The Dragons of Decay Read online

  Now though, he saw a softer side of her as she smiled and spoke with her new people. It gave him a certain sense of relief to see the paladin more at ease.

  Finally, Liliana walked up a steep flight of stairs and emerged on to the ground floor of a wrecked office building. She made her way to the broken front doors and leaned on the twisted frame, staring into the snow-covered streets beyond. She held up the small mirror in her hand and caught his eye again.

  “Simon,” she said quietly, “you really should think this through. If you do enter the elven realm, you mustn't go alone. Surely there are some of us who would survive for the same reason that you would? Perhaps Tamara and her brother share this slow-aging effect of magic?”

  “They may. I have no idea. But I really hate putting others in harm's way. You know that.”

  “I do,” she answered with a crooked smile. “But just living on this New Earth puts us all in harm's way, don't you think? You should at least tell them about what's been happening and see what they say.”

  “I intend to. You were just the first one I called; well, after Clara that is. I knew at least that she wouldn't volunteer to join me, because she feels the need to stay with her people and their town, to watch over them.”

  “Yes, I know that feeling.”

  The paladin squinted into the distance with a concerned expression on her face.

  “I feel the same way about my handful of survivors, my friend. Normally I would be the first to insist that I join you in your battle against the brown dragons, if such a thing transpires. But now, with these people to protect, I find myself conflicted.”

  Simon smiled at her.

  “There is no conflict, Liliana. Your duty now, like Clara's, is to protect your people. Taking you away from them is something that I simply would not do.”

  He chuckled and the paladin looked at him with a puzzled, but amused, expression.

  “What's so funny?”

  “Oh nothing. It's just that I was afraid I'd have to argue and convince you to sit this one out. I'm glad I don't have to, that's all.”

  “Oh, you would, believe me. But just because the white dragons are all dead doesn't mean that we're safe yet. I'm still watching the skies, waiting for a flash of red.”

  Simon instantly became tense.

  “Red dragons? Any signs yet?”

  “None. Trust me, I'd signal you with the lodestone if there was. But now that the browns are all in the elven realm and the other three primals are destroyed, the red dragons have free run of the entire world.”

  She frowned and looked thoughtful.

  “I wonder just how many there are? You said that there were a limited number of eggs available to the primals. It would be good to know what that exact number is.”

  “Maybe ask your patron goddess the next time she visits you in your dreams,” Simon suggested, only half joking.

  “That's an idea. Unfortunately it's a rare occurrence; a divine visitation. And when it does happen, I pretty much just listen. The goddess' visits are short, to keep from attracting the attention of the Chaos lords.”

  “Good point. Anyway, I'd better get on and talk to Tamara and Sebastian. It was good to see you again, my friend.”

  “You as well, Simon. Listen, if it does turn out that you do enter the elven realm, let me know, would you?”

  She hesitated and then gave him a rather poignant smile.

  “You are one of the few friends I have now and I worry.”

  The wizard blinked rapidly, surprised to hear this admission from the tough as nails paladin.

  “Thank you,” he answered with a reassuring grin. “Don't worry. I won't head off into adventure without teasing you about it first.”

  She scowled and shook her finger at him in a mock display of anger.

  “That was mean,” she said and then laughed. “All right, get on with your other calls. And take care.”

  “You too,” Simon said and broke the connection.

  He sighed and put down the mirror, rubbing his hands over his face.

  “Are you okay, master?”

  “I'm fine,” he told the little elemental. Kronk was standing on his desk, listening quietly as Simon called each of his allies. Aeris had decided to take a few turns outside along the wall. Just in case, he'd said.

  “I'm actually relieved that Liliana didn't fight me about sitting this one out. She has a handful of people to watch over now and I think it's given her life purpose again, beyond striking back at the dragons.”

  “That's good, is it not, master?”

  “Very good, Kronk. Very good indeed. One less thing for me to worry about, I suppose.”

  “Master, perhaps you should take a break? Come downstairs and have some hot chocolate. It always seems to soothe you.”

  Simon had to smile at the earthen's concern.

  Just before winter began in earnest, Clara had told him that one of her teams of scouts had come across a small country store that hadn't been completely burned out in the original dragon attack. Most of the food and supplies were spoiled after four years of exposure to the elements, but they had found a palette buried under some rubble and inside were dozens of sealed cans of cocoa powder.

  The cleric had generously gifted him with three of the precious cans and he had tasted chocolate again for the first time in years.

  Simon had actually teared up and the two elementals had watched him with a mixture of worry and confusion.

  “Master, what is wrong?” Kronk had asked, deeply concerned.

  “Yes, my dear wizard. What is the problem? You are given a taste of your old world and you're unhappy?” Aeris had said. “I don't understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Simon had said, wiping his eyes with some embarrassment. “It's just that, I guess it all suddenly came back. My old life, all the people we lost, the taste of home. I don't know.”

  He had closed his eyes and sipped the thick liquid slowly, the honey he'd mixed in making it sweet and delicious.

  “Don't worry, guys,” he'd said softly, remembering distant Christmases from long ago. “The memories are dear to me. It's just that I thought I'd put them aside forever. Funny how a little thing like a smell or a taste can bring them all rushing back.”

  Now when he had hot chocolate, and Simon drank it rarely to save his precious supply for as long as possible, it had a calming and, as Kronk had said, soothing effect on him.

  “That's a really good idea,” he told the little guy. “Let's go.”

  Simon picked up the mirror and followed Kronk downstairs. As he put on the kettle, Aeris popped into the room and joined the earthen on the kitchen table.

  “So what's going on out there?” Simon asked him.

  “Nothing. All's quiet. The earthen are patrolling the wall as usual.”

  Aeris watched as the wizard made his hot chocolate.

  “What happened?” he asked Kronk and nodded at Simon. “Why's he making that?”

  “It's fine,” the earthen replied. “He is a little unsettled from talking to Clara and Liliana about this whole brown dragon thing.”

  “Ah, of course. He's really quite emotional at times, have you noticed?”

  “He is. That's not such a bad thing though. I've always said...”

  “Um guys?” Simon said as he turned to look at them. “I'm standing right here. You do know that I can hear you, right?”

  “Sorry, master. We worry about you, that's all.”

  “I appreciate that,” the wizard said with a smile as he sat down. “But maybe do it where I can't actually hear you? It's like having your parents talk about you when you're a kid and you're in the same room. A bit creepy.”

  “As you wish, oh great and powerful wizard,” Aeris said with an exaggerated bow.

  “Stop that,” Simon told him as he sipped the hot liquid. “So why the sudden urge to patrol around the wall in the middle of the day?”

  The air elemental shrugged.

  “A feeling, mostly. The atmo
sphere is...unsettled. Ominous. Part of it may be because of what is happening on the home world of the elves. Often what happens on other planes is reflected here on Earth.”

  “Really? I didn't know that.”

  “Oh yes, master. That is very well known, among our kind at least,” Kronk said wisely. “In ancient times, there were wars between the elemental planes. The chaos and destruction was mirrored here on this world.”

  Simon put down his cup and stared at the two little figures.

  “Wars? Why haven't I heard about this before?”

  The elementals exchanged an almost embarrassed look.

  “To be frank, it isn't something that's spoken of much anymore,” Aeris said reluctantly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, master, it is considered a shameful time among our people. There was really no reason for such conflict. We earthen have no interest in the air realm. They have no use for the fire realm, and so on. In the end, it was simply a clash of egos between our rulers.”

  “Don't ever let them hear you say that,” Aeris told him ominously.

  “They are well aware that we all know it,” Kronk told him with some exasperation.

  “Maybe, but it's bad policy to bring up someone's failings when that someone can obliterate you with a thought.”

  “Interesting,” Simon said and picked up his cup again. “Any other reason you're worried?”

  “I'm not worried, exactly. But let's face it; things are becoming more unpredictable by the day, aren't they? Dragons invading other worlds, battles between dwarves and mutated dragons, the water elementals turning rogue and siding with the dark gods. Let's just say that I'm becoming a little more cautious these days.”

  Aeris glanced at the bright sunlight streaming through the window.

  “Oh, by the way, Kronk, if you are letting the horses out to get some exercise, you might want to do it now.”

  “Why?” the earthen asked with a frown.

  “Because there's a storm coming. And by a storm I mean a blizzard. It could last for several days, so take advantage of this last chance to let the horses stretch their legs.”

  Kronk looked alarmed and jumped off of the table.

  “Thank you, Aeris,” he said over his shoulder as he hurriedly tip-tapped to the front door. “I'll let them out right away.”

  As the little guy jumped up, opened the front door and then slammed it behind him, Simon looked at Aeris in surprise.

  “You can tell if there's a storm coming?”

  “Why the look? I'm an air elemental, my dear wizard. I know when storms are approaching the same way that Kronk can feel an earthquake beginning to build up. It's in our nature, you could say.”

  “Huh. The things I learn at the most unexpected times. So how bad is this blizzard going to be?”

  Aeris looked at him soberly.

  “Very bad. I would advise you to contact Clara and warn her to tell her people about it. They should get enough supplies out of storage to last a few days; possibly a week.”

  “A week! Holy crap.”

  Simon grabbed the mirror and began casting the Magic Mirror spell.

  “Oh and tell her to put extra guards on the walls during the storm, just in case.”

  The wizard finished his incantation and looked at the elemental, puzzled.

  “Why? You want them to guard against a storm?”

  “No. I want them to guard against what might be coming with the storm.”

  “Which is?”

  “Something horrible.”

  Chapter 3

  The blizzard rolled in just as Kronk returned the horses to the stable. Simon actually saw the white wall of driving snow and wind approaching from his study window. It was so dense that the world was blotted out as it came; a force of nature that sent a shiver of fear running down his spine.

  He had called Clara to warn her and she'd assured him that she would pass the word on to her people.

  “What is it about this storm that's got you so spooked?” he asked Aeris, who was hovering over the window ledge next to him.

  “Just a feeling, like I said. In the old days of magic, creatures of darkness could use the cover of storms, whether in summer or winter, to approach settlements. Those days are gone, but the magic has returned. Who's to say that the horrors from the old days haven't returned with it?”

  “Now there's a comforting thought.”

  Just before the storm obscured the outside world completely, Simon had moved to the southern-facing window, looked down at the front gate and frowned.

  “Why are the gates open?” he asked.

  “They are?”

  Aeris flew across the room and looked below.

  “By the Four Winds, they are!”

  “Well, damn it, get them closed!” Simon had barked and then caught himself.

  “Sorry. Please get them closed,” he repeated in a lower voice.

  The air elemental snickered.

  “There's a time for politeness, my dear wizard, but this isn't it. I'll be right back.”

  He disappeared with a tiny pop of sound and Simon saw him reappear near the gates, just as the wall of snow slammed into the tower.

  The entire structure actually shuddered slightly; an amazing feat considering that Kronk and his fellow earthen had reinforced the building after two red dragons had attacked about a year earlier.

  The glass in both windows actually creaked and chimed as the glacial winds pushed against them and Simon cursed under his breath. He hated to do it, but it was obvious that he'd have to close the shutters over the windows, at least the ones on the second floor.

  It was a battle to seal all of the windows. The wind hurled blinding snow and ice pellets at him each time he opened a window to pull the metal-reinforced wooden shutters closed. He gashed his palm once as he hammered at the bolts inside the covers to slide and lock them, but he finally finished with the last set in his bedroom.

  He staggered a bit and wiped cold sweat off of his forehead. Then he hurried downstairs to rinse the deep cut on his hand and wrap a bandage around it.

  Simon was just finishing his first aid when Kronk slammed open the front door, a howl of wind, snow and deep cold accompanying him. The little guy turned and forced the door shut, once again exhibiting his amazing strength.

  He looked over at Simon, a small crust of icy snow covering his head and shoulders.

  “The horses are secure, master,” he said brightly. “The stable is clean and they are fed and watered.”

  He skittered across the room, jumped on to the kitchen table and then stared at the wizard's freshly-bandaged hand.

  “Master! You are wounded!”

  “I'm fine, Kronk. Don't worry. It just took a little more force than I thought it would to close the shutters upstairs.”

  “You should have waited for me to do it, master,” the earthen said with his tiny fists on his hips. “You mustn't take chances like that.”

  Simon filled the iron kettle and hung it over the fire.

  “Oh, for God's sake, I'm not a child. I can actually do some things for myself, you know.”

  “Yes, master, I'm sure you can,” Kronk answered in a tone that meant the exact opposite. “At least Aeris should have helped you.”

  He looked around the room.

  “Where is he anyway?”

  Simon leaned back against the counter to wait for the water to boil.

  “Oh. Well, just before the storm hit, I checked the gates and noticed that they were open a bit. I have no idea why, but Aeris popped out to close and lock them again.”

  “The gates were open?” Kronk sounded stunned. “But that is specifically against standing orders, master. I have told my brethren that under no circumstances may the gates be left open unless the order comes from you, either directly or through myself or Aeris.”

  He shook his head in confusion.

  “What were they thinking?”

  Simon just shrugged, a little amused that the ea
rthen was taking what was obviously a mistake so seriously.

  “No worries, my friend. Aeris will close and lock the gates and probably chew out the others for their error.”

  “No doubt, master. No doubt.”

  Kronk looked at the wall of white just beyond the window near the front door. Then he gave a convulsive little nod, as if winning an argument with himself, and jumped off of the table.

  “Wait, where are you going?” Simon called after him as Kronk ran across the room.

  “Just checking for myself, master,” the earthen said as he reached the door. He stopped and turned, giving Simon a penetrating look.

  “Aeris should have returned by now, master. Perhaps you should get your staff,” and he nodded at the length of wood and metal leaning next to the door. “Just in case.”

  And with those cryptic words, he jumped up, opened the door and closed it tightly behind him.

  “Just in case?” Simon repeated out loud. “Just in case what? It's just a frigging snowstorm for God's sake.”

  A howl of wind slipped past the tower, sounding remarkably like a child screaming and the wizard jumped up, startled.

  “Maybe that's not such a bad idea after all,” he muttered and walked to the door to get his staff.

  Then he retreated to the kitchen counter, leaned against it again and pulled his spell-book from his robe pocket.

  He had rewritten all of his spells into a smaller, easy to carry notebook and always kept it on his person now. He could keep ten spells permanently memorized thanks to months of dogged, tedious practice and study, and could pack another ten into his memory temporarily.

  Simon doubted that there was anything wrong, but skimmed through the book regardless, wondering what spells he might need if there was indeed some sort of emergency.

  He dropped the book in surprise as he looked up, wide-eyed. Something heavy had just slammed against the front door.

  His eyes flew to the bolts on the inside of the reinforced door. Naturally they were all open, but the latch was closed against the wind. As he watched, it rattled in its slot and he saw it bend inward. It wasn't meant to do anything but keep the door shut.

  Simon swallowed convulsively, scooped up his spell-book and slipped it back into his pocket.