Dragonslayer (Asylum Chapter 12)

Jordan Deakes had not even fastened his seatbelt before he said, ‘Tell me about Eddie.’

‘Your timing could be better,’ Andrea Buchannan said as she pulled away from the curb.

Deakes shrugged. ‘This is the first time we’ve been alone in months. Besides, you promised Dust you were looking into his death.’

‘Has she put you up to this?’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I bet she thinks I’ve given up.’

‘I'm just trying to get up to speed. How did he die and was it under suspicious circumstances?’

Andrea drove onto a main road and headed toward Dalbion. ‘Why don’t we start with you telling me what you know and I can fill in the gaps?’

‘Okay. Dust told me Eddie was murdered. Harris opened an investigation. It reached a dead end but you promised to keep investigating. What am I missing?’

‘What happened to your P.I. instincts, Jordan?’ She stopped at a pedestrian crossing before continuing speaking. ‘You know you’re supposed to check your background. Do your research. And that starts with the client.’

‘It’s kind of hard to research a siren. I’ve never even heard of one before meeting Dust.’

‘That’s the nature of our job. We learn from ancient legends or first-hand experience. There is nothing in-between.’

Forty yards after the lights, she turned into a side street.

‘So what have I missed?’ Deakes asked.

‘Eddie disappeared but he wasn’t killed. I don’t know where he’s gone, or why, and I’m struggling to find new leads.’

‘Is that why you went to California at Christmas? To look for him?’

Andrea’s lips pursed as she parked by the curb. ‘That was a different matter. But our American counterparts are on the look-out in case he surfaces over there.’ She pointed at a decrepit house nearby. ‘We’re here.’

Deakes placed a hand on her arm before she could exit the car. ‘What makes you think he’s still alive?’

She paused, then said, ‘Because Eddie cannot die.’

*

They heard the yelling from the front door. Children’s voices, screaming at one another. Deakes reached forward and pushed the door. It swung open.

‘Hello,’ he called.

 Andrea stepped inside when they got no answer. Deakes followed. A doorless opening led into the dirty lounge. The argument stopped as eight kobaloi turned to take them in.

Theo crossed his arms and scowled. ‘What do you want?’

One of the other kobaloi spun on him and said, ‘Do not use this as a distraction, Theo. We must-’

Theo interrupted him by blowing a raspberry. ‘I am still the leader here, Gil. We will continue our discussion when I say it is time.’

Cruise stepped forward. She had the appearance of a five-year-old girl with blonde hair, dressed in a floral summer frock and a pretty gold bracelet. She smiled at Deakes and Andrea, and said sweetly, ‘Ignore this rabble. They’re always bickering about something. What are you doing here?’

‘I wanted to see that you’re doing okay,’ Deakes answered, only half-lying. As much as Thomas Harris was worried about the kobaloi attacking the Asylum, Deakes was genuinely concerned for their wellbeing.

‘That’s none of your business,’ Theo said.

Cruise rolled her eyes. ‘We’re doing just fine, Mr Deakes.’

‘We were wondering,’ Andrea said slowly, eyes on Theo, ‘whether you want to reconsider joining us at ARC.’

Gil turned to stare at his leader. Even though Deakes had no idea what they were arguing about, he could feel the charge in that glare.

‘I think it would be best,’ Cruise said, ‘if we spoke elsewhere.’

Andrea looked from Cruise to the other kobaloi and back again. ‘What’s all the fuss?’ she asked.

‘They’re just puffing their chests,’ Cruise answered. ‘Boys will be boys.’ She stepped out of the room and added, ‘Follow me. ‘

She led them upstairs. Deakes went on tiptoe, afraid the creaking woodwork would collapse beneath him. On the landing, the décor was neater, cleaner. Every doorway contained a door.

‘This isn’t a squat,’ he remarked.

Cruise smiled. ‘We never said it was.’

‘You keep the downstairs in a state of disrepair to fool intruders.’

‘You’re not a stupid as you look, Mr Deakes,’ Cruise said. She took them through one of the doors into a room with comfortable sofas, soft lights and a desk. Across one wall was a complex design of geometric shapes and runic symbols. A battered broadsword hung at the centre of the mural.

Cruise directed them to sit down and took a chair opposite them.

‘Why do you think we would want to join you?’ she asked.

‘Safety in numbers,’ Deakes said. ‘Though we may not have any other kobaloi back at ARC, we band together. Power in unity.’

Cruise blinked slowly. ‘Why should we bother? Our safety is secured by Ascalon.’

Deakes and Andrea looked at one another.

‘Who is Ascalon?’ Andrea asked.

Cruise lifted an arm. The golden bracelet jiggled on her wrist revealing etched text: fýlakas. She pointed to the sword on the wall.

‘Ascalon. Our protector.’

‘How do you think people of your stature could wield a sword?’ The disbelief was clear in Andrea’s tone.

‘This is not just any sword,’ Cruise said with awe. ‘This is the Dragonslayer.’

*

Georgina ran her fingers over her bracelet, tracing the engraved word fýlakas. Wynn was pale, looking like he was about to throw up. Brandon scowled and unconsciously gripped Ascalon where it rested in its scabbard.

The goat that lay before them no longer resembled something that had once been alive. Its skin had shrivelled until it had split. Exposed flesh was potted and hardened like stone. Edges of the broken bones were smoothed. The entire carcass was hairless and blackened.

‘There are wild things in the hills,’ Brandon said.

Wynn’s head darted as he tried to look in every direction.

‘This is not the result of a creature of nature.’ Georgina’s voice was soft though her words were weighted.

Brandon glared at her. ‘Do not scare the boy.’

‘I fought…’ Wynn started. He swallowed a couple of times and tried again. ‘I fought the Romans. I’m not scared.’

‘Then you’re a fool,’ Georgina said. ‘The Romans are human. This is the work of something supernatural.’

‘George,’ Brandon snapped.

Georgina had more to say. She wanted to remind the men that the Roman Empire had defeated them. That they had been forced from Asia Minor and across the sea to seek a new home. And that this land of Cyrenaica was a place of monsters.

But she held her tongue out of respect for the chieftain.

‘Will it be back?’ Brandon’s tone was gentler.

‘We are three leagues from Silene,’ Georgina answered. ‘This is the furthest I have come to study and gather the plant life and I have not encountered this before.’

‘But will it come for us? Will it wander into the village?’

‘Our paths have not crossed before, which means one of two things. Either my roaming has led me onto the edge of this beast’s territory, or…’

Wynn was quick on the uptake. ‘Or this thing is roaming into ours.’

Georgina gave a curt nod.

Brandon sighed and looked to the south, away from Silene. Swathes of grassland stretched for miles, rising in the distance to mountainous climes. The landscape was dotted with forests, full of varieties of trees they were not yet used to.

‘I can’t risk this thing reaching Silene. There are children and old folk that must be protected.’ He turned back to Georgina and Wynn, resignation darkening his eyes. ‘We hunt it.’

‘How do you propose we hunt a dragon?’ Georgina asked.

A sharp laugh escaped Wynn and Brandon growled. Georgina felt the weight of his stare. He was the clan leader, but she was the Sage. She carried the knowledge of the ancestors.

The younger kobaloi broke the silence. ‘Dragons aren’t real.’

A skilled Sage exercises wisdom by choosing when to share the secrets she knows.

‘Look at the body,’ Georgina said. ‘Ripped in two and charred to a cinder. Yet the earth around it is untouched. What else but concentrated dragon’s breath could incinerate a goat and leave the ground unscarred?’

‘A will-o-the-wisp?’ Wynn suggested. ‘I’ve heard they can flare up like the noon sun.’

‘There’s no marshland close by,’ Brandon admitted begrudgingly.

‘And wills are spirits,’ Georgina added. ‘They couldn’t tear their victim to pieces.’

Brandon clenched his jaw as he glared at her. She brushed a hand through her hair, causing sunlight to ignite her golden bracelet. It was with such a subtle gesture that she had secured their escape from Asia Minor.

‘If you have sound reason for your fanciful beliefs,’ Brandon said calmly, ‘please speak them. Otherwise, I’d ask you to keep your words to yourself.’

‘Saying that a creature does not exist is poor defence should the creature prove to be real.’ She read the warning in his glare, and added, ‘But I will hold my counsel until such time it becomes appropriate.’

Multiple tracks led from the body. Some were those of the deceased goat, some of other known animals, hoofed or pawed. One trail stood out as unique.

‘It’s impossible to be sure,’ Wynn said, ‘but these appear to be made by a two-legged animal.’

‘The stride is too long for a kobaloi,’ Brandon said. ‘A human?’

‘No.’ Wynn pointed out grooves at each end of the prints. ‘These are talon marks. One at the rear and five at the front.’

‘Lizard tracks,’ Georgina said. ‘I don’t know of any lizard that walks on two legs.’

‘Nor do I,’ Brandon agreed. ‘But unusual tracks near an unusual corpse cannot be a coincidence. Follow it, Wynn.’

Wynn bowed his head to study the ground. Within minutes he was leading them across the land, tracing the passage of the strange beast. They walked for two miles, skirting but never entering forests, crossing streams at their shallowest point. There was no obvious destination they could fathom; the tracks meandered as if the creature were merely travelling by whim.

After a while, Wynn said, ‘In the stories, dragons have four legs. And they can fly.’

‘In the stories,’ Georgina replied, ‘good always triumphs. Life is not the same as stories.’

A half hour later, Brandon stopped them and pointed to a nearby hill. A human was resting at the crest, gazing down at them in open-mouthed wonder.

‘Could this be our quarry?’

‘No.’ Wynn’s voice was certain. ‘The tracks lead that way, away from the man.’

‘Maybe he knows what this creature is,’ Georgina suggested.

‘He could be dangerous,’ Wynn said.

‘There is only him, and three of us,’ Brandon assured the boy. He placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. ‘And we have Ascalon.’

They climbed the slope, coming to a halt a safe distance from the human. The man greeted them in an unknown dialect. Brandon and Wynn looked to Georgina who shrugged. Though she was a Sage, she was not all-knowing.

The man tried again, this time speaking in broken Latin. The Roman Empire had spread across much of the world, and all races had picked up some of their language.

‘Children,’ he said.

The kobaloi did not respond. They were used to being mistaken for young humans and often let it play to their advantage.

‘Alone. Not safe to be alone.’

Wynn took a step away from the man. Brandon’s fist tightened on Ascalon. Georgina rolled her eyes at them and approached the stranger, her arms crossed so she could rest one hand on her bracelet.

‘What is the danger?’ she asked in her best Latin.

‘Wyvern.’

Georgina turned to the others to explain, holding Wynn’s eyes. ‘A two-legged dragon.’

‘He eats our livestock,’ the human continued. ‘Soon, he will eat our children.’ He got to his feet and added, ‘Come with me. For safety, come.’ He began to walk down the hill, to the path from which the kobaloi had first seen him.

Georgina and Brandon followed, and Wynn said, in Greek, ‘We’re not going with him, are we?’

‘No,’ Brandon answered. ‘We’ll keep tracking the beast, but he may be able to provide useful information along the way.’

When they rejoined the trail, the man fell into step beside them. Georgina spoke with him, learning his name was Mennac and that he was a shepherd. He had lost his entire flock to the wyvern and now felt useless to his village. With hopes of reclaiming his place in society, he had set out to find the monster and free his people from its tyranny.

‘What was he going to fight it with?’ Brandon asked, eyeing the unarmed man.

Georgina asked where Mennac’s village was and how long they had been under siege from the wyvern. He pointed vaguely and answered in his own language, apparently not knowing the Roman translation. His words trailed off as he looked ahead, and his jaw fell open.

Georgina snapped her head in the direction Mennac was staring, peering at a figure in the distance. Her pounding heart settled when she saw it was just another human. Taller than Mennac and with a lighter skin tone, but only a man. He had his back to them and was walking away.

‘Maybe he knows more about this wyvern,’ Brandon said and increased his pace. Wynn and Georgina kept up with their chieftain, but Mennac fell behind. The Sage swivelled her head, keeping eyes on both men as best she could.

When the kobaloi were within ten feet of the second human, Wynn gasped and pointed at the man’s feet. Talons sprouted from each of his stubby toes, with a sixth jutting from his heel. The tracks they had been following had been left by this man – if he was even a man.

Behind them, Mennac issued a piercing whistle.

The claw-footed creature stopped and slowly turned around. Though humanoid in shape, it was covered in hundreds of tiny scales like that of a snake. From elbow to armpit, thick flaps of snakeskin connected with its torso. Each finger ended in a curved talon. From its human face, elliptical pupils shone with animalistic savagery. Its lips were black, charred.

A sound came from its chest, a rumble which grew deeper and louder as it rose to the throat.

‘Get back,’ Georgina shouted and clutched her bracelet.

Seasoned by many battles, Brandon was quick to leap to one side. Young Wynn remained standing, bewitched by fear and confusion.

The beast opened its mouth wide, lower jaw descending as though disconnected from the skull. In the depths of its dark maw a spark flashed, then a jet of liquid fire spewed forth.

Wynn was aflame from head to foot in an instant. His screams tore into Georgina’s soul. As his agony intensified, his howls raised in pitch and stabbed at her ears. He fell to the floor, thrashing and sprawling. His voice finally gave out but still he bucked and writhed, his cries ending only because his lungs had been burned away.

‘Yes, yes, take them,’ Mennac shouted. ‘Take them and leave us be.’

Brandon had pulled Ascalon from its sheath and darted toward the wyvern. He thrust the sword at the monster’s chest but the creature was fast. It pivoted and the blade only opened a superficial cut. The wyvern reached for him and Brandon reacted quickly. He yanked his arm back, placing Ascalon’s blade into the wyvern’s closing fist. With a determined heft, Brandon parted three of the beast’s fingers from its hand.

The wyvern hissed its pain, granting Brandon the time to back away. He raised the sword before him in a defensive stance. The creature’s chest swelled as it inhaled.

‘Brandon, get back,’ Georgina cried, knowing what was coming. She pressed one hand against her bracelet and whispered a silent prayer.

With a primal yell, Brandon leapt at the wyvern, sword point aimed directly for the heart. He was less than two feet from the beast’s mouth when the flame erupted. Defying the laws of nature, the stream of fire curved upwards and passed harmlessly over Brandon’s head.

The heat that accompanied the wyvern’s fiery blast made Georgina’s eyes water. Brandon, who was closing to the monster, fell backwards and dropped the sword. His hands went to his face, a groan of pain escaping him.

Georgina rushed forward. There was no rationale in her actions, no plan in her mind, no thought of fleeing. She was acting on instinct alone, striving for one thing only: protect her chieftain.

She hopped over Brandon’s body as the wyvern sucked in air. She landed, kissed the bracelet and tucked into a ball as the wyvern spat fire into the space she had occupied. The heat stole her breath and singed her hair. She rolled toward Ascalon, snatched up the sword, rose to her feet and swung at the monster’s calf.

The beast yelled in pain. Georgina danced behind it to its other side where she delivered another slice of the blade.

‘No, no, no,’ Mennac called, rushing forward. ‘You must sate him to protect my village.’

Both Georgina and the wyvern ignored him as they faced each other. The wyvern’s chest started to rise. Georgina had only seconds before another furnace-hot breath shot forth. She tried to weave her way behind it but it had learned its lesson and kept itself positioned before her. She jumped back. It advanced.

‘Be a sacrifice,’ Mennac said, close to her. ‘Save us.’ He grasped her forearm, his fist tight around her wrist. He yanked her so hard her shoulder screamed, and Ascalon fell from her grip.

The wyvern’s mouth opened.

Mennac swung Georgina’s arm to push her to the wyvern’s feet.

Georgina twisted her arm. The golden bracelet slid under Mennac’s hand, denying him the necessary purchase and freeing her from him.

His momentum carried him away from her. He stumbled forward, collided with the wyvern and they tumbled to the ground in a graceless embrace. Fire erupted upwards to the sky, carrying with it Mennac’s dying screams.

The wyvern was pinned under Mennac’s charred corpse, but would free itself soon enough.

Georgina wasted no time. She scooped up the fallen sword, leapt to the fallen pair and plunged Ascalon through Mennac’s back and deep into the wyvern’s heart. She pressed hard on the hilt, holding Ascalon in place and ensuring the creature was ended.

She stood there for several minutes, shaking and breathless. When she had regained herself, her eyes fell to her bracelet and she read the engraved words. Silently, she offered her gratitude.

*

‘You’re descendants of Brandon and Georgina,’ Deakes said.

Cruise nodded. Her eyes shone with a pride he had not previously noticed.

‘But they must have lived hundreds of years ago,’ Andrea said.

‘Around seventeen hundred and twenty years,’ Cruise agreed.

‘And the sword was barely any use to them back then. Do you really think it can protect you in the 21^st century?’

Cruise played with the bracelet on her wrist. There was a second word engraved, Deakes saw.

‘It wasn’t Ascalon that defeated the dragon,’ she said. ‘That is only a symbol of the victory. Our clan is protected by a stronger essence.’

She held out her wrist and showed them the bracelet. ‘This has been handed down through the centuries, from Sage to Sage. This,’ she said, tapping the word fýlakas, ‘means guardian.’

Rotating the bracelet around her wrist, she displayed the second word: ángelos.