Fluff Dragon Page 8

  Dwight harrumphed. “You don’t know nothing about nothing.”

  “I know most dwarfs have beards,” Dirk answered.

  “Yeah? Well, keep it to yourself,” Dwight replied, turning back to the window.

  The carriage drove into the busy city square. They could see numerous folk (mostly dwarfs, faeries, elves, and humans, but also a handful of hobgoblins, orcs, and frobbits), and the space was crammed with merchants selling their wares from brightly painted stalls.

  “We totally have to buy something,” Dirk said, his face pressed against the window.

  “Not here,” Dwight grumbled.

  Suddenly the fluff dragon began pointing excitedly. “Look at that! There’s a slaver over there! Trading in dragons!” Puff motioned to a line of tethered fluff dragons led by an orc trader. “That’s illegal,” Puff continued. “And look, the dwarfs aren’t doing anything about it.”

  “You’ll find no love for dragons here,” Dwight said. “You may see a band of sheeplike creatures, but dwarfs see fire-breathing monsters once wrapped in magic and ill intent.”

  “Maybe a long time ago,” Puff admitted with a sigh. “We’ve . . . evolved. All we want is a more enlightened existence.”

  “Yeah?” Dwight said. “Well, I’d say you lightened up quite a bit, pipsqueak!” Then he started laughing loudly.

  The carriage continued forward, rolling past a military barracks, and then on to a large fountain at the edge of the square. Carved into the stone was a statue of a muscular dwarf straining to hold a large block over his head. At his feet was a pool of water fed by two fountains that flowed from each of the statue’s armpits.

  “Really?” Sarah said. “Is that supposed to be dwarf humor?”

  “Don’t be squeamish,” Dwight said proudly. “That there’s the famous Bombark the Moist. His strength was legendary.”

  Dirk snickered. “In more ways than one.”

  They rode past the fountain and felt the road begin to turn downward.

  “We’re going down now?” Sarah asked.

  “That’s right,” Dwight replied. “All dwarf cities build down instead of up.” Normally Dwight would have cringed at the very thought of what he’d just said, but the magic surrounding the carriage kept him from worrying about it. Instead he and the others simply watched as the carriage descended deeper into He’ilk. On either side of the stone road, bright-yellow flames burned along stone troughs, the smoke disappearing into vents above them.

  “Tiamus’s Flame,” Puff said, seeing Max staring at it. “It can never be extinguished. The dwarf builders found it burning below the mountain. Their engineers channeled it throughout the city. Quite impressive, actually.”

  “A compliment from a pillow,” Dwight announced sarcastically. “What’s next? Maybe a towel will write me a sonnet?”

  The wagon wove through several more streets until it came to a stop. The sliding panel opened and Sumyl peered back at them. “We’ve arrived at the smelt house.”

  “Great,” Dwight said, grabbing the backpack full of silver. “Stay here and I’ll be back with coin.”

  “No way!” Dirk shouted. “You’re not leaving us here. I’m going, and so is Max.”

  Max had just made his way back to the very comfortable velvet bench and was preparing to lie down. He’d gotten quite full on breads and other goodies and now his body wanted nothing more than to take a nap. “Oh, uh, that’s okay. You guys go ahead.”

  Dirk frowned at his old friend. “Dude, we’re in a Dwarven city. There’s no way I’m letting you just sit there. Remember when you slept through the raid of Embul and everyone but you got magical armor? Or the time you watched that Mansquito movie instead of going to the comic convention? Or how about when you refused to look at that weird snake by the lake because you were afraid of getting thistles in your sweat pants? How many regrets can one man live with?”

  Max knew Dirk, and he knew he wasn’t going to let him take a nap. “Fine,” Max said, leaving the soft goodness of the cushioned seat. “I’ll go.”

  Dwight pushed the carriage door open and said, “Come on, then.” But the moment the dwarf stepped outside, the sense of ease he’d been enjoying vanished. Instead he felt the crushing weight of being surrounded by stone. He immediately turned around and thrust the bag of silver into Max’s hands. “On second thought, you can do it.”

  “Me?”

  “Just take it in there and have it smelted into bars,” Dwight said as he took a seat. He breathed deeply before continuing. “Next to the smelt house is the coin vendor. Trade the bars for coin and come back.”

  Max took the backpack and followed Dirk into the street. As long as he didn’t get robbed, swindled, captured, or break some unknown rule of Dwarven etiquette, he’d probably be fine.

  “Do you think a dwarf would let me pull on his beard?” Dirk asked. Max figured their odds of survival had just dropped significantly.

  On being a first mate

  THE SEVEN KINGDOMS OF THE Magrus are shaped more or less like a mass of potatoes floating in a soup, and as a result many decide to take up a career in shipping. The most dangerous job at sea is that of first mate. As every Magrus captain knows, there are two rules he or she must follow: First, the captain always goes down with the ship. And second (and perhaps more important), a captain may promote the first mate to captain at any time. Thus Magrus maritime disasters often involve the captain running after the first mate with some exciting promotion news.

  CHAPTER TEN

  FIRE IN THE MOUNTAINS

  MAX HAD TO ADMIT HE was a little surprised to be pulling away from He’ilk in one piece. He’d smelted the large bag of silver into weighted bars, traded it for two smaller bags of silver and gold coins, then spent the afternoon shopping. He didn’t particularly enjoy shopping, even in a Dwarven city. It might have been because the only shops he could find anything in that fit him had names like The Portly Gentleman, Husky House, and Pandall’s Paunchy Pantaloons.

  In the end Max didn’t like how any of the armor felt, so he decided to go with several sets of comfortable travel clothes. Thankfully Sarah was around to help pick things out. Dirk was thin enough to fit into elf clothing, and ended up looking very much a woodsman in tall boots, leathers, and a long green cloak. He buckled an elvish blade to his side, but only after he promised he wouldn’t swing it around while any of the others were standing nearby.

  Sarah found a leather jerkin made by pixie tailors that was both incredibly light and strong. It tied up the front and had a fur-lined hood, and even though it was the most expensive item of the lot, nobody was willing to tell her she couldn’t have it. She bought a number of other travel clothes, as well as two daggers she attached to a belt around her hips. Max already knew Sarah was tough, but the thought of her with daggers sent a shiver down his spine. She looked . . . dangerous.

  Dwight ended up choosing light Dwarven armor, a new axe, and a mysterious bag that he’d obtained at the Guild of Toupee Makers. Everyone thought better than to ask about that. They also purchased packs, supplies, and a team of Dwarven ponies—which were like regular ponies but with beards. They were also stockier and more temperamental. Finally they bought a small cart that held both their supplies and Puff, who was thrilled at the idea of getting to drive.

  They said good-bye to Sumyl and stayed the night in a comfortable inn, where they each had a bath and a large supper. They slept with full bellies on soft beds, and after a big breakfast, headed out again. They rode away from the city gate with new equipment and supplies, looking and feeling much better than they had in weeks.

  “Now we look like an adventuring party,” Dirk announced. Max smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm, but his thoughts turned back to the Codex. He kept it close, bundled in a shoulder pouch he’d purchased and now wore beneath his coat. Sometimes he could feel the ancient book—a chaotic surging of energy that sent his skin tingling. Max had long since memorized Bellstro’s list, moving through the Prime Spells in his head if for
no other reason than to break up the long hours of travel.

  They journeyed along the winding road from He’ilk, camping along the roadside each night. They enjoyed sleeping in their new tents and eating from their stash of new supplies, and the mood remained light. During Max’s watch he saw lights flickering on the mountains. The next day Puff told him it was probably dragon fire.

  “They’re returning to Tiamus’s sacred mountains,” Puff said. “Taking refuge against a world out to destroy them.” Max wasn’t sure how he felt about heading toward a bunch of dragons. Based on what he’d seen with Obsikar, they weren’t something to mess around with.

  It took four days to reach the foot of the Thoran Mountains. Later, as they made their ascent up the winding trail, they heard a sound that stopped them cold. It came like thunder roaring across the sky and shook the ground. The ponies began to shift nervously as Max and the others looked around, craning their necks to try to get a glimpse of what was causing the commotion. Thinking it might be an approaching storm, they pressed on. Soon, however, other sounds joined the roaring thunder: the clanking of steel and the shouts of combat.

  “What do we do?” Max asked. The sounds were coming from off the trail.

  “We stay on the path,” Dwight answered flatly. “It’s not our concern.” They continued around a small bend, doing their best to keep their ponies in line, when two travelers scrambling past, fleeing in the opposite direction.

  “Dragon!” one of the men exclaimed. “If it slays the knights, we’ll be next!”

  “Did you hear that?” Puff cried.

  “Yes. So we’ll wait until the beast is dead so we can safely pass,” Dwight replied. Sarah shot him an angry look.

  “We’re here to do exactly the opposite,” she challenged the dwarf. “Our promise was to help save the dragons, remember?”

  “Not one at a time,” Dwight countered. “And not by stepping between a dragon and some foolish knight.”

  Dirk slid off his pony, however, and began running toward the din of the battle. “We have to save it,” he shouted. “Come on!”

  “Dirk, stop!” Max called after him. Dirk had the habit of acting first and thinking later, only this time it could get him killed. But if Dirk heard his cry, he never acknowledged it. His friend kept running, disappearing over the ridge.

  “We have to go after him!” Sarah exclaimed. She jumped off her pony and grabbed Max, practically pulling him off of his. “Hurry!”

  Dwight shook his head but grabbed his axe and dismounted. “Watch the gear,” he called back to Puff.

  The three of them scrambled over sharp rocks and a small incline, chasing after Dirk. As they ran, the sounds of the battle grew louder, and with it the smell of smoke and ash filled the air.

  Dragons breathe fire! Max’s mind shouted at him. He took a deep breath and continued after his friend. He remembered a vision he’d had when he’d first used the Codex—a woman burned and suffering in the Wizard’s Tower. A woman burned by dragon’s fire.

  They were breathing hard by the time they reached a large cave. A battle was raging, and Max could see a dozen or so knights lying motionless on the ground. Dirk continued running toward them, not even slowing down.

  At the mouth of the cave, three knights in shining armor pressed their attack against the dragon. The beast was about the size of a city bus, its head pulled back and smoke billowing from its nostrils, and it moved much more quickly than something that size should have been able to. The sunlight danced off scales that hinted at the muscle beneath, and its wings flexed open and shut as it reared. Dirk was running straight for the dragon and waving his hands. Fire erupted from the creature’s mouth, but at the last second a large knight stepped forward and raised a giant rectangular shield.

  Heat crashed over Dirk, nearly knocking him off his feet. But he’d gotten close enough to the shield to avoid getting burned. When the fire stopped, one of the three knights had fallen to the ground, his armor singed and steaming. The larger knight swung his smoking shield aside and made way as the third, dressed in ornate armor, drove forward with a lance.

  Max’s eyes fixated on the long weapon. He’d grown accustomed to the way magic felt, and he could practically see the waves of power pulsating from the lance’s tip. The knight drove the point into the dragon’s breast. It was a tremendous blow and the creature reared, bellowing in anger. But the lance didn’t penetrate the hard scale. Instead it broke in two as the dragon crashed down, its momentum throwing the smaller knight against a smoldering tree. The knight crumpled to the earth as the other ran to him, calling out in a voice laced with rage. The dragon snatched him, however, holding the knight in its jaw and raising him into the air.

  Dirk had seen enough. He charged headlong to where the dragon was biting down, its teeth pressing dents into the hard plate armor. “Stop!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. The dragon turned his attention to the strange elf-dressed boy who was jumping up and down and waving at it.

  “Fool!” Dwight spat. “He doesn’t even have his sword drawn!”

  Max could only think to keep running, watching helplessly as the dragon lowered its head to regard his friend, the knight limply hanging from its mouth.

  “Dude, you totally won, so stop!” Dirk yelled. The dragon’s nostrils flared, and for a terrible moment Max thought he was about to lose his best friend to a burst of flame. But instead, the dragon sniffed at Dirk. Its eyes grew wide in surprise. The others ran up to where Dirk was standing, unsure what to do now that they were there.

  “Impossible,” the dragon said as it dropped the knight from its mouth, its voice rolling over them.

  “Please, don’t hurt him,” Sarah said, holding her hands up. Then she turned to Dwight. “Put your axe away.”

  The dragon regarded the dwarf and then sniffed at him. “You too?” the dragon said as Dwight reluctantly lowered his weapon. “How is this possible?”

  “It’s okay,” Dirk said. “We’re here to save you.”

  The dragon regarded the strange human, measuring the impossibility of what was happening against the off chance that it had taken a blow to the head. After all, humans certainly didn’t run toward raging dragons, and they didn’t declare themselves to be their defenders. But it was the magical scent that puzzled the dragon the most—something ancient, powerful, and tainted with the deepest regions of the Shadrus. “You carry the scent of one you cannot know—one that had you been in his presence would have destroyed you.”

  “Obsikar,” Max said, the dragon king’s name falling from his lips. The dragon whirled toward him in response.

  “YOU DARE SPEAK HIS NAME?” it roared, forcing Max and the others to step back.

  “Don’t worry, we’re totally buds,” Dirk replied. “Obsikar sent us back from the future.”

  It was too impossible to be true. Or perhaps it was so impossible that it might actually be true? The dragon had to think. “You spoke with the dragon king?”

  “Yes,” Sarah answered.

  “And you claim to have done so in another time?” the dragon continued.

  “Yeah, that’s my fault,” Max admitted. “We ended up in the future and Obsikar found us there. Then he sent us back.”

  The dragon considered that for a moment, then asked, “And why would he do that?”

  “To save you guys,” Dirk answered. “He knows who’s hunting you.”

  “If Obsikar knew this, he would destroy them,” the dragon answered, its voice continuing to rumble around the cave. “The kings of Kuste and Mor Luin have made their decrees, but they are just puppets. Someone is pulling their strings. But regardless, Obsikar would have no need of you to exact his revenge.”

  “I know this sounds totally weird,” Max said, stepping forward, “but Obsikar didn’t know any of this now. He worked it out later—much later, after it was too late. But he had one more move to make, and that involved us. We were stuck in the future and he needed something done in the past. So we made a deal.”


  “You are a puzzle,” the dragon replied. “You carry the scent of Obsikar, there is no doubt. And I sense a very old power in you—a power that stretches back to the sundering itself. Perhaps power enough to send you through time, as you’ve said.” Nearby the large knight regained consciousness, raising his visor and blinking in disbelief.

  “It’s like I said, we’re all on the same team here,” Dirk said to the dragon. “So you don’t need to fight anymore.”

  “They attacked me,” the dragon countered.

  The large knight rose to his feet. “The king’s decree is that all dragons must be slain. Do not converse with this monster—take up your arms and strike it!”

  “And you expect me to show mercy?” the dragon asked. “There is no goodwill left between humans and dragons.”

  “That’s not true,” Max said. “I’m a friend of a dragon—he’s a fluff dragon now, but he used to be like you. And he doesn’t have all the fire and magic and stuff, but he’s still a dragon at heart. And he’s a pretty good guy. Half the problems in this world are because people don’t see what’s on the inside, only what’s on the outside. Go to middle school and, believe me, you’ll know how that feels. So I think we have to forget about our differences and figure out what makes us the same. Even when some king or somebody tells us not to, or we’ve done it for so long we don’t know anything else. It has to start somewhere. We don’t have to kill each other if we don’t want to.”

  The dragon considered Max for a moment. “I am beginning to understand what Obsikar saw in you. You are not what you appear to be, childlings.”

  “Max,” Sarah said, putting her hand on his shoulder, “well said.”

  Dirk turned to the knight. “Don’t worry, dragons aren’t your enemy. I know you got totally wasted here and want revenge. But save it for the guy who really deserves it—Rezormoor Leadfinger.”

  “Dreadbringer,” Dwight corrected.

  “Be grateful,” the dragon said, leaning down to the knight. “These children have saved your life today.”