Guardians Of The Flame - The Sleeping Dragon Part 14

Oreen stood back, impressed. "Really. They're powerful healers. Their Grand Matriarch is said to be able to raise the dead, although I couldn't swear to the truth of that. I've never heard of a Hand cleric's talking about it, though." He snorted. "On the other hand, the d.a.m.n Spidersect clerics claim they can do anything, and they lie. But, as I was saying, the Matriarch is most powerful; she fully protected the tabernacle and its grounds from the battle."

Ahira frowned. "I thought you said it was a long time agoa"hundreds of years, no?"

Oreen's face wrinkled. "Where are you from, friend Ahira?"

"What do you mean?" There was a challenge in Oreen's voice that made Ahira's hands itch for the handle of his battleaxe.

The Librarian sighed, and shook his head. "My apologies; it's not my place to pry. But it must be a strange land, where powerful clerics can't maintain their own life functions."

The James Michael part of him welled up with an image of old Father Mendoza, his parish priest, who had collapsed with a heart attack while celebrating Ma.s.s, and died a few hours later. It was strange, come to think of it: Why couldn't the G.o.dsa"G.o.d take care of his own?

He shook his head. That was beside the point; the problem was how to deal with Oreen. Possibly the best thing to do would be to lay his situation before the Librarian, and ask his advice.

But how could he put it? I used to be a cripple on another world, until a would-be wizard sent me here, to clear the way for him?

No. That wouldn't do. Just because magic worked here didn't mean that there was nothing that the locals wouldn't consider insane.

And how do they treat the insane here? Beat them, to drive the demons out? And might that even work here?

It might, at that. But the cure could easily be worse than the disease. "You were showing me the route, I believe."

Oreen looked at him for a long moment before shrugging. "Very well. As I was saying, I can't show you detailed maps of the Waste, simply because n.o.body has ever made one. At least, not to my knowledgea"anyone going through there would be more interested in getting out than they would be in mapmaking." He smiled. "And to every rule, an exception: I could show you a map of the road from Metreyll to the tabernacle of the Healing Hand." His finger hovered over a line from a lake to the green spot that marked the forest preserve of the Society. "But that would take you out of your way. Far out of your way, if you're going to Bremon."

"Bremon?"

"Bremon." Oreen tapped at a lone inverted V, near the Waste. "That's where the Gate Between Worlds is supposed to be. I have a descriptiona"no map, just some notesa"of an entrance into the mountain. A hundred years back, someone gave up on finding the Gate when he was just outside of the mountain. So, I can show you where that is. But I can't show you a map of the inside of the mountain, simply becausea""

"n.o.body who has ever gone in has ever come out again, to tell the tale."

"Of course." Oreen .was puzzled. "What do you think I've been getting at?"

An easterly wind brought a stink to Karl's nostrils, as the three of them walked along a quiet cobblestone street. It was a stench of dung, and sweat, and fear. He was about to pick up the pace, to urge the others along, when Walter plucked at Karl's sleeve. "I think there's a slave market over that waya"I can just barely hear an auction. You two want to go look?" The thief shrugged. "I know we can't spend any serious money right now, but it might be worth our while to find out how much some bearers cost. Could be cheapera"" He was interrupted by the crack of a distant whip, immediately followed by a scream of pain. Walter winced. "...than buying horses and such."

Karl shook his head. "We won't own people. It's wrong."

Doria frowned at Walter. "How could you even think of such a thing? That'sa""

"Thinking it through. Which you two aren't. Look, what would we do with a bunch of slaves, after we reach the Gate? We'll let them go, no? In effect, it'd be more like a temporary indenture than real chattel slavery; they'd trade a bit of service for their freedom."

"No." Karl clutched his sword more tightly. "That's out. Just forget about it. One of the few virtues our world has isa""

"Don't be silly. In our world, it's been the norm for most of history. Even in our time, chattel slavery isn't unknown. It's still legal in half a dozen places I can think ofa"Saudi Arabia, f'rinstance. Youa""

"I won't stand for it." You don't own people. It's wrong.

Doria interposed herself between the two of them. "Just let it be. We're supposed to be seeing the sights, no?"

"Fine."

The street sloped gradually downward as it narrowed, the one-and two-story stone houses that lined it becoming progressively more ill-kept. Through latticed windows, Karl could see an occasional head, peering out at him, ducking aside when he returned the occupant's gaze. Idly, he let his free hand rest on the hilt of his sword, loosening it in its scabbard. Probably that was an unnecessary precaution, but that was the trouble with precautions: You couldn't know which one was necessary until it was too late.

Ahead of them, where the now narrow street opened into some sort of plaza, there was a distant roaring, as though of a fire.

Fire? Karl sniffed the air. No good; the wind was at his back. "You two hear that?"

Doria and Walter nodded, stepping up their pace to keep abreast of him. "Sounds like a fire," Doria said. "A fire? This whole place is built out of stone. There can't be a fire."

"Bets?"

They reached the end of the street. What had seemed to be a plaza was more of a large, railed balcony, overlooking a vast pit, easily two thousand feet across, a hundred feet deep at its center.

And in the center of the pit, chained by the neck to a ma.s.sive boulder, was an only slightly less ma.s.sive dragon.

It was a huge brown beast, easily twice Karl's height at its front shoulder, only slightly shorter at the hips. Two leathery wings sprouted from behind its shoulders, curling and uncurling constantly as the dragon flamed patches of brown muck into ash and steam, its tail flicking nervously from side to side.

The head was a horror. It was shaped much like an alligator's head, but it was ma.s.sive, teeth easily the size of daggers, wicked red eyes that bore into Karl's, sending him reeling away from the pit's edge.

A gout of flame issued from its mouth, roaring as it touched the stream of sludge that poured out of one of the pipes feeding into the pit.

*Go away,* sounded in his head, accompanied by waves of nausea.

Karl fell to his knees, gagging, his tearing eyes jammed shut.

"Karl?" Walter knelt beside him. "What happened to you?"

"Karla"are you all right?" Doria's face went ashen as she crouched in front of him.

Another burst of flame sent up a cloud of steam from a sludge pipe.

Karl forced his eyes open. No, there was n.o.body else therea" all of the buildings that circled the pit presented it with only blank walls.

*After all, no one would want to look out on a sewer, would he?*

This time, the voice was unaccompanied by nausea; Karl staggered to his feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "You're talking, in my head."

*Very clever, swordsman.* The dragon's directionless voice dripped with sarcasm. *And you are talking with your mouth. And the mixed-up little healer and the smug thief beside you are standing mute. Have you any more subtle observations to make? If not, please taunt me in my captivity, and then be on your way.* The dragon's forepaw idly clawed at the coils of chain around its necka"no, it wasn't chain, exactly; more like cable. And in spots where the filth that covered it had flaked away, specks of gold showed through.

*That is so I can't flame myself free, fool. Were I so foolish as to try, I would only burn myself,* It had tried that, more than once. The gold plating on the steel cable conducted the heat away. To the dragon's neck.

Karl's hands flew to his burning neck, circled by a ring of fire.

But the fire wasn't there; the pain faded instantly, until it was only a memory, as distant as a half-forgotten pain from a childhood fall.

*How do you like the feeling, human? Your kinda"*

"No, not me."

"Karl, would youa""

"Shut up." You're not hearing my voice, are you?

*Why would I be interested in your voice?*

I... don't know. But... how can your own flame burn you? And why are you angry ata"

*A magical creature the dragon is, but not immune to flame, to heat, to burning. I control my own flame, of course, but the... indirect effects, no. And I hate you because... wait. Who are you?*

"My name is Karl Cullinane. This is Doria and Walter." And I don't know why you're angry at me. I never did anything to you.

*I am Ellegon. The disposer of wastes.*

I... don't understand.

*Wait until the wind changes, Karl Cullinane. This pit is where the sewers of Pandathaway empty, so as not to foul their precious harbor. I must flame the wastes into ash, or sit here buried in human filth. They captured me, when I was only half a century out of the egg, and chained me here, dumping their excrement on me for these three centuries.*

You're more than three hundred years old?

The dragon had been chained in sewage for three centuries; it let Karl feel what that was like.

For just a moment.

As he lay retching on the stones, Walter pulled at his shoulders. "C'mon, we've got to get him out of here. It's killing him."

*Yes, I'm only a child. Do you think it's right, to treat a child like this? Do you?*

Nausea.

Karl shrugged their hands away, closing his eyes, trying to close his mind. Please. Don't do that again.

*You wouldn't have done it? No, I see that you wouldn't, not even to a dragon.*

The nausea ceased. "Take it easy, you two. Everything's okay." No, I wouldn't do it to a dragon.

Karl would kill a dragon, if it endangered him. If he could. But this was wrong. Karl had felt just a trace of Ellegon's suffering, and that was more than enough. Unless the dragon wasn't as sensitive toa"

*Do you want to feel it again?*

No. This was wrong, but it didn't look as though there was anything that Karl could do about it: The dragon looked hungry, and the cable was thick.

*I am hungry, and I haven't asked you to cut the cable. Not that I need to eat; dragons are magical, don't you know. We like to eat*a"the satisfaction of crunching a cow, eating it in two bites, sent the last traces of nausea awaya"*but we don't have to.*

I didn't know. I didn't know anything about dragons.

A mental shrug. *Are you stupid, or merely ignorant?*

Just ignorant, I hope.

*Hmmm. I have a proposition for you. If I do two things for you, would you do one thing for me?*

That depends. You can'ta"

*I can't reach your mind from much farther away, yes. You could run away, and I wouldn't be able to talk to you, or do thia"*

DON'T. I don't want you to make me vomit again. But you were offering me a proposition? I... I'm not sure I trust you enough to go down there, and try to free you.

Flame roared. *Fool. I wasn't asking for that. Not from a filthy human. But if you could see your way to bringing me something to eat? A sheep, maybe? I'll do something for you. I'll start by telling you something you need to know, if you are going to find the Gate Between Worlds, Karl Cullinane.*

Howa"how do you know?

Blistering scorn. *I read minds, remember?* Ellegon roared.

Sorry.a"And yes, if I can afford a sheep, if you do something for me that makes it worthwhile, I'll bring, you one. Or something else to eat, if I can't manage to buy a sheep.

*Agreed. First: You will find the Gate deep under the mountain Bremen, just north and west of the Waste of Elrood. Anda"*

I thank you, but maybe Ahiraa"

*a"I know. Your companion may already have found that out. I wasn't finished. I was going to tell you something else, something that he could not have found out. Something that I know, simply because I am a dragon, and know where all of my kind are.*

"Karl, what isa""

"Shut up. I'm talking to the dragon."

"You're talking to a dragon?"

*Yes, he's talking to a dragon.*

Walter and Doria both jumped, as Ellegon included them.

*But it's easier to talk to only one.*

You were telling me that there's a dragon there, at the Gate. That was bad. But maybe, if they were lucky, the dragon wouldn't be as large as Ellegon.

*No, He won't. He will be much larger. He has lain there long enough for the mountain Bremon to grow up around him, as He sleeps there, guarding the Gate.*

"Wonderful." He turned to the others. "Ellegon just told me that there's a dragon at the Gate, guarding it."

"Karl," Doria shrilled, "would you tell me what is going on?"

*Tell them to go away. Their minds are even narrower and more cramped than yours. Although the woman's holds more. Strange. And the other's is built differently, as though it's not quite the same kind. I... don't understand.*

"Ask him," Walter said, "what the other dragon's name is. Maybe Ari can put together a name-spell, anda""

*Fool.*

"I heard that." Walter glared.

*And fool you are. He was the first dragon, created before all the rest of us.*