The Dragon Ring (Book 1) Read online

  “In a moment we should have confirmation,” Memlatec said. His long fingers delved into the deep pocket for the lunadar crystal.

  “It’s gone!”

  Tournak was wide-eyed. “Gone?”

  Nauseous and gawking around him, Memlatec hesitated then hunched over probing among the weed clumps. His fingernails scratched the stepping-stones in the yawning gloom.

  “Where did you have the crystal last?” Tournak dropped on hands and knees. He searched the stubble until he bumped into two small, bare legs that rose to shorts in front of him.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” Prince Saxthor, the queen’s twelve-year-old second son, asked. He offered a small leather pouch.

  Memlatec frowned. A chill coursed through his wiry frame as he stared at young Saxthor. The old wizard fumbled and stood up without taking his eyes off the grinning, blonde boy.

  “What are you doing here, Saxthor? You’re not supposed to be out unattended at night and never in this menacing place.”

  “I was looking for lightning-bugs in the meadow,” Saxthor said. “The guards don’t bother watching me, just Augusteros. You showed up all of a sudden, so I followed along to find out what you were up to out here with no lamp. I thought you might be looking for dragons or elves or something,” Saxthor laughed and again extended his offering.

  Memlatec lifted Saxthor’s chin and patted his head. “You keep your toys, young man. Now go straight to the palace. You shouldn’t be out here alone.” The magician poked the weeds with his boot.

  Unfazed, Saxthor continued. “When everyone left here this afternoon, I came to see what the fuss was about. I almost stepped on the rock, but then it seemed to jump up at me and got real bright in my hand. I was going to put the sparkly in my pocket for my treasure box with my other favorite stuff.”

  Turning side to side, Saxthor grinned back and forth between Tournak and Memlatec. The grave wizards stared; Saxthor stopped grinning.

  The old wizard squatted down to face Saxthor who continued to chatter.

  “I thought this rock might be what you were looking for when I saw you searching for something in the weeds. Is it one of your magic things?”

  “Magic things,” Memlatec repeated.

  “It’s kinda scary out here, isn’t it, sir?”

  Tournak put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Jumped up at you… got bright in your hand, how so?”

  Saxthor upended the pouch. “Yeah, look at it.”

  The lunadar dropped into his hand and glowed to a brilliant white. The little prince glanced up and smiled at the stunned wizards.

  “See how bright it is?”

  Tournak’s eyes bulged.

  Memlatec snatched the radiant crystal and smashed the gemstone against the well stones before anyone else could witness the dazzling reaction to the prince. Saxthor jumped back, bumping into Tournak who crossed his arms over the shaking boy. The old wizard searched the shadowy garden for anyone that might have beheld the resplendent light.

  “I’m sorry,” Saxthor said.

  Memlatec was crushing the stone to powder. “Nothing for you to be sorry about, son.

  Thank you.”

  Tournak asked. “Did anyone come with you Saxthor? Did anyone follow you-- see you?”

  Saxthor’s green eyes, brilliant even in the moonlight, focused on Memlatec who stooped and held the boy’s head.

  “No one followed me. I won’t mess with your rocks anymore, sir.”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, Saxthor, but you mustn’t tell anyone about the crystal, no one. No one, do you understand?”

  “Yes sir, no one… except… I already told Bodrin.” Saxthor dropped his head. Memlatec and Tournak exchanged glances.

  “Bodrin, yes… your best friend. Come, let’s get you back to the palace. You shouldn’t be out running around at night like this,” Memlatec said.

  The wizards each held one of the smiling boy’s hands as they walked. The old man glanced over his shoulder at the well and caught a glimpse of a shadowy female figure that moved beyond the far garden gate. He spun around, but the woman was gone.

  “Earwig!”

  They rushed Saxthor back to the palace and turned him over to the guards at the base of the children’s tower.

  Alone on the road back to Memlatec’s Wizard’s Tower in the hills above Konnotan, the two wizards traveled in silence before Tournak spoke.

  “Earwig, Witch Earwig-- she knows?”

  Still staring ahead, Memlatec dreaded even the words he spoke.

  “Earwig knows.”

  2: The Focus Changes

  At the top of the Wizard’s Tower, Memlatec and Tournak busied themselves in Memlatec’s workroom. A large fireplace, a stone worktable and a dark oak desk cluttered with documents dominated the otherwise unadorned chamber. The chamber door, the portal to the balcony, a storage room opening, and one tapestry interrupted a stream of cabinets lining the limestone walls. Scrolls, books and magic ingredients stuffed and covered the furnishings.

  The afternoon sun streamed in warming the stone chamber and its disheveled contents. The light illuminated Tournak’s furrowed brow as he focused on grinding dried artemisia leaves into a silver-white powder. A breeze, sweet oak smoke, and the autumn golden hue warmed Memlatec and stirred him to reflect on the previous night’s revelation. Tournak paused and studied his mentor who broke the tranquility.

  “I might’ve suspected Saxthor inherited the power,” Memlatec said shaking his downcast head. “The family and I focused on Crown Prince Augusteros as heir to the throne. We’ve tried to suppress his tantrums and self-indulgence encouraged at every opportunity by Earwig. Few have praised Saxthor, or for that matter, given him recognition for having done anything. Saxthor tries hard to gain his parents’ approval, but their attention is on the kingdom’s revitalization and dealing with his older brother. I’ve been distracted too; that’s no excuse. In pitying him, I failed to recognize the significance of Saxthor’s emerging strength. In the absence of acknowledgement, Saxthor developed a strong self-reliance. Being second son in a dynastic house has a price.”

  Memlatec came around his desk and joined his assistant who poured the silvery powder into a ceramic jar. He absent mindedly dropped a small handful of the dried artemesia leaves into the mortar.

  Tournak resumed his grinding. “Yes, he’s fended for himself.”

  “Though we’ve tried to fill the void in the boy’s life, as his mentors, we must take better care of him,” Memlatec said. “Earwig will fear any new force growing around her. In her state of mind, I’m certain, she’ll interpret the discovery as a personal threat. Witchcraft is still new to her. I thought she only played with magic until last night.

  The Dark Lord is active again in the Ice Mountains. It would seem he’s been training Earwig as his agent though I don’t think she realizes the degree of his danger and intent. He’s aware I’m in Neuyokkasin and as his arch nemesis, he’d want to ascertain my purpose here. If she recognized the extent of the power struggle she’s entangled herself in, the danger would frighten even her.”

  “She must think he’s helping her to regain the throne. I can’t believe she’s so naïve,” Tournak said.

  “So the struggle for control of all Powteros begins anew,” Tournak said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then Earwig’s attack on Augusteros last night was to remove a contender for Neuyokkasin’s throne.” Tournak leaned forward on Memlatec’s desk and stared at his teacher. “You must warn Her Majesty.”

  “Warning his mother would do no good. She refuses to believe her sister-in-law could animate a stone gargoyle. She thinks the witch is but a bumbling upstart entertaining herself with magic. The queen is certain Augusteros was at fault last night. Any attempt to convince her Earwig is a real witch and dangerous at this point would only discredit me.”

  “Would Saxthor’s father listen to you?”

  “Prince Consort Augusteros doesn’t perceive the seriousness either.
He won’t interfere for fear of causing a rift between his wife and her brother.”

  “What a mess.”

  “Yes, Earwig grasps her vulnerability. She’s careful not to leave evidence of her actions that could prove her involvement and force the queen to recognize the evil she is. No, our duty to protect Saxthor is imperative. I’ll send Kak, the wood sprite, to play with him and keep a protective eye out for danger. We must devise a better means of dealing with Earwig which won’t draw the Dark Lord’s attention.”

  “The miniature forest elf should be unobtrusive and can disappear in an instant if need be, Tournak said. But if Earwig spots him, she’ll know you sent the sentinel. The discovery would confirm you’re shielding Saxthor, which could backfire, making her feel his threat is even greater than she suspects. She’d be even more determined to kill him.”

  *

  Memlatec set off on a journey to the south. He hiked through the thick-forested hills all day resting on a rock just after dusk. The birds had roosted for the night but the crickets hadn’t started chirping, so the forest was quiet. A sudden stamping in the leaf litter just out of sight startled the old sorcerer. The snorting face of a massive wild boar, tusks slashing the air side to side, burst through the gloom coming straight at the old wizard. The beast squealed spotting the old man and rushed at him. A herd of wild pigs followed close behind the hairy monster’s lead.

  Memlatec’s staff thrust up, its crowning crystal glowing. But the charging boar lowered his head with gaping mouth and eyes red in the crystal’s light.

  “Back!”

  With tusks hacking left and right like swirling sickles in a grain field, the boar showed no fear. Grunting defiance, he charged Memlatec’s leg. Light flashed from the crystal shooting a pulse into the boar’s face. Smoke rose from burning flesh. A yellowed tusk cut the edge of Memlatec’s robe and grazed his leg. With a squeal, the beast jolted, turned, and raced away. Warm blood trickled down the magician’s ankle as the boar led the herd aside and on into the murky forest.

  What’s that? Memlatec thought. Did I glimpse a ghoul or troll directing the swine from the shadows.

  The old man stood firm, legs apart with staff glowing, ready for another charge but none came. As the night creatures stirred, and the last of the cicadas drummed their calls, Memlatec hiked on to his destination guided by the light of his staff’s crystal.

  An hour after midnight, his journey brought him to an abrupt clearing surrounding a mile long chasm opened in ages past. Jagged cliff walls, silver in the moonlight, gaped naked as a slash in the verdant forest. Exhausted and having missed the moon’s peak midnight strength, Memlatec bedded down. He awoke the next morning to the sounds of cracking sticks and crunching gravel.

  Two dusty bearded prospectors with walking sticks and rock hammers approached the edge of the chasm without seeing the wizard. They chatted about something he couldn’t hear, then one slammed his hammer into the rock. Memlatec rose to warn them, but it was already too late. One prospector was tying off a rope on a tree trunk while the other was engrossed in chipping samples at the cliff edge. At first, neither noticed the pebbles around them jostle. Then a violent shudder sent both men to the ground. Rocks rolled about like tumbleweeds.

  “What is it?” the first man yelled to his companion.

  The second man was sprawled on the ground mesmerized, as the wall of the crevasse seemed to groan. The cliff itself screeched, scraping and banging as the edge tore away. The dusty gray stone morphed into organic rock assuming the shape of a multi-tendrilled dragon whose long narrow body peeled away from the fissure’s lip. As the dragon formed, her eyes coalesced into orbs of deep red jasper staring down at the gasping men. The dragon’s head whipped up in the air, hissing a breath of dust.

  The man with the rock hammer struggled to stand, but the dragon, still half cliff edge and half beast, shot her head down, brushing the man over the edge to his death. The second man stood and staggered backward, his head shook side to side in a desperate voiceless display of disbelief. The great stone beast’s head lunged, snatched him in her jaws and flung him over the cliff as well. Removing the parasites appeased the dragon’s wrath and she began to meld back into the rock face of the cliff’s edge.

  “Frieda, you must temper your anger,” Memlatec said approaching the grumbling creature.

  The snorting dragonhead shot back at the wizard. “It’s been a long time since you came to visit us here, Memlatec.”

  “I’ve been very busy, do forgive my absence. It seems you are as combative as ever, old friend.”

  Frieda glanced back at the spot where the prospectors disappeared. “None shall pass into this abyss save by my allowance. Those two meant only to hack me up and steal my fragments.”

  “We primal beings are disappearing,” Memlatec said. “We cannot hold back their numbers.”

  “Those two won’t make any more problems for us,” the dragon’s coarse voice mumbled. “You came for some reason other than to chat with me. What brings you to this forgotten outpost?”

  “I seek Kak to help guard a boy.”

  The reptile’s throat rumbled. Gravel toppled into the fissure. “Boys… future men with rock hammers, you mean. Kak may be the last of his kind. I’ll not have mankind disturbing him.”

  “We can’t turn back time, Frieda.”

  “Seek him at midnight if you wish to communicate with the diminutive sprite. He doesn’t appear for anyone except in strong moonlight. He might meet with you... might, I said.”

  “Rest easy, old girl,’ Memlatec said.

  The dragon snorted and reclined her head back against the cliff edge, morphing back into the stone wall.

  Later, in the light of the rising moon, Memlatec stood at the cliff edge, where a pebble rolled by his foot. A tremor beneath his feet suggested Frieda shifted, but she remained stone. He took the better part of the evening working his way down the slope over jagged rocks that crumbled without warning. Near the bottom, he located his objective: a triangle of three entwined, arching oaks encasing a deep carpet of emerald green moss in ancient woods. He entered the space and drank at its bubbling spring. Only the trickling of water and one lone croaking tree frog disturbed the silver night.

  Memlatec studied the slight cleft in the stone wall by the spring and then the moonlight that filtered through the tree canopy. He adjusted his staff until a beam shot through the staff’s crystal, illuminating the shadowed crack in the rock.

  “Will you speak with me, Kak?” Memlatec asked.

  “Go away,” a voice, from within the crevice, said.

  “Forgive me for disturbing your solitude, Kak, but I need to speak with you.”

  “You didn’t come to chat, old wizard, you want something.”

  “The Dark Lord rises once again. Our only hope, a youth, is in grave danger. I need you to help watch over him.”

  “You want me to interfere in the affairs of men. Frieda and I have no wish to mingle with humanity.”

  “The evil will swallow all Powteros if harm comes to this young man. I need your help.”

  There was a long silence before Memlatec noted a shimmer slipping from the cracked rock. The reclusive miniature elf materialized and sat on a smooth boulder by the spring.

  “A boy you say.”

  “Indeed,” Memlatec responded.

  “Why would you, a primal wizard, need me to protect a boy?”

  “I can’t hover over the prince at all times without drawing more dangerous attention to him. You, on the other hand, can play with him, yet remain out of sight, keeping your eye out for danger.”

  “This danger… it’s serious or you wouldn’t have come seeking my help,” Kak said.

  “The boy’s aunt, the deposed queen, blames his mother for forcing the former king to abdicate. The uncle was hopelessly corrupt and the witch aunt, a soulless social climber. Together they alienated the nobility and populace bringing about their own downfall. Earwig, the former queen, has turned to witchcraft for ven
geance. She seeks to wipe out the royal family, Prince Saxthor in particular, hoping to regain the throne.”

  Kak munched on a mushroom. “The queen should execute this Witch Earwig.”

  “The queen transferred her devotion for her father, old King Minnabec, to her brother, the deposed king. Her sense of filial devotion prevents her from accepting her brother and sister-in-law’s flaws. She thinks her sister-in-law plays with magic as a game. Without proof, we can’t convince the queen her children are in danger.”

  “So you want me to be this Prince Saxthor’s unseen watchdog?”

  “Yes.”

  Kak’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll do it for the boy’s sake, but you owe me.”

  Memlatec nodded confirming the bargain, but the elf’s grin left open the debt.

  *

  Two days later, scrunch-faced and introspective, Memlatec paced his tower workroom in late afternoon. The muffled scratching of dust under foot counted time’s passage. Tournak was putting away a consignment of magical ingredients careful not to disturb the wizard’s thoughts.

  Memlatec halted. “This morning I came upon Earwig hunched cat-like, poised to pounce. Her eyes focused on Saxthor as if he were a mouse.”

  Tournak turned to Memlatec. “She’s plotting his demise already.”

  “Not knowing what the power is, or its magnitude, intensifies the threat to the witch. The spittle in the corner of her mouth made her appear even more vicious.”

  “What’re you going to do? Kak can’t watch over Saxthor day and night either.”

  “Saxthor is closest to his dog, Battara, and she’s with him all the time,” Memlatec said. “I’ve enhanced her visionary power to guard Saxthor. Through the pet, I should sense threats to the boy. I just hope Kak and Battara can prevent or alert me to trouble in time to intercede.”

  Tournak’s knuckles turned white gripping a small crate. The old wizard walked to the balcony where the setting sun’s warmth soothed his mental chill. He contemplated Konnotan and the royal palace, fingers drumming on the stone balustrade.