Dragon's Den: Book II (Where Dragons Lie 2) Read online

  "I cannot," he answered, the only way he could.

  Nailin looked to Zarrock and harrumphed.

  "The Silverthane are mostly creatures of legend, late-night tales told to the young." Zarrock stood and began pacing about the camp. "I have travelled Calasia for eighty-nine years. Only once have I seen the Silverthane, and that was from a great distance," Zarrock said, stopping in front of Wizard. "It is said that they have only served a handful of people over the centuries, and only those whom they deemed worthy, kings and queens, knights of nobility."

  Wizard looked at them. He did not know how to respond.

  "Are ye a king, Wizard?" Nailin asked.

  He pondered the possibilities. Somehow, he knew that he was not a king. How he knew this, he did not know. His friends deserved some kind of explanation. He stood and faced Zarrock.

  "I am no king. This I know," he said, and then raised his hand as Nailin tried to intercede. "How I know that I am not a king is beyond me, but I do know, just as I know that I am a friend to the animals of this world, and that I am loyal to those who would befriend me. I know that the power of the universe is a part of who I am. I feel it within me, even now." Wizard turned and looked to the skies, then faced them again. "Does that make me a wizard? I suppose it does. But more than anything, I know that the dragons are suffering a great calamity, and that I will do everything in my power to help them."

  Nailin stood up. "I don't know who ye are, Wizard, but I've a notion to see this to the end," he said patting him on the back. "Aye, we'll need to get this business in Zelea behind us, then we can see if we can find the spot where you were skewered. Iffin' yer feelin' up to it, that is." Nailin retrieved a bag of spices from his saddlebags and returned to the chickens.

  "There may be someone in Zelea that can help us," Zarrock added. "I do believe I know who."

  The next morning, Dellwind appeared as they prepared to leave camp. They spent most of the morning crossing the prairie to intersect the waterway at the Raging Red River Shallows, a popular crossing for off-road travelers. On the other side, the busy road wound its way along the shores of the river. Wagon trains, as well as people on foot and horseback, raised clouds of dust as they made their way over the next rise. Despite the busy highway, they were back on schedule to make their appointed meeting.

  Wizard decided to release Dellwind rather than enter the city with a walking legend. The great horse made it known to him that he would come again when he was needed. The companions joined the procession of travelers on the road, and arrived at the outskirts of Zelea by midday.

  The first sign they were nearing the city were the scattered farms on each side of the road. Farmers and their sons worked the fields, harvesting their crops. That accounted for a lot of the traffic on the road, as fresh produce was making its way to market. Livestock roamed the fields, fattening up before winter set in. The smell of fresh cheese teased them as they passed several dairy farms. The sound of Nailin's belly rumbling turned heads on the road. Lazy wafts of smoke curled up from the many chimneys in the busy city.

  The traffic slowed to a crawl as the towers of Zelea came into view. Thatchers patched roofs with oily tar. Sweeps stood upon stone chimneys, their brushes sending clouds of soot through the air. The rich odor of fresh manure scooped up by the city cleaners into carts, mixed with the stench of waste from the sewers leaving the city, assaulted the senses.

  It was not a walled city, but it had a set of gates manned by the city guard, taking tolls from anyone who entered on horseback or hauling a wagon. The small trading city was alive with all manner of folk coming and going. The main market by the gates of the city was awash in the bright colors of the various tents, wagons, and shops set up throughout the square leading into the center of the capital. Peddlers were busy selling their wares to weary travelers.

  "We should make for the east entrance if we are to arrive on time," Zarrock said as they approached the fork in the road that bypassed the south side of town. It was a long way around, but the congestion leading to the city center would cost them hours. They broke off from the main road and followed the less-traveled route around the edge of town.

  They paid their toll at the east gate and made their way to the, Zelea Hall of Commerce. Here, the mayor of Zelea and the mayors of the other free cities of Callibri, made up the Council of Twelve that met with emissaries from the surrounding realms. Zelea was the capital city and a central hub of Free Callibri, a conduit for trade. Meetings took place that opened negotiations and movement of goods to all parts of the continent.

  Nailin was there to represent the Gunnerdon Mountain Dwarves. There was more and more need for the ore and goods that the dwarves produced from mining the deepest tunnels within the bowels of the Gunnerdon Mountains that opened a gateway to the eastern shores of the Shallow Sea.

  Zarrock represented the elves of Rothgar, whose land encompassed the foothills leading to the high passes of the dwarven crags.

  The Southern Kingdoms were constantly warring amongst themselves over territory, marriage contracts, family feuds, and the right to exclusive trade with Nailin's people. The kingdom with the strongest steel often won out on the battlefield. Callibri, a free-trading zone, stood between the Southern Kingdoms and the elven and dwarven territories. It was the gateway to the west and beyond.

  The elves were first and foremost a peaceful people, at home with nature and at peace with themselves. They often acted as negotiators between the different factions, in an attempt to keep the peace by convincing them of the advantages of harmonious trade agreements that were fair and equitable to all.

  And on this day, a delegate from the vella, a sloth-like, telepathic, tree-dwelling race, was said to be in attendance, here to negotiate a new trade route through the Vellarian Forests of central Callibri to lands not yet claimed by any of the expanding Southern Kingdoms. As it was, the forest had closed to all who attempted passage, the trees and brush so thick that it was impossible to enter. The alternative was a wide passage through the often troll-dominated hills to the west, or the swamps of Darmoor to the east, ruled by the ever-dangerous Graymar.

  "Will you meet with the vellan delegate, Wizard?" Zarrock asked. "He may be able to help you remember, if he agrees to share his thoughts with you."

  Wizard was intrigued by the possibilities of meeting a telepath. Though he was also frightened of what he might remember. "Yes, if he will see me."

  "Let us get cleaned up and have something to eat. The afternoon session will begin in two hours. You may attend with us. Perhaps we should try to find you some more suitable clothing first."

  All of the emissaries had rooms reserved at the finest inn the city had to offer. The King's Lantern was an impressive three-story building across from the Zelea Hall of Commerce, its regal entrance framed by two black-and-white marbled columns, the windows decorated with the finest stained glass Callibri had to offer. A valet assisted those dignitaries who arrived by coach.

  Adjacent the inn was a clothing shop. Zarrock and Wizard went inside while Nailin took care of their mounts at the local stable. They all met outside a short while later.

  "By thunder!" Nailen exclaimed, looking Wizard up and down. "Well, we won't be losing ye in a crowd anytime soon. Probably glow in the dark, too."

  Wizard extended his arms and spun around, admiring his newly acquired cloak. "I'm rather fond of red."

  "I'll be havin' to call ye Yer Majesty iffin' yer gonna wear that cloak," Nailin said.

  "It called out to me as I entered the shop," Wizard said, spreading his cloak wide.

  "Ah, a magic cloak, then. I don't suppose it be knowin' yer name, too?" Nailin chuckled, circling Wizard.

  "We best get checked into the inn; I am looking forward to a nice hot bath. A week of sweat and grime will not do in the Hall of Commerce," Zarrock said, leading the way inside.

  "Bah, a little sweat never hurt anybody," Nailin said, bowing to allow Wizard passage. "After ye, Yer Majesty."

  The meeting hal
l was a large domed chamber adorned with various richly colored tapestries, dark redwood tables laden with roasted chicken, glazed peacock, meatballs, venison in a stew of wine, and freshly baked breads. A massive oak-framed painting of the first trade meeting that took place in the chamber over fifty years ago dominated the wall overlooking the banquet table. A grand crystal chandelier sparkled in the light cast over the room from a myriad of candles. A duo of violinist and flautist played softly from a raised alcove, setting the ambiance.

  The Council of Twelve sat at a long table upon a raised platform; the center-most chair, occupied by First Mayor Caltamone, was raised above the others. It seemed more a throne than a chair as he languished in all of his girth and looked down upon the visitors, gesturing and nodding occasionally. Upon his plump fingers, multicolored baubles reflected the candlelight. He wore a heavy gold chain sporting the Medallion of the First Mayor, a round gold piece with an image of a scale inlaid with diamonds. Sweat ran freely down the jowls of his enormous, greasy face. An assistant stood ready at his side to aid him in standing when he was ready.

  Finely dressed servers walked about with trays of different flavored exotic wines, fresh grapes, colored fruits, and the most exotic of cheeses wrapped in bacon. Others poured the darkest Appalurian aged red wine imported from the south. Emissaries mingled throughout the room, some already haggling with their counterparts from the other kingdoms, some positioning themselves to gain new trading allies.

  Wizard followed Zarrock as they navigated the chamber. Nailin had even brushed the food out of his beard and changed into a semi-clean set of trousers and vest, though it was at Zarrock's insistence. He quickly moved past them and headed straight for the specially brewed mead and fresh honey oat rolls.

  Wizard knew the second that the vella saw him. He could feel himself being probed. Not so much his thoughts, but his aura. There was a presence bordering on his perceptions, as though waiting for permission to engage. He scanned the gathering and saw who he instinctively knew was the vella, slowly moving in his direction.

  He was as tall as any elf, stooped over a little, covered in short, smooth, brownish-grey fur from head to foot but for his face and the palms of his hands and feet. He appeared neither old nor young, but somewhere in between, with a twinkle in his large wizened grayish blue eyes, and a twitch of his small puggish nose. He was dressed in a light brown vest and knee-length trousers of the same color. His arms were very long, extending to his knees, with two long curved claws that grew on the outside of his wrists down over his hands. He looked uncomfortable in his clothes, as though he wore them for the sake of the humans.

  The crowd seemed to clear a path as they chatted away, unknowing that they were making way for him to approach Zarrock and Wizard.

  "It seems as though he has found us," Zarrock said. He bowed to the vella and moved aside.

  Wizard observed the vella's slow methodical movements, his long arms swinging ponderously at his sides as he made his way toward them. He stopped and looked at each of them in turn, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corners of his small thin lips as he bowed low to Wizard, and waited.

  An overwhelming presence entered Wizard's mind the second he acknowledged the vella. Images, scents, and feelings flooded his perceptions, raising the awareness of all of his senses. This was the vella's mode of communication, rather than the spoken word. Within a moment, Wizard knew his name as it would have been spoken out loud. He saw that Sellan was humbled to meet him, and that he sensed great power within Wizard, and a gentle soul that had been tormented to the breaking point. He, too, was alarmed at the fleeting images of dragons screaming from the darkest parts of Wizard's mind. He was puzzled that he could not sense anything else beyond those shadowed images of death and torture.

  Sellan did recognize the section of the Raging Red River where Wizard had been found, and offered the use of his boat, the River Dancer, to help locate the source of Wizard's nightmares. First, Sellan would attend the trade delegation, at which he expressed the displeasure of humans traveling through their forest. The vella had no need to trade with anyone. Their ambitions lay within spirituality and being at peace with the universe, not objects, or power. The Vellarian Forest gave them everything they needed to survive and thrive within their own communities amongst the trees.

  However, relations with the outside world were something that had to be maintained to keep a harmonious balance with the outsiders. So, they had decided on a motion to allow passage, under the conditions that whoever traveled into their wood may never bring harm to the trees and would not tarry or stray from the road the vella would open for them, in return for nothing more than to move goods for trade and not war.

  Sellan bowed to Wizard once more and nodded at Zarrock before returning to his seat at the conference table.

  The first day of meetings was mostly pomp and ceremony, and the measuring of the various trading partners and their competition. The serious trading would begin the next day.

  The companions ended the afternoon by venturing into the city proper. The shops and goods there were by far more diverse and of better quality than those on the outskirts of the city.

  They wove their way through the crowded thoroughfares. Merchants cried out invitations highlighting their wares. The sights and sounds overwhelmed Wizard. And when the fresh scent of cinnamon buns wafted through the air, he steered Zarrock and Nailin in its direction. A few moments later, the three men were munching down on hot buns glazed in white icing. The taste was like nothing he could remember, which really wasn't anything, anyway.

  And then he heard the call that would define the meaning and direction of his life.

  "Dragons here! Everything dragon," a teenage boy sang out from a nearby street. High above the boy, mounted over the door of the shop, was a young dragon's head. It stared out over the street through dead green eyes, a purple tongue lolling out to one side of its gaping jaws, its ghastly visage contorted in pain. Over its head in bold lettering were the words, Dragon's Den.

  Wizard's legs folded at the knees. He stumbled and nearly fell. Dropping his bun, he started across the square. He was violently hauled backward. A horse-drawn heavy wagon thundered past him, chains and harnesses jangling loudly as it sped down the street. Zarrock and Nailin stood behind him, perhaps having just saved his life once again. Wizard continued on, twisting his way through the thick crowd toward the shop.

  "Dragon swords, daggers, and shields," the boy cried, directing a group of three finely dressed men into the crowded shop. "See the master about essence of dragon," he said to them in a hushed voice.

  Wizard stood before the spectacle. A tear rolled out of the corner of his eye. "She's just a youngling," he mumbled.

  "Aye, Wizard. This is not a pretty sight. I can't say as I agree with treating the dragons like this. They've never done us harm," Nailin said, glaring at the boy.

  "I heard stories that some of the southern realms were taking dragon heads as trophies and hanging them in their castles. That it has actually become a test for aspiring young squires out to be knighted. A test of bravery, they call it," Zarrock said, stepping forward to stand beside Nailin. "But I would never have imagined that it would have gone this far, that anyone would harm the young of these magical beasts."

  Wizard strode into the dimly lit shop. He slowed his stride to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom, and when they came into focus, he was held motionless.

  The walls were lined with shelves on which sat all manner of objects, decorative and otherwise. Lantern holders made from the toes and claws of dragons hung from the wall. Flutes and harps from dragon bone sat on shelves. Figurines representing the five species of dragons, carved from their own bones, occupied a whole row of counters. Thick, soft leather sheets cut from dragon wings were piled up in heaps throughout the shop. Swords and shields made from dragon scales hung from the walls. In the next chamber, there was furniture, beds, chests, and rocking chairs made of polished dragon bone. Ivory dragon horns wer
e displayed in locked cases. A group of ladies was fawning over smaller ivory trinkets and jewelry.

  People were lined up to taste-test and purchase bags of smoked and salted dragon jerky.

  "No," Wizard said, unheard in the clamor of voices.

  In an adjacent room behind a partially closed door, two men grunted and groaned as they lifted from the floor what appeared to be a wooden pallet with several large pieces of lumber on it. Then to the amazement of everyone in the area, the proprietor brought in another that had several balloon-like skins attached at the sides. They appeared to be inflated. The wood bed floated a few feet from the ground.

  Gasps shot out from several people in the room.

  "What magic is this?" One shouted.

  "How can this be floating in the air?"

  "Essence of dragon, I call it," said the proprietor as he started loading the pallet with heavy lumber. It descended with every piece of lumber that was added until it sat on the floor. He added a few more pieces from another pile.

  "Gentlemen, please," he said indicating that they should lift the pallet.

  The two men bent low, ready to bear the weight of the extra pieces of lumber. They almost lost the load, they picked it up so quickly.

  "How can this be? It's not heavy," one man said, hoisting the weight higher. "We can easily carry this all day."

  "So, you may have use for more of these in your lumber operation, then?" the merchant said with a wry smile.

  "Yes, most definitely," the patron replied. "Essence of dragon, eh? How did you come by this?"

  The merchant leaned in. "Have you ever wondered how it is that dragons can fly, given they're so large?"

  The lumberman raised an eyebrow.

  "These sacks line the inside of their bodies. They're filled with the same gas they use to breathe fire."

  "You still haven't told me how you came by them,"

  "If you don't want the product, I know of some ship builders that might," the merchant said, shrugging his shoulders.