Chapter Thirteen: An Old Dragon’s Bones

Wesley had decided he didn’t like dragons.

An apex predator that doesn’t know that humans were supposed to be top of the food chain. They didn’t know they should be scared. They should run or at least avoid confrontation.

Instead they tried to tear you limb from limb.

Given, this dragon was being used as a guard dog, it probably didn’t have a choice but still…it was all getting so tiresome.

This particular dragon must’ve been ancient. As it exploded from the vault, a smell filled the great hall. It was, as best as Wesley could describe, like the dust of old bones. Fine powder aged over a millenia.

Or so he guessed.

Wesley’s shield absorbed most of the flame, expanding to cover both himself and Gabriel. That was until it exploded, having taken too much of the flame. The force of the blast sent them airborne in different directions.

Wesley almost flew out the window, but managed to grab hold of a stone column and fell to the ground inside, his head bouncing. He rose, stars ringing in his eyes and fell back, catching himself again before he fell.

The dragon was stretching its wings, evidently it had been stuck in the confined vault. They were light brown and leathery. A number of ragged looking holes were visible in the thinner part of the wings, between the long outlining bones. He was almost skewered by a long spike at the end of it.

When he looked up he saw about a dozen different Garbriel’s running around. They were weak imitations but the sheer amount of them had the dragon distracted. Its fire ripped apart the three of the imitations in a single blast, disintegrating them.

The real Gabriel, as far as Wesley could tell, was hiding behind one of the few still standing suits of armor.

They made eye contact for a brief moment and Gabriel flashed some rushed hand signals. They must’ve been some kind of Templar speak because Wesley had no idea what he was trying to say. The energetic pointing toward the vault made it seem like he wanted Wesley to rush it.

So, of course, being of a slightly banged up frame of mind, he did. With reckless, though not suicidal intentions, he leapt forward, dodging the spike and sprinting toward the vault opening.

The tail came out of nowhere.

And it came like a whip in slow motion. It wasn’t necessarily painful when it caught him in the stomach, as he’d been able to jump to the side. It was the only slightly less rocky looking part of the tail that caught him. He may have heard a rib crack but he couldn’t be sure as he was flying through the air.

Then something flicked through his mind that was altogether foreign to him. A presence, not unlike the serpentine one he’d felt in the tunnels beneath the museum. Except this one was many times more powerful. It felt like…confusion and anger wrapped in a blanket of rage. Just as soon as it had come, no sooner was it gone, leaving a momentary, blinding pain.

By sheer dumb luck, his arching sail was buttressed by a warm breeze which didn’t seem odd at all until he landed without all the sharp and dull pains that should have accompanied it.

When another torrent of flame cleared, Wesley found himself on the other side of an overturned wooden desk halfway down the hall. Gabriel was now just across from him, still cowering, his wanded pointed at Wesley.

His facial expression was confused if not dumbfounded and he shrugged his shoulders, mouthing, “Why?”

Wesley shrugged, mouthing back, “Distract.”

The Templar Knight rolled his eyes as if to say, What do you think I’ve been doing?

But Wesley ignored him. A little bit of an idea had begun to take root in his mind. Borne from the bit of the dragon’s mind he believed he’d just entered. He’d never heard of something like that before. Wizards could of course enter each other’s minds, with practice, but not an animal’s. Dragons were magical creatures after all.

And to bind one of them would be a powerful, unstable bit of magic. Like a collar or something. Dragons themselves were powerfully magic, their scales, teeth, bloody damn entire bodies were imbued with magic.

That kind of protection would constantly grate against the magical collar.

With the action it was currently taking to protect the vault, the magic would be challenged even further.

It would be fairly rudimentary to remove such a piece of magic.

All he would have to do is survive the flames, the claws, the wild tail.

Easy day.

Wesley shot a small spell that hit the dragon’s chest and revealed the meshwork of the collar spell. It actually looked like a spiked collar. Someone had a sense of humor.

One quick glance back towards Gabriel showed him the man was resurrecting the suits of armor that had attacked them at first.

They struggled to their feet, ambling, sometimes with only one arm, another had no head. Half of the half dozen or so didn’t even have weapons.

Wesley waited a few seconds more, letting them close on the dragon as half the zombie suits of armor were torn apart by a swing of the long claws.

He followed them in, keeping low. There would be one chance. Well, one easier chance. Anything after would be truly risking life and limb.

Of course, carrying on the fight for hours could eventually erode the magical collar but that would be a little too close to mortality than Wesely had time for. This whole episode of near death antics on the behalf of the Nocturne was becoming terribly tiring.

As he neared the angry beast, he flung a series of compounding stunning spells that expanded near its head, thumping heavily, flinging the head to the side and upward.

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It gave Wesley about ten seconds to work.

He reckoned he only needed five. Eroded magical spells were precarious more because of the unknown potential release of the power than anything else. And of course because of the new freedom of the beasts that had been shackled.

The plan bordered on madness. Which seemed to be on par for the night.

When he got within five or so meters, he aimed his wand at the magical collar and said, “Indsutria.”

A beam of pure white energy erupted from his wand, like the shine of a very powerful torch and shot toward the dragon. The force of it shook Wesely's hand before he managed to get it under control.

His wand grew piping hot in his hand as it met the bit of magic on the dragon’s neck. Suddenly he was fighting both the collar and the dragon’s natural magic.

It took maybe seven seconds.

Then it was like the sun itself was in the tall hallway.

And Wesely found himself flying through the air once again. He was not hopeful this time that Gabriel would catch him. The landing came much more quickly than he expected, crashing into a suit of armor and taking it down with him.

When he looked up, his vision spotted with light blotches, he found Gabriel looking at him, plain shock on his face.

“What the–” he began, jerking his head up at a sudden sound of crashing metal.

The dragon had just dispatched the last of the knights and turned its scarred head to them.

Gabriel raised his wand but Wesely pulled his arm down. “Wait.”

“Are you mad?” Gabriel asked.

“Maybe.”

The dragon had gone deathly still, its large, red eyes on them. Wesley felt the presence of its mind on his.

“It's…” Gabriel began. “I can feel it.”

It was flicking through their minds. Too quick to combat. But it didn’t seem malicious. Only curious.

Wesley wanted to speak but something told him he should wait.

A couple minutes passed in near silence before a booming, powerful voice said, “You have my thanks.”

But it wasn’t a voice, more of a feeling imprinted on his mind.

“You’re welcome,” Wesley said. “I have a thing about creatures being held against their will.”

A low rumble played in his head and he was sure it was some kind of chuckle. “I’m sure you do. If you had not freed me, I would have killed you both.”

Wesley smiled. “Agree to disagree.”

“You smell of serpent,” the dragon said.

He didn’t really have a response to that. “Be wary, little one. Those are not things that should be trifled with.”

“I…” Wesley began. “Will try.”

“You have done me a great service,” the dragon said. “You are owed by me. Speak and if it is in my power, I will grant it.”

“We only need into the vault.”

“Ah, then you have earned it. Still, I owe you.” The dragon tilted its head, eyes tracing Wesley’s body. “Perhaps the rib?”

Wesley froze, his mind racing. The dragon was offering to rid him of the Nocturne’s Mark. To free him of that burden, at least. But it would do little for him in the end. It meant little to free himself of that if he didn’t know how to kill the man.

“I’m not ready yet,” Wesley said. “But thank you.”

The dragon turned to Gabriel and said, “And you, Templar? The hooks that bind you mustn’t always.”

Gabriel turned a bright pink and looked away, shaking his head.

“Then I will leave you both,” it said.

With a single bound it leapt toward one of the broken windows and crashed through the stonework like it was made of clay. Its great wings bore it away among the clouds. It left the overlapping protective barriers around the tower in tatters, bits of glowing magic falling to dissipate in the sky.

Wesley ran over to the hole to watch it.

He knew he only had seconds. His rib had begun to burn as they’d spoken with the dragon. With a flick of his wand he summoned a little bird and sent it flying down into the clouds. As it plunged out of sight, he found himself hoping he hadn’t just doomed everyone to death.

Gabriel was at the vault's opening, calling his name. “What are you waiting for, let's go.”

“Don’t wait for me,” he called, sprinting toward him.

The vault was stuffed full of magical items. There must’ve been thousands of boxes. The room was more like a cavern itself. He couldn't even see the back of it.

This was going to take him hours. He knew the further protections of the place.

“Listen, Gabriel,” Wesley began.

The Templar man spun around, bringing up his wand preemptively. “Don’t even think about it.”

Wesley shook his head. “Listen, you need to leave. Right now. Someone is coming.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“He calls himself the Nocturne. If he catches you here…” The pain in Wesley’s rib dropped him to one knee. “Run…”

Confusion and worry struck the man’s face. “What–”

The air in the vault went ice cold.

A shadow turned the world a pale shade of maroon. The pain doubled and Wesley cried out.

Gabriel seemed to move in slow motion, his wand not even close to up when the spell hit him. He crumpled like a bag of bones.

“Oh, Wesley,” came the eerily familiar voice that sent painful chills through him. “Wesley, Wesley, Wesley. So glad I’m not going to have to kill you.”

Wesley writhed on the ground as a blurry figure filled the door to the vault. “I must say. You did this the hard way. But effective, nonetheless.”

His hands were clasped almost nonchalantly behind his back as he strode forward, stepping over Wesley to peer down at Gabriel’s still form.

“Templars,” Nocturne spat. “Greedy little bastards. Useful, though they may be. Nothing like religious fervor and ego to cause havoc. You didn’t happen to learn what they were after, did you?”

Wesley shook his head.

“Shame. I would not pass up an opportunity to annoy them. But alas, not all good fortunes come in threes.” He turned to look down at Wesely, the darkness within the hood somehow like a penetrating glance. There came an assault on his mind a second later but it was chaotic, buttressed by something…

The Nocturne tilted his head, the folds of the red robe shifting. “You are different.” He sniffed the air. “Touched by something…serpentine. Interesting.” He reached down and touched Wesley's arm. The touch was cold and he realized it was because the man now wore a pair of dark silvery gauntlets. Very, very old by the look of them. The fingers came to a sharp point. They spread cold through his body. “That’s what I like about you, Wesley. You never fail to impress.”

He rose, waved his hand and a piece of ancient looking parchment flew into his hand. Something glinted in the shadowed face. “Easy as that. Now, the fun can really begin.”

A sound like popping came from outside the vault. Then voices and the calls of spells being cast.

The Nocturne sighed. “Some friends of yours?”

“Please…” Wesley tried to say.

He slid the parchment into his robe and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt them. We might need them soon. But…” He raised an armored finger. “I must make an impression before they get too tiresome.”

He strode back to front of the vault, stopping just before the door. Looking over his shoulder he said, “I will not forget about you, my dear knight. We’ve so very much to do.”

Then he was gone in a flourish of red, leaving Wesley’s world to slowly go black to the sound of battle.