away from the dwarven realm he would release his possession.
"You'd better," I spat through clenched teeth, the words my own.
I understood something then, however much Dragon tried to hide it. That shouldn't have been possible, for me to take back my body like that. We were one, and I knew him, the man, saw his thoughts and emotions just as he saw mine.
He knew who I was, what I was, and I knew him.
I felt fear.
Not mine. His.
A Big Mistake
"Dancer, it's me. I got the Dragon out. You won't believe what it is, who it is."
There was silence, but not a good one. A bad, ominous one. "What do you mean you got the Dragon out? You were supposed to deal with it. That was the job. Go and help the dwarves get rid of a dragon, get them their gold back."
"But it isn't a dragon, it's the Dragon."
"Yes, there's only one, apparently. Don't tell me there's a bloody dragon flying around Cardiff? How are we supposed to explain that one away? You've blown the lid on magic being a secret again, haven't you? Hell."
"You don't understand," I said, glancing at the Dragon, having to resist walking up to him and smacking him in the face. "The dragon is 'The Dragon.' You know, as in the Dragon Sage, legendary wizard of lore, more powerful than all other wizards combined. More powerful than anything we have ever known. Keeper of knowledge, seeker of truth, freaker out of young dwarves. And damn possessor of those who don't give him permission." That last one was for Dragon, not Dancer.
"Have you been drinking dwarf wine again? You know you aren't supposed to."
"No, they never offered me any. Look, it's Dragon. The first man to use magic, the one that gave it to us all."
I waited, listening to the cogs going around in his mind. I could picture him, pen in the corner of his mouth, frowning, looking like a confused funeral director. "Wait, are you telling me that the dwarves were being held ransom by Dragon? The man?"
"That's what I just said. Aren't you listening?"
"Shit."
That wasn't the response I was expecting. I glanced over at Dragon who was peering down the shaft then squinting up at the sky and smiling, moving away and stroking a stunted tree. I guess so long underground makes you appreciate what our world has to offer. Playing nice, I smiled and nodded at him, pretending there were no hard feelings, then whispered into the phone, "What's wrong with you? I assumed you'd think this was awesome. I'm not happy with him, after what he's just done to me, but I figured you'd be ecstatic."
"Can he hear me?"
"No, and why are you whispering?"
"Can you put him back?"
"No, of course not! He's out now. Look, I did the job, got the dragon away from the dwarves' gold, and it's him. He can teach us so much, as long as he behaves himself. He's not exactly up-to-date on what's allowed and what isn't, and I don't want anything to do with him, but I figured you'd be falling over yourself to meet him. He is a legend, after all." All I wanted to do was kill the bloody man, but I knew that was impossible, and for once I was thinking of the greater good. These proper old dudes, they all act like you owe them, and I suppose part of me was in awe of him as well.
"Those goddamn dwarves, they are so bloody sneaky," whined Dancer. This was so not going the way I had planned. Okay, not planned, but I'd assumed Dancer would be floored by this.
"What the hell are you going on about? I thought you'd be pleased?" My anger was rising. I'd had a bad day and I thought it was finally over.
"He needs to go, right now. Kill him, Spark, that's an order."
"Don't be ridiculous. How could I even if I wanted to? And besides, I—" Dragon snatched the phone away from me; I just stood in shock.
"Hello, Dancer. Or should I say, Dansator?"
What on earth was going on? How did Dragon know Dancer's true nickname, his Romanian one?
"My friend, Sorin Chisca-Marandici, it is I, Dragon. I've been wanting to meet you for some time."
I heard the scream from
"You'd better," I spat through clenched teeth, the words my own.
I understood something then, however much Dragon tried to hide it. That shouldn't have been possible, for me to take back my body like that. We were one, and I knew him, the man, saw his thoughts and emotions just as he saw mine.
He knew who I was, what I was, and I knew him.
I felt fear.
Not mine. His.
A Big Mistake
"Dancer, it's me. I got the Dragon out. You won't believe what it is, who it is."
There was silence, but not a good one. A bad, ominous one. "What do you mean you got the Dragon out? You were supposed to deal with it. That was the job. Go and help the dwarves get rid of a dragon, get them their gold back."
"But it isn't a dragon, it's the Dragon."
"Yes, there's only one, apparently. Don't tell me there's a bloody dragon flying around Cardiff? How are we supposed to explain that one away? You've blown the lid on magic being a secret again, haven't you? Hell."
"You don't understand," I said, glancing at the Dragon, having to resist walking up to him and smacking him in the face. "The dragon is 'The Dragon.' You know, as in the Dragon Sage, legendary wizard of lore, more powerful than all other wizards combined. More powerful than anything we have ever known. Keeper of knowledge, seeker of truth, freaker out of young dwarves. And damn possessor of those who don't give him permission." That last one was for Dragon, not Dancer.
"Have you been drinking dwarf wine again? You know you aren't supposed to."
"No, they never offered me any. Look, it's Dragon. The first man to use magic, the one that gave it to us all."
I waited, listening to the cogs going around in his mind. I could picture him, pen in the corner of his mouth, frowning, looking like a confused funeral director. "Wait, are you telling me that the dwarves were being held ransom by Dragon? The man?"
"That's what I just said. Aren't you listening?"
"Shit."
That wasn't the response I was expecting. I glanced over at Dragon who was peering down the shaft then squinting up at the sky and smiling, moving away and stroking a stunted tree. I guess so long underground makes you appreciate what our world has to offer. Playing nice, I smiled and nodded at him, pretending there were no hard feelings, then whispered into the phone, "What's wrong with you? I assumed you'd think this was awesome. I'm not happy with him, after what he's just done to me, but I figured you'd be ecstatic."
"Can he hear me?"
"No, and why are you whispering?"
"Can you put him back?"
"No, of course not! He's out now. Look, I did the job, got the dragon away from the dwarves' gold, and it's him. He can teach us so much, as long as he behaves himself. He's not exactly up-to-date on what's allowed and what isn't, and I don't want anything to do with him, but I figured you'd be falling over yourself to meet him. He is a legend, after all." All I wanted to do was kill the bloody man, but I knew that was impossible, and for once I was thinking of the greater good. These proper old dudes, they all act like you owe them, and I suppose part of me was in awe of him as well.
"Those goddamn dwarves, they are so bloody sneaky," whined Dancer. This was so not going the way I had planned. Okay, not planned, but I'd assumed Dancer would be floored by this.
"What the hell are you going on about? I thought you'd be pleased?" My anger was rising. I'd had a bad day and I thought it was finally over.
"He needs to go, right now. Kill him, Spark, that's an order."
"Don't be ridiculous. How could I even if I wanted to? And besides, I—" Dragon snatched the phone away from me; I just stood in shock.
"Hello, Dancer. Or should I say, Dansator?"
What on earth was going on? How did Dragon know Dancer's true nickname, his Romanian one?
"My friend, Sorin Chisca-Marandici, it is I, Dragon. I've been wanting to meet you for some time."
I heard the scream from
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