The Dragons Revenge (Tales from the New Earth #2) (8 page)

Daniel, Daniel, he thought
with a shake of his head. I'll be thanking you forever, old friend.

He rummaged around until
he found all that he needed. Then he carried his discoveries upstairs
to his bedroom and began to get dressed.

Simon put on a set of
thermal underwear, pausing a moment to get used to the constricted
feeling of the garment. It was necessary but he didn't like it.

He pulled on thick woolen
socks, a heavy shirt and sturdy pair of pants came next, followed by
fur-lined boots.

Finally he struggled into
a dark blue winter jacket with a hood and thick gloves.

He looked at himself in
the mirror and burst out laughing.

I look like bundled-up
five year old, he thought. His young, unlined face with its enormous
mismatched eyes stared back at him innocently, with a crazy grin.

Ah well, no one's going to
see me anyway.

He walked back downstairs,
careful not to trip in the bulky clothing, and headed for the front
door.

Then he stopped, made an
exasperated sound and went back to the stairs again. He walked down
and into the storeroom with all of his tools and found a small
shovel.

Unless I want to dig with
my hands, I'm going to need this, he thought ruefully. And then he
climbed to the main floor again.

Simon was sweating already
when he reached the front door. He glanced at the fire and saw that
there was enough fuel on it to burn for several hours and then he
pulled back the bolts on the door and, with some effort, forced it
open.

A blast of arctic air
slammed into him as he walked outside. He pulled the door closed
behind him and stood on the front steps in a foot of snow.

The wind hadn't let up and
the snow was blinding. He didn't even consider looking for the dragon
that had fallen far off to the west. He was sure to get lost in the
storm and would probably end up freezing to death. Not really a
fitting end for a great wizard.

Yeah right, he thought
wryly.

No, today he'd search
along the wall where the second dragon had crashed. Kronk and his
earthen friends had rebuilt the damaged section but Simon knew
approximately where it was. He hoped.

The snow inside the wall
was knee-deep and Simon determinedly forced one foot forward while
tugging out the other. When he reached the new section, the snow was
up to his waist. He leaned against the wall for a minute to catch his
breath and looked around for any sign of remains.

The dragon had, of course,
burned to ash, but Clara claimed that the heart remained and Simon
assumed that other bits might have survived as well. But the snow was
pristine and smooth from the whipping winds and he saw nothing.

With a heavy sigh, Simon
picked a spot and started shoveling. The problem was that he didn't
know which side of the wall the heart had landed on. He could be
digging for no reason at all, But there was no way to tell without
looking, so dig he must.

The tips of his finger
went numb inside his gloves, as did his nose. At the same time, he
started sweating as he flung heavy shovelfuls of snow over his
shoulder.

Simon's movements became
mechanical as he dug deeper through the snow. His mind was blank and
he gritted his teeth as he hefted each load of snow and flung it as
far as he could downwind.

Finally, the shovel
clanged against the frozen earth. He gasped and shook his head in
confusion. He'd lost track of the time and hadn't realized just how
deep his hole was.

He stuck the shovel in the
snowbank behind him, got down on his knees and started pushing at the
loose snow along the sides of the hole.

“
Come on,”
Simon muttered. “Give me something. A scale. Some blood.
Anything!”

He pushed and dug and felt
around but finally sat back on his heels with a sigh of resignation.

“
I think I'm digging
in the wrong place,” he said to the snowy world around him.

The daylight was fading
quickly into the early night of winter and Simon knew that he'd have
to wait until tomorrow to try again; on the other side of the wall.

He stood up painfully,
wincing at his sore back, grabbed the shovel and turned toward the
tower. He took one step, dragging his numb feet along the ground and
then tripped and landed face-first in the snow.

He was engulfed and had to
fight his way to his feet, looking like an animated snowman and
cursing loudly.

“
What the hell?”
he said savagely.

He had tripped on
something. Simon kicked through the snow, assuming that it was just a
frozen tree-root and saw a flash of red in the dying light.

His breath caught in his
throat and he knelt down again, pain forgotten, and brushed the snow
off of the object. Then he sat back and stared in wonder.

It was a crystalline
ovoid, about a foot in diameter. Spikes of red crystal shot out in
all directions from a central core, but it was almost round in shape.
There was a muted, almost undetectable pulse of light flickering up
from the core and along the spikes.

“
A heartbeat,”
Simon said, almost in awe. Obviously, this was a dragon's heart.

“
Even dead, the
heart keeps beating. My God.”

He reached down and picked
up the ovoid carefully. The spikes were as sharp as razors and he was
glad that he was wearing thick gloves. The heart was heavier than it
looked and he grunted with effort as he tucked it under an arm so
that he could pick up his shovel.

Back inside, Simon set the
heart on his kitchen table and then hurried to add logs to the fire
before the embers died.

Even though it was cold in
the main room, he was still so overheated from all of the shoveling
that he didn't really care.

He stripped off his
outerwear, lit all of the candles to brighten the place up and set
water over the fire for tea.

Only then did he sit down
at the table to examine the crystal more closely.

The structure was almost
random; different lengths of spikes poking out of the ovoid center to
different lengths. Strangely, the faint pulsing of the heart was more
noticeable in the brightly lit room than it had been outside.

Simon watched the pulses
distrustfully. Why would the thing still be beating when the dragon
was dead? It didn't make sense. Unless...

He sat back and considered
what Clara had told him.

The dragons had apparently
absorbed his magic, she said. But watching the steady pulses, he had
a feeling that they had done something else.

Simon believed that the
beasts had redirected the power, into themselves. He knew that the
magic that the gods, both Good and Evil, were streaming into the
Earth's atmosphere was like a river. It flowed steadily, being used
by creatures and some humans, but constantly being refilled.

He guessed that the heart
was still pulsing because it was still absorbing the power that was
meant for him, sent by the gods of Order.

Which means, he thought
excitedly, that if I can destroy this thing and the other one, the
magic will find me again.

He felt exhilarated at the
thought but hesitated as he continued to study the heart.

The thing had survived the
explosive death of its host. Which meant that it was anything but
fragile. So the question was; how do you destroy the heart of a
dragon?

He got up and made his
tea, thinking it through. A hammer and chisel maybe? He glanced at
the heart. Possibly. The thing looked like crystal, after all,
although he doubted that the substance was something as simple as
that.

He stood and leaned back
on the kitchen counter, sipping his tea. Now that he actually had one
of the things in his possession, he was reluctant to attempt its
destruction.

Why the hesitation?

He searched through his
feelings and realized that he didn't want to do half a job. While he
really wanted his magic back, destroying only one heart wouldn't do
it. He needed both gone before he would be whole again.

Once he had finished his
tea, his decision was made. He would wait until he had both of the
damned things in hand before he attempted their destruction. It
wasn't really logical, but the thought was more satisfying.

So he put on his thick
gloves, carefully picked up the pulsing ovoid and set it on the floor
against the wall.

“
Soon,” he
told it. “I'll take care of you soon, you leech.”

The rest of the evening he
spent trying to read by the fire. But the flashing heart, steadily
throbbing with red light, weighed on his mind and he couldn't
concentrate.

Finally, Simon tossed
aside his book, gave the heart a final glare and headed for bed.
Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

After a restless night,
Simon arose to find that the snow had stopped overnight and the
morning had dawned clear and bright. It was still bitterly cold but
at least he wouldn't get lost as he tramped across the countryside in
search of the other dragon's remains.

He ate a hurried
breakfast, dressed in warm clothing again and grabbed his shovel.
Then he banked the fire so that it would last for hours, glanced
briefly at the dragon heart in the corner, and headed out.

As he stood knee-deep in
the snow in front of the tower, he tried to remember exactly where
the dragons had been battling in the sky when the loser fell to its
death.

West, he was sure of that.
But how far? And was it more to the south or the north.

He ground his teeth in
exasperation. This might be impossible. The thought of waiting for
the spring thaw was almost painful, but digging holes randomly for
days or weeks would be a total waste of time.

I need more than luck for
this, he thought. I need a miracle.

With a lot of effort,
Simon managed to pry open the locking mechanisms on his front gates
and forced one open wide enough for him to slip through. He took one
or two steps and then stopped short.

“
A fine day for a
walk in the winter air, is it not?” a voice asked.

The wizard turned his head
to the left with a snap and stared.

Ethmira was standing on
top of the snow, as if she weighed no more than a feather, and
smiling at his expression.

“
Good morning, my
friend,” she said and chuckled as he continued to gape at her.

“
Ethmira? My God,
what are you doing here?” he finally managed to ask in a
strangled voice.

“
Oh, you know.
Wandering the land, enjoying the freedom now that the primal black
has fallen. Helping wayward wizards. That sort of thing.”

Simon still wasn't
convinced that the elven woman wasn't just a product of wishful
thinking. His face must have given that away and Ethmira's smile
broadened.

“
No need to doubt
your senses, young wizard. I am as real as I seem. Our Elders have
been watching you from time to time, as you know, and contacted me.
They said that you needed aid in tracking something down. They
weren't very specific though.”

Simon thrust his shovel
into the snow, pulled off a glove and extended his hand. Ethmira came
forward and shook it. Her hand, though bare, was very warm.

“
I'm very glad to
see you,” Simon said. “Normally the idea that I'm being
watched would be unsettling, but today I'm grateful for it.”

“
Good,” the
elf said. “Now, what can I do to help you?”

The wizard stared at the
elven maiden for a moment. She was wearing her usual clothing;
leathers dyed in various shades of green, no gloves, light shoes. He
felt even colder just looking at her.

“
Would you like to
come in and warm up?” he asked a bit anxiously.

Ethmira laughed lightly.

“
I'm fine, my
friend. Elves don't feel the cold the way that humans do. We draw
upon the life force of nature at all times and it protects us.”

“
Um, okay. That's
handy, I suppose.”

“
Yes. Now, about
that object you are trying to find?”

Simon blinked, still a bit
shocked at the elf appearing at exactly the right time.

Just how closely do these
Elders of hers watch me, anyway? It was an uncomfortable thought.

“
Oh right, the
search. Well, believe it or not, I need to find a dragon's heart.”

It was Ethmira's turn to
stare at him in surprise.

“
A dragon's heart?”
she repeated.

Simon nodded.

“
And what would a
dragon's heart be doing lying around in the snow?”

Realizing that it would
just be easier to tell her everything from the beginning, Simon
explained about the dragon attack and his loss of magic. The elf
listened intently, nodding occasionally but not interrupting. When he
had finished, the wizard waited for her reaction, stomping his feet
once in a while to keep his circulation flowing.