Warlock Apprentice, Black Lake Novel 4

Chapter Fifteen

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Morgan growled at the man as though he might fling himself atop him and choke the life out of him. Them ogres are dramatical folk. I leaned back in Morgan’s dinin’-table chair. Weren’t nothin’ to get overly excited about.

“I mean it,” Selene said.

“Bacchus needs no wizardly adornment.”

“You stubborn beast,” Selene groused.

Morgan growled even louder. “Don’t call me a beast.”

“Ask him,” Selene shouted. He pointed at the staff leanin’ against the wall.

Morgan jerked his head that way, and the staff’s ram head flashed, a blue glow. “Ask him? You’d have me talkin’ to—”

“To—” Selene challenged him. “You don’t feel he’s alive, as though he speaks to you?”

“How do you know that?” Morgan asked, his voice softer, but still as rough as a carpenter’s rasp.

“Would be far from the first time,” Selene said, “that a wizard’s tool developed a spirit of its own, from the threads of the ethereal it retains.”

“Ya don’t even tote a staff,” Morgan grumbled.

Selene smiled, raised his right hand until his forearm was parallel to the floor. The bold ring he wears on his second finger, which I’ve often admired, glowed, first yellow, gold, then red and blue, before turnin’ quiet again.

“She is marked with all twenty-four runes,” Selene said.

“She?”

“Aye. I sense a feminine presence when I leverage her strength.”

Morgan grinned, his lips pullin’ away from those tusks in that way I could not get used to.

“And does she have a name?”

“Aye,” Selene said. “But—”

“But what?”

Selene glanced at the floor for a fraction of a second. “She’s particular. Doesn’t want me sharing her name with anyone.”

Morgan’s lips curled up his tusks again, and he nodded his head. “Ya say—etchin’ Bacchus with yar runes—will empower her?”

“Not at first. I can’t say it will even help in the next four days, but it can’t hurt. The runes are the platform of our power.”

“Sounds like a lot of superstitious—”

Selene flung a pointed fist at him. “Not wise to blaspheme those things you know naught about, ogre.”

“Don’t threaten me, human.”

“I—”

Selene clearly struggled to ease the emotion that riffed Morgan. He took a long breath. “Twenty-four tiny marks, anywhere on the shaft you chose. Are you afraid, ogre?”

Morgan smirked. “Little frightens us ogres, human.”

Selene smiled. “Then let’s begin.”

Morgan nodded after a moment, and thrust one of the enormous chairs at me. He carried the other to the porch, lined it beside the chair that remained there. Draggin’ the other chair, I joined Morgan and Selene on the porch, and we all sat.

I opened the primer. Morgan leaned over and studied the first rune, and proceeded to carve it into Bacchus while I read out loud the passages describin’ what Selene called the rune’s life blood.

The primer read like a livin’ biography, the detail, numbin’. Made little sense to me that an idea, represented by a few flicks of a quill pen, could be endowed with so much meanin’. Morgan called it superstition. Seems more nonsense.

“Again,” Selene said, as I finished the passage.

I re-read it.

“What is the rune’s name?”

Morgan and I chanted the name.

“Read it again. You must learn the name of all twenty-four, and the more you understand of the life blood of each, the more power you will eventually gain from it.”

I would have loved to roll my eyes, but feared the wizard might club me in the head with his scabbard, or worse. And maybe, I could understand doubt could be like blaspheme.

I read, and Morgan meticulously whittled the rock-hard surface of the oiled and polished staff.

We were on our seventh rune when a shadow fell across the clearin’. I assumed clouds, but Morgan jerked to his feet, stabbed his knife into the rail, and stepped off the porch peerin’ skyward. He draped his hands over the ram’s head as he waited.

“What is it?” I asked.

Selene scrambled up and to the right, clearly agitated as well.

“Got company,” Morgan said, as a familiar applause-like sound descended upon us.

A second later Taiz’lin’s gray hide filled the breadth of the clearin’. I closed my eyes against the flyin’ debris kicked up by the dragon.

A groanin’ sound from Selene made me look at the man, who leaned against the door jamb as though he’d been punched in the gut. He wore an expression as though a ruffian held a knife to his throat, or a sheriff swung a noose in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

But shouts between dragon and ogre pulled my attention away.

“Good day,” Morgan said.

“And to ya, warlock.” The dragon’s head swung low to meet us eye-to-eye.

Morgan took two steps into the clearin’. “Surprised to see ya. I know how ya love droppin’ down between these trees.”

“Aye.” But obviously Taiz’lin’s thoughts, as his eyes, were on Selene, who appeared as though that sheriff’s noose was around his throat and bein’ pulled taut.

I turned back to Morgan, who was takin’ in Selene too, clearly surprised about the man’s discomfort.

“Who’s yar visitor?” Taiz’lin asked sharply. His head eased closer to Selene. The dragon’s eyes, which often appear multifaceted and glimmer iridescent, burned jet black.

“Ya look ready to feed, dragon,” Morgan said. “What’s on yar mind?”

“Ash’et is unsettled,” Taiz’lin said.

I jerked back to Selene. Had the man repeated the elder dragon’s name?

“Oh,” Morgan said. “That must mean the fledglin’s are in a stir.”

“An understatement.” There was a clear anger in Taiz’lin’s voice. “Be glad I’ve come to investigate and not my mate. Someone near, or somethin’, pulled from the ethereal yesterday, usin’ majic Ash’et hasn’t sensed since the wars. And she has continued to feel wisps of it this mornin’.”

“I can see how that would trouble her,” Morgan said, turnin’ so he faced Selene.

The man straightened up, appeared to work to pull himself together. His Adam’s apple clearly was bein’ given a workout.

“I’ll have yar name!” Taiz’lin belched.

I stumbled backward from the burst of foul air. Selene bounced off the door jamb. I turned to Morgan to get his sense of the situation. He appeared entertained. Not what I expected.

“I’m Selene of Nador.”

“Nador!” The dragon swung a hard glare at Morgan.

I’m certain the ogre and dragon silently communicated, prolly with Ike as well, Taiz’lin’s rider—and who knows who else. The moments passed. Must have talked to each of the Lake dragons, considerin’ the length of their silent jawin’.

“Ash’et knows well the name Nador,” Morgan said softly. He jerked his head a bit, as though re-joinin’ a conversation.

“Are ya bringin’ others of yar kind here, wizard?” Taiz’lin asked.

When the man hesitated, Morgan answered for him. “Three followed him.”

Taiz’lin hit us with a trumpet, the air strikin’ with the force of an ogre-wielded staff. I dropped into the chair behind me. Selene stumbled and fell to his knees. Morgan flung over the porch rail, but righted himself quickly.

“Settle down there,” Morgan shouted, and shook his head, as though to shake the senses back into place, his unmatched white and black dreadlocks dancin’. “I’m startin’ to get an idea why yar mate didn’t care a spit for me.”

“Yar majic is pure,” Taiz’lin said. “But Ash’et—” He paused. His eyes whirled a bit, as he did when he considered a more pleasurable thought. He clearly communicated with one of the Lake dragons—or Ike.

Yep. Much more likely he talked to Ike, the way his demeanor seemed to calm. That ogre can make light of most any foul thin’. I had heard Ike mightily insult the giant queen, Iza, even say discourteous thin’s about her dam, Ash’et. Seen him laugh out loud in Iza’s face. Which proves dragons must have a sense of humor, or Iza would have downed Ike in one gulp. Would have served the ogre right. Not wise to be discourteous to a dragon of any nature, much less a queen. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

Taiz’lin’s jaw dropped. There was no mistakin’ this for a grin though. He must have just come from huntin’. There was a jagged hunk of elk, or some such beast, tangled between two of his saber-like teeth. I swallowed hard to get a bitter taste down.

“Morgan?” I half-whispered.

“What?” the bull snapped, holdin’ his glare on Taiz’lin.

“What’d ya mean,” I asked, “about why Iza didn’t like ya?”

The ogre turned to me. “Aye. I guess ya humans don’t entertain the draconian folk lore, do ya? There’s a tale that wizards long ago allied with the dwarfs and gnomes against the draconian race.”

“Not just a tale,” Taiz’lin rumbled.

“Long ago,” Selene said. “No wizards alive had naught to do with it.”

“The skunk never lost his stripes,” Taiz’lin said, no more amicable than before.

“The wars hurt all the races,” I said.

“None stung as deep as what them wizards did,” Morgan whispered.

“The goblins burned the elves’ ancient trees,” I said. “There are elves livin’ alongside goblins in the Valley now. I saw a goblin at the Inn.”

Taiz’lin’s head swerved toward me and Morgan. I couldn’t help but think the dragon was considerin’ swallowin’ down the three of us in his ire.

“They managed a more egregious insult that we still live with today,” Taiz’lin hissed.

I turned to Morgan and gave the ogre a queryful nod when Taiz’lin didn’t continue.

“The lore goes,” Morgan said, “dragons once lived in the ethereal, like the gnomes, came and went as they pleased. But the dragons interfered in the ways of our kinds durin’ the wars.”

“Lived in the ethereal?” I asked.

“The wizards aided the gnomes, to punish the dragons, managed their arcane methods to strip dragons of their ability to flow from our world and their own.”

A rush of balmy air hit me as Taiz’lin exhaled hard. “The much grander number of our kind,” he said, “were within our plane at the time. A few of my ancestors—were imprisoned here. Too few to sustain our race, where our vulnerable clutches could be attacked.”

The dragon swung his head back toward Selene. “Ash’et is trumpetin’ as we speak, for me to put ya to death.” He glared silently for a moment. “What shall I do with ya, wizard?”

“He had nothin’ to do with what they did,” I shouted.

Morgan subtly waved his hand for me to calm down. But I wasn’t finished. I recalled how I’d seen gnomes blippin’ in and out of the air majically. Bein’ able to avoid a foe by fleein’ into the ethereal in an instant would indeed be an unfair advantage, without speakin’ to the physical advantage dragons already owned.

“Seems maybe yar race got what was comin’ to ya,” I said.

The dragon’s head swept to within a foot of me. The moisture on Taiz’lin’s breath made me feel as though I had stepped into a steamy rainstorm. The smell turned my stomach.

“Ah, lad,” Morgan said. “Ya tryin’ to get yarself eaten?”

I shouted, as much to extend my voice through the onrush of Taiz’lin’s breath. “Seems dragons comprehend the difference between right and wrong. The concept before us shouldn’t be overly difficult to reconcile.”

“Reconcile?” Morgan harrumphed. “Big word for ya, boy.”

I smiled. Didn’t quite know why, considerin’ a dragon poised to gut me. No point in feelin’ slighted that an ogre insulted my manhood.

“Raises an interestin’ question,” Morgan said. “Why do the gnomes favor Iza so lavishly?”

Taiz’lin withdrew fifteen feet, his neck archin’. His jaws clomped shut. The snappin’ smarted my ears.

No one spoke for a moment. Taiz’lin finally blinked both sets of eyelids. When he opened them, the black was gone, replaced with blue and green facets. So another standoff was done?

“So, why?” Morgan repeated.

“Ya’ll have to ask them.” Taiz’lin turned back to Selene. “What is yar purpose here?”

Selene cleared his throat. His face wore a surprisin’ly calm countenance now. “I’m trying to save your friend’s life.”

Taiz’lin blinked, his inner lids. Mouth opened, but not in threat. Was it a draconian grin? “Someone have issue with Ike? They best not rile him.”

Selene whipped a questionin’ look at Morgan for a split second. “No. Your warlock friend here, and his apprentice.”

Taiz’lin glared down at Morgan. “Since when are ya my friend?”

“Not my claim,” Morgan muttered.

An awful din rose from the dragon’s chest, somethin’ like an avalanche. The hunk of elk that had been wedged in his teeth dislodged with the laugh and flew past my head barely missin’ me, slammed against the side of the cabin, and slid down the wall with a sickenin’ glop.

Taiz’lin pulled himself together. But the black ominously returned to his eyes. “Ya said somethin’ about three other wizards?”

“They’ve come to kill Morgan and Paul,” Selene said.

“Who’s Paul?” Taiz’lin asked.

“I’m Paul!”

Taiz’lin’s expression turned bored. “Oh.” His head rose slowly, then lowered, as though he’d completed his commiseratin’. “We can’t have outsiders harmin’ our lesser beasts.”

“Lesser beasts?” I hissed.

“Shut up, lad,” Morgan whispered.

“Explain to yar friends,” Taiz’lin said, “the Lake dragons won’t put up with it. And even if we would, Ike would have none of it.”

“That’s all well,” Selene said, “but I don’t think you’ll be convincing them to just go away.”

The sound of a boulder fallin’, a draconic grunt, preceded Taiz’lin sayin’, “Not I who must do the convincin’. That’s yar task, human.”

“You don’t underst—”

“You think I’m simple minded?” the dragon roared.

“Not at all. I—”

“Harm comes to any Valley resident, and none of ya wizards will leave these mountains alive. Ya have my word on that, wizard.”

My shoulders arched from the shudder for the dragon’s anger. My bladder felt suddenly full. There was an edge, a truth, danglin’ just outside my awareness. What was it? Oh. Maybe, that Taiz’lin doesn’t consider Morgan a Valley resident.

Taiz’lin gathered himself up the way a pregnant, one-legged goose does—dragons aren’t the most coordinated on land—and looked to the patch of sky overhead. Morgan rushed to get clear, and it was good that he did, because Taiz’lin’s wings whipped behind him when he launched. The ogre would have at least received a monumental thumpin’, if he managed to miss the stiletto-sharp claws that rim the front edge of the dragon’s wings every ten feet. The air thrust alone was enough to send me staggerin’ against the cabin wall. The whip of Taiz’lin’s tail sounded like an arrow passin’ past my ear.

I caught my breath and Morgan laughed.

“Very funny,” Selene said, “that I’m damned if I battle my peers and damned if I don’t.”

“Taiz’lin did search mightily hard to find an excuse to kill ya,” Morgan said.

“You choose to belittle the man working to save your life?” Selene glared.

“Ya could say I do,” Morgan muttered. “What’s the next rune?” He yanked his knife out of the rail.

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