Tickling the Dragon's Tail

  Less obvious for his station, the occupant of a simpler chair to the King’s right was a stocky man, larger in all aspects of height and weight than anyone in the room except Nevin. He wore local clothing including common trousers, a long tunic with short sleeves, fine leather shoes with buckles, and a short cape.

  Camrel faced the four from Antrim at the entrance and spoke softly, “Follow me and do not demur. Show courage for your petition, but do not speak unless beckoned.” She led them directly to the King’s presence, waving the closest petitioners out of the way. She curtsied and spoke, “Your Highness, please forgive the abruptness of this intrusion, but I have intercepted a delegation from Antrim who seek your council.”

  “Forgiven, Camrel.” Turing to the man on his right, he said, “Perhaps your demonstration has quickly prompted a wish for surrender, Lord Stryker.” Stryker said nothing, so the King turned to the delegation and asked, “Who speaks for you?”

  “I do, your highness,” Corissa spoke, stepping forward.

  “You bear more likeness to Gilsum ancestry than Antrim, you look familiar. Ah, I believe I know who you are. Corissa, is it not? Who left our fair land to marry an officer in Antrim’s army?”

  “Yes, your highness. I am Corissa, born in Gilsum. I did marry an Antrim officer, now dead. I am King Lucan’s emissary. ”

  “Of course you are, my dear. What did my cousin bid you say to us?

  “We petition for peace. We ask for an immediate halt to all fighting, then to negotiate a treaty to ensure peaceful accord between our two kingdoms.”

  “Well, my dear Corissa, I also wish for peaceful accord but my plan to ensure it is by combining our two kingdoms into one. What would my cousin say to that?”

  “We cannot negotiate the end of Antrim, your highness.” Corissa answered calmly. “Treaty terms should be discussed between you and King Lucan. Our immediate aim is to ask that both armies withdraw and all fighting stop at once.”

  “My friend, Lord Stryker, here,” the King said, casually pointing to his right. “has provided our side with the means to destroy Antrim or any future enemy of Gilsum. Are you and your friends aware of the recent demonstration of this power?”

  “Yes, your highness. We have seen a small measure of the horror it wreaked when we aided some Guardsmen who survived. We came to tell you that about the destruction that comes with this—”

  Anson interrupted as he stepped forward holding up the Hiroshima pictures, “Your highness, please permit me to show you these pictures of the devastation that will occur from—”

  “Stay where you are! Guard, bring me those items!” the King barked. A guard rushed forward brandishing a sword, taking the pictures from Anson and handing them to the King. After quickly looking them over, he turned to the man next to him, “Stryker, is this an accurate portrayal of the power I can wield?”

  Stryker nodded.

  Nevin was aghast at the implications of Stryker’s complicity. He could no longer hold back and blurted, “Your highness, this scale of destruction of life is not only an abomination, but you risk your own people to suffer the after effects of radiation. You must realize—”

  “King Meire, if I may advise you.” Stryker imposed. “Perhaps further discussion should take place in more private quarters. I suggest you separate these visitors and question each of them to compare their responses for truthfulness.”

  “Yes, a good suggestion, Stryker. Take them to separate rooms.” A squad of soldiers rushed forward and led the four petitioners briskly out the door.

  * * *

  Nevin grew tired of pacing the room but still fidgeted in worry over the status of his friends. He took a seat at an undersized set of table and chairs; the room had no other furnishings and was well suited for interrogation purposes. The wall opposite the door had a few windows to allow daylight for illumination; the windows looked out on a grassy area in the interior of the castle, meaning an escape outlet was far away.

  He did not know what to expect for himself, other than questioning about their mission. Would he be tortured? If they suspected Anson was a mage, his friend would surely be killed. Maybe he could win over Stryker. The man obviously had influence over Meire and could advise the King toward a peaceful settlement. That seemed unlikely, since Stryker was obviously trying to benefit himself by tipping the balance in favor of Gilsum. King Meire’s peaceful inclinations may be lost to his obvious delight at having explosive armament. His wish to combine the two kingdoms into one, undoubtedly under his sole rule, could be another a sign of megalomania. There was also his paranoia about mages to the point he put bounties on their lives.

  The sounds of muffled conversation outside the door interrupted Nevin’s musing. A release of the door latch preceded the entrance of John Stryker into the room. He nodded to the guards outside and quietly closed the door. Gliding slowly with his hands clasped behind his back, he stood over Nevin and spoke, “I hope you were not too roughly treated, Reasoner. I told the guards not to restrain you. We can be gentlemen about this, can’t we?”

  “I appreciate your concern for my welfare, Professor Stryker. You mind telling me what is going on? I am sure I saw a nuclear explosion!”

  “Still polite with the honorific address? You always were respectful of protocol. Too bad some of our envious colleagues had it in for you. You actually were quite good at promoting scientific inquiry. Ironically, I saw you as quite similar to myself as a young man. Idealistic and such. However, my time as a “professor” is over, at least in this place. Although I could possibly resort to it again, if and when I return to Hempstead. To obtain a Nobel prize, perhaps. With some secrets from this place I could easily get one, you know. I found violets that cure cancerous lesions. They wouldn’t propagate, though, and I haven’t had time to pursue it further. On other matters, you must be fascinated by the so-called deliverance here. Have you figured it out yet?”

  “I think it involves ley lines and some kind of electromagnetic power sink that travels point-to-point—but what about the explosion?” Nevin pleaded, “Don’t you realize what harm has been done? The scale of destruction to life and the environment?”

  “Don’t be overly dramatic, Reasoner. You are correct about the explosion. It was a little test that went quite well under primitive circumstances. I expected that little village would be destroyed, but a new one can be built. Some place else, of course. But I made sure the local inhabitants were marched far enough away to avoid the concussion; they were located away from the prevailing wind, as well. So they were not wiped out, as you imply.”

  “What about the people who live farther away, where the radiation falls out? Have you gone crazy? How did you get the components here to make the bomb?” implored Nevin.

  “I told you, it was just a little test. This land has some big lead mines around here, so it wasn’t hard to find uranium. Soon after I got here, I observed some mine workers with signs of radiation sickness. Even my good King Meire suffers from it, although he doesn’t know it. He likes to tour his holdings. I am certain it left him sterile years ago. With these lead mines, I had a good supply of U-238. You must know that ore would have a tiny percent of the U-235 isotope needed for fission.”

  “Yes, I know. 0.716%.”

  “You would know the exact percentage, wouldn’t you, Reasoner. Uh, you will forgive me if I don’t return the professorial honorific? After all, protocol is still protocol and status does matter. Now, back to you. It will go better if you answer my questions. Have you figured out how to use the deliverance spell to get back to Hempstead? I haven’t mastered the spellcasting talents some have here. What about you?”

  “Never mind that. If you wanted to impress King Meire with a big boom, why would you risk a nuclear device instead of a conventional explosive?”

  “Simple. I don’t know how to make conventional explosives with the materials at hand. With so much U-238, I just had to figure out how to enrich a smidgeon of U-235, and, basically, bang the rocks together.”


  “You were tickling the dragon’s tail? You overcame the fizzle?”

  “Tickling the dragon’s tail? Well, I haven’t heard that expression since the early days of stockpiling nuclear arms back in...our previous realm. The answer to your questions is, yes. And no. The fizzle was a problem. When you start clapping radioactive rocks together, you can get a predetonation. At first, we got some small fizzle reactions when we brought samples too close together. The dragon roared, as it were. It took a while to rig up a crude device to overcome the fizzle, once I was sure we enriched a tiny bit of U-235. Unfortunately, the fizzles gave us a few casualties along the way. But let’s get back to the magic? Have you figured out how they do it?”

  “I don’t believe in magic,” Nevin replied cautiously. Given Meire’s paranoia, it was best not to reveal Anson’s spellcasting skill. Or his own.

  “Looking for scientific explanations, are you?” Stryker asked, slyly. “Enough chatter. We have a more urgent problem in appeasing the King over your little group.”

  “Can’t you help us try to negotiate some kind of peaceful settlement to their stupid war? I don’t think they even know what they are fighting over. Maybe a simple ceasefire?”

  “It’s probably too late for that. The King is quite taken with his new military superiority. He also wants me to come up with a way to identify mages so he can prevent some kind of prophecy. He thinks they will cause his downfall or death. My assurance that I can do that keeps me in good graces; it forges a dependency for my services, you see.”

  That was more bad news. Increasing the witch-hunt for mages by some identification scheme was another sign of Meire’s delusional madness. Nevin grew more desperate. There had to be some way to help their cause. “Stryker, in the name of decency! Help us!”

  “You are mewling, Mr. Reasoner. That is unbecoming to a scholar.” Stryker started pacing, bringing a hand to his chin for a moment before responding further. “Though I can see how you might feel terribly threatened. Meire has been quite brutal when it comes to magic-related matters. He is very civil, otherwise. Hmm. I’ll see what I can do. Come with me.”

  Stryker stood aside and waved Nevin through the doorway. Once in the wide hallway, Nevin found himself between several armed men. “Which way do we—” Before he could finish the question, he received simultaneous blows to his knees from behind, instantly dropping him to the floor. A club to the back of his head knocked him unconscious. He was quickly tied up and dragged back into the room.

  * * *

  In another room, similar to the one where Nevin was now restrained and confined, the other three sat at a table arguing their fate. Corissa said, exasperated, “Please, let us keep our wits. Unless you can use your spellcasting somehow, Anson, there is no immediate action we can take.”

  Orris replied, “The Lady is right, my friend. We need to be clearheaded so we can act if an opportunity comes to us.”

  “Of course, of course! I just wish I could do something. I wish Nevin was here. He is most resourceful.” Anson sat dejected, forlorn with their lack of success and loss of hope. “Is there nothing we can think of?”

  Corissa placed her hand on Anson’s arm to comfort him. She sighed, “I wish I could. I thought this silly ring could help us somehow.” She took out Lucan’s ring and set it on the table.

  “What is that, My Lady?” Orris asked.

  “Lucan entrusted it with me in secret. He said I would know when it would be useful. If it has any uses, now would be prosperous.”

  Anson picked up the ring and examined it. The shank appeared to be made of gold. The center stone was red, brilliant in hue, surrounded by a setting of smaller red stones that were extremely vivid. “These stones are rubies. Very rare. I have only seen a few before, but these are stirring in their radiance. Did Lucan tell you anything about its use?”

  “No, Anson,” Corissa replied. “He said to keep it secret and use it when necessary. I don’t know what could be more necessary than our current dilemma.”

  “The ruby is rare, as I said. It is supposed to be reserved for royalty. It is regarded as having intense energy that encourages the wearer to feel high spirits. One mentor taught me this crystal nature emits energy that seeks…something. I cannot remember what, or how.”

  “Can you give a boost, man? With your spellwork, I mean,” Orris suggested with rising enthusiasm.

  “I do not know.”

  “If you have never tried, now is the time!” Corissa said. “Do you sense anything?”

  “Not really,” Anson answered. “Just the hum.”

  “What hum?” Corissa questioned. “I never felt any humming from it.”

  “Oh, it is quite pronounced. I assumed you would detect it. It does not seem extraordinary.”

  “Try your spellwork on it. Concentrate like Nevin does,” Corissa suggested.

  “I am familiar with the art, My Lady,” Anson responded with a hint of annoyance. “I will try.” Anson took the ring in his palm and stared at it, focusing on the consistent humming. It was not actually an auditory sensation, more a vibration or emanation. It gradually reacted with greater intensity that startled him and he dropped it, clanking on the table.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Orris asked.

  “The sensation suddenly increased. It seems so powerful. Like a stream of pulsations. What Nevin calls mental energy. Except it seems to have a direction. Like I was releasing it.”

  “Try it again, man! Maybe you can control it and blow down the door,” Orris offered.

  “I will try.” Anson picked up the ring and repeated his focus, accepting the burst of energy as it increased again. He could not actually guide this energy, but it seemed to take its own course like it was plugging a hole. After a few minutes, it faded. He set the ring on the table. “It does not appear likely to break the door,” he said with resignation. “I do not know what this has accomplished.”

  Their disappointment was palpable. Orris muttered a curse. For several minutes, they sat in silence and deep dejection. None of them noticed the latch slide and the door slowly open.

  Chapter 21

  Retribution

  Anson was the first to recognize them. “Zamora! Hillister! How did you find us? Are you in peril here?”

  The two High Mages softly entered the room. Hillister spoke, “It was the ring, Anson. We knew you were somewhere in this castle and in serious peril yourselves, but the emanation from the rubies led us here. While we have tried to avoid interfering in squabbles between kings, we are here to act. Our bonds with you are too strong to risk your life. We could not let you be killed by Meire’s madness.”

  “What do you mean by bonds, Sir?” Anson asked.

  Zamora smiled and said, “You are one of us, my dear.” She stepped forward, placing her hand on Anson’s shoulder. With unmistakable affection, she looked at him and said softly, “…And you are my son.” She gave him a tender embrace and continued, “We have few children over the years, and they are greatly dear to all of us. We are very proud of you and the reverence for life you have learned. We hoped your success with King Lucan would be matched here, so both rulers could rebuild healthier kingdoms from the ravages of their war. We realize that is not to be. Meire has irrevocably lost his way.”

  Anson was as stunned as he could be. Powerful questions were surging through his mind, but a comforting look from Zamora told him he would get his answers. One simple question did leak out from him, “Do I call you Zamora or Mother?”

  “In time, you will answer that question yourself,” she responded tenderly. “First, we must deal with this havoc. Hillister?”

  Hillister nodded and responded firmly, “The explosive device that obliterated Stedt has forced our hand. We have to deal with Meire in a way that will end the war between the two kingdoms. We expect Lucan will be cooperative. For now, we will rely on Corissa to carry this message to him and explain what transpires here. Next, we must get Camrel and Meire to this room. Also, Mr. Reasoner.”
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  “How are we going to do that?” asked Orris.

  “Zamora will bring Camrel and Meire here.”

  Orris seemed incredulous. “How is she going to do that? What about the guards? I will go with her. I need my damn elvish sword!”

  Hillister answered, “You are a good man to offer your service, Orris, but Zamora will not need your protection. And, we hope you learn a new trade that does require such loathsome tools. The guards outside are asleep and Meire will be made to follow. Camrel is devoted to him, but is a far more reasonable leader in her own right so we expect her to cooperate willingly.” Turning to Zamora, he said, “It is time.”

  Zamora nodded and left.

  Anson asked, “What about Sir Nevin?”

  Hillister responded, “He is tied with rope in a room like this one, a short distance away. He is steaming with mental energy in his frustration, so you should easily detect his location. That man practically thunders with spellpower. There are only two guards outside that room, and they will not notice who passes if you use the indifference spell, Anson. One has Orris’ sword, so take the Armsman with you to recover it. I know you do not like to handle weapons. Go now and bring Nevin here quickly.”

  Anson and Orris left, as instructed.

  * * *

  Nevin was too large to tie to a chair, so he was left on the floor to struggle against his bonds. The rope was tied too tightly to loosen by physical means, so, in frustration, he tried spellcasting but every attempt failed. He knew he was not doing it correctly amid his turmoil. It bothered him that he resorted to it in the first place because he still thought it was not magic at all, but displacement of energy in some form, and his mastery of it was hit or miss.

  His wrists were tied frontward to his ankles, allowing him to scoot over to a wall and rest his back in a sitting position. He tried over and over to think of options for escape, but came up blank. He recalled the ignition spell Bartram demonstrated in lighting candles. Perhaps he could figure that out and burn the ropes binding him. That made him laugh out loud. If he succeeded, it would at least burn his skin and maybe set the room on fire. He leaned back against the wall and sighed.

  After a while, he heard voices outside his door. Must be relieving the guards, he thought. The voices grew to a shout, which abruptly stopped to the sound of something slumping against the door. The door opened and Anson poked his head around it, asking, “Are you well, Nevin.”