November 30
Word Count: 4623
Being cool, calm and collected in the face of potential imminent disaster was a lot easier said than done. At least Lasser had Snult to help keep him company. Having an enormous fire breathing dragon on your side that was by his very nature somewhat immune to magic was rather reassuring.
“If all else fails, I’ll just roast her,” Snult said with a toothy grin.
“No roasting. This has got to be a capture alive mission,” Lasser warned.
“So you still like her? For a while you and she were getting pretty buddy buddy.”
“That was before she decided to go all evil and put people in bubbles, and before she started getting on my nerves. I still think the only thing she does is picnic and pick out dresses.”
Snult chuckled again and blew a small flame to warm the rocks he sat on. The cave was already rather cozy, but Snult liked the cave hot. It was about time to send the candidates on their way, anyway.
“I’m going to get things going. Remember the plan?”
“I remember. We follow through with things, unless Saratin shows up and amends the plan, and if all else fails, roast her.”
“No roasting!”
“I never get to roast nobody.”
“Right.” Lasser traveled to the edge of the forest where he’d told the candidates to meet. There they were, looking rather nervous: Yalan, the young nobleman, Deseda, a baker, and Rigsto a young farmer.
“Hello,” Lasser said as he smiled at them. They probably couldn’t guess that he was just as nervous as they were. He handed them each a strip of cloth. “Red for Rigsto, yellow for Yalan, and blue for Deseda. There aren’t many colors that start with D,” he shrugged.
“Deep blue?” she answered. Lasser smiled, then pulled himself together to explain the rules.
“Here is the task. Each of you will start in a different part of the forest, and follow the flags marked with your color to a cave. There are a few roadblocks along the way, so be careful. In the cave you need to retrieve this,” Lasser held up a crown he’d ‘borrowed’ from the royal treasury. “Any questions?”
“When do we start?” asked the farmer.
“Now.” Lasser simultaneously transported them to the three locations he’d previously selected. Once they were off, he popped back to the cave.
“They’re on their way,” he said as he cast the last bit of magic for the plan. He’d gotten the idea from Malek, when he’d accidentally made himself invisible and inaudible to everyone but Mitty and her cat. At least this time, Lasser knew how to visible himself at will. He stood back and waited, knowing that if he talked to Snult, and Snult spoke back, they’d ruin the surprise that awaited the challengers. Snult was wearing the crown on one of the spikes on his head. It looked rather absurd, but by the smile on his face, Snult was looking forward to messing with the contestants who probably had no idea how to get a crown from a dragon the size of a house.
Snult was curled up, and pretending to snooze when Yalan arrived. His sword was bloody and there was a tear in his shirt. He’d obviously run into one of little dragons Lasser had conjured up in the forest. He’d made sure it couldn’t breath fire, and it wasn’t allowed to kill, only maime. Yalan had obviously done a good job dispatching it.
He took one look at Snult and almost faltered, turning back towards the entrance before turning again, raising his sword high and charging. Snult neatly pinned him to the ground with one paw, sending his sword skittering across the floor. He blew a cloud of smoke into Yalan’s face and smiled with all of his teeth. Between coughs, Yalan’s face was filled with utter terror. He expected to be eaten at any moment.
“Please, Mr. Dragon, let him go.” The sound of metal against rock echoed through the cave as Deseda picked up Yalan’s sword.
“Now why do you want me to do that?”
“Because I’m not going to let you eat him.”
“And why are you worried about him?”
“Because you should be able to eat anyone,” she replied.
“If I eat him, then you might be able to snatch this crown off my head while I was distracted,” Snult suggested.
“Help,” Yalan squeaked.
“Just sit still,” Deseda said. “I am not going to let you eat him,” she said again.
“Right. How ‘bout I eat you, and let him take the crown?” Snult looked at Yalan. He nodded vehemently.
“Eat her! Eat her!” he whispered between coughs. Snult looked at Deseda to see if she’d changed her mind.
“Just because he’s a spineless wimp, doesn’t mean that you can bargain with me. Just remember, I’ll give you the worst case of indigestion you’ve ever had, just to spite you.”
Snult was trying very hard not to laugh. Smoke was beginning to leak out of his nose.
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t give you a chance to be king,” Snult said. He lifted his paw off Yalan and pushed him away. Snult opened his mouth wide and slowly progressed towards Deseda, giving her plenty of time to change her mind. She simply closed her eyes and held the sword quite unsteadily out in front of her. Snult grabbed the sword between his teeth and let out a great moan. He fell back with the sword between his teeth, shaking the ground as he tumbled over on his back with his claws clutched over his belly.
“I… glugh… arghh… dead!” Snult’s head dropped down and his tongue rolled out of the side of his mouth. It was probably the worst fake death scene Lasser had ever witnessed.
“I killed him?” Deseda said as she opened her eyes wide to stare at the dragon. Yalan stood up and stared.
“I think you did,” he said. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll make you my queen.” Yalan strode forward to collect the crown from Snult’s head.
“Wait a minute. I saved your worthless hide and you think you get to be king? Maybe I’ll marry you and make you my queen,” Deseda said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. A woman can’t be a king,” Yalan said.
“Right,” Deseda said sarcastically, “but look out!” She pointed to Snult. “He’s still breathing!”
That was enough for Yalan. He ran back to the cave entrance, pausing only when he noticed she wasn’t following. She was promptly removing the crown.
“You lied!” Yalan shouted.
“No. He’s still breathing. I didn’t say he was conscious. Should we wake him up?”
Yalan forgot his fear. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to give me that crown. I am going to be the next king. My father has arranged it all anyway. King Dormas has already given my father three new estates, and promised me his cousin Lady Elda as a proper wife.” Yalan marched determinedly towards Deseda who backed up farther into the cave, the crown clutched in her hands.
“Look, you idiot!” A familiar voice sounded from the entrance of the cave. Lynah stood there with Rigsto. “I told you that you should have let me deal with those pesky dragons. You’re late!”
“She’s already killed the dragon and gotten the crown. I guess there’s nothing I can do.”
“Oh, he’s not dead. That’s Snult. Just go fetch the crown, and I’ll deal with him,” Lynah said, putting her hands on her hips. Rigsto looked unsure for a moment. Either fetch it or I’ll put your whole village back inside Vyna’s head, and I’ll make sure you never come out again!”
Rigsto ran towards Deseda and Yalan, but before he’d crossed half the distance, Snult was up and snatching Deseda in his claws. She screamed but kept firm purchase on the crown.
“Put her down, Snult. Give Rigsto the crown.”
“And what are you going to do about it? Deseda vanquished me fair and square.”
“I did?” Deseda asked, finally understanding the dragon had no intention of squashing her.
“I think Lasser will agree,” Snult added.
“Lasser will never know what happened,” Lynah said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With a great force, she threw the will of her magic towards Snult. He turned to protect Deseda and Lasser who stood behind him. Lasser could see the force of the wave bounce off Snult’s scales and hit Lynah and the other two men, knocking all three of them to their feet. The cave itself trembled and bits of the ceiling fell, littering the air.
“What was that?” Deseda said coughing when the dust finally settled.
“I think someone forgot to tell Lynah that Great Mages’ magic doesn’t work so well on Great Dragons,” Snult said, peering over to Lasser to make sure he was all right. Amazingly enough, Lasser felt fine. He could quite see Lynah or the other two though. He made himself visible and scrambled around Snult and gasped at the sight.
Yalan’s eyes were open and he was looking around, somewhat bewildered, but otherwise unhurt. Rigsto was not the same. A spike from the ceiling had pierced his shoulder, and right before his eyes, Lasser saw him growing progressively older, wrinkling and turning paler in only seconds.
“I had to follow her. I didn’t want to. She said she’d lock my village away, if I didn’t cooperate. She wanted me to be king so she could tell me what to do.”
“It’s all right,” Lasser said. He closed his eyes and managed to remove the stalactite from his shoulder, but Rigsto kept slipping farther and farther away from his grasp. He concentrated all his energy into healing, but it wasn’t enough. Rigsto’s form went limp and his flesh withered away until there was nothing left but a brittle skeleton.
“Who are you?” Yalan asked suddenly. “Who am I for that matter? And who was that? Did I know him?”
Lasser stared angrily at the lordling. He then ignored him and turned to find Lynah. She was lying in a pile of dust and debris, but looked unhurt. At least she wasn’t bleeding from anywhere that Lasser could determine.
“Get your hands off me. Do you know who I am? I’m a princess!”
Lasser pulled back and stood up. Lynah sat up, blinking. Suddenly Lasser realized what trouble he was in if she had any power left. He’d used all his trying to heal Rigsto.
“Where’s Trevelyn?”
“Tamarin… in a bubble.”
“And what is she doing there? Are you sure you’re speaking of my Trevelyn?” Lynah sat up and looked around disgustedly.
“Yes, we’re talking about the same Trevelyn. You put her there?” Lasser reminded.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Well, don’t stand there like a louse, help me up!” she ordered as she put out her hands. Still slightly stumped Lasser helped her up. Lynah began to dust herself off before looking at her hands and then shaking them in horror.
“Trevvie!” she called again. She looked pleadingly at Lasser then noticed the others behind him. She promptly screamed and grabbed a hold of Lasser using him as a human shield.
“It’s a dragon! Kill it! Where’s your sword?”
“I don’t have one. It’s just Snult.”
“I don’t care if it’s just snot! You’ve got a bow, shoot it or something!” Snult and Deseda stared at her with confusion. Snult finally started to laugh. Lynah let out a little shriek and pushed Lasser forward.
“She didn’t want you to know about this, so she tried to magic away my memory, and it’s back lashed. She’s forgotten everything,” Snult explained.
“I have not. I am Princess Lynah of Galadin, and my father will make sure all of you pay for this.”
“Your father has disowned you,” Lasser stated.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lynah argued with him. “My father dotes on me. He said so last week. He said he’s going to buy me another horse. My current one is getting rather old.”
“I pretty sure your last horse gotten eaten by dragons,” Lasser replied. Lynah gasped in shock. He was starting to enjoy this.
“Lasser, don’t talk,” Saratin said as he appeared. “They can’t see me. I thought I’d give you an update on the plan.” Saratin finally noticed the disarray. “What happened here. Wait, don’t answer, or she’ll figure out I’m here.”
“It’s all right, Saratin,” Lasser said. “The Lynah problem is quite taken care of. She’s forgotten everything.”
“Who are you talking to? And that’s Princess Lynah to you.”
“He’s talking to me,” Saratin said. Lynah directed her attention to him for a moment.
“Where’d you come from. I’ve never seen a brother wearing white before. Come to think of it, why are you dressed in white?” Lynah asked Lasser. “And why are you carrying a bow? Brothers don’t carry weapons!”
“Right,” Saratin said, “very clever.”
“She did it to herself actually,” Lasser replied. “She tried to wipe Snult’s memory.”
“I suppose no one told her that Great Dragons are rather immune to foreign spells if they want to be?”
“Nope,” Snult said as he grinned. He put a still rather startled Deseda down in front of the three mages.
“Master Saratin, leader of the Great Mages, may I introduce you to Her Royal Highness Deseda, Crown Prince of Galadin,” Lasser took the crown from her hands and placed it on her head. It was too big and slunk low over her eyebrows.
“It is an honor to meet you,” Saratin said with a smile. “Perhaps, we should adjourn to more comfortable surroundings.”
“I need a bath… with lots of bubbles,” Lynah announced. “And I don’t see why your calling her the crown prince. I’m the princess, and my future husband will be the crown prince. I can’t exactly go and marry a girl, now can I?”
Saratin again smiled, but this time because he was trying very hard to suppress a laugh. He reached out his hand to Deseda. She took it and disappeared. He did the same for Lynah, and she, after first checking to see if it was clean, did the same.
“What about me? Am I a prince?” Yalan called from the corner.
“No. You’re Yalan. You need to go home and get a good night’s sleep,” Lasser called as he held out his hand to Saratin.
“Hey, don’t forget about the dragon who saved your hide,” Snult said as he perched on Lasser’s shoulder.
“You sure Saratin’s magic won’t backfire and send me into oblivion?” Lasser asked.
“Course not. We can be magicked if we want to. I just don’t feel like flying to Tamarin all by myself. I’ll get lonely,” he said. “And I’m the hero here, don’t forget.”
“Right,” Lasser said as he reached his hand out again. Snult was the hero. Lasser had only managed to select an heir to the throne, convince the king that the mages were indeed powerful, free the three mages from Lynah’s bubble by lending his powers to Malek and help foil Lynah’s plans. Snult had played a dramatic death scene and let a spell bounce off his scales.
In Lasser’s mind, that made them a bit even. Saratin, on the other hand, still owed him one.
The mages gathered in the counsel chamber, or at least what was left of them. Malek was still snoring soundly. Lynah had been put to sleep by a rather startled Trevelyn, and Saratin guessed that the sleep had been magically induced. When he’d arrived, Lynah had been weeping and clinging to Trevelyn begging her Trevie to help save her from the crazy men in white. It didn’t take much time before Trevelyn was singing and rocking Lynah back and forth, comforting her to a sound sleep.
Lasser had used up his powers which left the four of them – Saratin, Trevelyn, Mitty and Iber to deal with Lynah’s secret friend. Saratin wished they could wait until Malek and Lasser were able to join them, making the odds six to one rather than four to one, but Nelyr had always seemed to be one step ahead of them. They couldn’t waste any more time.
“The main problem is going to be finding him,” Lasser stated, staring at the map which was imprinted on the circular table they sat at. It was another one of the magical and often overlooked devices of Tamarin. It loved to show locations. It seemed to have no clue where Nelyr was.
“Are we sure he isn’t dead?” Snult asked as he hopped onto the table from Lasser’s shoulder.
“I’m pretty sure he’s alive. A few days ago when Saratin and I went to the Ring of Ancients, we found eight trees. One was sick, sure, but it was still alive. Saratin’s theory is the only thing that makes sense. Nelyr recruited Lynah to get calca for him because he can’t get it himself without coming out of hiding. He planned for her to rig the heir competition so that he’d have a future king under his thumb,” Lasser said.
“So how do we find him?” Mitty asked.
“Well, depending on what kind of supply he had to begin with, we know there is one place he is going to have to return to,” Iber said. “And that’s Vilane.”
An idea began to grow in Saratin’s head.
“Iber,” he asked. “How exactly did you keep Lynah from pummeling you?”
Iber smiled. “Poetry. I wrote some lines.” He dug into his pocket. “Here.” Iber handed Saratin a wrinkled piece of parchment.
“This would be perfect,” Saratin said. “We just have to go back to the village, have Iber say his poetry, substituting Nelyr for Lynah, and wait for him to show up.”
“And what if it’s not Nelyr?” Trevelyn asked.
“Worst case scenario, we get stuck
in another bubble, and Malek will have to come rescue us,” Saratin said. “And as long as we keep Nelyr from eating
more calca, he can only cast a certain amount of spells. Would the
“Yes, I’m certain,” Iber said.
“Anybody got a better plan? Questions? Comments?” Saratin wanted to make sure no one felt left out. He remembered what that feeling had led to. He looked at each one in turn, square in the eye.
“Let’s do it,” Mitty said finally.
“Lasser, you should probably stay here. You won’t be able to defend yourself.”
“No,” he replied. “I need to be able to tell them about Rigsto. Someone has to.” Saratin understood.
“Then let’s go. We may not have much more time to waste.” Saratin put his hand into the middle of the table. One by one, each mage joined until all five hands stretched across the table. A claw joined on top.
“Not leaving me behind, if you’re not leaving him behind,” Snult said. Saratin grinned and then grimaced for a moment. He still hadn’t figured out how to travel to places he didn’t know yet.
“Umm… Iber, would you do the honors?” Lasser chuckled. In fact they all started laughing.
“Need directions?” Iber asked. “No fear!
Poetry will save the day. Get us there fast, get us there sane, take us directly to the
The village was small, and the occupants halted all their activity as the five mages appeared in the center of the street. One of them went scooting away, up the steps and into a rather prominent looking house. It was strange, Saratin thought. All the people looked to be the same age. The calca had kept them all from growing old.
A young man with dark hair stepped out onto the porch to stare at the rather odd collection of mages that had dropped into his town. Only himself and Lasser were wearing the traditional white cassocks, and Lasser was looking quite dusty in his. Iber still wore his riding clothes and the girls were in serviceable dresses that were also looking a bit worn around the edges. Without Lynah to play fashion police, they were quite happy to wear whatever was comfortable.
“Good afternoon. I’m Mayor Gandy, and elder of Vilane. Can I be of service? Master Iber? Is that you?”
“Yes,” Iber said stepping forward. “These are Masters Saratin, Lasser, Mitty and Trevelyn. We’ve come on urgent business.” Iber held his hand out to Saratin, who realized he still had the parchment with the poem on it. He handed to Iber who cleared his throat.
“In times of trouble or great evil
protect the village and its people
So that no harm can come their way
No Nelyr magic here in night or day.”
Iber smiled and then yawned. “All done.”
The elder’s face became grim. “Another mage trying to do us harm?”
“Not exactly,” Saratin said, stepping forward. “He’s the one that Lynah was working for, we think.”
“He’s the one that needs the calca,” Lasser added. “He’s also the one that told Lynah to have Rigsto enter the competition for heir. I’m sorry, but there was an accident. Rigsto’s dead.”
“Rigsto? Don’t be ridiculous. He isn’t dead. He’s right over there,” the mayor pointed over to a young man with raven black hair holding a wheelbarrow. When he noticed the attention drawn to him, he smiled sheepishly.
“That’s Rigsto? He doesn’t look like the one I tried to save,” Lasser admitted. Rigsto put down the wheelbarrow and stood there rather awkwardly.
“Saratin,” Snult called out from Lasser’s shoulder, “That’s not Rigsto.”
“Of course that’s Rigsto. He’s my cousin. Don’t I know my own cousin?” Mayor Gandy stammered.
“Why do you say that’s not him?” Saratin asked.
“Because that’s Nelyr.” The mages all stared harder at him at once. The last time they’d seen Nelyr he’d been an old man. Even when he’d taken Iber and Trevelyn’s powers, he’d still been middle aged. This man had no sign of age about him.
“Are you sure?”
“Well, considering I’ve seen him looking exactly the same for one hundred years or so, and the fact that he smells exactly like Nelyr, I’m pretty sure. Why does everyone doubt the dragon?”
The man didn’t stay for questioning. In fact, he bolted. Iber and Lasser were after him in a shot. If he reached the edge of the village, their plan to capture him without harm to anyone might be a flop. He didn’t come close. Snult lauched himself from Lasser’s shoulder and caught Nelyr neatly in his claws. Snult swerved a bit, trying to avoid the buildings, but managed to neatly drop Nelyr at Saratin’s feet, shrinking just as quickly as he had grown, and perching deftly on the mage’s shoulder. Snult grinned toothily at Nelyr as he glared up at the two of them. Iber and Lasser quickly rejoined the rest of them. The five mages surrounded Nelyr in a perfect circle. Snult hopped back onto Lasser’s shoulder.
“You have me. What do you plan to do with me?” Nelyr sneered.
“Well, what did you plan to do with us?” Mitty asked.
“You’re all disgraces to the names of mages.”
“We are?” Trevelyn questioned. “You’re the one who’s been sneaking around, stealing and lying and cheating.”
“You do realize that if you let the villagers mine the calca from the tree to sustain you and themselves, that the magic will die again, and then we’ll all die,” Iber said.
“You also tried to get control of the king of Galadin, which has always been a position of sovereignty, not slavery to the Great Mages,” Lasser added.
“Everything I’ve learned about the Great Mages seems to find its opposite in you,” Saratin said sadly.
“Try living from hand to mouth for a hundred years. Being drained day after day, being old. I don’t want to be old again. I don’t want to die,” Nelyr stood.
“The other Great Mages died to save Galadin. You dishonor their memory by trying to destroy what they gave their lives to create,” Saratin could feel true anger welling within him. Perhaps if Nelyr had cried for mercy or repented, Saratin would have relented, but he simply stood there glaring, and defiant. If they let him go, he’d simply find another way to get what he wanted.
“You want youth? You can have it, but not at the expense of others. I won’t let you continue,” Saratin stated calmly.
“And what are you going to do about it. You haven’t the guts to get rid of me.”
“I don’t have to get rid of you.” Saratin closed his eyes and focused. When he opened them again, he saw Nelyr’s white palor frozen into place, his raven hair turned white marble, and his disdaining glare still carved onto his face.
“You turned him into a statue!” Mitty exclaimed.
“You’ll be young for eternity,” Saratin said. “He’s still alive. He can hear us as well, but he won’t be doing anyone any harm anytime soon. Any objections?”
“I think it’s a bloody brilliant solution for that dog faced festering pustule of a liar,” Iber stated smiling.
“Bravo!” Lasser shouted, staring at Iber. “And I will admit that poetry indeed a powerful as tool as colorful vocabulary. He leaned on the statue and patted Nelyr on his stone head. “Now where shall we put him?”
“There’s a pretty little garden with lots of ducks and pigeons right outside my quarters in Tamarin. There’s a perfect spot for our new friend,” Iber stated.
“Really?” Lasser looked excited. His grin matched Snult’s toothy one. The weight that had been lifted from all their shoulders was making all of them a bit giddy. “Do lead on.”
“Garden garden that does grow, take us where we want to go.” The four of them disappeared.
“Does that mean we’re done?” Mitty asked. “I don’t know if it feels done.”
“It’s done,” Saratin stated. “I think.”
“Then I’d better be getting home and checking on Malek. He’s probably going to be very grumpy.” She waved goodbye when he nodded and blinked out of sight.
“Well, I…” Trevelyn seemed slightly at a loss. Saratin took hold of her hand.
“I want to show you something,” he said. When she nodded he concentrated and took her to his secret crag.
It wasn’t much, simply a place in the rocky walls above Tamarin where he could clearly see the whole city gleaming below him. The sun was beginning to set and the city was settling from an orange to a slight pinkish hue.
“I go up here to think sometimes,” Saratin said. He watched Trevelyn’s face as she stared out at the city below.
“It’s beautiful,” she smiled. “I’m usually afraid of heights.”
“I’ve been wanting to show this to someone for quite a while,” Saratin said. “No matter how bad things get I can always find peace up here.
“I can see why,” Trevelyn said.
“It’ll be nice to have some peace and quite down there. I’m a bit worn out,” Saratin said. “I haven’t read a book in ages.”
“You think they’ll be peace? The last time I let myself think that, things went from bad to worse. I don’t think we’ll ever have peace.”
Saratin shrugged. “So what if we don’t? What’s life without a few arch nemeses trying to take over the world?”
“Boring, I suppose.”
“Exactly. Let life bring it on.” Saratin gave Trevelyn a hug. They settled in for their few moments of
peace as the sun set on the city of
The End