Dragon Wizard (27 page)

Timoras clapped, and I saw the half-elf Robin Longfellow leaning against the rock wall a few steps away.

“I wouldn't worry overmuch about your knight,” Robin said with a cryptic half-smile.

I collected myself. This was the plan. There was an incipient war to deal with, and I had told him to try to bring someone from the Winter Court back.

That he did.

I gave the elf-king a bow and said, “I prefer Frank, Your Majesty.”

“And I can't tell if you've become more or less insolent.” He folded his arms and cocked his head. “And I have a war to manage, so make your parley quick.”

I pointed up at the cliff wall, at Sebastian. “You wanted the dragon? Take him.”

“Oh thit, wait a—”

The elf-king waved a hand and the dragon froze in place. Even his blood stopped dripping. “Thank you. I will.”

“So we can stop this war now?”

“You know what else I asked?”

I sighed.

“Since you did not give me what I asked—”

“You have the one responsible already!” I snapped.

“What?”

“I'll start with a question for you. Did it ever occur to you, or Queen Theora, that the prince was acting on his own initiative?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Another question,” I asked him. “You remember that ring I stole for you?”

“Yes? What does that have to do with—”

“Was that
your
engagement ring?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “It was . . .” He trailed off.

“Prince Daemonlas gave it to Queen Fiona, didn't he?”

The elf-king stared at me. From the corner of my eye I saw Robin smile slightly.
Yes, I remembered what you said about the prince and mortal women.

“You didn't approve, did you?” I asked. “And when I say you, I mean you and your queen.”

And when I said “you and your queen” I meant “your queen.”

“The woman was a power-hungry harlot who cared for little but her own twisted needs. Besides, she was human. Ending that engagement is the one thing the queen and I have agreed on this past century.”

And I was ready to bet it bore no small part in the queen's hostility to the mortal realm. “And let me guess, you couldn't just order him to break it off.”

“That ring was an inviolate pledge as long as she wore it—”

“You couldn't grab it, but I could.” I shook my head. “It didn't occur to you that this might just piss him off?”

“Why? The game is ever played thus. Agreements are followed to the letter, are they not?” I caught something in his eyes, regret maybe?

“Yeah. I get that's a big thing with the elves, especially elf royalty. Did you or the queen ever think that the poor sot fell in love with that evil bitch?”

“Explain.” He cocked his head slightly, urging me to elaborate. I had the feeling that our audience might consist of more than Robin, Lucille, and the frozen Sebastian.

“Love,” I said. “Pledging yourself heart and soul to another. Give them your life, the stars, the moon. Roses, sonnets, L-O-V-E, love!”

Timoras shook his head. “I honestly don't think that ever occurred to the queen.”

And I bet she's watching right now.

“The prince himself is the one responsible,” I said. “You had me steal that ring and break the engagement. Then you dropped me off right in front of Queen Fiona and her army so I'd end up killing her.”

“I'm still unsure exactly how you managed to do that.”

“Which means that the prince was more than a little annoyed with both of us. You connived to break his engagement
and
helped me to murder his beloved.”

“Now I didn't plan for you to kill her, did I?”

“I think it made little difference to Prince Daemonlas. He wanted to embarrass you and the Winter Court, and he wanted to punish me. He was an easy target for Sebastian here,” I waved up at the frozen dragon. “He had a scroll to reverse the spell that had swapped us all
originally. If the prince cast that spell at the banquet, he'd loose Sebastian the dragon to do all manner of havoc—ignite a war between Lendowyn and everyone else, probably killing me in the process. I don't think the prince required much convincing to go along.”

Timoras nodded slowly. I think I was making his own arguments to the unseen Queen Theora. Just like an elf, make sure you convince someone else to do all the heavy lifting for you, and have them thank you for the privilege.

I looked up at Sebastian. “Unfortunately, Prince Daemonlas was too blinded by anger and vengeance to see that Sebastian never intended him to survive.”

Timoras followed my gaze. “So this creature plotted the death of my son?”

“And the war you're about to start.”

“I see.”

“So there you have both the dragon
and
the one responsible for your son's death. Just as you demanded.”

The elf-king sighed and seemed to deflate. “Thank you for telling me this.” Sill looking at the dragon he said, “We will find some suitable punishment.”

The tone of his voice chilled me so much that I almost felt sorry for Sebastian. Then he clenched his fists, and the Dragon Sebastian disappeared.

“If there is nothing else, Frank Blackthorne, I will make my leave.”

“So you'll call off the war,” I asked with some measure of relief.

“Of course not.” His voice sounded weary.

“What?”

“The agreement was the dragon, and the one responsible,
in the time allotted you.
You are too late.” He turned and I knew if he took a step he'd disappear. I grabbed his shoulder.

“You
dare
touch me!?”

“There's another agreement you have to honor.”

He slapped my hand from his shoulder. “I am done with you. There is no agreement.” His hand went to his side as he began to draw his sword.

“The one you made for the ring I gave you.”

His hand stopped.

“What do you speak of? That pledge is fulfilled.”

“Not quite,” I said.

“How do you mean?” His voice was low. I had his attention now.

Again I acted on a series of tenuous assumptions, but I didn't have much left. I thought of the shattered mirror from my dream. “You remember, when I left you with Lucille, you gave me a mirror?”

“Of course. A mirror you saw fit to break before ever using it.”

Because you dropped me in the middle of an enemy army,
I thought.
Magic hand mirrors are generally not battlefield equipment.
“Do you remember why you gave it to me?”

“Yes.”

“To contact you—”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Once I had gathered us all in one place—Me, Lucille, and Elhared.”

“What is your point? To restore your body? It doesn't exist anymore . . .”

“If I returned to you with all the principals, you promised to set things back to my liking. We have myself.” I gestured up to the orbiting red dragon. “Lucille.” I reached down and picked up the blackened Tear of Nâtlac. “And here is what remains of the Wizard Elhared.”

He almost shied away from the blackened gem. “You expect this to suffice?”

I hoped that our earlier assessment of Timoras's motives were correct. He didn't
want
this war, he just found it politically impossible to do otherwise. He gave his ultimatum looking for a way out; a way to keep the queen from having her pretext for war.

The original ultimatum might have played out, but I hoped that the elf-king would see the straw I held and see just enough left to grab.

“You bargained for that ring on the queen's behalf,” I said. “Should she not be willing to abide by the terms you set for it?”

“You are dealing with me,” he said. I notice the pointed absence of any denial of my assertion.

“I have performed in good faith my side of the agreement, can you do less?”

“And do what?” he snapped in annoyance. “Restore your body? As I said, there is no body.”

“And ‘set things back to my liking,'” I responded.

He froze for a moment, staring at me. Then a smile slowly broke across his face. He actually chuckled.

Then he laughed.

I sagged with relief.

“I assume,” he said, “that it would be to your liking if this war did not happen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He clapped his hands and said, “Done! Never let it be said that the Winter Court shies from its obligations. The queen shall be displeased, but at least I have a dragon for her to vent her frustrations upon.”

He turned and took a step out into empty air. He paused a moment, then looked back over his shoulder and said, “Thank you.”

Then he vanished completely.

The Tear of Nâtlac, still dangling from my hand, had ceased smoking. A slight wind rose up and carried away flecks of ash from the now flat black surface. In less than a second, the entire thing had lost cohesion and disintegrated into a stream of black motes that floated away in the direction of the distant mountain.

I dropped the chain.

“You did it!”

I looked up and saw Princess Lucille the red were-dragon perched on the cliff above. I smiled and waved at her. “You beat up a dragon, I just negotiated a cease-fire.”

“You're wonderful!”

“Ahh, isn't that in my job description? Princess, diplomacy, negotiation?” Raising my voice caused me to cough again.

“I don't think you're the princess anymore.”

I nodded. “It's all good! I'm a guy again!” I looked down at myself, and it sank in just
what
guy I was. I
leaned against the cliff wall next to Robin and sighed. I felt every year of Elhared's age in my joints.

I heard a sad note in Lucille's voice, dragon or not.
“I'm so sorry, Frank.”

I dismissed it with a wave and a shake of my head. “You know I'm into destructive self-pity, don't encourage me!”

“Oh, Frank.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Robin's too-pretty face. I wanted to slug him. “Are you all right?” he asked.

I blinked a few times because his face kept going out of focus. “Of course. Didn't you just see? Won the day!” I coughed and my voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “I just had to be separated from the woman—the dragon—crap, the
person
I love.”

“What?”

“She's right here, Frank,” he said.

“And I'm right here.”

Lucille flew down to the end of the ledge holding me and Robin.
“What are you talking about?”

“Lendowyn law,” I choked out. “We're no longer married. Your marriage is to that—”

“What does that matter? We'll annul the marriage.”

“Then what, marry me?”

“Of course.”

“Look at me! I'm a wreck. I don't even have Elhared's magic to compensate for it!” The excitement was getting to me and I started wheezing. “He was probably only alive because of some sort of magic.”

“Stop it! I don't care about some stupid law. You're my wife!”

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you!”

“I love you, too. But that's beside the point.” I staggered a little and slid against the cliff wall.

“Gods, Frank, did you inherit Elhared's senility?”

“No,” I gasped and clutched at my chest. “But I think I inherited his heart.”

“
Frank?”

I slid down to the ground and Robin's face became even more blurred above me as I gasped for breath.

“Frank!”
The dragon screamed, so far away.

I closed my eyes and the darkness chased the pain away.

I stood in the banquet hall in the Northern Palace. The stained glass was intact and there was no sign of a dragon rampage or crash-landing princesses. So I gathered that it wasn't
really
the banquet hall.

I turned around and wasn't surprised to see Robin Longfellow.

“You're not really Timoras's nephew, are you?”

“Lies and disguise are sort of my thing.”

“And you aren't speaking in questions?”

“What kind of disguise would it be if a simple conversation could trip me up?” He was King Alfred again.

“That wasn't what tripped you up.”

“Oh? You saw through me?”

I nodded, walked across the Lendowyn king's throne room. The chest was right where we had left it. I closed the lid so I could sit down. My old bones ached. “I guessed, anyway. You disappeared from the inn just in time to appear to Dudley and his minions. You reappeared just as conveniently. Good thing I was right.”

“How so?”

“Leading the escape, returning with Timoras. Asking that of you was a long shot—since I doubted a real estranged half-elf nephew would have returned with him.
And if you had walked under the hill to get him, you would have taken days or months. You had to be moving between the mortal realm and here.” I waved a hand at the world around me, which had become a wooded glen again.

Lothan stood on a fallen log, again a large and very regal-looking fox. “So you planned for me?”

“I improvise with what I have.”

“Do you now?”

“And those dreams were all you?”

“Who else?”

“Why?”

“Do you know what the classical definition of a ‘hero' is?”

“I—”

The fox held up a paw and sighed. Robin lowered his hand and used his hat to brush the dust from a stone that had fallen from the abandoned temple that now stood next to us. He sat down in front of me. “Forgive me, I tend to fall into the question thing. Force of habit. What was I saying?”

He slapped himself with his hat and said, “Stop it!”

He took in a breath and the wood creaked as the ship beneath us crested a wave. Salt spray glistened on his hair, which was longer and grayer, contrasting with the eyepatch he wore now.

“See, Frank, you are a ‘hero' now.” I could hear the emphasis on the word. “The gods have touched you, chosen you, and have pretty much used you as their plaything. Me included.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he said, replacing a broad-brimmed hat on his frizzy red hair. He leaned conspiratorially over the campfire between us and whispered, barely audible over the chirping insects. “You're mortal. We're gods. You just have to deal with it.”

“Why me?”

He laughed, breath fogging in the winter air. Ice crystals danced in the air between us, catching the sunlight. “Don't get maudlin. You've just been caught on the edges of a battle between Nâtlac and Lysea. It didn't begin with doomed elven love, and it won't end with your own happily ever after. Me? I just took a liking to you.”

I opened my mouth and Lothan pointed across the table with a tankard of ale. “You're going to ask why. I'm the patron of thieves, deception, and transformation, don't you
dare
ask why.”

I shut my mouth and glanced at the hearth. We sat inside The Headless Earl, and Lothan now looked the part of one of its scruffier denizens. “Following you about was just as much fun as I'd hoped.”

“I'm glad I could amuse you.”

The depth of my sincerity must have shown, because blacksmith Lothan set down his tongs, walked around the anvil, and said, “No self-pity, remember?”

“I said that to Lucille.”

Lothan nodded. “So you did.”

“What now?”

“You have a choice. Your story can end now and you pass on beyond to where all heroes eventually go.”

“Die, you mean.”

The gravedigger gave me a gap-toothed smile as he
leaned on his shovel. “Or you can offer me something in return for another boon.”

“What do I have left to give?”

Ex-King Dudley twirled the ceremonial dagger in his fingers, casting complex shadows across the altar I sat on. “What does any god ever want?”

The realization hit me. And, of course, if Lothan granted me the boon I wanted, I'd be in a position to grant it.

I gave him a promise.

In response he touched my shoulder and I fell against the grass. When he looked down at me, it was with Lucille's face. I closed my eyes. “No, that's just creepy.”

“But you must receive your boon.” Lothan kissed me with Lucille's lips.

“Ahh!” I screamed, batting him away. God or not, some things are just too much. I sat up spitting. “Blagh. Ack!”

“Frank?”

I shook my head and blinked. Lucille knelt on the grass next to me, wearing only a too-loose chemise.

“No. That's going too far. Mortal or not! God or not!”

“Frank?” she repeated and grabbed my shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“No!” I spat again. “You make yourself into—then you—what . . .” I trailed off because Lucille stayed Lucille, and the grassy hillside remained the grassy hillside.

After a few long moments, I said, “Lucille?”

She looked at me as if she was going to repeat the question about Elhared's senility.

“Wait,” I said. “Last I saw, you were a dragon.”

She pointed up at the dawn sun.

“Were-dragon,” we said simultaneously.

I rubbed my head. “I was unconscious?”

“All night long.”

I nodded, and realized my hands were tangled in actual hair, not the wisps that covered Elhared's bald pate. I pulled my hands away and stared at them. They weren't old and wrinkled, they weren't dainty and feminine, and they were still familiar.

“I-I'm me?”

Lucille smiled, “You're you.”

I sprang to my feet and spun around. “This is some sort of vision again. Where is he? Where's the Dark Lord?”

Lucille got to her feet next to me. “Frank—”

I spun to face her and jabbed a finger in her direction. “You're Lothan!” I furrowed my brow. “Or Lysea? You're mad I sent Evelyn packing?”

“It's really me, Frank.”

“No. Look. You have hair!”

“I have . . .” Her fingers brushed her unbound blonde tresses. They were a frizzy mess shimmering in the early morning light. “Oh, it came back this morning. When I changed back.”

“And where'd that chemise come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “I had to take it. Poor Sir Forsythe would have died of embarrassment otherwise.”

“Sir Forsythe?”

“My Liege! You've awakened!”

I spun at the new speaker, and saw . . . Well, I guessed it was Sir Forsythe. I'd never seen him so . . . unkempt.

His long blond hair had not grown back, either on his head or his face. He was naked from the waist up, and it was hard to tell where the streaks of soot ended on his torso and where the bruises began. His breeches had been torn in several places, burned in others. One boot seemed to have split open and was being held together by an improvised leather strap.

He stood up from the midst of a pile of dirty, dented armor. He had a rag in one hand, and a gauntlet in the other. Half of the small armor piece was dull and soot-covered, the other half gleamed.

“How are you still alive?” I blurted. “I saw that dragon carry you off.”

“I have slain many monsters, My Liege. It's what I do.”

“I saw you lose
Dracheslayer
.”

“Lulling the beast into overconfidence,” he said.

I shook my head.

“Believe him,” Lucille said. “He would have finished me off, too.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice.

Sir Forsythe's gaze dropped and his skin reddened. “Mistaken identity,” he said quietly. “I did not know Your Highness was yet
another
dragon.”

“Fortunately we worked things out. You should have seen the poor man's face when the moon set.”

“This isn't a dream,” I whispered.

“Frank?”

I patted my face, and my body, then my hands together. “I haven't been pulled into some vision quest. This is real.” My voice rose. “It is real.” I ran up and grabbed Sir Forsythe by his considerable biceps. “You're real!”

“My Liege?”

I ran back and grabbed Lucille's hands. “You're real. That dirty chemise is real.”

“Yes.”

I shook my head, openmouthed. After a moment I said, “How?”

“You were there for most of it.”

“No,” I said, “How am I . . .”

Lucille's eyes were shiny as she said. “I thought you died. I think you did.”

“Died?”

“You said something about Elhared's heart and clutched your chest.”

I nodded. “I remember that. Things went dark.”

“You collapsed and stopped moving. Robin even closed your eyes. I may have gotten a little hysterical.”

I think I was glad I missed that.

“But Robin said he owed you something. He picked up your body—I mean Elhared's body—and disappeared. I think I died a little myself, I screamed at the world from that cliff most of the night.”

“That made Your Highness easy enough to find,” Sir Forsythe interjected.

She nodded at the knight. “If it wasn't for him snapping me out of it, I might not have stopped.”

I looked down at myself, and the hillside. “Then when . . .”

“After that unfortunate confusion,” Sir Forsythe said, “it was my duty to accompany Her Highness out of the mountains and back to her kingdom.”

“At least until I can fly again.” Lucille shrugged and
the neck of the oversize chemise slid off one shoulder. I reached up and put it back.

“Just make sure you land before dawn,” I said.

“Robin returned with you an hour or so ago.” She smiled and shook her head. “I'm afraid I did all my screaming and jumping and hugging while you were still unconscious.”

“I feel cheated.”

“I'll make it up to you.” She threw her arms around me and squeezed.

I hugged her back.

“It was Lothan,” she whispered in my ear.

“Yeah.”

“He remade you like all those guards he made copies of me.”

“God of transformation,” I replied.

“Then,” she whispered, “just tell me her name.”

I froze for a minute, caught off-guard by the question. Then it struck me. After everything she had no assurance that I was actually me. There had been so much body hopping and transformation in our short time together, how could she be certain I was who I said I was?

“Rose,” I whispered back to her.

She kissed me and we tumbled back on the grassy hillside. I kissed her back and we rolled, hugging each other so hard that it seemed as if we were trying to inhabit the same body again.

Eventually we came back up for air, her on top of me, head resting on my chest. I noted from the corner of my eye that Sir Forsythe had returned to deliberately polishing the remains of his armor.

“You're you,” she said.

“And you're you.”

She nodded. “That I am.”

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her head and looked down at me. “What?”

“This,” I patted my thigh. “It's what I wanted all along. I was never comfortable being the princess.”

“You have no idea how happy I am for you, Frank.”

“But this,” I patted her thigh and she squirmed a little. “You were so much happier as a dragon.”

“You're sweet.”

“Can you even be the princess again?”

She smiled evilly. “Frank, now I'm the princess
and
the dragon.”

“Were-dragon. You only get to be the dragon a few times—”

She silenced me by placing her finger on my lips. “I might only get to fly and breathe fire a few times a month now.” She leaned forward to whisper into my ear. “But I'm
always
going to be the dragon.”

“I love you,” I told her.

“Took long enough for you to say it.”

“That's not how you're supposed to respond.”

“As if you didn't know I love you.”

•   •   •

I'd like to say we arrived back to a heroes' welcome, but life doesn't work like that. Avoiding a catastrophic war is almost never as well regarded as winning one, or even surviving one.

What was uppermost in everyone's mind, including the king's, upon our return to Lendowyn Castle, had
been the absolute debacle of the anniversary banquet. And, absent marauding elves, Sebastian's reign of terror was the act of war that was most pressing. Fortunately no one had organized an attack yet, so Lendowyn was able to bring to the negotiation table the heads of two of the three hostile dragons.

That placed those kingdoms attacked by Blue or Green in our debt, banquet catastrophe aside. Those new allies and Lendowyn's recent history of victories on the battlefield was enough to keep other potential threats from developing past the saber-rattling stage.