The Dragon Ring (Book 1) (3 page)

“She must think he’s helping her to regain the throne. I can’t believe she’s so naïve,” Tournak said.

“So the struggle for control of all Powteros begins anew,” Tournak said.

“Yes.”

“Then Earwig’s attack on Augusteros last night was to remove a contender for Neuyokkasin’s throne.” Tournak leaned forward on Memlatec’s desk and stared at his teacher. “You must warn Her Majesty.”

“Warning his mother would do no good. She refuses to believe her sister-in-law could animate a stone gargoyle. She thinks the witch is but a bumbling upstart entertaining herself with magic. The queen is certain Augusteros was at fault last night. Any attempt to convince her Earwig is a real witch and dangerous at this point would only discredit me.”

“Would Saxthor’s father listen to you?”

“Prince Consort Augusteros doesn’t perceive the seriousness either. He won’t interfere for fear of causing a rift between his wife and her brother.”

“What a mess.”

“Yes, Earwig grasps her vulnerability. She’s careful not to leave evidence of her actions that could prove her involvement and force the queen to recognize the evil she is. No, our duty to protect Saxthor is imperative. I’ll send Kak, the wood sprite, to play with him and keep a protective eye out for danger. We must devise a better means of dealing with Earwig which won’t draw the Dark Lord’s attention.”

“The miniature forest elf should be unobtrusive and can disappear in an instant if need be, Tournak said. But if Earwig spots him, she’ll know you sent the sentinel. The discovery would confirm you’re shielding Saxthor, which could backfire, making her feel his threat is even greater than she suspects. She’d be even more determined to kill him.”

*

Memlatec set off on a journey to the south. He hiked through the thick-forested hills all day resting on a rock just after dusk. The birds had roosted for the night but the crickets hadn’t started chirping, so the forest was quiet. A sudden stamping in the leaf litter just out of sight startled the old sorcerer. The snorting face of a massive wild boar, tusks slashing the air side to side, burst through the gloom coming straight at the old wizard. The beast squealed spotting the old man and rushed at him. A herd of wild pigs followed close behind the hairy monster’s lead.

Memlatec’s staff thrust up, its crowning crystal glowing. But the charging boar lowered his head with gaping mouth and eyes red in the crystal’s light.

“Back!”

With tusks hacking left and right like swirling sickles in a grain field, the boar showed no fear. Grunting defiance, he charged Memlatec’s leg. Light flashed from the crystal shooting a pulse into the boar’s face. Smoke rose from burning flesh. A yellowed tusk cut the edge of Memlatec’s robe and grazed his leg. With a squeal, the beast jolted, turned, and raced away. Warm blood trickled down the magician’s ankle as the boar led the herd aside and on into the murky forest.

What’s that? Memlatec thought. Did I glimpse a ghoul or troll directing the swine from the shadows.

The old man stood firm, legs apart with staff glowing, ready for another charge but none came. As the night creatures stirred, and the last of the cicadas drummed their calls, Memlatec hiked on to his destination guided by the light of his staff’s crystal.

An hour after midnight, his journey brought him to an abrupt clearing surrounding a mile long chasm opened in ages past. Jagged cliff walls, silver in the moonlight, gaped naked as a slash in the verdant forest. Exhausted and having missed the moon’s peak midnight strength, Memlatec bedded down. He awoke the next morning to the sounds of cracking sticks and crunching gravel.

Two dusty bearded prospectors with walking sticks and rock hammers approached the edge of the chasm without seeing the wizard. They chatted about something he couldn’t hear, then one slammed his hammer into the rock. Memlatec rose to warn them, but it was already too late. One prospector was tying off a rope on a tree trunk while the other was engrossed in chipping samples at the cliff edge. At first, neither noticed the pebbles around them jostle. Then a violent shudder sent both men to the ground. Rocks rolled about like tumbleweeds.

“What is it?” the first man yelled to his companion.

The second man was sprawled on the ground mesmerized, as the wall of the crevasse seemed to groan. The cliff itself screeched, scraping and banging as the edge tore away. The dusty gray stone morphed into organic rock assuming the shape of a multi-tendrilled dragon whose long narrow body peeled away from the fissure’s lip. As the dragon formed, her eyes coalesced into orbs of deep red jasper staring down at the gasping men. The dragon’s head whipped up in the air, hissing a breath of dust.

The man with the rock hammer struggled to stand, but the dragon, still half cliff edge and half beast, shot her head down, brushing the man over the edge to his death. The second man stood and staggered backward, his head shook side to side in a desperate voiceless display of disbelief. The great stone beast’s head lunged, snatched him in her jaws and flung him over the cliff as well. Removing the parasites appeased the dragon’s wrath and she began to meld back into the rock face of the cliff’s edge.

“Frieda, you must temper your anger,” Memlatec said approaching the grumbling creature.

The snorting dragonhead shot back at the wizard. “It’s been a long time since you came to visit us here, Memlatec.”

“I’ve been very busy, do forgive my absence. It seems you are as combative as ever, old friend.”

Frieda glanced back at the spot where the prospectors disappeared. “None shall pass into this abyss save by my allowance. Those two meant only to hack me up and steal my fragments.”

“We primal beings are disappearing,” Memlatec said. “We cannot hold back their numbers.”

“Those two won’t make any more problems for us,” the dragon’s coarse voice mumbled. “You came for some reason other than to chat with me. What brings you to this forgotten outpost?”

“I seek Kak to help guard a boy.”

The reptile’s throat rumbled. Gravel toppled into the fissure. “Boys… future men with rock hammers, you mean. Kak may be the last of his kind. I’ll not have mankind disturbing him.”

“We can’t turn back time, Frieda.”

“Seek him at midnight if you wish to communicate with the diminutive sprite. He doesn’t appear for anyone except in strong moonlight. He might meet with you... might, I said.”

“Rest easy, old girl,’ Memlatec said.

The dragon snorted and reclined her head back against the cliff edge, morphing back into the stone wall.

Later, in the light of the rising moon, Memlatec stood at the cliff edge, where a pebble rolled by his foot. A tremor beneath his feet suggested Frieda shifted, but she remained stone. He took the better part of the evening working his way down the slope over jagged rocks that crumbled without warning. Near the bottom, he located his objective: a triangle of three entwined, arching oaks encasing a deep carpet of emerald green moss in ancient woods. He entered the space and drank at its bubbling spring. Only the trickling of water and one lone croaking tree frog disturbed the silver night.

Memlatec studied the slight cleft in the stone wall by the spring and then the moonlight that filtered through the tree canopy. He adjusted his staff until a beam shot through the staff’s crystal, illuminating the shadowed crack in the rock.

“Will you speak with me, Kak?” Memlatec asked.

“Go away,” a voice, from within the crevice, said.

“Forgive me for disturbing your solitude, Kak, but I need to speak with you.”

“You didn’t come to chat, old wizard, you want something.”

“The Dark Lord rises once again. Our only hope, a youth, is in grave danger. I need you to help watch over him.”

“You want me to interfere in the affairs of men. Frieda and I have no wish to mingle with humanity.”

“The evil will swallow all Powteros if harm comes to this young man. I need your help.”

There was a long silence before Memlatec noted a shimmer slipping from the cracked rock. The reclusive miniature elf materialized and sat on a smooth boulder by the spring.

“A boy you say.”

“Indeed,” Memlatec responded.

“Why would you, a primal wizard, need me to protect a boy?”

“I can’t hover over the prince at all times without drawing more dangerous attention to him. You, on the other hand, can play with him, yet remain out of sight, keeping your eye out for danger.”

“This danger… it’s serious or you wouldn’t have come seeking my help,” Kak said.

“The boy’s aunt, the deposed queen, blames his mother for forcing the former king to abdicate. The uncle was hopelessly corrupt and the witch aunt, a soulless social climber. Together they alienated the nobility and populace bringing about their own downfall. Earwig, the former queen, has turned to witchcraft for vengeance. She seeks to wipe out the royal family, Prince Saxthor in particular, hoping to regain the throne.”

Kak munched on a mushroom. “The queen should execute this Witch Earwig.”

“The queen transferred her devotion for her father, old King Minnabec, to her brother, the deposed king. Her sense of filial devotion prevents her from accepting her brother and sister-in-law’s flaws. She thinks her sister-in-law plays with magic as a game. Without proof, we can’t convince the queen her children are in danger.”

“So you want me to be this Prince Saxthor’s unseen watchdog?”

“Yes.”

Kak’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll do it for the boy’s sake, but you owe me.”

Memlatec nodded confirming the bargain, but the elf’s grin left open the debt.

*

Two days later, scrunch-faced and introspective, Memlatec paced his tower workroom in late afternoon. The muffled scratching of dust under foot counted time’s passage. Tournak was putting away a consignment of magical ingredients careful not to disturb the wizard’s thoughts.

Memlatec halted. “This morning I came upon Earwig hunched cat-like, poised to pounce. Her eyes focused on Saxthor as if he were a mouse.”

Tournak turned to Memlatec. “She’s plotting his demise already.”

“Not knowing what the power is, or its magnitude, intensifies the threat to the witch. The spittle in the corner of her mouth made her appear even more vicious.”

“What’re you going to do? Kak can’t watch over Saxthor day and night either.”

“Saxthor is closest to his dog, Battara, and she’s with him all the time,” Memlatec said. “I’ve enhanced her visionary power to guard Saxthor. Through the pet, I should sense threats to the boy. I just hope Kak and Battara can prevent or alert me to trouble in time to intercede.”

Tournak’s knuckles turned white gripping a small crate. The old wizard walked to the balcony where the setting sun’s warmth soothed his mental chill. He contemplated Konnotan and the royal palace, fingers drumming on the stone balustrade.

“The witch has been like frost on tender foliage, withering the children’s budding potential.”

Tournak put down a packet of ingredients and fidgeted with the crate’s lid.

“Rendering them unfit for the throne isn’t enough now. She’ll stop at nothing to kill him,” Memlatec said. The words cut like a cold knife through the sun’s last rays in the cool stone chamber.

* * *

A week later, Saxthor and his best friend, Bodrin played soldiers in the glen outside the palace when Saxthor realized Battara had disappeared. The boys called for her and Battara barked off in the distance. Saxthor yelled again, but Battara still didn’t come and they began searching for her. At the edge of the meadow, they paused and studied the gate in the forbidden walled preserve.

“I hear barking coming from deep in the garden,” Saxthor said.

Bodrin’s face scrunched. “Your brother fell in the well there, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“We’re not allowed to go inside.”

Saxthor stared at the garden wall. “No, but I’m going to find Battara. Something’s wrong. She always comes when I call her.”

“We better get the guards.”

“You go Bodrin. I can’t wait for them.”

Saxthor raised his wooden sword and rushed through the weeds to the locked gate. He glanced back and saw Bodrin running toward the palace. Saxthor climbed over the gate and entered the garden, his eyes darting around the ill-omened place. Only dead grass waved in a cold breeze. Battara was nowhere in sight.

“Battara, what are you up to?”

When she didn’t respond, Saxthor stepped further into the enclave. A sharp chill ran down his spine. The grass stood still as the wind died. He advanced with caution over the stepping-stones approaching the well.

“Battara! Where are you? You’re in here somewhere. Stop hiding and come out.”

A muffled bark came from the decrepit shed at the far end of the garden. Bricks from the crumbling wall lay around the foundation. Warped, weathered boards curled from the shed’s sides. Saxthor rushed over, but hesitated in front of the door, which hung at an angle from a single hinge.

“Battara! Come here.”

Neither dog nor sound came from the shack. Saxthor’s heart pounded as he stepped to the open door. He peered into the musty gloom.

Something is wrong, he thought. No light is coming in through the gaps between the boards.

He poked his sword into the darkness; nothing happened. Though hesitant, he took a deep breath and leapt inside. In the frigid murkiness, he sensed a presence.

A green light flickered in the mist. The illumination revealed a figure developing in the darkness. Shadows cast by the light exaggerated Earwig’s emerging facial features. She glared at him. Saxthor turned to escape only to have the door slam shut. The witch grabbed his arm. He dropped his sword and froze, too terrified to yell as she shook him. Anger flared up in Saxthor overpowering his fear. He struggled to wrench his upper limb free.

“Let go of me!”

Earwig snarled, “What’s this power of yours?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Aunt Irkin. I have no power.”

“You may not comprehend your internal force, but Memlatec certainly does.”

“Let me go, you’re hurting my arm.”

The witch’s brows furrowed as she stooped and leered into Saxthor’s face with bloodshot eyes made more grotesque by excessive makeup.