The Dragon Ring (Book 1) (6 page)

Her eyes narrowed and focused on the door opening. A slight creaking fractured the silence. He’d let the hinges rust so the sound would warn him, but absorbed with the gold, he failed to notice. She spit on the joints and nudged the door enough to slip inside.

Today was different. She needed his unwitting compliance in her attack on his nephew. Spells of this strength required the victim’s blood or a close relative’s and a convenient uncle would do, the witch decided. She passed through the door with her sterile smile plastered across her painted face.

“Have you had a nice day dusting your gold, my dear?”

Startled, he jumped and gasped in reaction to her syrupy tone of mock endearment. The telltale fake smile and unnatural pleasantry gave Earwig away at once to her delight and his horror.

“What do you want?”

Earwig plunged her dagger into Minnabec’s gnarled hand. It writhed like a skewered spider; the wrinkled fingers scratched in vain. The blade nailed his hand to the desktop before he could bolt, but he shot up, shrieked and sank back down. The dragon-tooth handle swayed, protruding above Minnabec’s pasty, cold hand clawing to free itself. Earwig patted his wispy-haired head while she held the bowl in the other hand to catch the blood dripping off the desk’s edge.

“There, there, the bloodletting will be over soon.”

The miser stared at his swelling hand. “Why must you drain my blood all the time?” They watched as his thin, pale life force pulsed from the wound into a waiting earthenware receptacle. He knew better than to resist.

“Other than gold, what else are you good for?” the witch asked through the hideous smirk which always followed a vicious comment.

“You’re plotting some spell to damage the family further.”

“Like you?”

Minnabec’s gaze remained fixed on his wound. When she plucked out the dagger, he snatched back his fouled hand and slunk to the room’s far corner.

“You’re so perceptive,” Earwig said over her shoulder as she left. She chuckled and glanced down at Radrac, her face relaxed in a victorious sneer. The witch overheard his whimpering until the door shut behind her.

The specimen bowl in hand, Earwig returned to her black tower. She placed an iron cauldron with its coagulating contents on the tripod before the fireplace to warm the cold blood. From the table, she took a dingy scroll and reread the requirements for the spell. Satisfied, she peered down at Radrac.

“I’ve honed my magic skills through the years, even before Minnabec abdicated. Here before me is a large collection of the recorded knowledge of how to corrupt, hex, and subvert good to evil. Don’t you just love it?”
Earwig sighed and clasped her hands, glanced at the head-bobbing rat, pinched her chin and bit her lip. “This is quite an old, dark, and powerful spell. I’m confident I can control the thing responding to my summons. Let’s hope the layers of protective charms and veils of spells I took years to weave will protect me from the foul horror I’m about to conjure. If not, at least tearing you apart and devouring your pieces will give mommy time to escape, my pet.”

She reached and patted the rodent, motionless in ignorant bliss nearby, but not too near her odious feet. She pinched and chewed a flea who dared to jump on her.

“No self-doubt now. I’m committed to this. I’m confident I can control the thing, but sometimes nightmares come from the vat surprising even me.”

A nervous chuckle suggested some doubt. Into the cauldron went unspeakable things, powders of beings long dead, rare creatures’ dried body parts, and all in a base of stump hole water still wriggling with mosquito larvae. The blood curdled in the acidic brew as the mixture bubbled over the fire and condensed into a tar-like state. Earwig spoke an incantation from the crinkled skin book. The foul potion gurgled, glowed amber to red, but before the creature formed from the smoke, the substance settled back in the pot.

“What’ve I done incorrectly? I know how to summon spirits, I’ve conjured before.”

Though drained, rage recharged her.

“What’s wrong?”

She retraced the exhortation, but the chant was perfect. She shrieked.

“This summons requires five hairs plucked from the living victim. Without the hairs, the demon has nothing on which to form. I forgot to extract Saxthor’s hairs in my haste to get back here. I’ll have to return to the palace tomorrow.”

The witch scratched at a mole on her face and tore out a clump of wiry, curled hairs in the process. She winced and flicked the hairs and chunk of mole into the fire.

“I wouldn’t want those to land in the cauldron.”

She pressed her finger to the red bleeding growth and sucked the finger.

*

Minnabec sulked in his bedchamber when a shriek pierced the night and he scurried to the window. He beheld the luminescent green light coming from the back tower’s uppermost window slit.

“She’ll need a relative’s blood once more. Something’s gone wrong; she’ll be stalking me again. My gold is little consolation for the endless bloodletting she demands.”

4: Flight

Bodrin smacked down the thorny blackberry canes ahead of him with his walking stick. “These briars are worst in fall.”

The boys worked their way to the Sentinel Pine with care. Bushes, vines, and threatening spikes infested the low grounds between fields and swamps bordering the Southern Nhy River. Autumn had tamed the tender undergrowth for the winter, but briars and tangled vines held vigil, keeping intruders at bay. Saxthor trudged along deep in thought, oblivious to the barbs snagging his clothes.

“I’ve put up with Aunt Irkin’s meanness since I can’t remember when. She’s said ugly things about my brother, sister, and me in front of us every chance she’s had. Still, I never thought she’d try to harm us. I got a bad hunch about Memlatec’s scrunched face when he spoke of Aunt Irkin.”

“Maybe she had something to do with the man’s death in the stairwell yesterday. She wants to do more than make you miserable. What does the wizard want you to do?” Bodrin asked.

Saxthor’s expression was dismal. “I don’t know.”

“Stop worrying so. You’re making too much out of the accidents. We’ll find out what the old man wants soon enough.”

“Memlatec just said to come to the Sentinel Pine.” Saxthor tripped over a stick. “It was his expression that scares me. He frowned and his eyes-- his eyes got big, almost jittery. I never saw him so upset before, sorta in a rush. What he didn’t say worries me most.”

“Probably nothing.”

“I keep seeing the old wizard’s expression when he caught Aunt Irkin staring at me in the hallway yesterday. Her pinched face and beady eyes gave me chills, like a big snarling dog with hair bristling about to attack.”

Bodrin pointed. “We’ve got company.”

Fedra, Memlatec’s eagle plunged in full dive, wings back, focused on something behind them. Fedra smashed into a black vulture carrying a writhing water moccasin in its talons. A shower of inky feathers spiraled to the ground trailing the wounded, tumbling scavenger. Knocked from the claws, the serpent wriggled in the air and plopped in the bog. Though stunned a moment, the snake slithered away.

*

In his tower, Memlatec followed the strike through Fedra’s eyes in his crystal ball.

If I destroy the vulture, Earwig will sense my intervention at once, he thought. Better to hold the scavenger unharmed until the boys are well away. This is her doing. She’s managed to follow and pursues them still.

Memlatec closed the crystal’s vision, chanted a spell and turned aside.

*

A smoky translucence enveloped the bird stumbling on the ground. Close by, two water moccasins sunned on a log jutting from the dark cypress waters. They witnessed the drama playing out also. A third agitated and bruised cottonmouth emerged among the brown fern fronds at the tannic water’s edge. The new arrival slipped back into the water and slithered through the duckweed to a narrow isthmus only a few feet ahead of the boys. Its mottled gray-brown scales blended into the leaf litter where the serpent coiled.

*

“Careful of logs and stumps,” Saxthor said to Bodrin in the lead. “Lots are rotten; your foot will mash right into them. Walk on the mossy mounds around small trees. They hold up pretty well crossing the muck between spots of dry ground.”

“Like I don’t know that.” Bodrin picked his way along the squishy quagmire. “Soon we’ll come to the deep swamp.”

“The Sentinel Pine is up ahead.” Saxthor pointed at the magnificent sight. The tree rose from a dry raised finger of earth hooking out into the boggy low grounds. “The old timer stands out over everything, even makes its own branches seem tiny. We’re so little next to the giant.

“I’m wound up and alert whenever we get near this place,” Bodrin said.

Saxthor nodded. “Almost erases the briars and crud torment.”

Bodrin laughed. “First you won’t say anything; now you chatter like a bird. At least you’re not so moody.”

*

As the hikers admired the tree, two snakes zigzagged across the dark waters behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, Saxthor caught movement written in the duckweed. He sighted a third trail and followed it to the bank beyond Bodrin’s feet. A thick gray-brown coil tensed. At the center, a puffy triangular head sporting cold yellow eyes focused on those approaching. Bodrin’s descending foot broke the spell.

“Watch out!” Saxthor’s knife blade flashed by Bodrin when Saxthor lunged.

Bodrin jumped aside and paled as a blood-spurting, headless serpent body sprang from the spiral. The snakehead flew through the air and plopped down, bounced once, and landed open, white and menacing beside Bodrin’s damp foot. He leaped back from the water’s edge staring at the gaping skull, eyes fixed in rigid threat.

“Cripes! Where’d the snake come from?”

The squirming headless body sank into the muck still oozing blood. Saxthor wiped his machete blade. “Dunno, but the moccasin was coiled to strike.”

“Scary, those two slithering away were with this one like they were a pack. We must’ve almost stepped on one earlier to rile them so.”

“Water moccasins will attack when mad. Remember the one on the fishing pier we surprised?”

“Yeah.”

“Gives me the creeps,” Saxthor said. “The duckweed trail shows they were coming straight for us. Careful, the snake head by your foot is still biting.”

“Let’s go on to the tree,” Bodrin flicked the skull with his knife. The chomping menace splashed and sank into the dark water. The musky serpent odor lingered.

“Memlatec said this is a magical place where the earth’s energy bands come together,” Saxthor said in the Sentinel Pine’s shade. “The taproot must’ve grown into some energy or something. I can sense a sorta strength come on me like a warm summer breeze.”

“Yeah, funny how the air seems softer the closer to the Sentinel Pine you get. I love the fresh pine scent replacing the moldy swamp smell.”

Amazed by the shield-size bark plates, Bodrin caught sight of Fedra who settled in the branches high overhead. “You notice anything unusual?”

“My hair is prickling like right before a storm.”

Saxthor turned around as Memlatec materialized nearby. Motionless, both boys stared.

“I never, ever saw somebody pop out of the air before,” Bodrin whispered in Saxthor’s ear. “People say old wizards could do strange things, but I’ve believed Memlatec was just an adviser to the queen, not magical for real.”

“I perceive a new found respect on your awed faces,” Memlatec said. His smile relieved Saxthor.

“What’s going to happen next?” Bodrin asked.

Saxthor brushed his hand backward silencing his friend. “How’d you do that, sir?”

“Wizards can move about beyond physical means over short distances. We don’t utilize the mechanism often. Such travel requires extraordinary energy, and I’m getting too old for the strain.”

The sorcerer scanned the area. “This is an enchanted place. The planet’s creative energies converge here revitalizing those few who find their way to it. You feel refreshed, don’t you?”

“Revitalizing? Refreshed… I gotcha.”

Bodrin’s chest puffed up. “I found this place a long time ago. It’s been our favorite camping spot.”

“Well, this finger of high ground has a greater significance, boys. For two weeks in the spring, the Sentinel drops its veil. Man can discover the extreme display as the power point renews itself. This once I’ll show you what you may never have seen.”

Memlatec raised his staff and chanted a soft incantation.

“Saxthor,” Bodrin said and pointed to Memlatec. “His wand is leading something wavy around the area. Fresh green leaves are coming out everywhere.”

The light within the circle rose like dawn marbled in brilliant yellow, pink and blue. From above their heads, the formerly unnoticed jasmine vines splashed showers of golden trumpets that cascaded down the trees as melted butter over the branches. Like ornaments, globes of pink wild azalea bloom clusters appeared everywhere on the green leaf bracts of shrub honeysuckle.

“Aren’t the sky-blue phlox and rich purple dogtooth violets on the forest floor brilliant?” Memlatec asked. “Have you witnessed this display before?”

Bodrin stared without blinking. “Even the scarlet cardinals in the tree limbs and orange-breasted robins searching the ground for worms are part of the show. I think I even taste mint. We’ve come across this wonder once before.”

“The area is renewed each spring if you arrive at the right time to partake of the experience.” Memlatec lowered his staff. The springtime scene melted away and returned to the browns and rusts of autumn. “For those who appreciate the earth’s energy, this is a place to refresh.”

“Why’d you want us here?” Saxthor asked. Bodrin turned to Memlatec also. “This is beautiful, but I think you had more in mind than the show.”

Memlatec raised his hand. His facial expression hardened like gray stone, only his violet eyes remained of the vanished vitality. The boys tensed.

“I sent you two to this place because you’re old enough to understand the importance of what I’m about to tell you. You need to be aware of some facts. You’re in mortal danger from Earwig – Irkin.”