Dragons in the Night

Dragons in the Night

"Hey babe, want some company?"

Argenta looked up from the watery beer she'd been contemplating drinking, to see a hairy, distended belly in a too small leather vest leaning on the edge of her table. She looked up further to the face atop it, just as hairy and almost as bloated, with an impressively large nose that had enough red in it to indicate a grand love of alcohol. The wart above his right eyebrow was equally impressive, and hairy in its own right. Also impressive was his odor, which easily overpowered the rank smell of the sleazy bar.

She smiled. It looked like the night wasn't going to be as boring as she thought.

"Sure, I'd like some company," she purred. "But not here. Let's go outside where we can have some...privacy." The man's face lit up, almost causing his nose to look dim in comparison.

"Sure babe, now you're speakin' my language."

"Which would be Anorian, since we are in Anoria."

"Wait, what?" Big Nose looked confused. Argenta had a feeling it was his natural condition.

"Never mind. Come on, let's go." The Elven woman stood up and sauntered toward the door. Most of the other patrons were too absorbed in what passed for their beers to notice, but a group of dwarven miners seated near the door looked up and whistled appreciatively. Argenta ignored them.

She stepped out into the muddy street, careful to avoid what she assumed were piles of horse manure. The tavern was at least close enough to the city docks that the scent of the sea covered most of the smell. She turned back towards the door, and was immediately pushed up against the wall by Big Nose. She managed to get her arms up between them.

"Well, you don't waste time, do you?" Argenta asked, trying to breathe through her mouth.

"Sure babe, why wait?"

"Why indeed," she said. Then she hit him with a burst of Dragon Fear.

It wasn't as effective as it would have been if she'd been in her natural dragon form, charging with claws out and teeth bared, but it was effective enough. His screams as he bolted in blind panic were quite satisfying. She chuckled and went back inside.

The dwarves by the door were staring in shock as she entered, then immediately went back to their drinks. She continued on to her table, and saw her uncle Silvros emerging from the back room. His normally regal mien bore the look he usually reserved for her when she did something of which he disapproved. She returned to her seat, the picture of demure innocence.

"Did your meeting go well, Uncle?"

"Well enough," he said as he sat in the chair next to her. "But just as I was finishing, I could not help but hear a man screaming in what appeared to be utter terror."

"You do have excellent hearing, Uncle," she murmured as she examined her fingernails.

"A deaf goblin could have heard that. Perchance did you have anything to do with it?"

"Perchance," she replied, now teasing at a cuticle. Her uncle gave a heavy sigh.

"Argenta, you know the mission the Council assigned us is extremely delicate, not to mention important. We should not be drawing attention to ourselves."

"Attention, Uncle?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. "In case you hadn't noticed, we don't exactly blend in around here."

It was true enough. Argenta was in the form of a young Elven woman with silver hair and blue-gray eyes. Her leather jerkin and breaches did little to hide her figure, although the longsword and dagger she wore at her hip did tend to divert the eye. Her uncle Silvros, as befitting his status, wore the form of an elder Elf with ink black hair touched with silver and piercing blue eyes. His robe was definitely a cut above what the mostly human patrons were wearing, as was his mahogany staff. Their forms didn't scream "shape changed dragons", but they certainly stood out.

"Be that as it may, we don't need to make things worse. You cannot keep indulging these childish whims of yours."

"Childish?" she said, with mild exasperation. "Please, I'm 83 years old. Stop treating me like I'm 25."

"Humph! Talk to me when you get to 600. However, we have more important things to discuss. My meeting was indeed fruitful. The item we seek is in this city."

Argenta sat up straight, her eyes intent. "Finally, after all these months. Where is it?"

"Not here," her uncle said, glancing around. "Let us head back to our inn. We can talk on the way."

They headed out past the still assiduously drinking dwarves, and turned left towards their inn, Argenta closing up on her uncle's right. As they did so, she noticed three apparent loungers detach themselves from the shadows around the bar and begin following them at a distance.

"So what did you learn? Where is it?"

"It is in the vaults of the temple of Morkon." Argenta almost stopped walking.

"Wait, you're telling me the Scepter of Arkus the Dragon King is in the temple of Morkon the Death god?"

"A little more discretion if you please my dear, we needn't advertise our quest," her uncle said in a lowered voice. "Yes, that is where it is. My contact was a priest of the temple, and he described it quite accurately."

"A temple priest? He's not going to be a problem, is he?"

"Not at all. He will wake up tomorrow with a severe hangover, no memory of the night before, or of how he came to have a large purse of gold on his person."

"Really?" She said with a smile. "You let him keep the bribe?"

"We are not thieves," her uncle said with a sniff. "He gave good information, and received good value for it, and before you make any quips about our mission, we are not stealing the item, merely taking back that which was stolen. Now, we need to devise a plan for getting down to the vaults. I do not need to tell you they will be heavily guarded. My contact said there is a door on the garden side the acolytes use to enter the temple proper. That would seem our best point of entry."

"Speaking of thieves," Argenta said. "The trio from the bar are getting closer."

"Five, actually," her uncle said, cocking his head. "Two more seem to have joined them from an alley. I suppose we should deal with them now."

They both turned as one to face the five rough looking men, all of whom were armed with either clubs or knives. The men stopped suddenly, and both groups stood staring at each other.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Silvros asked in a deceptively mild tone.

"Well...er...yeah," said the biggest one, who seemed to be the leader. "You can, er, make a contribution to the ...er... the widows and orphans fund. Yeah, we're collectin' for charity, you might say." The other men chuckled and took a step forward. Argenta smiled. They took a step back.

"Yes, I suppose we could do that," she mused. "Or, option two, you could just crawl back to your holes. Or, option three, we could kill you all now and be done with it." She drew her sword, which burst into flame. "I know which option I'd prefer. What's your choice?"

The men stumbled backwards, their eyes wide with terror. Then Argenta noticed they weren't looking at her, but above her head.

"Look out!" she cried, spinning with her sword raised. The gigantic demonic form hurtling from the sky crashed into her uncle as he was starting to raise his staff. He was slammed to the ground, the creatures foreclaws lancing into his back. Its snakelike neck struck down as it tore at his head with its hooked beak.

Argenta screamed and leapt forward, slashing at its wing, then ducking inside to stab at its chest. The creature reared back, then leapt towards her, slashing with its claws. She stumbled slightly as one glancing claw deflected off her armor and her dragon hard skin, then cut at its shoulder, scoring a long slash that oozed ichor. Then the demon stumbled back as a lance of blinding light lashed into its side.

Argenta's uncle had risen to his knees and sent the bolt of magical force from his staff into the demon. As it screamed and turned toward her uncle, Argenta leapt forward and used both hands to swing her sword at its neck. The demon staggered as her blade bit deep, and her next swing severed the neck completely. It thrashed, spraying ichor, then disintegrated in a cloud of evil smelling smoke.

Argenta looked around. The thugs had fled. Her uncle collapsed back to the ground. She ran to his side.

"Uncle! Are you hurt badly? What can I do?" Her uncle coughed wetly, and through her tears she saw blood on his lips.

"For me, I'm afraid there is not much you can do. I fear Nomus is behind this."

Argenta stiffened in shock. They had known the black sorcerer was also after the Scepter. She well remembered their last confrontation, when the black tendrils of his magic wrapped around her and started draining her life away. Her uncle's magic had saved them. Now, however...

"I thought we lost him in Craysar. What will we do?"

"We will not do anything," he whispered. "You will go on and complete the quest."

"Uncle, no ...I...I... can't do this without you!"

"Yes, you can. You are ready. After all, you are 83," he said with a weak smile. "There is a secret door behind the alter that leads to the vaults. Take my staff. Go now. You don't have much time."

"I can't just leave you!"

"You must. There will soon be a dead dragon lying in the street. People will notice." Argenta stared in shock, then with a sob she threw her arms around him.

"There now," he whispered, his breathing becoming ever more labored. "You must go on. Go, and complete the mission."

Argenta sat back up, wiping her eyes, trying to get herself under control. She picked up her uncle's staff, and got shakily to her feet. "I will Uncle. I'll make you proud."

"You always have, my dear."

Argenta turned before she could start crying again and raced down the street.

For a while she ran blindly, with no clear sense of where she was going. Then she slowed, gaining control of herself.

"What would Uncle Silvros do?" she thought. "He would have a plan. He would prepare."

She headed back to their inn and slipped in through the front door. The common room was deserted at this time of night, and only the night clerk was there, nodding at his desk. She headed upstairs to their room. The wards they'd placed over the door were still intact, showing nobody had been inside. She deactivated the wards then went in, grabbed her backpack and began to pack.

Her backpack was quite a handy item, as it was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Her uncle's staff went in with no trouble, as did their spare clothes. She hesitated a moment, then pulled back the covers on their beds and started shoveling the coins inside. There were only a few hundred in each bed, mostly silver and copper, but it was the feel that was important. No dragon could sleep comfortably on anything other than a bed of treasure.

Once that was done, she started laying out her tools for the night. Her lockpicks and jimmies went into a belt pouch, as did a couple carefully wrapped healing potions. Two daggers went into her boots and throwing knives in her neck and wrist sheaths. She then went to the window and opened the shutters. There was nobody in the inn's back yard, and she looped her rope around the bedstead and climbed down, then pulled the rope down and coiled it before putting it into her backpack. She didn't intend to return to the inn, but they were paid until the end of the week, so her uncle (she stifled a sob) wouldn't be upset that they were cheating the inn keeper. She took another look around to make sure the coast was clear, then headed to the temple district.

The city had many temples. The temple of Morkon was appropriately next to the cemetery. Argenta examined it as she walked down the opposite side of the street. It was an imposing edifice, with fluted marble columns rising to a fade decorated with carved vines, flowers and animals, all of which were rendered more decrepit and frail as they culminated in the death skull engraved in the arch over the center of the double doors. It was an obvious metaphor for life ending in death, something Argenta needed no reminders of at the moment.

There were two human guards stationed at the front door, but she wasn't going in that way. She saw there was a walled garden on the side between the temple and what she assumed was the rectory. She crossed the street out of sight of the guards and pulled herself up and over the wall.

It was a well tended garden, fragrant with jasmine and roses. Lilac bushes provided concealment as she made her way to the side of the temple and found the door. The lock was a simple one, and she slipped inside.

The temple was cavernous and dimly lit by votive candles at various side alters. Rows of wooden pews filled the main section, separated by the main aisle and the double row of stately, engraved pillars supporting the roof. To her right the alter stood on a raised dais. Behind it was a marble skull at least ten feet high, resting on a massive pedestal. Argenta listened intently, but heard only the guttering of candles. Cautiously, she made her way to the skull behind the alter.

The pedestal was a good seven feet high, certainly tall enough to conceal a door. It had bas relief skulls around the top and bottom. To a normal human it would have seemed a solid block, but Argenta could see the faintest of seams outlining the door, and one of the skulls looked slightly shinier than the others, as though it had been touched often. She pushed on it, and the door swung open. With a last look around, she went inside and closed the door behind her.

She found herself on a landing around ten feet on a side, with a low ceiling. Steps led down into the gloom. She took her uncle's staff out of her backpack and held it in her left hand. Her right was on her sword, but she didn't want to draw it yet, as its light might alert anyone or anything that might be down there. She didn't need it anyway, as her eyesight functioned perfectly well in pitch darkness. She took a step towards the stairway, then stopped.

She couldn't do it.

What was she thinking? She wasn't up to this. A mission like this required her uncle's wisdom and experience. She was only 83 years old! Her breathing became ragged, and she gripped her uncle's staff with both hands and leaned her head against it.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," she thought. "I can't, I just can't. I want to make you proud, but I can't."

In her mind's eye, she saw her uncle's smiling face. She remembered his many kindness to her over the years, despite her sometimes exasperating behavior. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. Maybe she couldn't do it. She was probably going to her death. It didn't matter. She had to try. She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and started down.

She went down a couple steps, then stopped for a different reason. The steps were fairly clear of dust, indicating they were used often, but the fifth step down had a faint layer of dust on it. She examined it carefully, and saw a near invisible, even to dragon eyes, seam running next to the walls on both sides. Obviously the clerics skipped that step when going down the stairs. She took out some chalk and marked the walls next to the step as a reminder, then carefully stepped over it and continued. She skipped the eleventh and seventeenth steps in the same way, and made it to the bottom.

At the bottom was a short hallway only slightly wider than the stairs. It was blocked by a large steel gate. About ten feet beyond the gate she could see alcoves on either side of the hallway, but couldn't see what was in them, although whatever it was wasn't likely to be pleasant. About ten feet beyond the alcoves was a solid metal door.

First things first. She examined the gate with all her senses. She could detect an aura of magic about the gate, undoubtably a warding spell. She quietly chanted the words of Unweaving, and the spell gradually dissipated. Then she got to work on the lock. It was much more difficult than the one on the side door, but she got it open after a few minutes. She drew her sword and approached the alcoves.

Being this was a temple of death, they probably held undead guardians. Usually there would be a pass phrase one could utter to get by. She thought a moment, then shrugged, stepped forward and said "All life ends in death."

She didn't think it would work. She was right.

A zombie lurched out of each alcove. They were large, probably created from dead ogres. Fortunately, flaming weapons were very effective against the undead, and she made short work of them. Then two more came out, and two more after that.

"How many of these things do they have?" she thought, as she thrust and parried. She was able to dodge their clumsy attacks and was destroying them almost as fast as they came, but not quite. Two more came into the hallway, and she sent a blast of power from the staff that cut through them. She leapt to the alcoves and was amazed to see they only extended back five feet or so. Then the floor shimmered, and a new zombie appeared in each one. Wonderful.

She sent a blast of power that crumpled the one to her left, then launched a furious attack on the one to her right, slicing down through its shoulder and into its torso. It tried to grab her with its other arm but she forced it back and cut it in half. It crumpled to the ground, and she stood there breathing heavily.

No more zombies came out. Either there were no more, or the teleportation device wouldn't work if something was already on it. Unfortunately, its activation probably meant someone knew she was here. She would have to move quickly.

The door at the end of the hallway had a warding similar to the first, which she dispelled. The lock was just as complex, but either she was getting better or panic aided her skill as she picked it in record time. She swung the door open and found herself in the vaults.

The room she was in was quite wide, at least twice as wide as the hallway, and stretched further than even she could see. The walls were lined with chests, some of which were open showing the gold inside. Several statues, crowns, jeweled necklaces and other art objects were on display pillars throughout. Most of them were inlaid with precious stones. Clearly death was a big business.

Her dragon heart gave a lurch at seeing such wealth, but she firmly reminded herself of why she was here. Normally, finding one item like the Scepter would be impossible in all this, but she didn't need to look. She could feel it. The Scepter called to any true dragon.

She walked down the aisle, and there it was, resting on a pedestal. Reverently, she picked it up and felt the tingle of its power. She carefully placed it in her backpack, then turned and sprinted towards the door before she could give in to temptation and start taking everything.

She raced up the steps, skipping the marked ones. She had done it. She had the Scepter. "This is almost too easy," she thought as she pushed open the door. As soon as she went through it, she realized she was wrong about the "too easy".

Nomus stood on the other side of the alter, a demon like the one they'd fought earlier on each side. He cocked his head to one side and smiled.

"Let's see, Argenta, isn't it? Yes, I must say you've done an excellent job retrieving the Scepter for me. Oh, is that your uncle's staff I see in your hand? Where is dear Silvros?" He made a pretense of looking around. "Wait, I do recall seeing a dead dragon on my way here. My, my, such a pity."

A cold fury filled Argenta. She was not going to let herself be intimidated by this creature. She owed her uncle that much.

"So," she said in a remarkably steady voice. "Is this the gloating part?"

"Beg pardon?" Nomus said, with a quizzical look on his face.

"The gloating part. In every bad adventure story, there's always a part where the villain gloats in front of the hero, proclaiming his invincible evil and overwhelming power. Mind you, that's generally right before the hero hands him his head."

Nomus stared at her. Then he burst into what sounded like genuine laughter.

"My, you are the witty one," he said, wiping his eye. "I'm afraid however, this is not an adventure story. This is real life. Your only options are to give me the Scepter or die."

"Not so," Argenta said. "There's always option three."

She leapt to her left, firing a blast of power from the staff. Nomus parried it easily, as she knew he would, but it bought her time. The demon nearest her clawed at her, but she rolled under it and came up slashing her sword into the back of its leg. The creature stumbled, and she hurtled down the steps, barely dodging a bolt of crackling energy from Nomus that blasted the front pews. She raced down the central aisle, then stopped. Two more demons blocked the front doors. She spun, slipping her uncle's staff back into her backpack.

"Did you really think you'd be able to escape?" Nomus asked from the alter. His demons were advancing towards her, claws extended.

"I wasn't trying to escape," she said as she shrugged off her backpack. "I just needed more room."

She bent down, and her body expanded. Her armor burst as scales appeared, wings sprouted, her neck elongated. Her tail lashed and her head reared on its long neck. The pews were smashed as a dragon stood there in all her glory, her scales glinting.

Argenta let out a roar, and spewed icy breath at her foes. It had little effect on the demons, but Nomus was forced to duck behind the alter. Her tail lashed and smashed the demons running up behind her into a pillar, which cracked from the force. The demons in front attacked with claws and beak, but they had little effect on her scaly hide. She grabbed one in her mouth and flung it through the air and tore apart the other with her claws. Then Nomus came out from behind the alter and blasted her with fire.

It was her one weakness and she roared in agony. She used her claw to fling the pews towards him and one of them knocked him sprawling. She leapt forward and he scuttled behind a pillar, which she crashed into. The pillar collapsed, taking a section of the roof with it. Dimly, she was aware of shouts, and realized others had entered the temple, but she was focused on the wizard.

Nomus retreated, obviously wounded. He kept throwing magical bolts at her, but she shrugged them off. He tried using the pillars for cover, but she kept smashing through them.

"Fool!" he cried. "You'll bring the whole building down on us!"

"I can dig my way out! Can you?"

Apparently he couldn't. He threw another spell and vanished, just as her claws came down on empty air. She cursed in frustration, then looked around.

There were guards and clerics from the temple fighting the remaining demons. The roof was crumbling and clearly wouldn't last long. Her sword was buried under rubble, but she could still see her backpack. She grabbed it up in her claw, and launched herself into the air.

The holes in the roof weren't quite big enough for her to get through, but that situation didn't last long. She rose into the air above the city. Below her, there were people in the streets who began screaming and running in terror when they saw her. Sections of the roof were still collapsing.

"This wasn't as subtle as you would have wanted uncle, but it's the best I could do," Argenta thought. She would miss her sword, but at least she had her uncle's staff and the Scepter. Battered and weary, she flew for home.