The Accidental sorcerer

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Running unsteadily, almost staggering, with a dull-brown, skinny one-eyed dragon flapping in his wake, Gerald returned to the palace forecourt. Sultan Zazoor, his holy man Shugat and the Kallarapi army were still gathered there, safe within their shimmering domed shield. Not a single expression on a single face changed as he haphazardly approached.

After reeling to a halt he bent over for a moment, hands braced on his knees, and sucked in deep gulps of air. It still stank of burned flesh and acid poison. His stomach protested and he spat out bile. Behind him his pathetic dragon landed gracelessly on the ruined grass, hissing as it caught the scent of its counterpart.

When he could trust his guts he straightened, slowly, and stared through the shield at Zazoor and Shugat. 'Where's Lional? Where's his dragon? Did you see which way they went? Do you know where they are now? Can you at least help me that much?'

Zazoor and Shugat looked at him, eyes hooded, expressions remote. Just as eerily silent, the mounted warriors sat on their camels as though posing for a portrait.

You bastards. I think I hate you. 'What is wrong with you people?' he shouted. The skinny brown dragon flapped its wings and hissed softly. 'Look at me\ Look at this dragonl Aren't you afraid yet? Because if you're not, you bloody well should be! Don't you get it? We're all that's standing between you and Lional! Can that magical barrier of yours reach over your entire nation? 1 don't think so. Nobody has that much power!'

Shugat stirred. Blinked. 'You are wrong, wizard. Our gods have that much power. They have power enough to shield the world.' His voice reverberated strangely within the pearlescent shield.

'Your gods…' Gerald felt himself breaking inside, as though all his fault lines were fracturing. 'Well bully for them, Shugat! And bugger you! If you're not going to help me then why don't you and your sultan and your ragtag bunch of camel jockeys sod off home! I don't think Melissande's in the market for a bunch of lawn ornaments at the moment!'

Shugat sighed. 'Wizard, you are wasting time. Even now Lional and his dragon replenish their strength. Would you break your oath a second time? If not you must face them. You must face them or be lost forever.'

J change my mind. I don't think I hate you. I know 1 do. 'Fine,' he said bitterly. 'I'll face them. And we both know I'll probably fail. It's almost certain Lional will kill me. And after I'm dead he'll come for you. Maybe your shield will hold and maybe it won't. But if it doesn't… don't you dare blame me. Whatever happens after this, Shugat, the blood's on your hands, mate. It won't be on mine.'

Shugat said nothing. Beside him, Zazoor said nothing.

So. That's that. They're not going to help me. I'm really on my own.

Hollow, feeling strangely disconnected from the world, Gerald turned his back on them. Gave a hard tug on the mental leash connecting himself and the skinny brown dragon and left the Kallarapi to their own devices to continue the hunt for Lional and his dragon. He didn't have to hunt far. The horrific sound of horses screaming led him to Lional's private stable yard where Lional was seated on an upturned barrel watching his dragon feed on equine flesh.

The stables had been ripped apart, bricks and tiles and jagged splinters of timber scattered piecemeal, flame-scarred and acid-etched. The yard itself was a shambles, lumps of meat, shards of bone and ribbons of blood-soaked hair splattered over every surface. Gerald felt his stomach heave. From the available evidence the black and tan hounds had been killed too.

More blood on my hands. More innocents slaughtered. I'll never be able to make this right…

Lional's dragon darted and whirled amongst the few remaining terror-maddened horses, butchering indiscriminately, biting and tearing and swallowing as though it were starved. In his mind Gerald felt the little brown dragon howl a protest as it scented the kills through the link that bound them. It took all his strength to overpower its will and keep it hidden, safe from being revealed too soon.

Lional's frenzied dragon turned on the last surviving horse and bared its blood-slicked teeth, acid pouring from its mouth and spines. The cobblestones smoked, the air filled with the stench of burning blood.

Gerald leapt forward. 'Stop the damned thing, Lional, before it's too late! Can't you see7. That's Demonl He's your favourite horse, isn't he? Don't let it eat Demonl' If you let it eat Demon then you truly are gone. Lional's face was white as death.'Demon?'

As the stallion called out to its master in fearful entreaty the dragon killed it. Then, with a hissing cry of triumph, fell upon the steaming carcass and tore it open like it was made of paper.

Light-headed with horror, Gerald watched Lional slide off his upturned barrel and dabble his fingers in the steaming blood pouring from his murdered horse. Watched him lift a cupped brimming handful to his lips and drink…

Despite the torment he'd endured at Lional's hand, the rage he felt at Lional's unspeakable wickedness… he was overwhelmed with sickened pity. 'Oh, Lional. Lional. What have you become?'

Hunger satisfied at last, the dragon settled amongst the remains of its butchered feast, wings furled against its bulging sides, eyes half lidded and watchful. With a sigh of utter repletion Lional dragged his bloody hands over his face, his hair. Sucked the red smears from his fingers. Then he turned and smiled. His eyes were crimson.

'Why, Gerald… isn't it obvious? I've become myself?

He faltered backwards a step. What? /. Lional had called himself /…

'Lional,' he said desperately, 'listen. Please. If you are still in there listen to me. You have to fight this. It won't be easy, you're nearly gone, but I can help you. Lional, you don't want to be this thing. You can't want it, you weren't born a monster. In your own twisted way you love New Ottosland. You did this for your kingdom. Your people. Well now they need you, Lional. Not the dragon. You. So fight this, you bastard. Do you hear me? Fight it!'

Lional was staring at him, head tipped to one side. Beneath the blood his expression was gently puzzled. 'But Gerald… there is nothing to fight. I am the dragon… and the dragon is me. We are us. We are one. I am… I.'

In the stinking silence Gerald heard his heart beating. It's true. They are one… which means I've failed. I've failed and doomed this kingdom. Good work, Dunnywood. How's that for a legacy?

And then he shook his head. No. If Reg was here she'd kick his arse for thinking like that.

She wouldn't quit now and neither will I. It's the least I owe her after letting her down.

He took a tentative step towards Lional. 'Your Majesty, think for a minute. What about Melissande? What about Rupert? They're your family, they need you, too. The dragon might hurt them, you don't want that. You — '

'Those names are shadows. I am my own family, Gerald,' said Lional, smiling. 'Shall we show you?'

Before he could escape, Lional's hands captured his face. The grasping fingers were scorching hot, as hard as dragon's claws. Still smiling, Lional drew him close… closer… their lips met and he tumbled helplessly into the blast furnace of Lional's dragon mind. boiling acid — burning ice — a ravenous hunger that could never be gorged -

Oh, God. It was over. The transformation was complete. The two thin strands of black and crimson, once two separate minds, were now a single thread melting from crimson to black and back again without beginning or end.

Lional was the dragon and the dragon was Lional.

Protesting the invasion, the tangling of their bond, the little brown dragon in its hiding place threw back its head and roared. Gerald cried out as the echoes of its distress reverberated along the link that Lional had forced with his mind. Lional staggered backwards, crimson eyes wide.

'What is this, Gerald? Don't tell me you've joined us…'

Head swimming, balance momentarily destroyed, he fell against the stable yard's broken brick wall. 'Not exactly.'

Lional frowned; the dried blood on his face cracked, flaked, drifted away on an errant breeze. 'What, then?' 'What do you think, you poor mad bastard?'

'Oh! I seel cried Lional and laughed with delight. His dragon opened its mouth wide and hissed; more green poison streamed down its teeth to curdle the blood pool it sat in. 'Well, they do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, don't they? And I am, I'm flattered] Where is it, Gerald, your brand-new dragon? Don't be shy! Show it to us! I promise I won't bite…'

With a grunt, Gerald pushed himself away from the brick wall.'I don't,' he said, and ran.

He'd left the little brown dragon in a bower nearby, not trusting its limited athleticism to a confrontation in close quarters. Once cornered by Lional's emerald and crimson monster it would be dead in seconds, and so would he. Open sky was their only chance of survival… If they had any chance at all.

The brown dragon roared rustily as he rejoined it, wings flapping, head swivelling as it tried to focus with its one good eye. He took a deep breath and brought it back under control. Brought himself under control at the same time, because facing monstrous Lional without focus, without total self-mastery, was tantamount to suicide. He felt his heart ease… felt the brown dragon's breathing slow… felt their blood pound less frantically through their veins.

My veins he told himself sharply as the image of Lional drinking blood assaulted him. And don't you forget if!

The thought of succumbing to the sympathetica was a gibbering fear in the pit of his belly. To lose himself in the mind of a dragon… to turn ravening on his friends, on Reg, and Monk. On Melissande and Rupert who were relying on him to undo the damage he'd done to their country… God, don't let it happen. Please, don't let it happen.

Subduing terror, he made himself think of more practical things. The nearest open space to fight Lional and his dragon was the palace forecourt. He'd have to make his stand there, Kallarapi or no Kallarapi. There was no way he and the little brown dragon could outrun or outfly Lional and his beast. He could hear their casual approach, the scattering of stones, the heavy, roaring breath… they were in no hurry, damn them. For Lional the battle was already won. Why rush breathless to a foregone conclusion?

Yes, well, don't count your victims before they're actually dead, mate. Your royal court wizard's still got a few surprises for you…

With one hand for guidance on the brown dragon's skinny neck, Gerald eased their way out of the bower and around the flowerbeds, the rose-covered trellises and the ornamental shrubs that flanked each side of the palace's grand entrance. The eerie silence over the grounds continued. He couldn't see a soul stirring anywhere. The palace staff, sensibly, remained in hiding or had fled.

But the cavalry's not here yet, either. Damn, I wish they'd hurry. Come on, Melissande, this is no time to be shy. Throw your weight around, have a princessly tantrum. Don't let them bully you, 1 need that helpl

Gravel crunched under his feet, swished beneath the dragon's dragging tail. They were back at the forecourt… and the Kallarapi were gone.

For a moment he was disconcerted, but the feeling quickly passed. Good. If the selfish bastards didn't intend to help him the last thing he needed was them watching him die…

He took a deep breath, banished Shugat, Zazoor and his silent army from his mind… and waited for Lional and the dragon to come into view. Only Lional came.

Gerald fought the impulse to stare into the dragonless sky What the hell was Lional planning…

When the king saw the half-blind drab brown dragon at his side he burst out laughing. 'Oh, GeraldV he gasped, tears running from his crimson eyes. 'Surely you can do better than that?'

He lifted his chin. In his mind, his dragon burned. 'If you surrender now, Lional, you won't be harmed. If you refuse, I'll stop you, both of you, even if I have to kill you to do it.'

'Stop us?' echoed Lional, incredulous. 'With that?' 'With everything I have and everything I am.'

More laughter, this time derisive. 'Well in that case, Gerald, we have nothing to fear,' said Lional, dulcet. 'For we know what you have and what you are. You were revealed to us in the dark, in the cavern. Shall we tell you the truth of yourself?' Now his beautiful smile was cruel. He wore a crown of black flies, feasting on the dried blood in his hair. 'You are a weeper. A moaner. A begger of mercy. A pisser and shitter, who gave in to his pain. Oath-bound and forsworn. Or have you forgotten?'

The words were acid on his soul. / know what I did, Lional. I remember how I sounded and how I stank. I don't need you to remind me of the cavern. I don't need you to do anything but die. if I'm forsworn what does that make you?' he retorted. 'For hundreds of years the kings of New Ottosland have been keepers, not conquerors. Stewards of the people. Your sacred duty was to protect them, Lional, not — '

'The people are subjects!' Lional screamed, his inhuman eyes aflame. 'Ours to kill or kiss as we desire. Now cease your weary prattling, little worm! The time has come for you to die! I offered you greatness and you threw it back in my face. I am affronted, Gerald. You have affronted me. I do not take such an insult lightly. I will kill you slowly for that. I'll make you pay!

And then the sky was full of beating wings and lashing tail and furious tongues of fire as Lional's crimson and emerald otherself plummeted shrieking out of the sun.

The little brown dragon hissed, startled. Hissing again, it reared on its hind legs and beat its dowdy wings in answer. Gerald, hands fisted by his sides, took a lung-bursting breath of acid-soaked air… and kicked down the door protecting his mind from the dragon's.

Heat. Rage. A burning lust for death. Wings and claws and teeth for tearing.

Lional's dragon swooped low and Lional vaulted onto its back, as once he'd vaulted onto poor dead Demon. He rode the dragon as though flesh and bone had melded, skin to scales, a man with wings.

The small part of Gerald's mind that remained just Gerald swore. Oh that's wonderful. I hate flying.

He scrambled on board his own small brown dragon and with the gossamer thread of himself that survived untouched he told his creation to fly, fly. With a rusty roar of challenge and a thrashing of inadequate wings and tail, they leapt into the stinking air towards their crimson and emerald enemy.

Through the first mad moments of fire and torque, as the dragons danced and he held on for his life, he tried to think of a plan. A strategy Some way of dealing with Lional that would work once and for all. Tried to think of something more useful than 'bloody hell, Dunnywood, don't fall off Maybe if I can get Lional out of New Ottosland…

And that might work. Get him over the border and into Kallarap… if its gods were real… if they had true power… the last thing they'd want is Lional in their midst. They'd have to destroy him. They'd have to. So much for Shugat. I'll cut out the middleman.

Even as he decided, the brown dragon swerved left. Headed towards the city, towards the border far beyond it, to the desert of Kallarap and the wrath of its gods.

With a bellow of fury, Lional and his dragon launched in pursuit, streaking flame after them in searing streams. Gerald felt the heat wash over him, felt his small dragon's agony as a whip of flame licked its tail. I'm sorry little dragon! Fly faster-fly faster -

He risked a swift look behind them. Lional was gaining.

Now the city was directly below them, they were flying through smoke from its burning buildings. Eyes smearing, tearing, Gerald stared at the rubble… the bodies… the ruined streets lined with charred skeletal trees. There were people in the open again, milling like sheep without their shepherd, making vague disorganised attempts to do something about the mess.

And then he really did almost fall off his dragon because Shugat was down there. Shugat and Zazoor and the entire Kallarapi army, they were down off their camels and helping the people.

A scream of rage behind him. He turned. Lional had seen Shugat. He was close now, so close. His inhuman face was contorted with fury. Abandoning the pursuit, he and his dragon flung themselves towards the ground. Oh shit. Gerald flung himself and his dragon after them.

Lional's subjects were screaming, scattering, running pell-mell into the park which held the Royal Duck Pond. Shugat stood motionless in the cobblestoned street, holding his ground. Zazoor retreated, the army retreated, assisting Lional's subjects wherever they could. Shugat plucked the rough stone from his forehead and held it high in one outstretched hand. No shield of protection this time. Just a pulse of light and a crack of sound. It was like flying headfirst into a brick wall.

Gerald shouted as he and his dragon bounced off thin air, were struck hard by Lional and his dragon flailing backwards, smacked just as hard by Shugat's invisible hand. Gerald lost his grip and his balance and fell from his dragon's hot back. As he tumbled like a rag doll he caught sight of Lional. He was falling too.

Gerald hit the park's hard ground and felt something break. Pain flooded through him, and in his mind he heard his dragon howl. Somehow he staggered to his feet, the pain didn't matter. He had to stop Lional.

New Ottosland's mad king was unhurt and finding his own feet again several yards from the Duck Pond. Gerald lurched in a circle, looking for Shugat. You can help me now, you bastard.You're bloody going to help me now! But the holy man was gone again. So was Zazoor and his army. They'd melted away like mist under the sun. He felt like crying. Oh damn you. Damn you. Why won't you help… Above his head the dragons were fighting.

It was a hopelessly unequal contest. Lional's dragon outweighed the enchanted skink by hundreds of pounds. Its wingspan was half as wide again, its tail as strong and lethal as a battering ram. Gerald stared at the battling dragons, barely breathing. One well-placed blow from Lional's monster would snap his dragon's spine like kindling. And he'd thought his little dragon could hurt it? He must have been mad.

Lional's dragon lashed sideways with its tail: Gerald staggered as it hit the brown dragon a glancing blow. Lional's dragon breathed fire: he cried out as the heat licked him along his arm, blistering flesh. The little brown dragon faltered, one wing seared and smoking. Its wings beat once… beat twice… it wasn't climbing. The brown dragon let out a hoarse cry of despair. Watching, triumphant, Lional laughed.

This was the moment. Live or die. Kill or be killed. Succeed or fail… and in failing doom two nations to death.

As one with his suffering, struggling dragon, Gerald took a shuddering breath. Ignoring their pain, their fear, for the first time he looked deep within to the source of his power. Vivid as mercury, potent as wine, it poured without end from a reservoir he never knew existed… drowning him from the inside out.

Somewhere in his mind something tore loose, shattered, exploded. It was Stuttley's all over again but a million times more powerful. His vision disappeared in a dazzling starburst. When it cleared moments later the world was strangely shadowed. Unreal. And cascading through his blood and bones a torrent of potentia that took his breath away. Compared to this, everything that had come before was as an echo, or a memory, or the merest hint of maybe. Flesh and bone fell away and now he didn't feel power, he was power. And he poured that potentia into his failing, falling otherself.

Through a silver corona Gerald watched the little brown dragon spiral away. He was the little brown dragon, their burned wing whole again, their broken ribs healed. They heard Lional grunt with surprise and then effort as he sent the crimson and emerald dragon in pursuit.

It was still an unequal fight. The little brown dragon was constrained by its original matrix; no power in the world could change that. And for all his newly woken potentia he was still a good wizard. Unsteeped in the malice and misery of the Lexicon.

He and his brave brown dragon would have one chance…just one…

Seeing through the magicked lizard's single eye, using senses he knew were his, yet not his, he felt Lional and his ravenous familiar closing the gap. Felt the hot wind of their breath on his back. Heard the greedy roar of hunger in their throat. Closer… closer… closer…

The monster would be on them in seconds. In seconds it would all be over with Lional triumphant… untrammelled… With a throat-ripping cry of effort Gerald brought his little brown dragon to an impossible midair halt and somersaulted it over the back of Lional's pursuing crimson and emerald monster. Lional and his dragon couldn't stop. He extended his claws — the brown dragon's claws — and sank them deep into Lional's — the other dragon's — hot and scaly hide. Then he reached out his jaws, snapped off one of the poisoned spines… and plunged it into the vulnerable throat of the crimson and emerald monster beneath them. Lional and his dragon screamed.

Dimly Gerald felt the acid poison burn his mouth, dissolve his teeth, run down his gullet and eat out his guts. His little brown dragon was dying and he was dying with it. Dimly, turning, he saw Lional drop to his knees, hands clawing at his throat. A bloody foam frothed at his mouth. His eyes were wild and staring, green venom bubbled from the gaping wound beneath his jaw… and where it touched the flesh curled and smoked and split like rotten fruit, releasing a stench like a thousand drowned bloated bodies.

'Leave, the beast, wizardV somebody cried.'Foolish youth, you cannot save it! Abandon its mind before you are consumedV

Unstrung with sorrow he pulled his fading mind free of the little brown dragon. His legs gave way and he collapsed to the grass. As he stared into the sweet blue sky so far above him he saw two dragons… one brown, one crimson and emerald, locked in a fierce and dying embrace, falling… falling…

And then the dragons were gone and it was two tiny lizards, falling… falling. They tumbled into a clump of burned pink azaleas and disappeared from sight.

To his left Lional let out a choked, gurgling groan… and fell silent.

Gerald couldn't move. Could barely breathe. Every muscle, every bone, every hair on his head was hurting exquisitely. All he could do was lie on the grass of the Royal Duck Pond park and stare at the sky. A sky that was suddenly full of camels and sultans and tatty old holy men, all gathered around him, their dark eyes approving.

Then the sky faded, and the camels, and the Kallarapi… and his mind folded in on itself, closing the door to consciousness.

Some time later the door opened again, with resentful reluctance, to the sound of jabbering voices and the feel of brisk but gentle hands pushing him, pulling him. With enormous effort he opened his eyes. Anxious faces crowded above him but he could barely make them out through the waves of searing flame rolling relentlessly through his body. The world seemed strangely shallow… for some reason sited at the end of a tunnel…

There was Markham, his welcome face white and frightened. His lips were moving, shouting something, but the words didn't make any sense. Melissande, too, with her rust-red hair coming down from its bun. Her dreadful shirt had lost three buttons and she was crying messily. Reg sat on her shoulder, claws clutching tightly, wise eyes brilliant with fury and fear. He couldn't see any Kallarapi.

He was still on the ground. Rolling his head he caught sight of Lional, dead on the grass a few feet away. The King of New Ottosland was a ruined travesty of his extravagantly handsome former self. The sympathetica had consumed him so completely his human flesh had succumbed to distant dragon poison, dissolved and reduced him to raw bloody meat. His blue eyes were open, gazing back with blank surprise.

Beneath the searing flame Gerald felt a vast aching sorrow. You fool, Lional. You poor twisted fool. It didn't have to end like this…

The world blurred, then. Strong arms lifted him, carried him. Placed him inside a covered carriage. The horses' hooves were too loud, they clattered on the cobblestones, on and on, making his head ring. Eventually the carriage stopped. He was lifted from shadow into sunshine. Carried indoors and up stairs, flight after flight. Taken into a familiar place, his suite in the palace. His bedroom. His bed. Swift hands stripped the clothes from his body, cool sheets scorched his shivering flesh. He cried out wildly in fear and pain. He thought Lional had returned to torment him, all blood and rotting flesh, fed to fatness on gross black magics that held the grave at bay.

He felt himself plunge into a pit of fire… knew that he was dying… and was desperately relieved.