The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (24 page)

Earwig began to get a buzz from her most recent red mushroom meal. Very quickly, she was intoxicated and mumbling unintelligible incantations over the pot on the fire. The pot rumbled, and a pop came from the cauldron with a subsequent ring of smoke that billowed up and settled its chartreuse glow over the cart.

Earwig was startled at the unexpected reaction and sobered up with the pop. She stared at the dray that seemed to drift in and out of physical mass and finally settled as a quivering energy field like a mirage. She caught a glimpse of Dreg peering out from the bushes where he was hiding across the road.

“See,” Earwig said toward the bushes. “Nothing to worry about.”

The witch regained her composure and slowly moved over to touch the cart, testing to see if it was there or not. A spark from her bony finger shot into the vision.

“Poof!” The spark ignited the vapor left there. In an instant, the cart and all its contents disappeared in a cloud of smoke before the horrified witch’s hand. Earwig turned left and right. “I hope no one saw that.” Exasperated, she sat back down on the log by the fire and empty pot. She smiled and put her knobby hand on the beloved mushrooms still in their basket by her side. “At least I still have them to grow for nourishment and medicinal purposes, even if all my other treasures are gone.”

When the air cleared and Earwig was calm and piddling by the fire, she noted Dreg coming out of the undergrowth and back to the fire. She pretended nothing had happened, even unconcerned as if he’d never left.

“What happened to the cart?” Dreg asked.

“How should I know? It just disappeared,” the witch said, not looking up but fidgeting with a stick in the dust. “Is it gone?”

“What did you do to make the whole cart disappear?” Dreg asked. He stood up straight, facing her.

She jumped up in his face. “Now there you go always assuming I did something when anything goes wrong,” Earwig shouted.

“I’m sorry,” Dreg said, chuckling. “I guess the fanged horse came for it.”

Earwig frowned, pursed her lips, and narrowed her already beady eyes to warn him not to continue. “I don’t wish to discuss the cart’s disappearance or your assumption I had something to do with it.”

Dreg said nothing else, just shook his head from side to side. He walked over to the still evident wheel tracks, looking down and scratching his head. He came back to the log and held out half of a root he’d dug up in the woods to eat.

Earwig hesitated and then reached out with her knobby fingers to snatch the root. A peace offering I suppose, she thought. She looked up and smiled momentarily, then started to gnaw on the tuber so her mouth would be full and she wouldn’t have to answer questions. The wild root was bitter, but after her daily caustic mushroom intake, it seemed to Earwig like a sweet treat. Chewing it with tooth stubble was worse.

Dreg reluctantly ate the rest after roasting it over the fire to make it palatable.                                                                     

*

That evening, they heard a noise in the woods across the road.

“Maybe it’s a traveler on horse,” Earwig said. She looked at Dreg for confirmation.

“Why’d he be in the woods if he’s a traveler?” Dreg asked. “Oh I don’t care if you steal his horse or not. I wants to get away from here.”

“Hello,” Earwig called. She moved toward the rustling leaves. Her voice was dripping artificial sweetness not even a rock would think sincere. “Anyone there?” she asked when there was no reply. “Do come join us here by the fire.”

The leaves rustled again, but there was still no reply.

Dreg stood up and clutched his knife handle.

“Now, Dreg,” Earwig whispered. She put her clammy hand on his arm to restrain him. “Whatever caused that rustling is big enough to haul me to Dreaddrac.”

Dreg looked at her, “You, just YOU.” He pulled his arm away from her grasp.

Unexpectedly, a beast like none either had ever seen before leapt from the bushes and charged them by the campfire. The thing was some composite created by evil magic. Someone probably sent it to roam the countryside, terrifying the local population and demoralizing them for the coming invasion. It had a huge bird of prey head with a beak that could snap a man’s leg in two. The large black and yellow eyes could suck in all available light, aiding its nighttime stalking. The torso was that of a hairy man perched on two massive muscled bird legs resembling those of other flightless birds. Instead of wings, it had arms. Its fingers and the three toes of each foot were armed with long, sharp cycle-like slashing claws. The creature shrieked at the two awestruck people and attacked in a direct dash.

Dreg grabbed for a big stick and, holding it in both hands, swung it back, checked his grip, and spread his feet to steady himself. Seeing transportation, Earwig rushed around Dreg to greet the charging creature.

“Stop!” Dreg said.                                         

The creature stopped suddenly in mid-stride amid a swirl of dust. Its murderous stare disappeared as Earwig approached. The cocked head eyed the approaching, unrecognizable thing. Suddenly, the creature abandoned its attack and fled.

Desperate, Earwig leaped at it, wrapping herself around the creature’s neck. She hung on there like a sack of potatoes. The creature flailed and spun around but couldn’t dislodge the witch for all its efforts. It clawed at her arms locked around its neck, but Earwig kneed the beast each time until, exhausted, it finally submitted to its fate.

Earwig was panting, as was the beast, but she wouldn’t let go of it. When it stood there, defeated, Earwig dropped her legs from around its chest and, holding it by the throat, dragged it closer to the fire.

“Do we eat this or ride it to Dreaddrac?” the witch asked.

Dreg stood dumbstruck with his jaw hanging. He said nothing in response, just stared at the defeated monster. Earwig continued in a matter of fact tone.

“It looks too foul to taste good, pardon the pun, so I think we’ll have to make something we can hitch it to, to take us north.”

“What’re you going to do with it?” Dreg asked.

“I’m not going to do anything; you’re going to find something to tie it up with so we can get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll discover how to best use it to haul us north.”

Dreg was able to find enough rope scraps to tie the beast’s hands and hobble its feet so that they slept soundly that night after all the excitement. In the morning, Earwig confronted the creature with both hands propped firmly on her hips to appear more intimidating to the humiliated bird-beast.

“Get this straight if you can understand me, beast, we’re going to Dreaddrac, and you’re going to take us there,” she commanded. The beast couldn’t do anything but watch and shake its head. “I want no trouble out of you, and if you cause me any problems, I’ll bash you from here into tomorrow, understand?”

The demoralized creature couldn’t understand her language, but it understood her tone. She was a nasty threat in any language. Forlorn, the brute nodded and waited stoically to see what she would do with, or possibly to it.

“Do you like this beast any better than Zendor?” Dreg asked when he recovered his composure.

Earwig shot him a mean look, and he quickly wiped the smile off his face.

“Now we have this creature, and the cart is gone,” the witch mumbled. She turned and stared straight at Dreg. “Well, I’m riding the bird-beast. You can walk, Dreg.”

“Why get mad at me? I didn’t vaporize the cart,” Dreg said.

Again, Earwig shot Dreg a threatening look. He’d better not bring up the cart’s disappearance again, she thought. “Get down on your hands and knees; I need a step up onto the beast’s back if I’m going to ride him to the Munattahensenhov,” the witch said.

Dreg dropped down beside the monster’s menacing feet. The creature cocked its head sideways to see what the man was doing. It squinted its eyes and stamped its threatening, if hobbled feet next to the man now within kicking range. Dreg jumped each time the monster kicked its huge clawed feet. Earwig couldn’t get a step up without the two moving.

“Hold still!” she said.

“This thing’s done gutted more than one meal by kicking them slashing toes,” Dreg said, jerking his head to look at the feet for any sign of movement. He cringed as the feet kicked dust in his face.

“Stop that, you beast!” Earwig ordered, staring down the bird-beast. “Hold still or I’ll beat in your brains.”

The creature looked at Earwig, trembled, then dropped its gaze submissively. It stood still, and Earwig held its shoulder while she climbed up on Dreg, then heaved herself onto the bird-beast’s shoulders. The startled creature first dropped under the enormous weight on its back and then stumbled about. It was still tied securely and had only limited movement.

“Now let’s see how fast those bird thighs can run to Dreaddrac,” Earwig said. “Don’t you be thinking of getting smart with me, either.” She turned to Dreg, who had just gotten up and dusted himself off. “Dreg, untie this animal, and we’ll be off.”

“But Miss Earwig,” Dreg said, “you sure you want to ride that wild thing?”

“But Miss Earwig nothing, do as you’re told,” she snapped.

Dreg untied the creature from the tree and jumped back. Earwig put a strangle hold on its neck. After a moment to let the thing settle down, Dreg did as ordered and took the hobbling rope off the creature’s lower legs.

Immediately, the freed monster flailed about, whirling around to toss off the witch, but for all his efforts, the bloated witch held onto its neck until it nearly choked.

“See, I told you this worthless creature would do my bidding,” Earwig said, wheezing through a victorious grin. She took one hand off its neck and waved it in the air. “Now I’ll ride to Dreaddrac. You’ll have to try to keep up, Dreg.”

“Wait for me, Miss Earwig,” Dreg yelled as she dug her heels into the creature’s sides and it raced off up the road.

Earwig looked back to see Dreg hurrying up the road after them until he wore out and, stooping over to catch his breath, finally dropped back to a walk.

*

Around nightfall, he came over a hill and saw the disheveled witch sitting in a mud puddle under a tree branch. As he drew closer, he saw a large knot on her head and a dazed look on her face.

“Where’s your beast?” Dreg asked as he approached within hearing distance.

“Shut up!” Earwig said. Eventually, he came closer and she stuck out her gnarled hand. “Help me up.”

Dreg pulled and tugged and strained to get the marbled lump out of the mud. He finally succeeded just as he completely wore out. He sank down to rest, hands on his knees. 

Earwig stared down at him with hands turned up. “What are you going to fix us to eat?” she asked.

The poor hunchback rose slowly from his momentary resting place and, without a word, lightly pushed the arrogant Earwig backward. She fell back into the mud puddle with a ‘plop!’

“See if you can catch us some fish,” he replied as he walked on up the road toward Dreaddrac alone.

“That monster circling overhead will level the city,” Duke Jedrac mumbled. He and the chatra were in a subterranean chamber deep in the granite mountain beneath the Hadorhof. The soft golden torchlight was soothing after the raging flames spitting about among the towers high above. The nearly total quiet was in sharp contrast to the sounds of swooshing wings, panicked screams, crackling of burning structures, and crashing blasts of crumbling buildings. The moldy smell in the cellars replaced the caustic smoke in the tower ruins. The duke stared blankly at the floor, trying desperately to think of another response to the raging dragon demolishing Hador unhindered.

“The Wizard Hendrel is in the city, Your Grace,” the chatra said.

“Hendrel?” the duke repeated. He removed his helmet and scratched his head. “Wasn’t that the wizard King Saxthor vouched for on his tour here?”

“Yes, Your Grace. That’s the wizard. He lives in Hador. The guards on the city gates mentioned he returned only a few days before Dreaddrac’s attacks began. Now that your grace is without a wizard, you might try and get word to the sorcerer to come to the Hadorhof. He might be able to deal with this dragon. With the city surrounded, no one is able to get in or out. With Magwaddle ruling the skies, picking off anything that moves, what do we have to lose?”

Jedrac paced the cold stone floor, listening to the sound of grit crunching beneath his feet. The musty smell of the poorly ventilated chamber reminded him of the old artifact smells in his grandfather’s museum. “I feel entombed in here.”

The chatra paced with the duke. “Yes, depressing.”

“Good idea, Chatra,” Jedrac said all of a sudden. “Get a volunteer to sneak through the streets to the wizard and bring him back here.” Looking at his minister, he added, “Alive.” He looked around at the darker back of the cellar, where someone coughed.

“Being crowded in these damp cellars with the garrison’s soldiers for days is taking its toll on everyone’s nerves. Something has to be done to kill the dragon. It’s pinned down the whole city. Soon supplies will start to run out,” Jedrac whispered. The chatra bowed and left.

The duke watched the man elbow his way through a sea of demoralized soldiers and palace staff. Courtiers and servants huddled like a human carpet across the subterranean floors. Eventually, he found a volunteer who would rather take his chances with the dragon than remain any longer in the musty dungeon. The duke shook the man’s hand, applauded his bravery, and sent the volunteer to make his way up through the Hadorhof and around the great plaza to Wizard Hendrel’s home. The rest waited, first shuffling about, hopeful this turn of events might bring relief, then settling back down under a blanket of despair.

After waiting another day, Jedrac turned to the chatra. “I think we must assume the man fell victim to Magwaddle. Find another volunteer to search for the wizard.”

*

Eventually, they located Hendrel and brought him to the Hadorhof. Though a military target, the castilyernov was better fortified than the city homes. Hendrel wanted to bring his family with him, but his wife refused to budge outside the shop’s stone front. He left her and the two boys, Meklin and Hendrel Jr., and went to assist the duke in the city’s defense.

*

The soldier led Hendrel to the grand entrance, bowed to the duke, and left to find his family again in the cellars below.

“Good evening and thank you for coming, Wizard Hendrel,” Duke Jedrac said, meeting him in the deserted audience hall. He decided at the last moment to abandon formality, come down from his throne, and reach out to the wizard personally. He crossed the strangely silent chamber. Only an overturned high back chair by the entrance and bits of abandoned clutter scattered around the floor dispelled the notion of an abandoned museum.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” Hendrel said as he crossed the floor and bowed.

I suppose he remembers his incarceration in the dungeon before Saxthor rescued him, thought the duke. He shook Hendrel’s hand and held it firmly, putting his other hand gently on the wizard’s shoulder. He led the wizard to chairs at the side of the great hall. An edgy servant, repeatedly glancing about, rushed up carrying a small tray with a wine vessel and two goblets. He then darted away to safety without waiting to be dismissed.

“What may I do to help your grace in this hour of extreme crisis?” Hendrel asked. “I’m just a low level wizard. I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

The duke again took Hendrel’s hand and shook it twice, holding it as if afraid the wizard would run away. “We’re in great need of any help you might provide, Hendrel. As I’m sure you’re aware, the dragon Magwaddle vaporized our court wizard. I’ll not pretend otherwise. We need some solution to this dragon’s reign of terror. Will you assume the position and responsibility of court wizard?” the duke asked. He squeezed Hendrel’s hand.

Hendrel withdrew his hand and stood up, looking down at the still seated duke. A stance both were aware would never have happened were the duke still in control of the city’s fate.

“Your Grace, I’m but a poor wizard apprenticed to the great Wizard Memlatec of Neuyokkasin. I have no powers that can confront Magwaddle,” Hendrel replied. “What solution can I offer?”

He’s fearful he’s inadequately prepared for such a task, the duke thought. Hendrel protected Prince Saxthor on his adventure, but to confront a great dragon determined to destroy the city is out of his league. Jedrac stood facing Hendrel. “We respect your reservations, but in this hour of extreme need, all citizens are called upon to contribute whatever talents they may have in Hador’s defense. We only ask that you do what you can to fend off the dragon.” The duke looked Hendrel in the eye. He cupped his arm around Hendrel’s shoulder. “Come with us above to the Hador Pass,” the duke said, his tone more urgent. The muffled sound of crashing stone somewhere in the city pierced the hall.

“Very well, but I have no idea what I can do to help.” Hendrel walked beside the duke. At the staircase behind the audience hall, the chatra joined them and followed up the circular stairs to the levels above.

Jedrac stepped silently to the great bronze doors shut tight against the dragon’s flames. With the slightest of pressure, he made one of the pair slide out a tad so a crack appeared between the doors. Sunrise shot through into the dark interior of the great room of Hador Pass. He turned back to Hendrel and pointed through the crack. “Look there on the mountain peak just to the northeast of Hador.”

Hendrel stepped to the bronze doors and peered through the crack into the morning light streaking over the mountains through the haze. When Hendrel’s eyes adjusted to the light, both looked at the massive, bronze plated Dragon Magwaddle perched atop the mountain.

The leviathan was waking and licking his wounds from the attacks some days before. Then the beast stopped and stared at Hador. The sight chilled the duke. He noted Hendrel shudder next to him. Apparently not seeing what he was looking for, the dragon returned to his preening and stopped to scratch something that irritated his thick hide beneath the heavy plating.

“He is quite a monster isn’t he?” Hendrel said rhetorically. “He’s nearly as large as the small mountain he sits on.”

The duke sighed in agreement. He looked at the chatra, then at Hendrel, but the wizard’s silence offered no encouragement or hope.

Hendrel stepped back from the cracked door and faced the duke, glanced at the chatra, and then back at the duke. “I could do no more than annoy the dragon,” Hendrel said to the two men.

The duke closed the massive metal door and stepped away back into the room.

“Very well, but we appoint you court wizard nonetheless and order you to keep in touch with us in case we can find some use for you.” The duke’s authoritative tone revealed desperation. Then, not wanting to frighten the wizard away, he turned back to him. “Hador, all Hador, needs any help you can offer.” The duke nodded to the chatra, then disappeared down the staircase, leaving the chatra with Hendrel.

*

In his new capacity as court wizard, Hendrel remained with the chatra that day, touring the fortress beneath the dragon’s screams. He crept back around the plaza under the cover of darkness after the dragon departed for the night. He’d hoped to make it home before other evil things came out with the night, searching the city for victims. In the shadows, he saw a telltale black vapor in the night wind slip under a dark door. I hope no one is in there, he thought. 

He hurried along and returned to his shop, noting no sound came from his neighbor’s shop-house. Uncertain as to knock and inquire or not, a scream from the next block startled him. He turned to his own shop door, fumbled with the lock, hurried through his door, closed, locked, and sealed the crack beneath, thinking of the wraith he’d just seen. Only then did he light a single candle.

I hope my family is all right. He turned to the stairs and whispered up, calling for Persnella.

“We’re okay,” she answered from the family apartment above, where muffled rattling revealed she searched for something. “We were worried sick about you being gone all day. I just knew the duke had thrown you in the dungeon again.”

Relieved, Hendrel wandered about in the small magic shop, picking up this jar and that box, looking again at each item on the shelves. “Is there nothing here that could help combat the dragon,” he mumbled.

“What’s that you say, dear,” Persnella responded, looking down from above.

“I have a vision of the beast waiting for our neighbors to succumb to starvation and hopelessness. I must do something to stop the dragon. I feel so useless
.”
He scanned the whole room. “These shop tricks are merely for entertainment in more peaceful times.” He turned to the sound of footsteps.

Stooped to protect her head on the stairs, Persnella came down to the shop from their living quarters above.

“What’s that you say?” Persnella asked before looking at Hendrel. “I was looking for one of Meklin’s toys. He’s been terrified huddling back in the shadows all day. He needs his stuffed bear he left upstairs somewhere.”

She looked up at Hendrel looking at her. Silent for once, she crossed the floor and entwined both arms around Hendrel’s right arm and snuggled next to him, head on his shoulder. Their two sons slipped down the stairs shortly thereafter.

Hendrel put his free hand on Persnella, rubbing her shoulder. 

“I’m so angry I didn’t get you out of the city before the tunneling and attacks began. Now I can’t do anything to stop the dragon or help the city.” As he talked with Persnella, Hendrel absent-mindedly watched Hendrel Jr. scratch.

“Stop that, Son,” Hendrel said.

“These fleas are eating me alive, Father,” the boy said, protesting the admonishment.

“Fleas! Persnella!” Hendrel exclaimed, casting a deeply furrowed brow to her. “Fleas,” he repeated, then looked off in thought.

“What can I do?” Persnella groaned. “We’re trapped in here and can’t bathe the children or really clean this place. What is it? What’s come over you?”

Suddenly, Hendrel turned and began searching under the counter for some misplaced item.

“What are you looking for?” Persnella asked but got no response. “Can I help you find something, Hendrel?” Items rattled under the counter in response.

“Didn’t we have some powdered dragon’s scale here somewhere?” the wizard asked, searching frantically. “I need some powdered dragon scale, if we have any of that,” he replied, still messily poking through the inventory beneath the counter, not looking up.

“Stand back, dear,” she said, pushing him out of the way before he overturned everything in the shop. She moved several boxes and handed him a dusty, plain canister. On the side it was clearly marked, “Powered Dragon Scale.” Persnella carefully straightened the boxes Hendrel had scrambled to return the shop’s simple order she kept in his absence. “Will there be anything else?”

“No, except for one of the spell books upstairs,” the wizard replied as he turned and bound up the stairs at double step pace like a child to a treat.

“Well, he certainly has found something that interests him,” he heard Persnella tell her sons. “Come to bed boys, I’ll tell you about anything you miss tomorrow.”

Hendrel reappeared with his spell book, a sack of ingredients, and hurried to the shop door, only stopping to kiss his wife good-bye as he passed.

              “Close, lock, and stuff ravensbane branches under the door when I leave. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Should anything happen to me, the duke will take care of you and the children, but try to get to Neuyokkasin and Wizard Memlatec.”

*

Persnella stood with her mouth open behind the closed shop door after Hendrel left. She hadn’t even had time to ask what he was up to or when to expect him back. When she recovered from the shock, she locked the door as instructed and put the children to bed in a more secure spot above. She’d grown used to his disappearing in the night without a clue as to when to expect his return. Mother warned me about marrying an apprentice wizard, she thought, shaking her head. I should have listened to her.

*

Hendrel made his way back through the city to the Hadorhof and was immediately admitted. Few people venture out in the city now and most of those are never seen again, he thought as the guard pushed the heavy door shut and clanged down the iron shaft across it. He must know I have urgent business with the duke.