Here Be Dragons

By Steven W. White

"How do you turn the tables on a critter that can fly and shoot fire?"

Lisandra Jurgen has returned to Mira on a critical mission: to find the exiled dragon Ormir.

But only Bogg knows where he is!

The truce between dragons and men has unraveled and Ormir holds the key to preventing all dragons from declaring war on humankind. Bogg and Simon lead Lisandra and her mysterious companion, the Sorceress, into the Miran wilderness in search of the dragon's cave.

But the Sorceress has secrets of her own, and nothing is as it seems.

Can the mountain man and his nephew survive a confrontation with the great wyrm Ormir and save the world from destruction by dragonfire?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven W. White
• Release date: Jan 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463573044

Steven W. White

Steven W. White has written science fiction and fantasy since he was a teenager. Along the way, he's been a Christmas tree farmer, a rocket scientist, and a snake handler. Lately, he's earned a Fiction MFA from the Northwest Institute of Literary Arts on Whidbey Island, Washington. He writes, teaches, and occasionally plays with fire in the Pacific Northwest.

Book preview

Chapter 2

Simon Jones lived alone in his father's house. It was a simple structure on a narrow side street up a short hill from the wharf. Oliver Jones's printing press was still in the basement, and Simon used it now and then to print the work of various writers in Fort Sanctuary. A pamphlet here, an almanac there. His own book on the language of the vivets was not yet finished.

He had set it aside for a new project. He worked at his father's table, pacing around it, marking the routes of vessels on the nautical maps spread across the smooth wood. Maps of Driftwood Bay, and more detailed maps of Keelkicker Shallows.

Simon wanted to find the wreck of the Maleolus.

Under the flag of the blue unicorn, Tyrus Jurgen had preyed on countless victims in that bay. His ship had run aground and sunk, stranding him and his mercenaries not far from here, setting in motion a wheel of fate that might never stop turning. The rogue vessel slipped beneath the waves, its crew lost. Knowledge of its final resting place died with Tyrus in Rastaban when Simon drove Blodleter through his heart.

The treasure stolen from a dozen ships, maybe more, lay in shallow water… somewhere on this map. Simon leaned over the heavy parchment. If he could find the location, if he could recover the gold, maybe he could undo some of the harm Tyrus had done. There had to be survivors, rightful owners of all that treasure. Simon needed to help them if possible, and help the families of those lost. He needed to erase whatever he could of Tyrus Jurgen's legacy.

Finding the wreck was proving difficult. The last attack of the Maleolus was confirmed by a witness aboard the Sept Star, who had been the only one to survive. That gave Simon a vague location. But a few days after that, the Quickwind had vanished mysteriously with all hands, laden with gold panned from Molly's Ravine. Its last known location had been a quiet stretch of sea between Fever Island and Spire Island.

Could that have been Tyrus's work? Bogg thought so, but Simon didn't know.

A heavy banging came from the front door.

Simon's breath caught in his throat – the sound was just what he had heard the day his father died. Simon steeled himself, rose from his maps, and called, Who is it?

Simon Jones! I've found you!

He knew that voice. The irony of Tyrus's sister hammering on that door vanished under the necessity of decision. Would he dare open it, or slip away out the back?

Why was she here? To haul him to Algolus in chains? Had his clemency been revoked? It didn't matter. Simon knew the fate of men who tried to escape from Lisandra Jurgen. He strode across the floor of his home, turned the lock, and opened the door.

In the cold light of morning, Lisandra stood on his stoop. She wore a chain mail byrnie under an expensive-looking green cloak. The leather-wrapped handle of a weapon – a mace, no doubt – jutted over her shoulder.

How did you…? he began.

How did I find you? she said. With this. She held up the lock of hair she had cut from his head last year. How did I cross the sea in such weather? She waved an arm behind her, gesturing at the sky's grim blanket of gray clouds. With great difficulty.

I meant… Simon spotted someone else outside. A woman in a red cloak with a hood obscuring her face. He could see a fragile chin and slender neck. She seemed young, but frail. She stood well back, but was clearly Algolan, and had to be with Lisandra. I meant, how did you get past the gate?

Bribery, Lisandra said simply. We must talk, Mr. Jones. May I come in?

Am I under arrest?

She smiled with genuine mirth, and Simon relaxed.

No, my boy. I need your help.

He believed her. He stepped aside, and the sister of Tyrus Jurgen entered his father's home. She paid no mind to the red-cloaked woman outside, as if she were invisible.

Is that your friend? Simon asked.

You will meet her soon enough.

Simon closed the door, leaving the stranger outside. He wasn't used to guests. I don't have much to offer you. The water's not always safe to drink. I have some beer.

No, thank you.

Simon watched her slip off her cloak, cross the room and sit at his table. Her hair was tightly braided, a style that was simple and efficient, and Simon guessed, not the latest Algolan fashion. She carried herself with the same pride, moved with the same boldness.

You haven't changed, he said.

Indeed I have. I was appointed Governor of Galton's Island. My position in the Royal Guard has become more honorary than anything else. I've learned to sail. I'm abroad constantly. That island…

The island of the singing trees. Simon sat at the table beside her. I read reports of what you found there.

And do you follow news of that island?

He shrugged. Not much information makes it all the way to Mira. It's hard to know what's reliable.

I've always wondered, she said, how you knew it was there.

Simon remembered the World Cave, dark and wet. He remembered wading among its continents. The vivets knew it was there. I'm not sure how.

In all the records of all the nations of Algolus, there is not even a legend of that island.

Extraordinary, Simon thought. How could the World Cave have been created? Was it built by a lost vivet civilization that spanned the world? Or did it belong to the Wild Man? Who could have explored the entire world and then… vanished? Or forgotten their discoveries?

It was disheartening. Simon wondered about the lost secrets of long-dead ancestors. But whose ancestors? Lisandra, is this really about that island? I'm not sure what I can do for you.

She leaned forward. You can take me to your uncle. He is the one I seek.

Bogg? Simon laughed.

"I do not jest! If I had a lock of his hair, I would never have knocked on that door!"

But you hate Bogg.

Indeed, but–

And Bogg hates you.

Lisandra's fist hammered the table, pounding the map of Driftwood Bay. I know these facts, Jones, as you would know a boil on your arse! But your insufferable uncle has the information I seek!

Simon stared at her, astounded. He thought of her journey, of Algolus, of the World Cave, of the island of the singing trees. What could he possibly know?

He, Lisandra said, has met the dragon called Ormir.

Chapter 3

Bogg… and a dragon. Simon remembered his days with Bogg on their trek to the Hestern Sea. As Simon rode Hummock across the nameless plains hest of the Starry Mountains, Bogg had led the way and called back to him, telling tales of rare encounters and fearsome critters. Splintercats and thunderbirds, hoopsnakes and argopelters.

Simon had been so little then. Bogg, he had asked. What's the strangest creature you've ever seen?

Bogg had given it a good think. There were so many contenders. Finally, he told of blundering into the cave of a dragon in exile, of a wager and a duel. And then a flight on its back, high as the clouds, to Spying Scarp and his confrontation with Tyrus on the beach at Pirate Bay.

Even then, Simon had the sense that Bogg liked telling that story.

Lisandra watched Simon in his reverie. He told you, too, she said.

Simon let his face go blank. There are no dragons in Mira.

Don't try that with me! You must take me to Bogg, wherever he is.

Why? Simon asked. Even if I did, he would only laugh at you.

Where is he? Lisandra demanded. Whatever woods he's wandering in, whatever rodent he hopes to snare, whatever rock he has made his home under, you must take me to him so he can show me this dragon cave.

Simon imagined greeting Bogg with this Algolan at his side. Lisandra was deadly. Did she secretly mean Bogg harm? Perhaps not, but she would blithely lead Bogg into danger if it suited her purpose. No, he said finally. It would be a betrayal.

Lisandra's face hardened. You seek to protect him from me.

That's right.

I can find him without you, you know. And I'll find that dragon without him, if I have to.

Simon smiled. Good old Lisandra. Nothing will stand in your way. But tell me… why would you want to go looking for a dragon? The worst possible outcome of your search might be success.

What?

You'll succeed in feeding yourself to it.

She considered him for a long moment. She looked down at her hand on the table. She wore a golden two-fingered ring, like a figure 8, with little gems set in it, on her left hand. Lisandra wearing jewelry? That wasn't like her.

She stood, crossed quickly to the front door, and pulled it open. Come in.

Lisandra stepped back, and the woman in the red cloak glided into his home. She moved quietly, the cloak hiding her feet and flowing over the floorboards in a way that made him think of blood. Her arms were folded and her hands disappeared into the wide red sleeves. She carried no weapons or gear, except a small rolled tent or tarpaulin on her back. It was also red. She did not come to the table, but stood by the hearth, where coals from the night before still glowed dimly.

This is the Sorceress, Lisandra said. She can tell you of our plight better than I.

I am no mere thaumaturge, the Sorceress began. Her voice was a raspy whisper. I have known the dragons of Algolus all my life, and a long life that has been. The relationship between dragons and men has always been fragile, each side using the other as a weapon for leverage in internal disputes. The empires of men have ridden dragons into battle against each other for centuries, and paid well for the privilege. Men know that dragons must not be crossed lightly, and dragons know that men must not be terrorized, lest they rise in unruly hordes to defend themselves. Men on one side. Dragons on the other. And the scales must always be balanced.

Her voice seemed to draw the air from the room. Simon felt as if he couldn't speak.

The island found by Lisandra Jurgen, she went on, has its place in dragon legend. Tales in wyrmtongue describe a distant land where the trees sing and where dragons may always find sanctuary. Now, men have trampled and defiled this sanctuary. The scales are out of balance. The dragons no longer fear the hordes of men. There are whispers of war.

Simon found his voice. War? Between dragons and…?

Between dragons, Lisandra said, and all the Empires of Algolus.

Simon drew in a slow breath. And Mira?

Jones! Lisandra stood, nearly toppling her chair. You may hail from this land of monsters and savages, but your grandparents were Algolan!

That's true, he said calmly.

And a thousand skirmishes over the centuries is not a war, Lisandra said. If the dragons truly decide to purge the world of men, do you think they will stop at the shores of Algolus? You will feel their fire yet!

Simon couldn't help but picture Fort Sanctuary in flames. He took a moment to think. You must capitulate. Abandon the island, if necessary. How does Ormir play into this?

Negotiations are under way, said the Sorceress, but it is difficult. Some dragons are willing to honor the old treaties. Others want to fight. A rift runs through dragonkind. Ormir was exiled for slaughtering his rider. He has always been a separatist, and he remains a hero among those who would fight. They believe his exile to be unjust. Of the dragons that would fight, he would make a formidable warrior. A general. They would follow him into battle, no matter the danger.

That sounds bad, Simon ventured. You've come to… what?

I have the authority, said the Sorceress, to commute his sentence.

I see. You hope to win him over.

Releasing Ormir from his exile will be a peace offering. We hope to close the rift. To balance the scales.

Simon watched the Sorceress for a moment. And you need Bogg to lead you to him. So this is an expedition.

That's right, Lisandra said. We need his unique services as a guide. Nothing more.

And when we find Ormir, we give the old wyrm good news. He leaves Mira. And the war is prevented.

Lisandra nodded. That's the idea, Jones.

Simon stood up. That… has a lot of appeal, actually.

Glad you're aboard. Now, lead us to Bogg, or at least, tell us which forsaken wilderness he'd last been seen in.

Simon smiled. Well, he never came home last night. So he's probably still at the Mermaid.

Chapter 4

Lisandra walked down Fort Sanctuary's main street with the boy at her side and the Sorceress a dozen steps behind. The sun was almost up and the sky was clear and blue, and while delicate frost still clung to the frozen mud in the street, it promised to be a pleasant day.

The Mermaid is a nice place, Jones said. My father used to meet clients there. The thing is, that's in the afternoons and evenings.

We have pubs in Algolus, Jones.

So you know that by sunrise, they can get a little...

Was he concerned for her safety? She stifled the urge to cuff him on the ear. I can handle myself.

It's them I'm worried about.

That was better. She smiled. I'll try not to rough up your neighbors too much.

He did not relax. There won't be anyone there at this hour but sailors on shore leave, and a few hooligans and vagabonds. This could be memorable.

She heard the roar of a crowd inside before she reached the door. Stay behind me.

Not sure how they'll take an Algolan...

Lisandra pushed open the door and they entered the wide, dark, deafening pub, the boy directly behind her. The Sorceress remained on the street.

The smell of mead and ale came to her immediately, followed by the weaker odors of bile and sweat. Her eyes adjusted… the long tables and benches had been pushed aside, making a wide clear space. A raucous audience had encircled two enormous men and a dwarf. There was a lot of pointing and taunting…

Then one man – he had to be seven feet tall – dropped a fistful of coins into the dwarf's hands. The stout little fellow pocketed the coins, stroked his impressive black beard, and lifted his arms.

The seven-foot man picked up the dwarf and threw him across the room.

The circle of men came together to catch the dwarf and set him gently on his feet as everyone roared.

Lisandra made a sour face. Dwarf-tossing.

The tall man had apparently broken the distance record, because the other competitor angrily handed over quite a few coins to him.

Her target was not in the crowd. She searched and listened. The deep rumble of Mr. Bogg's voice came from a distant corner.

She and Simon circled the men and squeezed between the displaced tables, past three men throwing knives at a painting of a red rhino on the wall, to a single undisturbed table in the corner. There were five men here, all listening with steins of ale and rapt attention to a sixth man.

Bogg.

He looked as he had a year ago, but cleaner and healed of the wounds she had given him. He wore trousers and a cotton shirt, rather than the deerskin she remembered. His hair had grown to his shoulder and his beard was long and full as always, the color of sand and salt. And that ain't the only thing peculiar about the Hestern Coast, he declared, his voice slurring. There's more than one type of critter over there that don't live over here.

Like what? a young listener with the earrings and tattoos of a sailor demanded.

Bogg thoughtfully drummed his fingers on an immense pewter mug. There's geese that lay golden eggs.

The men laughed. That so? the young man asked.

Indeedy. Me and the pup encountered more than one in the marshes upstream from the Hestern Sea. We went hunting for such a goose at one point, on account of being captured by pirates.

Pirates?

Bogg nodded, playing the sage. It's commonly reckoned that there ain't no people over there, but pirates hide out in the bays on the hest side of Mira for rest and repair. So the pup and I see a ship off the coast, and afore we can slip away, we git scooped up. If you find the notion of pirates surprising, imagine how surprised they were to see us. Simon told them of the geese, jest palavering, and the captain lit right up. Ordered us to go fetch one.

I don't believe any of this, the young man said.

That's your lookout. So the pup and I, we trampoosed upstream looking for geese with a buck-party of these ackruffs armed with talking irons aback of us. We found one, and sure enough, it laid an egg for the captain.

That was thoughtful of it, said the young man.

Bogg glared at him. It weren't so fortunate for us. Pirate captives got no use for golden eggs. So the pup tells the captain to cut the goose open. Git all the eggs at once.

The men laughed.

Now, this captain was savagerous, but ruther squirrel-headed. And the pup had seen these geese swallering river stones and such, and reckoned their gizzards is hot enough to smelt them like ore. The gold builds up, little by little, until out comes the egg.

And what did the captain do? asked the young man.

Bogg smiled, showing that gap left by a missing tooth. He fell for it. You ever reach into a smelting furnace?

No.

Well, the captain did that day. And that's how we gave the pirates the slip. Now, tie one to that!

The men laughed and fired questions at him.

Wait… what happened?

It burned his hand off?

This is the dumbest story I've ever heard.

How can a goose smelt gold in its innards?

Why didn't you bring one of them geese back?

Bogg leapt on this last one. Because the gold comes from the stones along that stream, through that marsh! If you bring such a goose to Fort Sanctuary and feed it regular, it'll jest lay regular eggs.

Sure, sure.

I'll bring the pup in here some time to make it clear to you. I'll… Bogg looked up from his audience and saw the boy. His deeply inebriated blue eyes twinkled. Well, Godzooks! If it ain't my trusty traveling companion!

Then Bogg spotted Lisandra. Blood and thunder! He scowled at her and his jaw worked back and forth, swaying the blond-and-silver hairs of his beard. Major! I thought I was free of this raspberry seed between my teeth.

Bogg, Simon began, Lisandra is here on an important mission.

No doubt! Bogg said. Who's she planning to shackle this time?

We meet again, Mr. Bogg... Lisandra began. Bogg's audience had gone coldly silent. Their eyes were on her, clearly aware that an Algolan was in their midst. She ignored them and continued. I have a proposal for you. I want to hire you as a guide. I'll tell you the details, but not here.

There are some weevils in that cotton. I have an answer for you, Major–

Bogg, Simon said. Hear her out.

It wasn't just the men at the table staring at her. The knife throwers had stopped, and the commotion among the dwarf-tossing match had died down.

Bogg, Simon said. Let's take a walk.

The mountain man's eyes darted about. Lisandra had been in enough brawls to know that he was calculating his odds against the mob that was forming. That'll answer, he said. He rose and wobbled toward the door. Lisandra stayed close to him, and Simon followed her.

A man with a knife near the red rhino target moved to confront her. She turned toward him, ready to throw him down. She didn't reach for the mace on her back – the pub was likely full of weapons, and she didn't want a massacre – so she squared off against him bare-handed. Suddenly face-to-face, he seemed to realize that she was a nose taller than he was, and as he glared up at her, the billow went out of his sails. His fierce gaze shifted away and his body melted back, his weight on his heels.

His mates around him had been watching her, but when he gave the signs of backing off, they looked at him. There was a palpable shifting of