Waiting on the Wind
By E. E. Nalley
Edited with kind assistance of Lonely Heart and Janet Nolan;
Many thanks
Chapter Three
The Temple at the City
of Hangdri
“The ancient Romans,” intoned Lawrence slightly
breathlessly as he strode with the small knot of horses his fellow displaced gamers
rode, “built a road system that was the marvel of their age. They ran almost
absolutely straight, were paved with a gravity drainage system that is the
basis of the system still in use today. Every mile there was a marker letting
you know how far you’d traveled, how far you were from the next town and from
Rome and every fifteen miles there was an Inn that was supported by the Empire
itself.”
“Why every fifteen miles?” asked Bobbie in an effort
to keep the conversation going to fight the mindlessness of bouncing on the
horse she rode. Even a dragon giving a lecture on the shortcomings by example
of the rode they traveled was better than nothing.
“Fifteen miles was the distance one could expect to
travel in one day. If you started at day break by dusk you’d be arriving at
where you’d spend the night,” replied the dragon.
“I don’t think there are any Romans anywhere around,”
chuckled John, though his attempt at humor failed.
“Are we there yet?” Louis wanted to know.
“Rest stop, guys?” asked Bobbie. “My bladder’s
screaming for some relief.”
John wordlessly pulled the reigns on his horse,
bringing the group to a ragged halt. The healer practically leapt from the
saddle to scramble towards the tree line. “Urs?” asked the Game Master
tiredly.
“I’m going,” she replied just as tiredly, swinging
from her own horse. Two days previously the young woman who was now an elf had
convinced Bobbie to abandon the cotehardie dress she had been wearing in
exchange for a pair of the more expedient buckskin trousers and muted tunic
Ursula favored.
Still, Ursula wasn’t entirely sure how she should
feel about Bobbie any longer. It wasn’t that she exactly resented his
fascination with playing characters in her gender; she knew that females that
gamed were rather rare. But now that things had gone from imagination to the
rather immediate fact of Bobbie facing a good portion, if not the rest of ‘her’
life as a woman, Ursula wasn’t entirely sure what to do.
More was the point he didn’t seem all that upset about
it.
“Bobbie,” she called tiredly as she easily followed
the clerics trail into the wood line. “I know you’ve got to go, but you should
wait for me.”
“I could barely hold it,” her voice drifted from up
ahead over the soft noise of flowing relief. “It’s like my bladder is half the
size it used to be.” That brought a chuckle to Ursula’s lips.
“It is,” she announced on her arrival at the
squatting young woman. “You have a collection of new organs in there and they
take room. Guess where that room comes from?” Finally finished with her
business, Bobbie daintily wiped her self and stood, modestly turning away to
get the trousers secure once more. After a moment of thinking, Ursula finally
worked up the courage to ask her question. “Bobbie, you don’t seem that upset
with your predicament. And I noticed that Aria looked at you when she talked
about our bodies being sufficient payment. You’re happy about this, aren’t
you?”
“Hey, when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade,”
Bobbie replied with a sheepish smile.
“Bullshit,” declared Ursula. “I’m not stupid,
Bobbie. Hell, Lawrence was more freaked out than you were.”
“Well, if I’d had to learn to walk all over again…”
she started, but Ursula cut her off.
“Why didn’t
you have to learn, Bobbie? You suddenly had tits and when we arrived you were
wearing three inch heels. Have you been practicing?” Bobbie flushed as the
elf’s words struck their mark. “Oh, so that’s the way of it.”
“It’s not what you think!” Bobbie protested quickly,
her old fears rushing forward.
“What should I think?” she wanted to know.
“I don’t much care for women thinking,” chuckled a
low and menacing voice. The two women spun to find a handful of rough looking
men approaching, their intentions plane on their lecherous faces.
Without thinking Ursula snap drew the pair of knives
she wore and settled into a fighting stance that kept her center of gravity
low. “Bobbie, run!” she shouted before
launching herself at the speaker, blades first.
She didn’t have time to be amazed with the speed of
her reaction. Some part of her had catalogued that there were five of them,
arranged in a semi-circular clump around the one who’d spoken. They were
dumbstruck that Ursula had chosen to attack rather than cower or run and that
pause gave her several seconds of freedom.
The knives sunk to the hilt in the leader’s chest,
framing his breastbone, one deep in his heart that would be an instantly fatal
wound, the other gouging out his right lung, flooding it with the blood the
heart strike was releasing in a torrent. The impact bowled him over as his
face went ashen, his cry of pain reduced to a gurgle of agony.
In Ursula’s mind she had planed out a circular rhythm
to her attack, the important factor was to always stay in motion so they could not
react to her. But that first strike and the look of surprised agony on the
man’s face froze her.
Oh, God,
I’ve killed him.
It was the last thought that crossed her mind before
something struck her across the back of her neck.
* * *
“We shouldn’t be that far from Hangdri,” John was
saying as he was finishing re-tying the wrap pants from his own bout of
watering the local fauna. “Might catch sight of it over that ridgeline ahead.”
“Just as well,” murmured Lawrence. “Sooner we get
there the sooner we can have our little come to Jesus meeting with Aria.”
The breeze picked up, drawing both Tom and Lawrence’s
snouts upwind. “Someone’s coming,” Tom had time to warn before Bobbie burst
from the tree line.
“Help!” she screamed, stumbling the last few feet
into the surprised arms of John. “Men…!” panted Bobbie, “They’ve got
Ursula…!” John’s pistol appeared his hand as his visage was distorted by a
look of murderous rage. Before he could order his friend’s into action, two
dozen horsemen crested the ridge and thundered towards them, spears lowered and
bows drawn.
“Stand fast in the name of Duke Reginald!” cried one,
his own midnight blue tabard matching the rest save for it being trimmed in
gold. He was a striking fellow, tall and straight with a square, honest face
framed by a polished steel helm that was decorated by a horse hair plume that
had been died scarlet. His dark eyes swept the travelers, evaluating each. If
the presence of a dragon frightened him he didn’t show it. “State your names and
business,” he ordered.
“I’m John Lascomb,” the Deputy told him, and while he
kept his hands at shoulder height, the pistol was still clutched in his right.
“These are Louis Perico, Bobbie Holcombe, Tom Mackenzie and Lawrence Cogsley;
we come in peace, but a female of our party is being assaulted in the woods!”
“Which way?” asked the horseman. Bobbie pointed
fearfully back the way she had come. “Sergeant, take five men at arms and
return with everyone you can find.”
“Sir!” snapped the sergeant as he and his men smartly
dismounted and entered the woods at a trot, swords out.
“What is your business here?”
John watched the soldiers, for they could be nothing
else, depart, warring with himself to ignore the horseman and go and search for
Ursula himself. “Easy, John,” cautioned Tom who saw the battle raging behind
the deputy’s eyes. The Bruin laid a restraining paw on John’s shoulder. To
the horseman he said, “Our business is a pilgrimage to the Temple of Aria in
your Duke’s city, Captain, nothing more.”
“Honestly answered, Tom Mackenzie,” the Captain said
after a moment. “Your coming was foretold to His Grace and I was sent to seek
for you.”
“With weapons drawn?” drawled Lawrence with a
somewhat contemptuous glance at the soldiers closest to the dragon.
“These are evil times with evil men who wonder the
lands looking for whatever advantage they can achieve over honest folk.”
“Do they frequently wander in the company of
dragons?” sneered the Engineer.
“Captain!” The shout of the Sergeant returning
brought every eye to the wood line. Two of his men were dragging a prone
figure between them by the shoulders. A pair of daggers protruded from his
chest. The other men were leading a rough group of sullen looking men on
foot. Ursula’s body was slumped across one of the horses the soldiers were
leading. “A combat took place a score of yards in the trees,” he reported.
“This one was left for dead, but he still lives, by what sorcery I know not.
These four others, had moved away west to a spot where five horses were
tethered. We captured them as they tried to flee.”
Lawrence’s mouth opened, sucking in a massive column
of air in preparation for his solution to the men, but the Captain raised a
cautioning hand. “Peace, Master Dragon, if you take the law into your own
claws, your companion’s lives are forfeit.”
“Forfeit?!” roared the dragon in outrage.
“Lawrence, zip it!” shouted Tom as he quickly
interposed himself between the dragon and the soldiers. “You’re smarter than this, Law, play it that way!” The dragon
thrashed in rage for a moment before releasing a tongue of fire away from the soldiers, scorching the field the road ran
through. “Pull yourself together, Law and keep your head,” the bruin hissed to
his friend.
The Captain’s eyes watched the interplay between the
Bruin and the Dragon impassively. Once the wizard had composed himself he
turned a surprisingly unblinking gaze on Bobbie. “Speak the truth of this,” he
ordered.
Bobbie was shaking at what had nearly happened, her
body awash in adrenaline as her mind’s eye painted the details of her near rape
and concern at the still unmoving form of Ursula. After several seconds she
was able to find her tongue once more. “I…I was using the restroom…” she
started.
“Restroom?” asked the Captain, something of a
confused look on his face.
“She was pissing,” interjected John, still itching to
check on his ex-girlfriend but a part of his mind cautioning him against
anything that might place the party into further danger. The Captain nodded
and turned back to Bobbie.
“Well, I’d just gotten finished and I was talking
with Ursula.”
“The elf?” the Captain wanted to know. Bobbie
nodded.
“Yes, we were talking and these…beasts…came out of the forest. Ursula shouted for me to
run so I did, while I guess they tried to rape her. I got back here to get
help from John and then you arrived.”
The Captain nodded thoughtfully. “The elf is your
bodyguard?”
“She’s been serving that way,” replied John. “She is
a good friend of ours.”
“Why didn’t one of the men accompany you?”
Bobbie felt a white-hot blush fill her face. “I
couldn’t have done that,” she stammered. The Captain found that humorous and
couldn’t keep in a chuckle.
“My apologies, Mistress, such a heightened level of
modesty from a cleric of your deity is not something me and mine are used to.”
He turned back the group of strangers his men still held fast. “Speak the
truth of this,” he ordered.
“Tyle was the one who caught sight of her,” the
tallest of the men said, speaking for the group. “We was hunting in the
forest, your Grace, and thought a quick toss would be just the thing to perk
things up.” Bobbie shuddered as John felt his ears perk up. “We walked up
after waiting for the Mistress to finish her time with Nature and Tyle let his
mouth do his talking for him.”
“What was said?”
“The elf asked her ladyship ‘What should I think’ and
Tyle blurts out he isn’t fond of women thinking. I was groaning thinking that
probably doubled her ladyship’s rate when the elf snap draws those daggers and
shouts for her ladyship to run. Then she leaps a good ten feet and sinks ‘em
right into Tyle’s chest. Then she just stops to gloat over killing him so I
popped her one across the head and down she goes. We was taking her to your
Grace's Sheriff for the bounty when the Sergeant binds us all by law.”
The Captain nodded once more as his gaze to the
Sergeant. “Did any of them resist when you bound them?”
“No, sir,” the Sergeant affirmed.
“It seems what we have here is a case of dreadful
misunderstanding,” the Captain finally pronounced weightily. “Mistress, have
you what you need to heal Master Tyle?” Bobbie nodded fearfully, not wanting
to get any closer than she already was to the still seriously bleeding man.
“Then I sentence you to heal him of the wounds inflicted on your behalf.”
“Sentence?” demanded Law, though the dragon was
careful to keep his tone civil and low. The Captain nodded, fearlessly keeping
eye contact with the dragon.
“Indeed. The truth of this is these lads were only
interested in the services of your cleric and your elf was a tad overzealous in
her defense. Further, you lads turn out your purses from which, Mistress you
may take your normal rate for services rendered.”
“Are you implying Bobbie is some kind of whore?” the
dragon hissed.
The Captain returned his eyes to the terrified young
woman. “You are a cleric of the Lover are you not, Mistress?” Bobbie forced
her head to nod. “Then I need imply nothing, Master Dragon. I of course mean
no disrespect to her goddess, or the much-valued services her clerics provide,
but while a course word for so obviously well schooled a Lady, whore is a
truthful application. Mistress, I must ask you to be about your sentence.”
“I…I thought he was going to rape me!” protested Bobbie.
“I can’t go near him!”
“The misunderstanding is regrettable, but Tyle was
not at fault and deserves to be healed of his wounds. If you cannot bring
yourself to it, if some other of your party will do so in your stead I shall
hold the matter closed.”
“Louis,” ordered John.
“Sir Louis, at least,” corrected the disgruntled
Paladin as he dismounted. As he passed Bobbie he paused to say, “If you
weren’t constantly playing drag queens, this wouldn’t have happened.”
John’s hand acted without conscious thought, grabbing
the handle built into the breastplate to assist in its donning and pulling him
practically nose to nose with the deputy. “You just can’t keep your fucking
mouth shut, can you?” he hissed, careful to keep his voice from carrying.
There came some stirring of the soldiers that still surrounded the party, but a
gesture from the Captain kept them still, his eyes intent on the drama before
him. “There’s always got to be the last word, the last dig! Don’t you fucking
get it? Don’t you understand just how deep the shit we’re in is?”
“I…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I just thought…”
With a wordless snarl he pushed the knight off
balance and onto his backside. “Lay on hands you son of a bitch,” he snapped
as the pistol was returned to its holster. Louis sullenly returned to his
feet, his eyes casting daggers at the Deputy, but he turned at last and crossed
the distance to Tyle. The two soldiers holding him upright eased him to the
ground.
After taking a moment to compose himself, John
returned to the Captain. “Sir, with your leave, I would like to see to the
health of our friend.” The Captain nodded, allowing John and Bobbie to quickly
cross the glade. Ursula had an ugly bruise across the back of her neck, but
she was breathing to John’s immense relief. The pair got her down, John
holding her into a sitting position while Bobbie, her hands glowing with a
faint gold hue, touched the bruise that shrank away from her touch. The skin
returned to its normal color before she slowly became conscious once more.
A low moan escaped the Elf’s lips while she stirred,
then awoke with a start. “John!” she shouted.
“Easy, easy,” the deputy soothed her. “It’s alright,
Urs, it’s ok, just take it easy.”
“Rape,” she trembled, shaking from one end of her body
to the other. “They…”
“Honey, it’s alright, no one’s going to hurt you, I
swear. It’s handled, just rest for a bit.”
A flood welled up in Ursula’s brown eyes as she
stared into her old lover’s face. “John,” she whispered her voice close to
breaking. A single tear escaped in a long line down her lovely face. “John, I
killed him…” she managed before the dam
burst and the torrent was released.
The heavy padding footfalls heralded the arrival of
Tom before the Bruin laid a weighty paw on John’s shoulder. “John, we’ve got a
problem,” he whispered.
“What now?” snapped the Deputy. Tom’s eyes pointed
back to the still prone figure of Tyle and the frustrated form of Louis over
him. Ursula’s daggers had been removed from his chest for all the good that
had done. The knight was covered in the man’s blood which showed no signs of
slowing. Louis was bravely holding his hands over the wounds, despite the
green cast his skin had taken on, but even without Lawrence’s’ ability to see
magic John knew something was seriously wrong. “Bobbie,” he whispered, turning
back to the cleric. “Bobbie, something’s wrong with Louis. I need you to come
with me, bud and if he’s not up to scratch you’re going to have to heal the
SOB.”
The cleric shuddered, but she did not need to be told
how much danger they were all in. She mastered herself and forced a nod. John
shared an imploring look with the fur covered face of the Bruin who took his
meaning, settling himself with great finality by the elf’s side. It was
obvious whoever wished her harm had a large mountain to climb first.
A panic had taken residence in Louis’ eyes as he
looking up at the arrival of the two. “I can’t,” he whispered hoarsely, casting a furtive glance at the still mounted
Captain. “It won’t come!”
John and Bobbie looked at each other for a moment
before the cleric closed her eyes and touched the gapping holes in the man’s
chest. Once more the wounds shrank away from her healing touch, closing upon themselves
as the color once more returned to Tyle’s square face. His eyes opened,
proceeding several minutes of him coughing up blood. “Tyle,” commanded the
Captain once the young hunter had control of himself once more. “You owe this
cleric your life, both from its saving and it’s near loss. Your crass manner
provoked the attack of the Mistress’ bodyguard. In future I trust you shall
think before speaking to a pair of women alone in the woods.”
“Your Grace,” coughed the young man, still managing
to look extremely contrite. He turned to Bobbie, his hat in hand and his head
lowered. “Mistress, I’m powerful sorry for what fright I have given you.”
Bobbie forced herself to nod, but her eyes did not
rise. After a moment of regarding the situation, the Captain spoke once more.
“This matter is settled,” he said with great weight. “Master Tyle, you and
yours may depart. Master John, you and I must converse, but there are more
pleasant places we might hold our conversation. Your party shall ride with me
to Hangdri.”
“Out of the frying pan,” mumbled Lawrence to no one
in particular.
* * *
The City of Handri was a sprawling metropolis for so
rural an area, encompassing a square mile from the looks of the gleaming white
wall that girded the city like a massive belt. It had begun as a fortified manor
that commanded a hilltop overlooking the joining of three estuaries into a
single, mighty river. Over time and successive generations, a village had
grown up around the Big House, as it had come to be known. Then a city grew up
around the village causing a wall to be built as relations with the neighboring
Elvin community, alarmed with the sudden, to their timeless eyes, build up of
the sons and daughters of men, deteriorated.
As a result of the exigencies of war, Hangdri took on
a reputationas a center for learning.
Resourceful men thought of new and interesting ways to defend their new city,
brining other men to learn of their new and interesting ways. Mages, always
the sort to flock to areas of learning, followed; soon thereafter clerics of
Aria, Patron of Magic, followed with their traditional congregations.
Yet, for so organic a community, there was a
precision by which the city had been developed. As through once it became
apparent the town was going to become a city, frantic planning had been laid to
make that transition as smooth as possible. The streets were paved with smooth
stones with generous drainage channels on both sides through which oozed a
reeking bile that everyone had agreed to ignore. Further, the town had been
segregated into distinct areas of commerce, based on location.
Nearest to the gates of the city were inns and other
lodging for the transient visitor to the city, followed hard by markets of
produce and meat, all for the most part grown outside the city proper that had
to be imported to sell. Tradesmen had set themselves up in their various
crafts next clustered around the real portions of learning in the center of
town; the collection of Magical Colleges whose towers and spires gleamed in the
early spring sun.
The Captain alone led the group through his city, his
band having returned to their garrison by the looming main gates. Despite the
lack of his troops, the crowd parted before the Captain and his gaggle of odd
tag alongs. “You know, John,” whispered Lawrence as he padded along next to
the Deputy’s horse; their heads still the same height. “I’m not complaining,
mind you, but you’d think I’d draw a little
more attention than what we’re getting.”
John shrugged as he regarded the wedge shaped head of
his friend. “I imagine the locals aren’t too worried about who travels in the
company of their Duke.”
“Is that who you think soldier boy is?” asked the
dragon.
“Everyone thus far has referred to him as ‘your
Grace’,” Lascombe replied. “I wouldn’t put money on it, but if Aria had a
conversation with Reggie, then if you were him, would have sent just anybody to go greet us?” The dragon shook his head.
“Either this guy is the guy, or his
right hand. Either way, this guy isn’t somebody I want to tick off, just yet.”
“For an interesting change of pace I’m more worried
about Louis,” Law confided with a stolen glance at the sullen Paladin. “You
think he just choked back there or…?”
The Deputy rolled his eyes in dismissal. “I think
I’d rather not dwell on the failings of the Blue Doughnut just now,” he
replied. The dragon clucked his tongue in reproach.
“I’d be the first person to admit I give him more
than my share of BS, but it’s not like he’s an ax murderer,” Lawrence said with
some consideration. “Every gaming group picks up at least one like Louis, and
Louis is just our due.” The Deputy’s face pulled into a frown as he weighed
what he was hearing.
“If we were back at Bobbie’s apartment having this
discussion over a pizza, I’d probably agree with you, Law, but as we’re not…”
“…We’re all making do the best way we know how,” the
dragon shot back. “Bobbie over there is walking around like a robot having
finally gotten her first real good taste of the downside of being a chick. Up
till now she probably thought it was all beds of roses and leading handsome NPCs
around by their collective nose getting her way. He might have walked away
from it, but Urs is going to be seeing blood on her hands for a damn long time. I’ll lay some pretty heavy odds she’s
going to have nightmares about it for at least a month. Me? All of a sudden
I’ve got the mother of all tempers. It’s taking everything I’ve got to keep it
in check. Yeah, we’re in a jam, I’m not trying to minimize that. What I am
saying is that we’re all under a boat load of stress and coping the best way we
know how. Louis copes by pretending we’re still playing a game. Let him.”
The angry retort that leapt to John’s teeth died
there as the procession had entered a massive courtyard below the temple itself.
This, easily the largest of the buildings in the City, was framed by its own
wall within the wall of the city. The paved walk wound its way around a
reflecting pool that served to increase the size of the domed building they
rode towards. The central cathedral was framed by a pair of towers, one a bell
tower that tolled out the hour, the other evidently some type of astronomy
tower based on the glint of a metal casing that protruded from the smaller dome
that capped it.
But the architecture of the building was not what
killed John’s angry reply.
Seated primly at the head of the broad staircase that
led up to the great double doors of the building, snake-like tail curved about
itself sat another dragon eyeing the party that approached it with some interest.
It’s hide glowed a brilliant scarlet in the sun that dappled the courtyard and
like Lawrence, it was bedecked with a kings ransom of jewelry;
rings of gold and emerald flashed across it’s taloned fingers and the pierced
sails between the horns of bone that framed it’s head.
But the centerpiece of this mobile collection was a
heavy medallion that hung about the base of its sinewy neck; a medallion
stamped with the selfsame rampant dragon that decorated the Captain’s tabard.
The party was greeted by a collection of acolytes
that took their horses as they dismounted and were led away in the direction,
if the wind was any indication, of a stable. At the Captain’s approach, the
strange dragon dipped its head in difference, though its emerald eyes never
left Lawrence. “Is everything prepared, Gwendolyn?” the Captain asked.
The dragon lifted her head and voice, a perfect,
sultry tenor that sent a chill down Lawrence’s much longer spine. “It is,
indeed, Your Grace,” she purred, “as much as can be humanly prepared. The hall
has been cleared and a ward placed. Only those in the company of this,” she
said, lifting a single key of what seemed to be made of solid gold that seemed
dainty in her claw, but awkwardly large in the Captain’s as he took it from
her, “may enter; as you ordered.”
“Good,” beamed the Captain, for once a relieved smile
across his rugged features. “What should I do without you, old girl?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Your Grace,” Gwendolyn
replied. “Are these the strangers foretold to us?”
The soldier snapped his fingers in remembrance.
“Alas, my manners, dear lady I pray you forgive me my error. These are John Lascombe,”
he introduced, a broad gesture to each as he pointed them out. “Tom Mackenzie,
Bobbie Holcomb, Louis Perico, Ursula, the Elf and as I’m sure you’re most
interested in knowing, Master Lawrence Cogsley.”
Gwendolyn batted her eyes in a most coquettish
fashion that would have brought a blush to Lawrence’s face; were he still
human. She dipped her head low, noticeably more so than she had to the
Captain. “Master Cogsley, one is humbled to be introduced to one of name. I
am Gwendolyn, daughter of Maximus through Ellsinore, daughter of Gwendolyn the
Old, daughter of Ileana who was daughter of Theodore Ericsson, Draconic Lord of
Storm Mountain; your humble servant, sir.”
“Uh…” stammered Lawrence, the blush having spread to
his tone of voice. “The…uh…the honor is entirely mine,” he managed at last.
She raised her flowing neck so that she and Lawrence
were practically nose to nose, her eyes reduced to sensuous slits as she
whispered, to the extent her muzzle would allow it, “One has the honor of
being,” and she uttered a grating sounding word that a human’s vocal cords
could never repeat. The sounds of the words meant nothing to Lawrence; though
their emotion raced through his blood that put the single visit he had paid to
a topless bar to shame.
Fortunately for the wizard, the Captain rather
loudly cleared his throat. “If, fair lady, we might be about our business?
There will still be hours in the day for pleasure.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she purred with an
affectionate rub of her head along Lawrence’s chin. Abruptly, she turned and
led the way into the cathedral, a bit of symbolism that wasn’t lost on Lawrence.
With his wing he held John back so that he could furtively whisper once
sufficient distance had gathered.
“What has got her panties so damp?” he hissed to his
highly amused friend.
“You do, buddy,” John replied with a chuckle.
“Around here, only dragons of great stature get what we would consider a last
name. Gwen there has to trace her line back five generations to come to that,
so that makes you all that in her eyes.”
“And as red dragons look at mating as a way to gain
status and renown, I just became her sugar daddy?”
John wiggled his eyebrows at his blushing friend.
“That’s not the half of it,” he told him with a wink. “That word she said?
That’s High Draconic for, I’m single and in season. The draconic equivalent of
‘take me now you stud,’” the deputy told his stuttering friend with a chuckle
as he ducked under the dragon’s wing to make his way into the church.
“Oh I really need this,” muttered Lawrence angrily to
himself.
* * *
Aria, Patron of Magic, was waiting for the group as they
filed into the sanctuary of her temple, her eyes dancing in private amusement.
The sanctuary itself was a massive chamber under the great dome of the
building, a full ten stories from the intricately laid marble pattern below.
The lower floor was curved in rows of pews, as one
might expect from a medieval church, although the presence of a balcony above
the main floor was unexpected. Above the balcony intricately carved bed-like
shelves had been worked into the stone, which Gwendolyn settled herself onto
one, giving away their purpose.
John noted this with some interest; it would appear
that the City of Hangdri maintained a rather chummy relationship with the local
draconic population. This would also explain the lack of interest in the
locals they had thus far encountered. Such thoughts were filled away by the
Deputy, who gave his full attention to the coming audience with their captor
and benefactress. The Power spread her arms as she announced, “Welcome,
travelers, to my temple.”
“That’s an interesting opening,” snorted Lawrence in
derision. “I would have thought something like, ‘Gosh, sorry you thought you
were about to be gang raped, Bobbie,’ would be a good start. Or how about,
‘Hey look, it’s the nice folks I bushwhacked and press ganged, nice to see
you!’”
“Law,” growled Tom in warning. “Let’s not have any
repeats of a couple of days ago.”
“We certainly wouldn’t want to be transported to yet another dimension to get put to work as janissaries,” hissed
the dragon that otherwise held his peace. John laid a placating hand on
Lawrence’s shoulder before stepping up to a more conversational distance with
the power.
“Well, this has been an interesting little vacation,”
he said after a moment of staring into the Power’s endless eyes. “Now maybe
you’ll be kind enough to fill in the gaps a bit with a hearty helping of whys
and hows.”
“You have a right to be angry,” Aria conceded
softly. “I was angry myself when this was thrust upon me, but we make
adjustments to what life places before us. I lost my husband, my children and
all semblance of normal life when I was chosen to replace the last avatar of
Magic.”
“I thought you said that people had to quest to
replace a Power,” interrupted Bobbie quietly.
Aria nodded guardedly to the young cleric’s
observation. “On the hilltop, I had to be more than a little circumspect with
you as there were those who could over hear what I told you then. Here, in my
temple, I have a bit more leeway in what I can say. The procedure by which one
becomes an avatar is under something of a state of flux.”
“So,” rumbled Tom, “you’re what, last year’s model?
Does that make you carbureted or fuel injected?”
“I’ll thank you not to take that tone,” interrupted
the Captain, who would have said more but John’s pistol was clear of its
holster once more, its barrel a gaping maw threatening to devour the Captain.
“I’ll thank you to keep your mouth shut while me and
mine have our little chat,” the deputy said calmly. Aria opened her mouth, but
closed it again when the Deputy’s eyes returned to her. “I thought he was
important to you,” he said with a cold chuckle. “Between his being here and
your sob story about losing your husband it didn’t take much to put one and one
together.”
A low draconic growl drifted down from Gwendolyn’s
perch, though John’s eyes didn’t waver. “It doesn’t take but six ounces to put
a world of hurt on your hubby. It will take a bit more effort to send him off
to the cosmic bookkeeper, but you can rest assured I’ll find the time to make
that effort so you’d best keep everybody’s temper in check.”
“If you hurt him, I promise you you’ll live long
enough to regret it,” the Power whispered.
“Which will leave you in the exact same situation you
were in before you put this particular job out for bids,” John answered her.
“Now I might not be up to hurting you,
but I’ll make a hobby of hurting everyone and everything you care about if I
don’t get some straight answers to the questions that have been plaguing me for
four days.”
The two locked eyes in a titanic battle of wills
before Aria blinked and turned away. “What do you want to know?” she asked
finally.
“Lawrence, if the Captain there sneezes without say
so you send him to meet his maker.” The dragon’s inhalation was loud in the
resultant silence. After a long moment the Glock was returned to its holster.
“Now that we’re on a bit more neutral ground, why exactly were we picked for your little black op?”
“I picked you because the Council of Powers needed Mandrid
stopped,” she said sullenly.
“Why is that? What makes him so unacceptable?”
“He was the previous Power of Death’s favored cleric,
the High Priest of his order.”
“And how was it that that old Power of Death needed
replacing?” asked Ursula quietly, bringing every eye to her; the relief painted
on John’s face over her emergence from her stupor.
Aria sighed. “You must understand there is only so
much, even here, I am permitted to say…” she started before Tom angrily cut her
off.
“You answer the lady’s question or this little fracas
can end right now!”
“He was destroyed by the Council of Powers,” the
Patron of Magic finally admitted.
* * *
restarted since 8/22/05