EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (206 page)

When she exhausted the books written in her own language, Halfax taught her the other languages he knew, and she read on. As the months turned to years, the journeys to the city became less frequent, less necessary. Life fell into a pleasant, predictable routine. It was a sort of life Halfax was not very used to, but one that was very, very welcome.

Such a comfortable life, and being a dragon with the wisdom and duty of Halfax, made Halfax sensitive to even the smallest changes. After several years of uneventful bliss, something felt wrong one day. Hunting had been difficult. The forest was a good hunting ground, and Jade never ate much, but the animals had been more alert this time. Something had them frightened even before he’d arrived. It was difficult to place, but whatever it was that had spooked them, he felt it, too. Something was near. Its presence hung like a fog in his mind.

As he dropped the day’s kill, Halfax focused upon a specific point among the trees at the edge of the clearing. There was nothing there . . . and yet . . .

He took a step toward it . . .

“Hal, thank goodness! You took a long time, I thought something had happened to you,” Jade said from the doorway.

She was almost fifteen years old now. She’d worked her way through most of the books, and each new thing she learned, she tried. The recent book on farming had led her to expand her little garden, and she was very proud of her efforts.

“Come around the back, I want to show you how good the strawberries are coming in.”

The dragon cast a final glance into the trees before following.

At the edge of the clearing, like a wisp of smoke caught in the breeze, a patch of forest seemed to sweep away, leaving a tall, lean figure where before had been nothing. It was an elf, and by virtue of his race, based on his appearance, he could have been age twenty or two hundred. He held in his hand what may once have been a walking stick. Now it was covered so utterly with intricate emblems and sigils that it seemed too delicate to support its own weight, let alone his. His face bore the vague look of irritation.

“I do hate the lucky ones,” he muttered with a slow shake of his head.

With that he turned and, with the same flourish as he appeared, vanished.

Far to the south, many days later, an aging woman looked to the door of her apothecary shop. It had been a busy day, and there would be no one else at this hour. She poured the contents of the mortar she’d been grinding at into a small glass jar. Carefully, the container was placed beside the dozens of identical ones that lined the shelves behind her.

The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and boiling potions, and every available surface was cluttered with scales, burners, glassware, and other tools of the trade. She made her way to the heavy door, pushed it shut, and drew the bolt.

“Quite a business you have here,” came a voice from behind her.

The woman turned to find the same tall, intellectual-looking elf from the forest inspecting one of the vials from the table. In his hand was the excessively carved walking staff.

“How did you get in here!?” the owner cried, brandishing a heavy glass bottle from the nearest counter.

“I don’t intend to be answering many of your questions, so for your sake, I shall ignore that one. A far more pressing one shall present itself shortly.”

“Get out of my--”

“A useful service you provide the people of this town. A treatment for cutleaf poisoning. A tricky thing to treat.”

“I . . . I do what I can,” she said nervously.

“No, no, you don’t. You do what you want to. The treatment is tricky. The cure much less so. It was difficult to find, but once you know what it is, it is simply a matter of taking enough of the right ingredients. In order to merely treat the poisoning, you would have to measure far more precisely.”

“H-how do you know that?”

“That is the question you ought to be asking, Damona. How do I know what I know? First let me tell you what else I know, then I’ll tell you how. I would put the bottle down, if I were you. You are perilously close to making me feel unwelcome.”

Shakily, she lowered the improvised weapon.

“Your name is Damona Tienne, no middle name. The fact that you have been able to concoct both a functional cure and modify it into merely a treatment shows that you have a firm understanding of magic. The fact that you call yourself an apothecary rather than a healer or alchemist shows that you know that letting people know it is magic that you work would be hazardous. The fact that you reached for a bottle rather than a gem, wand, or staff shows that you are at best a talented amateur in the mystic arts. Further evidence of that fact can be found here.”

The intruder crouched behind the counter, moved a floor board, and retrieved a thick and ancient tome.

“You found this in a wizard’s tower in Ravenwood. It, and some mystic paraphernalia, were all you could sniff out before you were chased out by the usual mob of angry villagers. The fact that you allowed yourself to be chased proves that you are a coward. This little scam you are running here proves something else. It isn’t about helping people, because were that the goal you would have cured them. And it isn’t about money, because even someone with your entry-level knowledge of magic could easily find more profitable pursuits.

“No, this little game is about power. You like holding their lives in your hand. Power is why you ventured into that tower in the first place. And I know all of this simply by paying attention . . . which means anyone else with half a mind could do the same.”

“But how did you find the book!?”

“Ah, yes. That, I concede, required a measure of training. For future reference, there is a material called scatter-cloth which you ought to employ if you hope to conceal mystic items from the mystically adept.”

“So you are a wizard, too.”

“Yes. And in anticipation of your next question, I came with an offer. You want power? I’ve got a few tricks and trinkets I would be willing to give you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, this, for one,” said the stranger, tossing his stick in her direction.

Damona clumsily caught the staff. The instant her fingers closed about it, she could feel a power surge forth from the elegantly carved masterpiece. It was dizzying, intoxicating, a thousand times stronger than she’d ever dreamed she’d become. Just as she began to recover her senses and come to grips with her newfound might, the staff was pulled from her grasp. With it went every ounce of its power. In the wake of the veritable sea of magic, she felt like a hollow shell when reduced to her own level.

“Give it back! Give it back!” she cried desperately, clawing for it.

“Not to worry, you’ll have it--and a bit of instruction to be sure you use it properly. I’ll even toss in a few other items and an old pet of mine.”

“What do I need to do?” she asked, eyes longingly locked on the staff.

“That wizard’s tower . . . It sits on the intersection of a few minor ley lines, has some useful permanent enchantments, and every corner is stuffed with books very much like the one you’ve stolen. That knowledge, combined with this staff, should be enough to make you one of the most powerful sorcerers in a generation. I think you should take it back.”

“I don’t understand. What do you get out of all of this?”

“Well, people fear magic, but it has been so long since they’ve had to face it on a grand stage, I think it would be useful to remind them why they fear it.”

“There must be a catch.”

“A minor one. The tower has a current occupant who will need to be cleared away. A young woman--a mere girl, really--who has been fortunate enough to remain there unharassed for a few years.”

“And she has been reading the books.”

“Potentially, but that is at best your second concern. Foremost is the dragon. It is young, clever, and viciously dedicated to her defense.”

Damona’s entranced gaze was finally broken by this final point.

“A . . . a dragon. Does she control it?”

“If only she did,” said the stranger. “It would be like a child trying to swing a club. No, this beast defends her of its own accord.”

A conflicted look seized her features.

“And if I don’t want to face this beast?”

“Then I give my gifts to a more motivated party. And before the thought even enters your mind, if you were to take my generosity and forsake the task, I would be left with no choice but to retrieve my gifts. And I can be quite justifiably forceful when I feel I have been wronged.”

“So I chase the girl and the dragon away, and the tower and staff are mine.”

“Damona, if you think you can simply chase a dragon away, you have much to learn about the stubbornness of such animals. And as for the girl? Well, you were once a young woman chased from the very same tower, and now look what is about to happen.”

“You want me to kill them.”

“I want you to have the tower so that you can put a face on the fear your people already feel. To do so, you would do well to deal with its current residents in a permanent manner.”

“If you are so powerful, why aren’t you taking the tower yourself? Why don’t you become the force everyone fears?”

“My dear, I am already the force that everyone fears. It serves my purposes that others believe otherwise. If I were you, I would embrace that fact rather than questioning it.”

“I see.”

“Excellent. Then let the lessons begin . . .”

Chapter VI

H
ALFAX
AND
J
ADE
STOOD
AT
the edge of the ice and snow surrounding the tower. The girl’s most recent interest was archery, and it was one that the dragon was eager for her to take up. Jade had learned much, and was already nearly able to take care of herself, but Halfax was still responsible for all of the hunting. Were she to learn to use a bow, she might learn to hunt for herself as well. With a bit of effort, the girl had managed to fashion a bow and some arrows based upon the description in a book about weapons of war. Now the dragon was coaching her in the proper methods of use.

Strictly speaking, Halfax didn’t know how to use a bow. He’d never done so, and likely never would. He had, however, been on the wrong end of one quite often. When it is the difference between an easy escape and a painful reminder, one soon learns when an archer is aiming the bow properly.

“No, hold it with your other fingers. Hook your thumb over them,” he instructed.

“Are you sure? That feels awkward,” she replied, flipping through the pages of the book. “Ah, no, I see. It’s called ‘The Ulvard Grip.’ It’s supposed to help you hold it steady longer. Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

Jade strained at the bow, drawing back its string, and took aim at the target. After a few moments, she let the arrow fly. It hissed through the air and struck the makeshift target well off center.

“I’m getting closer! Did you see, Hal? Halfax?”

She looked to her protector. The beast had trained its eyes on a tiny, distant form in the sky.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Get inside the tower, and bar all of the doors,” he ordered, without taking his eyes off of the rapidly approaching form.

“What is it?”

“GET IN THE TOWER!” he roared, the crackle of fire on his breath as he flared his wings.

It had been years since she’d heard that tone of voice and seen that posture. Last time, it was because a bear had decided that she and Halfax were trespassing in its territory. Whatever that was in the sky, Halfax was certain it meant her harm, and she had never known the dragon to be wrong. She rushed back to the tower and shut the door tight, sliding the brace into place. After frantically giving the same treatment to the other entrance, she climbed the tower and watched anxiously as the form in the sky grew closer.

It was a creature that, at a glance, seemed to be a dragon. The illusion didn’t last long. Its basic shape was like that of Halfax, though a bit larger, but that was where the similarity ended. In place of scales was a rough, almost stony hide, coal black. It had no eyes, only deep hollows where they should be, and rather than a mouthful of teeth, it had a serrated beak.