Dragon Bones And Tombstones (Book 2) (7 page)

CHAPTER 13

Dragons. Caged. Quiet. Unhappy. Finnius had never seen so many of them before. The door he'd been shoved through, the one he swore he’d taken before, had led him elsewhere. Where had Selene taken him? He dabbed his handkerchief on his head.
Mercy!
It’s hot in here.
He tugged and rapidly jerked at the neck of his sweat-soaked robes. 

“What do you think?” Selene said, reaching out and stroking the whiskers of a cat-faced dragon.

Finnius stayed back.

It was as big as a horse, feline in its features, with a dark red belly and red-scaled. Two tails whipped back and forth, banging against the walls and the iron on the cage, its eyes penetrating and evil.

“Care to pet it?”

Finnius kept his arms folded in his sleeves. There was no way he would pet that thing. He was close enough already. But how did he answer without sounding too fearful?

“I’m just fine, High Priestess. But, if you insist.” He shuffled forward.

A wry smile came across Selene's lips as she said, “Your caution is warranted. Come any closer… and he’ll kill you.”

Finnius backed away, his face recoiling.

“You should have seen what happened to the last one who got too close.” Selene patted the dragon on the nose, drawing a part purr, part roaring sound. “The poor man sizzled and fried. Skin bubbled right off of him.”

Catching the dragon’s eye, he gulped. Its eyes glowed with a sinister yellow light. 

“Er … how exactly did that happen, if I may ask?”

“Some other time. Now walk with me.”

The room was more or less an underground stable, but instead of being filled with horses, it was filled with dragons. All of which were restrained by one form or another. A chain was cuffed to each neck. A muzzle on all of their snouts, except for the catlike red one. It was different that the rest. A creature of its own free will. 

She flipped her hair over her shoulders as she made her way to a smaller stall. A green dragon the size of a large dog was curled up in a ball. Shackled and muzzled the same as the rest.

“How well do you know your dragons, Finnius?” Selene said. 

A question. Any answer could be wrong or right. It all depended on the mood Selene was in, which seemed to be pretty good at this time. But he’d seen her put a fellow acolyte to sleep before, permanently, for saying, "Yes," which was the correct response, but she'd wanted to hear, "No." He cleared his throat.

“Just what I have read, which, I am sorry to say, is little.”

“And what have you read about what we have here?”

“A Green Lily?”

“Good, keep going.”

“Well, unlike most dragons, it feeds off plants, not animals. Can be snared with honey or gold. Flies less and walks more, with a preference to hide in the heights of the trees.”

“Ah … well done, Finnius.”

He smiled a little.

“And can you tell me the most important part about this dragon?”

Finnius pulled his shoulders back a little and lifted his chin up.

“The breath weapon. A stream of yellow powder. Like pollen. It paralyzes.”

“Not bad, Acolyte. Not bad at all. But that’s not all it can do.” She pointed at the back of the dragon. A row of yellow scales flared up and down its back. “Those humps. Poisonous. Rare and pure. Assassins will pay a very high price for that.”

“How do you extract it?” he asked.

“There is only one way to do that. You have to kill it.”

A little something tugged at Finnius's heart just then.

“Is there something wrong?”

What was that, sympathy? It couldn’t be.

“Pardon, High Priestess. Eh … I was of the impression you were keeping them alive. Just some confusion on my part.”

She shook her head, saying, “Come.”

He followed. He’d probably follow her anywhere. Drawn like a frog to a lily pad. He could not help it.

She took a seat along a bench in the back of the stables and patted a spot for him.

“Dragons are much like people. Well, they're better than people in most regards. They can be guided down the paths of good or evil. Some are born of evil dragons, but most are born of good dragons. Do you recall the Great Dragon Wars?”

Who didn’t remember the legends about those wars when people and dragons battled side by side for the preservation of good natured Nalzambor? The entire mission of the Clerics of Barnabus was to begin that war again and triumph this time. But in order to do so, they would need more dragons. Whoever controlled the dragons controlled the entire world. Free dragons, free world. Enslave the dragons … destroy the world.

Finnius dabbed his head again before stuffing his handkerchief under his robes. His sweating slowed from drops to a fine haired trickle. Finally, he felt comfortable. “Yes, High Priestess.”

Selene’s face darkened, and her eyes were like burning coals.

“We lost then, our numbers decimated because we were careless.” She poked him in the shoulder. “One, we didn’t have enough dragons.” She poked him again. “Two, we didn’t kill enough before we started.”

He could see the regret in her eyes, the anger, a fire deep in her mind, as if the battle was still going on. In a sense, it still was. Most of the world didn’t know that, though. The strange thing was that she spoke as if she had been there. But, the Great Dragon Wars took place hundreds of years ago. Selene looked much too young to have lived that long.

She continued.

“As for the Green Lily Dragon, well, if he doesn’t submit to my will, turn from his better nature, then what is left of him will fetch a fine price on the markets. Those yellow humps, just a couple of them garner enough gold to fund a war.”

There was that feeling in his gut again.
Sympathy? It can’t be.

“No chance he’d be sold as a pet?”

“The poison is worth more than all the rest of him.”

Dragon Hide. Claws. Scales. Teeth. Wings. Every bit of it was a high priced commodity.

“And the blood?” he asked.

She didn’t answer at first. She just sat and sat and sat, making part of him wish he were elsewhere, anywhere but there.

After several minutes passed, Finnius cleared his throat.

“Ah,” she said, “I keep all of that.” She stretched out her arms as she got up and said, “Keep up the effort, Finnius, and I’ll show you things you never could have dreamed of. But for now, I’m going to reveal a little more. I’m going to show you what is next in store for Nath Dragon.”

CHAPTER 14

The reveling of the goblins didn’t show any signs of slowing, and I was tired of waiting. And their chants were getting annoying.

“TUMBA—TUMBA—TUMBA—TUMBA … ”

I wanted to shoot them all. Stupid sing-songing goblins. Brenwar might disagree with me, but he pretty much disagreed with me most of the time. The longer the goblins sang, drank, ate and fought one another, the worse I felt for the dragon.

As she lay curled up in her cage, the goblins danced around the bars and taunted her. And why not? After all, they had captured her. But the swill they drank gave them a little too much courage. Now, if I'd seen a lock on the cage, I could have shot it with an arrow and shattered it. But this cage was solid steel bars bolted down into the stone. No lock or door in sight. The truth was, I didn’t have any idea how we’d get the dragon out until we got down there. I punched Brenwar in the arm.

His popped open his eye and asked, “What are ye’ thinking, Dragon?”

“How are we going to get the dragon out? She's sealed in that cage.”

“Well, we might just have to kill them all first, and figure it out later. Or we can interrogate another after another until we figure it out.”

“You think you can take thirty goblins and whatever or whoever that thing on the throne is?”

He peeked over the wall.

“Certainly.”

Now it was my turn to grunt. The throned man, humanoid or whatever it was, bothered me.  It had barely moved an inch the entire time I’d been here. It just sat in its robes, hands and feet covered, moving its head in slow nods and shakes when the goblins spoke to it. It was big, too, bigger than me, not that it bothered me. I wondered if it was the winged-ape.

“Do you think it’s a mage or a cleric? A sage or druid?”

Brenwar rested his war hammer on his chest, leaned back along the wall, and shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter what it is…” he licked his thumb and ran it along his blade. “It will be dead soon enough.”

Being around Brenwar didn’t make my urges to fight any easier. He was a bad influence. I just didn’t understand why I was held to a higher standard. Brenwar was good and noble, but he could kill in battle without regret or consequence, it seemed. But as Father told me, “To each kind their own purposes. Your purpose is different than theirs.”

My eyes went back and forth between the dragon and the man on the throne. The thing on the throne bothered me. Mages, wizards, warlocks, and witches were all a cunning bunch. They loved traps and wards and little creatures called familiars. The familiars really kept a close eye on things and could be most anything, in most cases small: cats, birds, lizards, snakes, monkeys or even a mouse. That’s just a few samples, and they can be much odder things. So I'm always careful around any animals that look at me too long, but so far, in this hideout I’d hardly seen a thing. Everything had been going well, too well.

“Something’s wrong,” I said.

Brenwar eyed me. He’d been around me long enough to know my instincts are often right.

The commotion in the grand hall came to a stop.

I felt my spine tighten from my waist to my neck. The hairs on my neck stood on end when I saw two goblins dragging another goblin in. And it wasn’t just any goblin, either. It was the one we’d throttled and bribed in the woods. The goblins shoved the broken prisoner onto his knees before the throne. Its body shook as it fought against its bonds and cried out for mercy. I got the feeling that it would have been better off if we'd killed it ourselves. We could have been merciful at least.

“Brenwar, I think our time is up.”

The figure on the stone chair leaned forward. The goblin cried out, only to be silenced with a sharp blow to the back of its head from a goblin soldier.

One of the guards set the coins I’d given it down on the steps. I could see the big one sitting in the middle, twinkling in the torchlight like a tiny sun. 

The goblin spilled his guts. I could hear the conversation, and the goblin told all that he knew, which wasn’t so bad. For all he knew, or they knew, we weren’t within miles of the place. How would we get in, anyway? The figure in the robes sat upright at the mention of my dragon arm, however. The figure stood up taller than I even figured. Seven feet high at least. Then another pair of goblins, from another direction, rushed in. One was holding a grappling hook.

“Uh oh,” Brenwar said, checking the straps on his armor.

I slid two arrows from my quiver. I nocked one, and bit down on the other. 

I knew things had been too easy.

CHAPTER 15

I got my first good look at the figure in the robes. Its hands and fingers were large, clawed and hairy, like a bugbear or gnoll. The figure reached down, grabbed the prisoner goblin by the neck, and hoisted him high in the air. Every goblin slunk back. Some froze, and the hot air seemed too cool, with icy intensity. The goblin's feet twitched in the air as the figure carried him down the steps for all to see. Then, in a loud male voice, the figure spoke words of power… ancient and mystic.

A sliver of ice went down my spine.
A magic user! Always unpredictable.

His hands burst into flame, and the goblin's face caught fire as it screamed, twitched and died. A pungent smell wafted my way, burnt goblin skin and hair. The figure dropped the goblin to the floor, where it fell apart like pieces of a charred tree. The magic user held his arm up for all to see. It was radiant with red, yellow and blue flames that danced from one hand to the other. He was a formidable one, to control magic like that. Still, what he was, I wasn’t so sure.

The magic user clapped his hands together. The fires extinguished as he spoke in a thick voice.

“Find them.”

At least it was a man, but what kind of man I wasn’t certain.

“I’m shooting him,” I said.

“No, wait,” Brenwar warned. “There’ll be less of them to shoot in a moment. They’ll be searching these endless tunnels for hours trying to find us, if we’re careful. Shoot now, and they all swarm us.”

Point taken, but I didn’t like it. I wanted to move. I needed to get down there and see if Fang could hew through that dragon cage. Below, the goblins, most of them half-drunk or worse, fumbled through their gear and stumbled into the surrounding tunnels. One moment footsteps echoed everywhere, the next moment they faded away. Three goblins remained, surrounding the dragon’s cage, armed with battle axes, swords and spears. I noticed the throne of the magic user was vacant. The magic user was nowhere in sight. The gold coins on the steps were still there, however.
Excellent!

“I’ve got a plan.”

Brenwar eyed me and said, “You do?”

Remember those gold coins I gave that goblin? Well, they aren’t coins. They’re something else. An item from Father’s treasure trove I learned to use long ago. I muttered some words of magic of my own. My human finger tips tingled as I twirled them around. One by one, each coin rose on its edge and began to roll. 

Brenwar huffed under his beard, “Magic.” Then, he moved on. He had some idea what I was thinking. He usually did.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

Down the steps they came rolling over the stone floor, towards the dragon cage. The goblins eyed the coins, one looking at the other, curiosity filling their blurry yellow eyes.

“Just keep watching,” I muttered under my breath.

The coins circled the cage once, then stopped upright and each fell before a different goblin.  They wanted to grab those coins, each of them; I could feel it. One scratched his head. The other bent forward. The third kept an eye on the throne before stooping closer.

Poof. Poof. Poof.

Each coin burst into a cloud of gold dust that coated a goblin from head to toe. They coughed, hacked, and clutched at their necks before falling over. Not dead, mind you. Just sleeping.

Those coins, well, as I said, they came in handy. I’d figured if that goblin we met ever came back to the hideout and ratted us out, we’d need all the help we could get. So, I planted my own surprise just in case. I hopped off the balcony, landing like a cat on the main floor as the gold dust settled.

One of the goblins started snoring.

The dragon, well, she was sitting up in her cage, tail swaying back and forth. She was so beautiful, her scales like shiny blue shields with jagged streaks of black. Her long lashes batted as she stared at me. . She was fine.

“It won’t be long,” I said. “I’ll have you out of here soon.”

I tugged at the metal on the bars. It was thicker than I could bend. There was no cage door, either, just where the iron was bolted to the stone. Perhaps Brenwar’s hammer could bust it up, or perhaps my sword could cut through it.

“Stand back,” I said, drawing Fang. 

The dragon reared back and struck at me with an angry hiss. Her razor sharp teeth snapped at me.

“What?” I said. “You have to trust me.” I drew Fang back again.

She hissed. Louder this time. Opened her mouth to release her breath. I lowered Fang and backed away. 

Brenwar appeared at my side, pushed me back, and said, “It’s magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“See the markings on the floor?”

Oh, now I saw them. Arcane symbols and designs were beneath the dragon’s feet. The cage was woven with similar designs as well. It left me cold. These dragon poachers were more than what they appeared to be. That was when the unsettling feeling crept back in between my neck and shoulders.

“Heh-Heh-Heh … go ahead,” a disturbing voice said. “Go ahead, cut into the cage and see what happens.”

It was the voice of the magic user, who now stood on the balcony where Brenwar and I had stood earlier.

“The only person who can open that cage is me. And if anyone else tries to open it by any other means, it will be very, very painful for the dragon. Deathly so.”

The figure flicked a lance of energy from his fingers. It sailed over my ducking head, striking the cage bars. The Blue Racer roared and fluttered her wings, curling back up on the floor in a tight knot.

“Drop your weapons unless you want to see the dragon start to smoke,” the magic user warned.

Over the years, I’d faced, fought, dropped, kicked and punched my share of wizards, shamans and illusionists. And like I said, they were a crafty bunch. And sometimes, when they got the drop on you, it was best to do as you were told. I looked around. All the goblins that were gone had returned now, and then some.

“I’m not surrendering to any goblin, Dragon,” Brenwar growled under his beard.

I set Fang on the ground and held my hands up.

“I don’t think there’s much choice.