried a broadsword of a type that had recently become all the rage among the nobles in Ytrisk: it had a simple, even ugly design, but he had heard that noblemen paid handsomely for them because of their superior workmanship. Boric had tested one once but found it inferior to Brakslaagt. Of course, at that point he didn’t know about Brakslaagt’s considerable drawbacks.

 Boric had never met Clovis but he had heard the stories. Clovis had slain ogres, trolls, and at least one giant. He had not, to Boric’s knowledge, ever slain a dragon, however, and the way his situation was progressing he was not likely to in the near future. The presence of Viriana the Eytrith did not bode well for his prospects. Eytriths showed up only when someone was about to die.

The dragon bore down on Clovis, opening its giant maw to release a burst of flame. Clovis’s cape caught fire and he unhooked the clasp, letting it fall; it twirled like a burning leaf into the chasm below. He was running as fast as he could across the rocky ridge, but there was no place for him to go, and the foul beast was gaining on him. The dragon’s next blast would incinerate him.

“Come around!” Boric shouted. “We’ve got to help him!”

Viriana shook her head furiously. “Can’t get involved,” she said.

“
You
can’t get involved.
I
can do whatever I want. I just need you to give me a ride.”

Viriana thought for a moment and then shrugged, pulling hard on the wyndbahr’s reins. Bubbles veered sharply to the left, nearly throwing Boric. They made an about-face and soon were headed straight for the dragon.

“Get me above it!” Boric cried.

Viriana pulled up on the reins and the wyndbahr soared upward, arcing over the dragon’s head. Boric couldn’t help but shudder as they passed over the dragon’s snake-like, watermelon-sized eyes, but the creature gave no sign of having seen them. Once above the dragon’s neck, Boric drew his sword and leapt from the wyndbahr’s back.

Gripping Brakslaagt’s hilt with both hands, he drove the point of the sword through the dragon’s scaly armor as he landed. The dragon jerked and screeched, throwing Boric to the left and right, but he held tightly to the hilt of his sword, which was sunk halfway into the dragon. Unable to shake him, the dragon twisted its massive neck around to the right, regarding him with its giant, unblinking eye. There was no question that the creature saw him now. It opened its mouth and let loose a torrent of fire.

Boric threw himself over to the left side of the dragon’s neck, holding onto Brakslaagt with only his right hand. A wave of searing heat washed over him, and he smelled burning leather and flesh. Something very close to pain shot through his arm. He didn’t dare look at what was left of it, but it still held on. Fortunately the dragon didn’t seem to be able to turn its head completely around, or he’d be a pile of charred bones.

The dragon, still soaring through the air above the ridge, had completely forgotten about Clovis and was now focused on dislodging Boric from its back. It turned its head around to the left and blasted him again. Boric threw himself to the right, flopping crazily against the creature’s hide as he still held on with his right hand. This time he smelled less leather and more flesh. His arm probably looked like a sapling after a forest fire.

When he still held on, the dragon changed tacks, whirling upside down to make Boric fall off. But Boric held tight to Brakslaagt — or it held tight to him, and while the blade slipped a few inches, the dragon couldn’t glide upside down for more than a few seconds. Still, it kept trying, veering back and forth between the peaks of the Kalvans and periodically flipping upside down. Each time, Boric’s blade slipped another inch or two, and the dragon wouldn’t stop jerking and wriggling long enough for him to get any leverage. Soon barely enough of Brakslaagt was embedded in the dragon to keep him from falling off. One more flip would do him in: he’d fall a thousand feet to the rocky ground below, smashing what was left of his body into pieces. And Clovis would be on his own.

Fortunately the dragon was so preoccupied with getting Boric off its back that it wasn’t paying much attention to where it was going, and just as it began another flip it crashed head-on into the same cliff wall it had emerged from minutes earlier. Brakslaagt was finally wrenched free and the stunned dragon plummeted toward the ground with Boric following close after. As the creature twisted and writhed beneath him, Boric caught a glimpse of Clovis directly below them. He had evidently taken advantage of the dragon’s distraction to creep back to the cave opening, probably to pilfer some of the dragon’s treasure. As Boric and the dragon accelerated toward him, he stopped and looked up, his one good eye going wide with shock and fright. With no time to get out of the way, he drew his sword and held it, pointing straight up, above his head. The dragon fell on him with all its weight, crushing him. Boric landed on the dragon’s back and bounced off, hitting the ground with a thud. The dragon struggled for a moment, gave a plaintive moan and a puff of smoke, and fell dead.

 After a moment, an apparition of Clovis crawled out from under the dragon’s carcass.

“Wow, thanks!” said Clovis. “I thought I was a goner. Holy shit, look at your arm!”

“You
are
a goner,” said Boric, examining the smoking, charred mass of bone and gristle hanging from his right shoulder.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” asked Clovis, amazed.

“Not really,” said Boric, inspecting his blackened, bony hand. “I’m already dead, like you.”

“I’m not dead,” said Clovis.