Influence (7 page)

‘Crimson
wings cast black shadows across the palace courtyard. The massive scaled beast
circles threateningly above, waiting for instruction. The beat of his wings
crash thunder for miles in every direction.

The
assembled royal entourage, palace guard and advisors have gathered on the steps
to see this mage and hear his threats.

“Well met
King Dryonas, it has been a long time, has it not?”

“Not nearly
long enough Varin. I thought you dead, nay, hoped you dead spell-weaver.” The
King stands in the middle of the congregation looking down upon the courtyard
and the white bearded, black robed sorcerer. The old man stands alone and
unarmed but for a long staff of wood which gradually turns to metal at the end
where silver talons grasp a large red pulsing gem, faintly illuminating his
face that otherwise is hidden in shadow beneath a hood. “What business have you
here Varin? Why have you dragged your sorry soul from beneath whichever rock
you’ve been hiding under all these years? And what is the purpose of bringing
this, this lizard to my keep?” King Dryonas opens his hand to the sky where the
enormous red instrument of destruction circles, lower now than before.

“Reprisal,
Dryonas. You will forgive me if I drop the titles and associated ceremony won’t
you. After all you were lowly Dryonas, barbarian of the Northlands when once we
rode together.”

“A long
time ago necromancer. And what happened was not my fault.”

“Fault?
Yes, fault. Blame, cause and causality. The hand that swings the axe is as
culpable as the hand which does nothing to prevent it.”

“I could do
nothing Varin. We were ambushed. I myself lost many a man in the attack.”

“And yet
here you are Dryonas, perched on high, decorated in trinkets and celebrated as
a hero king. Tell me, what heroic feat did you perform when my Lenora fell?
What kingly action did you perform as they ravished and butchered her? I
trusted her to you barbarian. I thought of you as a son then, and when I
returned I found you were no son at all, and no daughter did I have either
thanks to your cowardice and incompetence.”

“I did all
I could Varin. I loved her and would have given my life for hers, gladly.” The
dust of the courtyard starts to stir and daylight is all but lost as the giant
sails of the red dragon’s wings fill the sky as it circles ever lower.

“Your life
for hers? That at least would seem something like justice, don’t think I never
considered that Dryonas. Considered and rejected your highness, you see that
would be too… easy Dryonas. I have had time to consider what should be done.
What
must
be done. The Gods must be appeased after all. When an
injustice of this magnitude goes unpunished the pillars of the earth begin to
crack. Your head on a pole, while bringing joy to my heart, would be somewhat
insufficient. No I fear we must find a more fitting atonement for you Dryonas.

“Then what?
Gold, jewels. You may take what you need from my armoury or my coffers mage. It
is yours in memory of the girl we both once loved.”

“Pah, you
insult me, you think I came here for riches? For paltry trinkets and coin? You
know me not Dryonas. A life for a life oh King on high, I am here for your
daughter, your stepdaughter to be exact. Not quite the same as true kin but as
it’s all you have.”

“My Malene?
You have taken leave of your senses old man, what in the black abyss makes you
think I would hand over my daughter to you? In fact give me one good reason I
shouldn’t have you run through where you stand.”

“One
reason? Yes, one.” The old mage raises his staff, the gem glowing bright now.
He slams the foot of the staff into the ground. The massive red beasts roars
and a cloud of blue flame erupts from its jaws as it sweeps low, immense wings
batter the air below it, slowing its descent. It lands in the middle of the
courtyard. Its massive hind legs flex to take its weight and its wings fold
sharply to become bat-like arms allowing it to crawl four legged toward the
royal party. The crowd gasp, some scream and flee back into the palace.
Dryonas’ own fear is etched across his face. The queen and her daughter huddle
close to him as if he could possibly offer protection should the beast decide
to end all of their lives in a single breath.

“These
creatures are outlawed in this land Varin, as well you know. When the other
rulers hear of this-”

“You are
the authority here Dryonas, at least as far as the eye can see. If there is one
among you who wishes to apply the law condemning dragons to the East Isles let
him step forward and deal the death sentence such a trespass demands. That I
would very much like to see.

Now
Dryonas, you will listen, and listen well. For if you do not I will command
this red death to reduce all you have, and all you love to cinder and I will
consider the debt paid. That or listen to my terms… and obey.” The King appears
crestfallen, furious and defeated. The beast sits, awaiting instruction, its
great scales bristle and scratch as the giant lizard breathes, every exhale threatening
to end all.

“Speak
Varin,” says the King.

“That crown
you wear must truly be enchanted to grant you wisdom you never commanded when I
knew you barbarian. The girl will come with me, but do not fear, I do not
intend to harm her, although do not think for a moment I will hesitate to do so
if the following provision is not met.”

“Take me
Varin, she is young and has her life ahead of her, I am old and it is my debt,
not hers.”

“Father”
says Malene stepping forward. “I will go, I believe he will not to harm me and
if it means the sparing of all others I do it gladly.”

“Brave
girl” sneers Varin. “Clearly she is not of your blood Dryonas.”

“The other
part of the bargain Varin, get on with it,” yells the king.

“Yes, yes.
Now a brief history lesson Dryonas. There once existed a civilisation of men long
ago, in a more primitive age, in the North Lands. They were farmers and miners
and they prospered for many an age in the shadow of the Ice blade mountains.
That was until a group of miners stumbled upon a seam of rock they had never
encountered before. A rock, in-fact, that nobody anywhere had ever seen before.
A crystal of indiscriminate colour. The stone may look red to one person while
the man beside him would swear blind it was blue. From that day the fate of
that civilisation was sealed. Something about the seam drove the men mad with
thirst for the rock. They mined fast and deep, oh so deep, trying to source the
mother-load. Farmers abandoned their crops when they got a glimpse of the rock
and would instead take up pick and shovel. Mothers and children abandoned their
villages and plunged headlong into the depths of the mountain never to be seen
again. Years would pass before travellers came by these abandoned villages.
Cattle lay as bones in pens, tables set for supper lay rotted and untouched and
no sign of what had happened could be found anywhere. However, one traveller,
while plundering for anything of wealth was busy liberating the church of its
scraps of gold when he came across a journal. Bound and sealed it was, with a
warning to stay clear of the mountain. The journal explained how the priest had
pleaded with the people not to chase this evil stone, that it would only lead
to ruin. The priest went on to describe the crystal and its power to steal the
hearts of men. One day word rose from the depths of the mine that the mother-load
had been discovered. A pure sphere of crystal as large as a man’s head had been
found in a cave fathoms beneath the surface. The final journal entry was an
apology from the priest for his weakness as he himself abandoned his church for
the promise of the deep.

Your task
is simple Dryonas, you will recover this crystal for me and find me at the rain
citadel south of Athynian. You will use your wealth, resources or, if you
prefer, your own two hands to do this and I will exchange crystal for kin.”

“But, how
do you even know any of this is true. What if it’s naught but lies, or this
crystal cannot be found or has been destroyed?” The mage reaches into the neck
of his robes and produces a thong with a small gem on the end. He snaps it off
and throws it to the king who stares at the tiny piece of crystal… so
beautiful, he thinks.

“That was
amongst the priests abandoned belongings along with these maps and assorted
writings,” The mage pulls a leather binder from his waist belt and throws this to
the King also. The mage walks to the King’s stepdaughter and takes her by the
wrist. The Queen screams but is silenced by Dryonas’ embrace. The mage mounts
the neck of the dragon pulling his captive up in front of him. “Two moon cycles
from this day Dryonas, if you have not brought what I seek to the citadel I
will return her to you, in small charred pieces.” In an almighty whoosh the
dragon takes to the air not encumbered in the slightest by its two riders and
is lost to the eye in moments.

A muted
silence falls across the courtyard. The King is distraught. “Inside all of you…
please. Go back to you duties. Gaynar, Timenus, to me please.” The king
gestures to Timenus, a tall elf dressed in scarlet robes – the court mage, and
to Gaynar, a female dwarf the King’s Man at Arms.’

Vic handed
a sheet of paper each to Robe and Lizzie. Lizzie, who was quite enjoying the
little story, was suddenly brought out of her drowsy passive state remembering
that this thing required some kind of interaction from her. She studied the
piece of paper she was given. “Character sheet” headlined a long list of
details apparently painting a picture of a persona she would be required to
manifest - Gaynar, a level 8 dwarf warrior.

‘Dwarf?
Right, thanks for that Vic.’

‘Nothing
personal Liz, and trust me being a dwarf is going to come in handy,’ said Vic
trying to reassure her.

‘Yeah? My
mum used to tell me something similar. I’m still waiting.’

Lizzie had
been a little nervous when she had arrived at the house earlier. It was her
first visit to the boy’s home and she wasn’t sure what to expect. It was a
large, detached and unkempt place at the edge of town. Undoubtedly the house
was worth a fortune but the paint work was flaking, front lawn knee height and
when Mr Adams had opened the door a smell of damp hit her in the back of her
throat. Lizzie had given Mr Adams a warm smile and explained she was there at
the invite of his sons. He was a tall, burly man and sported a thick beard that
appeared more to do with lethargy than it did with choice.

 Without
saying a word he had turned leaving Lizzie alone on the doorstep and
disappeared down the dark hallway. A full two minutes passed before Mrs Adams,
a small mousy woman, wearing a long thick house coat which, by the look of her
drawn sunken cheeks, hid a tiny frail frame underneath, appeared. She gave
Lizzie a bored glance and told her the boys were upstairs before, herself,
disappearing down the hall leaving Lizzie to find both the stairs and the boys.
She found them in what was surely Vic’s room judging by the overflowing piles
of magazines and shelves displaying tiny metal fantasy characters. He had set
up a wallpaper pasting board in the centre of the room and Lizzie found a
garden chair and a can of Coke waiting for her. Vic could barely contain his
excitement on her arrival, he had no doubt expected a no show from her. Lizzie
had lied, telling Vic that she only had a few hours due to a fictional essay
she had to finish giving her an ”out” if she felt she needed one. While Vic had
hurried around Lizzie, Robe seemed unaware she had arrived at all, he sat at
the make-shift table with his nose buried in the game rule book.

‘Ok, I need
you guys to roll for hit points,’ Vic announced handing Lizzie a small velvet
bag. She undid the tassels and spilled out on to the table some extremely
strange looking dice of various colours and bizarre geometrical shapes.

‘Hit
points?’

‘It’s like
your life-force, how much damage you can sustain,’ Robe explained.

‘You’ll
need a D10 Liz,’ said Vic.

‘Come
again?’

‘A ten
sided,’ said Robe handing her one of the ridiculous plastic shapes.

‘So I just
roll the dice?’

‘Die.’ said
Vic.

‘Huh?’

‘Die
Lizzie,’ he repeated, his patience fraying at her inexperience.

‘That’s a
bit harsh Vic, I’m just trying to get my head round this geek-fest,’ said
Lizzie a little hurt.

‘No, sorry
Liz. I mean Die as in one dice, singular. You just need to roll the one.’

Lizzie
humoured the boys, and followed their instructions as best she could and before
long she was rolling dice to decide outcomes and, despite herself, she cared
whether her dwarven alter-ego lived or died and took strange satisfaction at
rolling high on twenty sided dice to be informed she had just hacked the head
off of this or survived an attack from that.

‘Damn, I
forgot the music,’ said Vic, suddenly halting proceedings.

‘We need
music for this?’ asked Lizzie.

‘We don’t
need it, it just adds something, give me a minute’. Vic disappeared out of the
room, doubling back at the last minute to take his paperwork with him casting a
mistrustful glance at Lizzie and Robe.