The Tales of Draco: Cassius to Krigsansby

By Jordan B. Jolley and Marissa Durfee

In Cassius to Krigsansby, book three of The Tales of Draco, Jacob and Clipper must rally the Militia to finish their quest once and for all if the nightmare on the first earth is to end. General Czar seeks to

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminare Press
• Release date: Feb 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798886795004

Book preview

‘Remains’

The cover art for this book is from an acrylic painting by my sister, Marissa Mae Durfee. She told me that the skull of the unicorn represents the idea that magical creatures—such as unicorns, dragons, nymphs, and fairies—have and still live on this earth as they do in Elsov, as you will soon find out in this book. Special thanks to her for sharing her artistic talents.

BOOK I

The Liberation

CHAPTER 1

The Taming Of The Cow

I stood atop the balcony in the highest tower of the castle; there I peered out over the mountainous horizon bathed in twilight’s colors. I wasn’t all that taken in with the scenery, and after a quick scratch on my neck, I retired into the chamber. Strange—I thought—this place seemed so familiar, but where have I seen it before? Stupefied, I went back out to the balcony to see if the land itself seemed familiar. It definitely was—that rugged, steep mountainside dotted with sagebrush and junipers. There was nothing to see beyond that. I sniffed the air to see if that at all aroused any memories, but that didn’t help either. I couldn’t tell if I was on his island or not. I hoped that wasn’t the case; I could not bear to think about Vesuvius or his realm at such a time, not after what I had been through with him.

This dry land reminded me too much of him, so I went back into the chamber. It was clear I was alone—no friends, no enemies, no one. Luckily, the door opposite the balcony was slightly ajar. I approached it and lightly bumped it open, and from there I descended the tight, spiral staircase till I reached a dark corridor. The darkness was no adversary of mine. I walked casually past several doors that I did not bother to inspect; I was too interested in taking the upcoming right turn. But before I reached it, I was stopped by a cry that addressed me by name:

Jacob, come quickly!

I brought up my pace as I rounded the turn.

Jacob, please come quickly! called the poor soul.

I believed the voice belonged to some young woman. Whoever it was, she did not sound distressed, yet urgent all the same. I could not spread my wings in such a tight space, but I wished I could fly because my legs felt like they were encased in stone.

Jacob, please come! the voice cried again.

I’m on my way! I responded.

As sluggish as I was, I couldn’t help planting my feet against the polished floor as I came to another corner. That proved to be a mistake, though—I slid along the floor for several feet before crashing into the wall. I felt no pain—I felt nothing at all; and when my vision cleared, I saw before me a fairy, glowing in a pleasing yellow light. She was not floating in the air as I had often seen fairies do, but rather her wings draped over her back while her bare feet rested on the floor. Having performed such unappealing acrobatics in front of her, I cowered a little in embarrassment, which only seemed to amuse her. She giggled for a moment before growing serious again.

Why did you bring me here? I asked her.

You have three friends who are seeking you now, she said.

I wondered what she meant. Do you mean Clipper and—who else? Fenson? Bluepond?

Not in this case. One of these friends is one who had recently departed to Elsov. She misses you.

Sally? I began to feel uneasy.

Yes. She and Razden are not in harm’s way for now, but she is in a dangerous land. They will stay safe if they are wise enough.

How do you know all this? I asked.

"Never mind that, Jacob. What’s important now is that she and Razden remain hidden in the city of Maria, where King Vesuvius dwells. But if she is discovered, and found a traitor in the Vesuvian Court, she will face a terrible punishment.

My heart broke upon hearing this. I need to help her! I exclaimed. Where is she in this city? I’ll find her and Razden!

The fairy held up her hand. Peace, Jacob. You cannot help her now. The best thing you can do is find the last pieces of the Elsovian portal. Until then, Sally and Razden must leave Maria in secret if they are to not be found.

I sat on the floor in silence, trying to comprehend this news given to me. I could only imagine what could be going through Sally’s mind at that moment. She, a lightscale in being but human in spirit, trapped in a world she knew too little about, and in a city of people who would display utmost hatred if she were found out!

She wants to go home, said the fairy.

I don’t blame her, I replied, sighing. Like you said, the best thing I can do for her is find the last two pieces. I’ll find Sally and bring her home, same with Razden.

The fairy smiled. You are a good dragon, Jacob. Your soul is brighter than the sun.

I bashfully turned away; I was always shy around fairies. But then something struck my mind: Who is this third friend, then? Before the fairy could answer, I suggested, Chang?

Yes, she said.

My tail curled round my leg in response to my heart beating faster. Chang? I thought he was safe. I mean, he left for home after what had happened on Mt. Ellen. Did something happen to him?

The fairy gave no vocal answer. She turned and, spreading her wings, floated like a passionate spirit down the corridor, toward another flight of stairs. I attempted to follow, but again struggled with stiff legs. She was out of sight, but her light was still visible. By the time I reached the stairs, I slid down them as if I were finally flying. But upon reaching the bottom, I could not see the fairy anywhere.

Wait! What happened to Chang? I called.

It was not her voice that answered, but someone—or something—else, replying with, shall I say, an impish laughter—not unlike the style one would expect to hear from a mischievous leprechaun. There was no way to locate this laugh either, for it bounced off the walls all around me. I continued to run down the corridor. This time I felt like I was running on ice rather than with stiff legs. After finding another yellowish light, I turned the corner toward it. The fairy was not there, but Chang. He stood at a dead end in the corridor, staring directly at the opposite wall. He seemed to be unaware of my presence. Here, the impish laugh grew in volume. I looked around to find wherever it was coming from, but again found nothing. When I set my eyes back on Chang, I noticed he was wearing the same clothes he had on the last time I saw him, except they were all torn as if he had been attacked by a ferocious beast. He did not seem wounded, thankfully, which calmed me a little.

Chang, it’s me, Jacob. What happened to you? I asked.

He did not answer, but rather placed his right hand on the wall in front of him. He then turned around, though he seemed to be staring right through me.

Chang, it’s me, I said again.

He did not respond. I was beginning to believe I was nothing more than a ghost to him. Then he looked down at his bare feet. That irritating laugh was getting louder still, causing me to growl. I again looked around for its source, when I suddenly discovered what Chang was looking at. Behind me, emitting a golden light not unlike the fairy’s, was a dazzling scepter that lay on a table. It was a Master Scepter, something I had not seen in nearly a year. It was a powerful tool for magic! Chang tilted his head as he continued to stare at it, then he went toward it, passing right through me. He reached out to touch the scepter, but then fell back whilst clutching his stomach. He rolled along the floor, crying in discomfort. I wanted to help him, even though I wasn’t able to. Then, much to my vexation, the laugh became so loud it felt like it was right at my ears. All I could do was watch Chang and hope not to burst in fury.

Help me! Somebody! It hurts! he cried.

It’s okay, Chang. I’m here, I said.

Chang continued to writhe about till he passed out. This only amused the invisible devil more. I couldn’t take it anymore; I bucked about and cast fire everywhere to hopefully get rid of it. The table never burned, but the scepter on top of it began to wriggle and roll, where it eventually rolled off the table and clattered onto the floor. It’s glow suddenly became as bright as the sun before forming a whirlwind round itself—it vanished in seconds, taking Chang with it.

Chang, what happened to you? I roared.

The stupid laughing finally ceased, though it was replaced by another voice—one that shook the entire castle: "I believe you need a lesson. Let this little battle of ours remind you that you are but a small force against me. Provoke me again, and you will experience something far worse than this…" What came next was the haunting cry of a young lightscale being mauled to death. Those words were spoken by Vesuvius. He had said them to me and Clipper as a warning what we could face should we return to Elsov and provoke him then. Following the lightscale’s death-cry, a sharp pain sprang into my side and then erupted throughout the rest of my body. I looked down at my paws. They quaked from the agony I was feeling. I could not bear it all and started to roar as a cry. I couldn’t move. I felt as if I were being stabbed by an ice blade many times over. I shook without control, which caused the laughing to return and with much more enthusiasm. I felt like I wanted to surrender to everything and die.

I woke with a terrible pressure on my chest. I opened my eyes to find myself lying on my back, and that some creature was sitting on my chest, directly over my heart. I didn’t get a clear look at it then, for the moment I noticed its presence, I twisted myself onto my feet. All that I could see was some little man, just a few feet tall and dressed in thick yellow wool. In a searing dosage of anger, I cast a ball of fire toward whatever it was; but when the flames cleared, there was no visual trace of the creature—not even footprints. I could only hear that same laughing that was in my dream.

Judging by the morning sun, I figured the time was somewhere between nine and eleven o’clock, considering it was December. That didn’t matter, though, since this was usually when I would wake after the night’s sleep. I was sniffing about the ground in a vain search for the strange creature when Clipper woke as well. He seemed to have had a better dream than mine.

Jacob, what’s going on? I heard you groaning, he said after a deep yawn.

I continued to sniff and search round our sleeping-spot, but still found nothing.

It was only a dream, I said. I keep worrying about Sally and Razden, I guess.

Clipper sighed. I know you how feel, but I’m confident she’s fine for now. What more can we do for her other than building the portal?

I thought about what the fairy had told me, about how Sally was in Vesuvius’s land. That alone caused me to worry, but the fairy also assured me she was safe. I ultimately believed it was a meaningless dream, so I did not bother to mention much of it.

She’ll pull through, I said. You know how clever she is.

Since I was already up and wide-awake, I took the opportunity to look over the parts we had to the portal: platform, diamond, and staff were all there where Clipper had left them. Good.

Should we scout around the area or see if Fenson got Bloodgutt yet? I offered.

Clipper looked up at the sky, which was partially clouded. I’d like to eat something first, he said. After that we can scout. I hope Fenson can get Bloodgutt back today. I’m sick of chasing her around and getting nothing out of it.

Clipper was eager to leave, but I couldn’t help sitting back down. I couldn’t hold in the details of my dream any longer.

Where do you suppose Chang is right now? I asked.

I’m sure he’s safe back in California. Why?

Because—I had a dream about him. I was always uncomfortable when sharing my dreams, and stuttered while I shared this recent one.

I’ve had dreams like that, too, said Clipper. I think it’s because Chang’s not with us anymore. We don’t know what he’s doing any more than he does with us. Dreams usually don’t mean anything. Besides, I think we’re still trying to get over the shock with our deal with—Vesuvius.

I guess so, I replied, though I didn’t really mean it.

As mentioned above, we had indeed been tracking Bloodgutt the Unitaur for the last four weeks: me, Clipper, Fenson Katque, and the remaining Militiamen. One thing to remember is that though tracking a Minotaur is quite easy, luring her to you with trust is a much different deal—especially if you have had a violent history with the creature. There were two reasons why we were trying to peacefully coax her to us: firstly, she had the clue to the fifth piece of the portal, which I had discovered with the viewing ring a few days after leaving Mt. Ellen. It was only a piece of cloth like all the other clues we’ve seen, but Bloodgutt kept it with her as if it were as meaningful to her as her mallet. Secondly, Clipper and I couldn’t simply kill her for the clue. When we were considering it, a tribe of nymphs stopped us. Indeed they were nymphs native to the first earth! They said they were the Parügi-tamu’ani’mit¹ (derived from the Ute language), or, as our nymphs called them, thiriads: guardians of animals. Unlike the nymphs I had grown accustomed to, the Thiriads resembled various animals, with most coated with fur and some even feathers. They approached our militia when Oakley, one of our dryad scouts, discovered them. They wouldn’t have come to her had she not been using our albore to try to influence Bloodgutt, and, obviously, had she not been a fellow nymph. The Thiriads’ chieftain, Dila, said that we didn’t have to kill Bloodgutt for the clue. He proposed a deal that if we spared her life, his people would supply the Militia with food and warmth for our winter travels, as well as become reinforcements to replace the fallen militiamen. We and the Militia honored their request, and therefore we had continually followed Bloodgutt, as Clipper had put it, across the state. The Thiriads were nothing short of a miracle, in my opinion. Our survival was insured by them and by the nymphs of the Militia, as they were good hunters and gatherers. Thiriads hunted, for sure, but only when necessary (Does the coyote not hunt the hare for nourishment, or the hawk not hunt the mouse for nourishment? one of them told us). It was similar to how the Dryads didn’t mind utilizing deadwood for campfires.

Our army was replenished with hands and provisions. The nymphs continued to hunt game with their bows and arrows, but another concern of the Militia was that the ammunition for the dwarfs’ firearms were becoming scarce—at least arrows were easy to craft. But it was Konmester Trahern’s expertise that solved the bullet problem. One night, as we camped near a town just south of the Salt Lake Valley, Losdir appointed Bluepond to lead a small party of nymphs to a local scrap-yard where they gathered a load of discarded lead pipes. They brought their truck back to camp where the dwarfs built a large, hot fire. I should mention that when Trahern first organized his militia to come here, one of the things they brought with them from the supply shed were bullet molds designed for the caliber of their rifles. Fenson was able to melt down the metals in the hot fire and mold them into bullets. There were plenty of caps and gunpowder in store, and so the dwarfs successfully manufactured more ammunition for their weapons. They could not produce much, but at least we could manage should we be led into another skirmish. Luckily there was no hint of enemies those four weeks after the battle at Mt. Ellen. The spirits of the Militiamen were somewhat restored, but nobody forgot the souls who had fallen. Not all of our remaining men were fully healed either. Some continued to limp while others had lost fingers and toes in battle. One even had to get his entire arm amputated. The nymphs did what they could to nurse them and themselves, but they could not fully heal every wound.

We had seen much, our going remained dull, but we carried on. We had to. We were far from Mt. Ellen and the south-central desert, and were now in a canyon in the Wellsville Mountains of northern Utah. Since last night, we had been in a public campsite a few miles east of Brigham City that was closed for the winter. Things were looking up for us since we arrived here. Dila was on the verge of taming the ruthless Unitaur to the point of her giving up the precious strip of cloth. Our biggest concern, however, was her relation with me and Clipper. Having previously fought her and killed her friend Wildhorn, she did not take too kindly to us. We hoped that soon we could take the cloth and continue our search for the last two pieces—unfortunately, there was no sign of the piece itself through the viewing ring.

One more thing bothered us above all others: First of all, Clipper and I had come to notice that we had grown more sensitive to any sort of projecting energy. Whether we had had it all along as dragons and haven’t noticed it till now, or if it was a sensation that gradually strengthened within us, I can’t rightly say. All the same, we could practically feel, though to a small degree, electricity powering a town or even the earth’s magnetic field. But none of that compared to the sensation of magic. At times it felt like my bones were vibrating. There was undoubtedly great and terrible magic about. Bloodgutt was continually traveling north, as if she were leading us somewhere. Eventually, after we had passed by the Salt Lake Valley, we were approaching familiar to me and Clipper. Farther east of our current camp was Cache Valley, where the city of Logan was located. Clipper and I had fought the sorcerer Triathra in Logan last spring. To me, Bloodgutt seemed almost drawn there. What was worse was that Clipper, Reno, and I, upon approaching Brigham City, discovered a massive pale-green cloud of some sort obscuring any view of Cache Valley and Logan herself like a great veil. No one in the Militia or our dragon party had yet gone through that veil, but I was quite confident that that was where we were meant to go. The overwhelming sense of sorcery originated there.

As Clipper and I rubbed the sleep out of our eyes that morning, Reno came from above and landed between us. She had not smiled once since she lost Razden during the battle at Mt. Ellen, but I had since seen hope in her eyes.

How’s the Militia? Clipper asked her.

The little brown darkscale fell onto her side, breathing heavily. Losdir and Trahern want to see you both. He says he has a mission for you.

What sort of mission? I inquired lightly.

I don’t know. I’ll keep an eye on the pieces while you go.

Clipper and I both thanked her before leaving our designated campsite. While on the trail, a sweet mix of music from the harmonicas and lutes being played by the dwarfs, and the flutes and panpipes being played by the nymphs, certainly kept our morale high, especially now that we had reinforcements. We traveled up the trail a few dozen yards before reaching another campsite where the two commanders took residence to discuss potential military matters by an open fire (the dwarfs and nymphs of the Militia kindly dwelt in their own sites as well, save for Fenson and Bluepond, who stayed together). They were sitting at a picnic table with a map of Utah which they had acquired from a good Samaritan.

Reno said you wanted to see us? said Clipper.

Yes, answered Losdir. He quickly brought the viewing ring from his pocket and set it on the table. Fenson and Bluepond are out again, trying their go with old Bloodgutt. They sent a nymph to tell me that they are close to fully taming the creature, save for one final push to trust.

And what’s that? I asked.

The beast never said anything to us, said Trahern, but the Thiriads say she won’t give up the cloth unless she feels safe with every one of us in the Militia.

And that includes you two, finished the Kuslan.

Clipper and I looked doubtfully at each other. We both knew too well that the Unitaur still hated us, especially me.

Did the Thiriads tell you what we need to do? I asked. I mean, they have to have communicated thoroughly with Bloodgutt. Will she know we want a truce?

She does know, said Losdir, but don’t use the word ‘tame’ around the Thiriads. They don’t prefer that. According to the one who reported this to us, Fenson and Bluepond are with her, about a mile down the highway. Dila is also there, so speak with him.

And remember, especially you, Jacob, continued Trahern, don’t show any sign of hostility; that includes scent.

I groaned in response, but willfully agreed. I’ll be on my best behavior, I joked.

Losdir smiled at my joke, but Trahern gave no reaction. I feel it necessary to say here that Trahern’s character had changed quite a bit since the battle at Mt. Ellen: he rarely, if at all, smiled, and at times he would snap at his men for no reason, only to immediately apologize and seclude himself from the marching line. I didn’t know his exact thoughts, but I could tell that he no longer wanted to be on this mission, and it wasn’t just homesickness. He was greatly stressed about something else, as if he were afraid the state of his home would be in ruin when he got home. I inquired of him about it one night, but he only told me he would rather not talk about it, though occasionally I would hear him mutter something about an election. Trahern was head-of-state in the Republic of Chantanoga, and he didn’t quite expect this adventure in the dream-world (as he called the first earth) would take as long as it had. But all the same he did not shirk his duties as Commander of the Militia, and I admired him for that.

Clipper and I thought it a good idea not to fly to Bloodgutt, lest she took such an arrival as a sign of intimidation. So rather, we walked. Being a mile, neither of us minded. Very quickly the smell of Minotaur came into my nostrils, and very quickly did it become so potent. Luckily, I didn’t smell any pheromones of hostility from her, but rather—not exactly fear—a minor anxiety. It was easy to sympathize with that, as I felt the same way. I only hoped I could keep my temper in control, something that continued to worry me. Soon enough, we found a disparity of footprints going up a short but steep slope. I could hear Bloodgutt’s grunts by then.

How can we approach without surprising her? I whispered to Clipper.

I figured a mild yet draconic noise would do the trick. In a call of mutuality, I created a sort of whistle followed by a chirp. I made the call several times, hoping that Bloodgutt would know it was us without becoming aggravated. As we began our way up the steep slope, the thiriad chieftain, Dila, appeared above us.

She knows you are here, he said quietly. She is nervous, so come carefully.

Once we reached the top of the slope, we finally beheld Bloodgutt, with Fenson standing a few feet from her flank. The last time we were in such close proximity with one another, we were bent on killing each other. I could not forget that, and Bloodgutt surely didn’t either. She stared at me with a deep cross in her brow; she was asserting dominance. As much as the darkscale in me hated to submit, I looked down toward her feet. I wanted to smile when I heard a soft low from my master. Fenson slowly approached Bloodgutt to take the cloth, but again the Unitaur bellowed and ordered him away.

She does not fully trust you yet, Dila translated to us. Clipper…

My friend followed my suit and refrained from looking Bloodgutt in the eye.

What do we do next? I muttered.

That is up to Bloodgutt, now, replied the wise nymph.

After a moment of long silence, Bloodgutt began to growl. She swung her arm in my direction. I believed she was making some sort of demand. Dila interpreted it for me: Jacob, she wants you to move back. She only wants Clipper to come forward.

I sighed and retreated a few steps. Clipper came forward till he was at the Unitaur’s feet.

Kneel, directed the Thiriad.

Clipper did so; then, much to my alarm, Bloodgutt lifted her mallet as if she were about to strike Clipper with a fatal blow. Clipper groaned anxiously.

Hold your ground, commanded the Thiriad.

Clipper did so. Bloodgutt slowly descended her mallet till it gently pressed down on his head, over his spikes and between his horns.

You are good, Clipper. You are free to rise and continue casual business.

Clipper sidestepped so that it was only me and the Unitaur. I attempted to take a step forward, but was stopped by her growl. I was beginning to feel annoyed, but I fought through such emotions.

She is testing your patience, explained Dila.

I can tell, I mumbled with a huff.

Bloodgutt did not like my tone. She growled again.

Jacob, stay quiet.

I did, but still the Unitaur did nothing. I then assumed she sensed my remaining vexation. To one this may seem insignificant, but I was in a silent but serious battle against the darkscale within me; all the while Dila continually petted Bloodgutt’s arm. He motioned to Fenson, prompting the dwarf to speak comfortingly to his subject:

Bloodgutt, he is a friend. No fight. No fight.

Take another step, Jacob, said Dila. Convince that you do not want to fight.

I did, but Bloodgutt growled again.

Bloodgutt, that’s not nice, said Fenson, firmly yet gently. Stand down. Stand down.

The Unitaur sighed. I took another step forward. She was nervous, but she did not growl this time. As she cooperated, it was much easier for me to keep myself from any reckless behavior. At last I was at her feet. I bent my front legs to kneel. Bloodgutt was clearly hesitant, but she finally tapped my head with her mallet. Both of us then sighed with relief.

All is well, said Dila happily. You see? No creature was harmed; no creature was killed. We are all animals, we must remember. The eagle, the bear, the grasshopper, the dragon, the human—we all may be bound under different races, but we are all subjects under the Great Spirit. Is that not wonderful?

It definitely is, I said. I meant it to be ironic at first, but I quickly came to agree with myself.

Fenson then approached the Unitaur once more. Bloodgutt, on fours, he commanded.

Though a little irritated, Bloodgutt did as she was told.

Bloodgutt, give me the cloth, said Fenson.

The Unitaur made some strange whine, sounding like a pouting child. She did not hesitate to give Fenson the cloth, though.

Thank you, he said. At ease.

Bloodgutt quickly righted to her bipedal stance and cradled her precious little mallet, grateful she at least still had that. With the sought-after cloth now in his hands, Fenson couldn’t help but to cheer for his success.

Bring it to the commanders, Clipper suggested.

Fenson rolled up the cloth and slid it into his pocket before he and the Thiriad slid down the slope on their bottoms. Once they were out of the way, Clipper and I slid down on our feet. The four of us quickly ran back up the highway on our return journey. We were maybe a hundred feet or so from the camp’s entrance when the sound of an approaching car halted us.

An automobile? said Fenson. This will be the first one on this road since we came here.

I eyed Bloodgutt anxiously. We better get her off the road before it comes.

Dila and Fenson quickly went to work, and fortunately the humanoid cow obeyed without delay. Unfortunately, she was a large beast, and hiding her on such short notice would be a challenge. She answered the calls of dwarf and nymph and was soon off the highway’s shoulder, yet she remained in full sight when the car came in sight. Originally, I would have wanted to hide as well, but I didn’t feel it necessary at this point—many civilians knew we were here. Clipper and I, attempting to appear casual, stood on either shoulder and nodded at the driver. The car—which had a severely dented fender—slowed as it passed us. The driver’s window rolled down, revealing a young woman’s face. She was headed west, so she stared mostly at me and the unusual beast beyond. She did not seem fearful in the slightest, though, much to my surprise. She seemed only curious. A moment later she rolled up her window and resumed her journey.

That woman didn’t seem scared, I said to Clipper.

Maybe she saw us in Logan last spring, he wondered.

Or maybe she’s more worried about that green cloud, I said pessimistically.

There were no more vehicles on the highway, so we reentered the campsite with no trouble. When we did, Fenson chortled with joy.

We’ve got it! We’ve got the cloth!

The grounds suddenly came alive with hollers of excitement as the men and women of the Militia gathered round the table in the commanders’ site (Pierre remained absent, though; I assumed he was still asleep). Fenson arrived and slapped the cloth down on the picnic table.

Here it is! he proudly proclaimed.

Trahern and Losdir let the retriever have the honors of reading the clue, which was luckily in English this time:

A place of Sorcery; a place under false wisdom. Travel beyond Town-forty which is under the spell of the Lost Sun. The Second Staff is up the Strawberry.

Clipper fell onto his stomach and huffed. Any ideas? he said.

All I could say was a simple No.

We mustn’t be discouraged, said Trahern. This puzzle was meant for us to solve. These bullies are meant to be quelled.

Yes, but it may take time to solve it, said Losdir. It says a place of false wisdom, a Town-forty, and a spell of the Lost Sun. That veil over the next valley, do you suppose it has to do with the dark magic you are sensing, Jacob?

It wouldn’t surprise me, I said. Nothing will at this point. I was about to lay like Clipper, but a thought quickly passed my mind. Clipper, I rejoined, do you remember that map that led us to Preston?

Clipper sprang to his feet. To Monty’s scepter! Right! Forty! Forty kilometers! This is talking about Logan, and that’s just over the mountains!

Well, there you go! exclaimed Trahern, finally grinning. The rest of the Militia applauded and cheered.

And I feel confident of this mention of the Strawberry, said Dila. Strawberry is the name of a canyon north of here, perhaps fifty or sixty kilometers. I do not know if that vapor encompasses that land, but I know well enough of Strawberry Canyon.

Though solving the clue was easy enough, I didn’t feel as excited as the others. Everyone calmed themselves after seeing my skepticism.

We’re still dealing with magic, strong magic, I orated. I don’t think we should jump into this if we don’t know what we’re up against.

Then what do you suggest we do? inquired Trahern.

I guess that’s the real riddle, said Clipper. Does anyone know what the spell of the Lost Sun is? Anyone? Nobody answered. In that case, I feel that Jacob and I should go first and check out that cloud-veil and see what’s beyond. Losdir, I think it would help to alert your nymphs, so they will keep an eye open for anything else suspicious.

I feel we should clean up this camp, said Trahern, and then be ready to march when Jacob and Clipper return and give the clear. What say you, Losdir?

We can do that, but like what Clipper has said, have nymph scouts keep watch of the area round us.

With plans made, and everything finalized, we went our separate ways. The nymphs scouts were dispatched. Those still in the campground began to clean their sites, and Clipper and I took to the air, headed north-east above the highway. The higher I flew, the more my muscles quaked. When we were above the mountains, we could clearly see the sickening-green vapor surrounding our destination ahead. Only on rare occasions did my fear overcome my anger, and this was one of those occasions. Someone did not want me or my friends to finish our quest.

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1 Pronounced par-doo-ğee, tamü-anē-mit

CHAPTER 2

Maria

Sally had long since discovered which alleyways were the safest places to be in the extraordinary city of Maria—yet she could not hide from the common images of the national icons, including the Īnhĕt, painted everywhere on the walls of buildings. Sally eventually discovered that the Īnhĕt was but a piece of the greater national symbol: the Īnhĕt merely represented a bridge; below it was the image of a serpentine dragon with wings spread and tongue flicking (not unlike the dragon on the Welsh flag), and above it was the image of a crown, decorated with pearls and engraved with images of gods and fantastical beasts. It implied that the dragon was the most spiritual and godlike of all living creatures. This icon in its entirety also appeared in lamé on the national standard of this land ruled by King Vesuvius III, Direct Monarch of the Royal Province of Marin, the Noble Confederation of the Sulæn Islands, and the Duchy of Icelandia; Emperor of the United Empire of the Royal House of Vesuvius. It was a stuffy title, but it was meant to be that way.

The capital of this empire was a city of magnificence; even Sally had to admit that. Maria was noisy city, a machine of achievement, of pride, and of growing power of unknown proportions. Maria was a center of optimism, manifested by lofty towers (though they were not as tall as the skyscrapers of the New York, they were clearly aspiring to be) and factories with smokestacks billowing with columns of black fumes. But Maria was not only boasting of her perceived industrial advancements—as if she looked down upon Sally and Razden in contempt—she liberally reminded them of her rich culture with her theaters, art galleries, restaurants, and churches. Sometimes Sally could catch sight of some large stadium several blocks away that may have very well surpassed the Roman Colosseum in size and splendor. Maria’s culture was captivating, but there was something unsettling about the nature of it, as if the city herself was aware of Sally and Razden, and deliberately tried to intimidate her into submitting to Vesuvius her ruler. The more Sally observed the daunting wonders of Maria, the more sorely she wished to leave. But every thought of leaving brought her again to the spot where she could see the great palace atop the highest mountain above the city. There was no telling if the King himself was looking out one of those grand windows. The great Monarch knew Sally as a lightscale, so there was a grave risk that she or Razden could be spotted—that was what kept them from attempting to fly out of the city.

Razden had been at Sally’s side ever since they came to Maria after falling through the portal at Mt. Ellen. Occasionally, the two would wander into the streets, but only when they were assured the citizens would not recognize them. Sally found that dragons were highly respected in Maria. It was not uncommon for men or women to offer food or drink to them in return for blessings and prophecies of fortune. Sally, humoring these people, never minded this treatment. Razden had explained to her that dragons represented the highest order of life in the Vesuvian Realm—according to the gods, apparently. But still, there was always the risk that a member of the Grün-hære would spot them; or worse, a darkscale such as Syntare. Luckily for Sally and Razden, no one seemed suspicious of them. But after four weeks, both were aware the chance of being recognized was growing.

On the present day, the two remained in yet another alleyway, having spent the night there. Sally was the first to wake. She stood, stretched, and approached the end of the alley to see if the streets were busy yet. There was some traffic about—carts, wagons, and the like—but there were not many pedestrians at that time of day. Sally slowly backed into the alley. Before she woke Razden, she set her eyes on yet another image of a majestic dragon painted on the wall. After seeing these images everywhere, and upon seeing dragons flying overhead every twice in a while, she began to grow sick of her current form. She painfully missed the days Mwhen she was only a simple woman, going to school in Manhattan. But those days were gone. She was presently a dragon, and she was not in New York City.

Razden woke as Sally gently nudged him. He, more-so than Sally, dreaded going out into the street. Sally knew it was because the last time Razden was in Maria, he was condemned to become an ice dragon, something that every young dragon hated to think about.

I thirst, said the young darkscale, following a yawn. Perhaps you can fetch us some water?

Sally surveyed street. I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, she said. I sense something is coming, and I don’t want to leave you alone.

Well, I don’t want to be out there either. Last night I saw a party of goblins enter an eatery. I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they were part of the Grün-hære. I believe I’d recognized them from the other world.

Sally did not want Razden to suffer from thirst, so she spread her wings so that her young friend was covered. Don’t worry, you’ll be right next to me, she assured.

Razden reluctantly accepted. He kept himself shielded under Sally’s wing as she ventured out into the street. She tried to keep a low profile, but once again the nearby pedestrians stopped to behold her. The traffic pulled to the side to let the two dragons through without bother.

I don’t like their staring, whispered Razden. I fear someone will recognize us.

It’s okay, said Sally. They’re only staring at us because they like us.

Down the street, about a block away from their alley, Sally found a station of water troughs, specifically designated for dragons. Unlike the troughs for horses, those for dragons were much more ornate, being trimmed with gold and embroidered with glimmering stones. The man who ran the station said nothing to his clients, but humbly stepped aside to let the two creatures drink in peace. Sally did not bother to thank him; she had not spoken to anyone in Maria save Razden. It wasn’t that English did not exist in this strange world, but that she was too nervous to converse casually and possibly blow her cover. Oddly enough, English wasn’t the only familiar language she heard on the streets; there was also Latin. Razden understood Latin, and sometimes translated conversations for Sally.

After their long drink, the man thanked the two dragons for giving him the honor of using his establishment. Sally replied with a single nod, and once she and Razden left, they went to search for another alley. Sally knew it wasn’t wise to remain in the same location where they had slept the night before.

If I am in this city for another week, I fear I may turn mad, said Razden despairingly.

I don’t blame you, said Sally. If we can’t fly out of here, I guess the next best thing to do is walk out.

Razden did not mind the suggestion a bit. They both continued down the street in silence. But along the way, the funny sensation disturbed Sally began to grow more potent. Soon enough she heard some form of commotion ahead. The people around her were no longer yielding to her, but to whatever was approaching. She thought it best to yield as well. A few minutes later, a grand procession of soldiers came marching through. The first party to pass were cavalrymen, going by on horseback. Behind them was a larger party of infantrymen. Sally grew tense.

This doesn’t look like the Grün-hære, she muttered to Razden.

It isn’t, he said. This is the National Army, a part of Vesuvius’s official military. The Grün-hære are not even supposed to be affiliated with him.

Of the seven cavalrymen, the one riding at the point was clearly an officer, one who wore a scarlet jacket decorated with many different medals. This officer drew his gold-hilted saber and, waving it above the black cap on his head, called in a vigorous voice, "Cedite pro exercitu region! Videte salvatores! then in English, Make way for the Royal Army! Behold your saviors!"

The people of the city seemed to enjoy their presence. They began to shout and cheer to the soldiers. Others sang praises to them, their king, and their nation. In some places women tossed flowers at soldiers and waved handkerchiefs, begging to be noticed. Those in taller buildings leaned out of the windows, with some waving miniature flags or other national icons. The cheers and shouts practically drowned out every other sound as the soldiers marched by. Following the infantry came the large marching band, playing a powerful forté melody with amplified percussion. Many of the people sang to the music provided. Some continually chanted, Long live the King! Long live our Nation!

Sally, mimicking the rejoicings so as not to arouse suspicion, took note of the soldiers and their weapons. Each of them was dressed in a red jacket with gray sleeves and gray three-cornered hats; the officers looked the same for the most part save for their patches and taller, glossy black hats. Deep in her mind, in spite of the sight of factories and whatnot, Sally expected to see Medieval knights and men-at-arms, likely because she knew she was in a practical fairy world. Instead, the infantrymen carried bayoneted rifles, a different brand from the cavalry’s shorter-barreled carbines. The only ones with swords were the officers, which were gilded sabers used for show and little else. Worst of all, proceeding the marching band, was an artillery unit, led by another officer on horseback. There were several massive field-cannons fixed on wheels and were being driven by one or two mules. Sally shuddered at the sight of such weaponry.

Who protects your freedom? called the officer of the artillery unit.

In unison, everyone shouted, King Vesuvius! Hail King Vesuvius! Hail our freedom! Hail our soldiers!

Sally raised her pretend cries of joy. Razden quickly understood her intention and followed Sally’s suit. For the first time since arriving in Maria, Sally felt she was treated more like a commoner than a noble. It was a relief!

Following the artillery unit was another marching band, followed by another party of light cavalry, which had many more soldiers than the first.

And now, behold Vesuvius’s councilor, Comitis Heitspel of the Rienland! cried the next officer.

Razden bumped Sally with his horns before the latter could get a clear sight of the man inside.

We must go now, he said in a nervous whisper. Heitspel is a sorcerer!

Does he know you? asked Sally.

No, but I know of these parades, and the dragons are next in line. I fear one of them may recognize us!

Sally, now feeling a great deal of horror, looked around to see if anyone was watching her directly. Seeing that all were occupied with the parade, she and Razden slipped away from the crowd. Unfortunately for them there was no nearby alleyway, but there was a seemingly empty building. Since they were in a hurry, Sally beckoned Razden to follow her in there. Thankfully the door was unlocked, and the doors were especially wide for dragons of her size to enter without trouble. The lobby was dark and even a little cold. Sally urged Razden up the stairs. The sound of claws on wood created an odd echo in the poorly insulated building, so both knew they should move with caution (at least it would make it easier to hear the footsteps of others). Once upstairs, the two discovered a large shelf where beakers and bottles of all shapes and sizes were kept. Contained in them was a wide variety of colored liquids. Sally looked over them with a deep interest.

What is it? inquired Razden, seeing Sally’s wide expression.

What are in these bottles? she asked.

Razden stood on his hind legs to get a better look. I’m not rightly certain.

Curious and anxious, Sally lifted her paw and took one of the bottles from the shelf. She broke the seal with a single tooth and smelled the contents. Her expression fell into disappointment.

What were you looking for? asked Razden.

Sally replaced the open bottle. Nothing. It’s some sort of drink.

Razden was silent for a moment, pondering Sally’s mood. Did you think it was a potion? he rejoined.

Sally nodded sadly. I hoped it would be.

You wish to become a woman again, is that right?

Sally sat down and let her tail swish about. "I am human, Razden, she said. I figure that if we can’t fly out of here, I can at least hide myself more easily. Besides—I want my old life back. I just want to see my mom and dad again."

Razden, feeling sorry for his friend, sat and leaned next to her. I understand, he said. I long for a loving family myself. But for these last many days, you have treated me like I’m your brother, and that has made it so much easier to endure our ordeal.

Sally, her heart touched, embraced Razden. They were in no hurry, for even though the parade sounded like it had passed, they wanted to make sure the darkscales were gone. However, their joints stiffened at the sound of someone entering the building. Sure enough, the acoustics of the place provided the keen-eared lightscale with a detailed sound of footsteps. They were not shoes tapping the floor, but claws like her own. In a silent panic, Sally motioned to Razden that he should take cover behind the shelf opposite the door. She herself readied to pounce should the intruder appear in the doorway. The unknown dragon slowly climbed the stairs. As it neared the room of its quarry, Sally recognized by its odor that this creature was female.

"E-zoth thee-az Ğendenke visa-dothe me," mumbled the intruder.

Sally did not respond.

"Quis adest?" queried the darkscale.

Sally remained still and silent. It was more of a waiting game than a hiding game; the darkscale knew well enough where she was.

‘ooz in ‘ere? the darkscale demanded.

Sally was caught off guard when, after the other’s last inquiry, the black dragon jumped into the room. She did not attack Sally, but rather stared at her with an astonished grin. Sally had not previously met this darkscale face-to-face, but she knew that this was Syntare.

Thought you’d be round ‘ere, Syntare said calmly. I saw ya traipsin’ outside. Wasn’t there a younger one somewheres? I know ‘e’s in ‘ere.

Razden must have known his hiding place was no good. He slowly stepped into view, bearing his teeth in a false display of fearlessness. Upon seeing him, Syntare’s jaw dropped; she looked back at Sally with increased interest.

This li’l one, Ah’ve seen afore. What’s yer name, light?

Sally. And is your name Syntare?

The darkscale seemed flattered. So a particular dragon told ya o’ me. Let’s not play games; I know yer from that other world. Ah saw this li’l one there.

I’m not going back to Glacia, growled Razden. I will stay with Sally and I will fight even if I die.

Razden, said Sally fearfully.

Syntare laughed. Oh, don’ worry ‘bout ‘im, Miss Sally. I ain’t in’rested in ‘im. Ya know, if ya want a potion to turn yerself back t’ ‘uman, ya won’t find it ‘ere in Maria. That’s a powerful potion yer seekin’. All the stuff in ‘ere’s jus’ bev’rages. Ya want yer potion, ya gotta go ta ‘eitspel’s castle—that’s south o’ this isle o’ Marin, in the Rienlands.

Sally, now frightened and confused, bared her fangs. How could Syntare know of her intentions? And most of all, why would she be giving her help? The most likely explanation was that Syntare was tricking her, perhaps luring her into Vesuvius’s grasp! Syntare expressed no aggression; she only stepped aside and presented the open doorway.

Jus’ fly away, said the darkscale. The king won’t see ya, an’ even if ‘e did, ‘e won’t chase ya. Go on…What’s the matter, don’t ya know an open door when ya see one? I thought ya’d want t’ leave this ‘cursed’ city, ha!

Why are you letting us go? Sally asked her.

Don’ worry ‘bout me. Do ya want out ‘r not? I won’t ‘arm ya, nor won’t I ‘arm the li’l one. Jus’ go down to the street an’ fly off. No one’ll folla ya.

Smoke shot out of Sally’s nostrils. I don’t trust you, Syntare. You’re making it too easy.

I ain’t trickin’ ya if that’s what yer thinkin’. Oh, Ah know Vesuvius seems mean, but ‘e gets that way when ‘e sniffs treachery. Like I said, even if ‘e knew you were ‘ere in Maria, yer ain’t commitin’ any crime. ‘e’d leave ya be.

But we’re enemies! After saying this, Sally thought of another reason for Syntare’s benignity: Are you letting us go because of Jacob?

The mention of the familiar name drove Syntare into a sudden fit. She let a short but powerful roar and beat her wings madly, which struck the shelf and knocked over many bottles.

Don’t ever mention ‘im t’me again! Jacob Draco’s a cowardly, whiny traitor to ‘is race! If ya ever see ‘im again, tell ‘im I gave ‘im this message…

Roaring again, she lowered her horns and gave Razden a hard butt, who was helplessly thrown into the far wall. Syntare then began to claw the floor, creating splinters in the wood.

Get out! Leave Maria an’ don’t come back! she thundered.

Her fit vanished as quickly as it came. Observing the damage she had caused, she crawled to a corner of the room and laid on her stomach, and there tucked her snout into her side and began to sniffle. Sally was astounded at seeing her enemy commit a rather violent act and then quietly weep. Razden, sore from the strike, recovered and again stood next to Sally.

I’m not truly hurt, he said quietly. I can walk.

Sally acknowledged, though she did not take her eyes away from Syntare. The latter knew both sets of eyes were on her, and she tried in vain to hide her tears. She said at last, Go south an’ find ‘eitspel’s castle, an’ then please leave this land. I promise to ‘oever ya worship I’ll not b’tray ya.

After that, she began to weep again. Sally, still balancing between trust and suspicion, quietly left the room and returned downstairs to the front entrance with Razden behind her.

Everyone here’s accustomed to seeing dragons flying around, Sally said once they were back in the street. I guess we can just fly away ourselves. How are your wings, Razden?

Razden spread and recoiled his wings several times. They are sore from that attack, but again I’m not truly harmed. I can fly without trouble.

Good. Well then, let’s go.

Sally too spread her wings and both took to the air over the enigmatic city. She did not bother to look down and observe the capital below her. Her mind was too focused on leaving, and so her eyes were set southward in correlation with the morning sun. All the same, she and Razden kept a sharp eye to see if Syntare or any other darkscale, or Vesuvius himself, was in pursuit of them. It seemed that Syntare was indeed honest: they had escaped with absolutely no trouble. What made Sally’s tidings better was that she knew Heitspel remained in Maria, so more than likely there would be little trouble finding and leaving with her coveted potion. Already she pondered the idea of moving every muscle and sinew of her human body.

CHAPTER 3

The Curse Of The Lost Sun

The morning was starting to look promising for us now that we had the clue, and that Bloodgutt now seemed tolerant with my and Clipper’s existence. But I could not let the woman in the car out of my mind. I found it strange that she seemed neither afraid nor shocked upon seeing us, as if she had seen creatures like us her whole life. Maybe Clipper was right: she had seen us in Logan the time we were there before; but that did not explain her mild reaction toward Bloodgutt. It worried me that maybe whatever was over the mountain pass was something much worse.

My mind was so preoccupied with this that I didn’t realize Fenson, Bluepond, and Dila had approached me till Fenson spoke: Jacob, I’d like to thank you again for helping me and Dila persuade Bloodgutt to surrender the cloth. You know, even if we had gotten lost, you both could have easily led us back to the highway. Bluepond and Dila eyed each other and snickered. Yes. Yes. I know, the dwarf sighed half-jokingly. You could have just as easily led me back as well, I know.

The thing is, we had four navigation experts had we gotten lost, said Bluepond.

Fenson rolled his eyes, again half-jokingly. Then I suppose I and Bloodgutt are the liabilities.

Since our return, the Militiamen had been in great spirits, save for the meliæ and dryads, who were open with their disdain for the destructive Unitaur. Jasmine, one of the flower nymphs, awoke wearily and annoyed.

So, you brought back that horrible creature, she grumbled. I would rather you had taken that cloth from her and left her to attack the city or something like that.

Now, now, said Dila, she will be of great use to us. Besides, the spirit of every animal is a sacred thing.

Yes of course, but so are the spirits of the many flowers she brutally murdered before the snow came. I am glad the snow is here, so that my children may rest in peace without her trampling them.

While Dila and Jasmine had been bantering, Clipper, Fenson, and I returned to the commanders’ site, where they were occupied with the clue and their map.

Any idea what exactly is in Strawberry Canyon? Trahern inquired to his companion.

I cannot say for certain, said Losdir. But if I were to hazard a guess, it would be the second staff.

Like the one Mr. Chang had found in that barn? Trahern looked up at me. Do you have an idea, Jacob? Clipper?

The two of us shook our heads.

I’m just going to say it’s the second staff, too, said Clipper. You know more about portals than I do, Losdir.

Our conversation was briefly interrupted by Bloodgutt, who began to huff in agitation. By the time I turned to see her, she was stumbling backward, away from a campfire, and fell into a patch of sagebrush, crushing the plants. Bluepond and some other dryads, who had been standing nearby, turned their heads away in horror.

You see, Dila? That beast is a murderer! Just look what she did! complained a female dryad named Holly.

She was scared, said Dila in a soothing voice. She did not crush those bushes to spite you. She was only afraid of your fire, perhaps it reminded her of—you know who. He gave a quick glance at us. You must understand, Holly, that Minotaurs have feelings just as you do. Plants do not feel, nor can they move away from danger as animals do. That is why they are called ‘plants’.

"Plants too can feel, argued Holly, and I am quite aware of their namesake. That does not mean Bloodgutt is permitted to kill them carelessly."

Provoked by the squabbling, Losdir approached them. I had yet to see him lose his patience, but he was close this time.

Dila. Holly. Do not forget you both are allies, he said sternly. "You are supposed to fight alongside each other against the enemy. Do not quarrel further or I will have the Konmester deal with you." He spoke more to Holly than to Dila.

Hearing the mention of his office, Trahern scowled at the two nymphs as he folded his arms in a daunting manner. This action alone caused the nymphs to shake each other’s hands and call a truce. With that needless matter solved, Losdir returned to the Konmester’s side.

They needn’t behave like that, he said. In any case, we can move out soon, yes?

Yes, said Trahern. We all know about Strawberry Canyon now, regardless of which piece lies there, and I am confident to say that the vaporous veil is the curse of the Lost Sun mentioned here. What about you, Jacob? What does the viewing ring say?

Now that we had the clue, I felt more optimistic about using the ring to seek out the next piece. I’ll give it a try, I said.

Trahern took it from one of his bags and dropped it in my paw. Once again I brought it to my eye and looked around. It almost shocked me that not only could I see no red, but there