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*****

Chapter Thirty Four

*****

( Earlier. )

“Still nothing from Mirelle?” Councilwoman Nell leaned back in her chair, her brows knit.

“No. No messages or other communications.” Head Councilmen Kendrick shook his head, glancing down at his folded hands. “At this point, we have to accept that she’s probably dead.”

“Gods. That poor woman.” Nell rubbed her forehead, swallowing at the lump in her throat. “We never should have sent her with that unstable dragon.”

“How could we have known?” Councilmen Sarel laid his arms upon the rounded mahogany table. The gold-hemmed black sleeves of his robe rode up his arms. “We hadn’t heard anything about the urd’thin and his bandits having a dragon, too.”

“If we had, we would have kept ours here, to protect our village.” Jekk grunted and folded his arms over his chest, scowling. “As we should have.”

“You voted the same as the rest of us, Jekk.” Nell fixed a glare on the oldest council member. “We all agreed to send them off to investigate together.”

Jekk waved a liver-spotted hand. “I just wanted her out of my hair! I thought she deserved to be stuck with the beast, but I didn’t think he’d…” The old man’s tone softened. “You know.”

“None of us did.” Kendrick drummed his fingers against the table. “He may be delusional, but I just assumed he’d drive her so crazy she’d cut him loose after a few days. I never thought he’d wreck half the town and get the poor girl killed.”

Sarel tugged the sleeves of his robe back down over his hands. “We all thought the girl needed to learn a lesson. None of us realized we were sending that beast out to deal with an actual threat, let alone another dragon. It’s been years since we’ve had to worry about monsters. Hell, none of our outposts even sent word of warning. There’s another dragon involved, and we hear nothing from them till it’s too late? That’s disconcerting.”

“Agreed.” Nell put her elbow on the table, resting her head on her hand. “I think we all just assumed their silence meant nothing serious was wrong. Otherwise, we’d never have sent Mirelle away with that unstable monstrosity.” She lifted her head again, brushing graying hair from her eyes. She gave the others a measured look. “What are the chances he instigated this?”

Kendrick shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair. “From what few messages we’ve gotten, it sounds as if he was fighting in defense of the town.”

“We should have known!” Jekk thumped his hand on the table. “We damn near said it ourselves. Summon the whirlwind, reap the results.”

“That deluded monster probably decided to play hero and started the fight himself.” Sarel grimaced, glaring up at a tapestry depicting the conquest of a great dragon. “Or Mirelle lost her temper again and sent him off to attack without bothering to think of the consequences!”

“She had her heart in the right place, at least.” Nell stared at the image of the fist and shield emblazoned on the center of the table. “And as much as it pains me to say it, she was right about this urd’thin’s threat. We should have listened, and never should have-”

“We should have told her to send that damn dragon back to the marsh, where he belongs!” Jekk snarled, digging bony fingers into the surface of the table. “He should be here, waiting outside the city, ready to defend us when called upon.”

Nell swiveled her chair, narrowing her eyes at Jekk. “A few days ago you said he was worthless.”

“And clearly he is! Couldn’t even protect one little fishing village against a single dragon.” Jekk stroked his beard, gritting his teeth. “We let him live ages back in the assumption that someday he’d be of value to us! I don’t think anyone back then expected him to grow up into…into…” He thumped his hand against the wood. “A deluded asshole! I sure as hell don’t want him anywhere near our city. But if Councilwoman Shouts-A-Lot was right about anything in her short tenure, I suppose it was about the fact that we weren’t making proper use of him as our asset. I’d rather have that whirlwind available to be unleashed against another dragon, out there in the empty marsh, than sent into town.”

Nell sneered at the older man, leaning forward in her chair. “Then why did you vote to send him there with the rest of us?”

Jekk gave her a dismissive wave. “Didn’t know he was going to be fighting another dragon, did I? Thought he’d just wreck a few buildings they could bill to Mirelle, and she’d come back here, with her tail tucked and tell us how right we are! And instead…”

“She was the one proven right.” Head Councilmen Kendrick’s voice grew heavy and somber, silencing dissent. “And we got her killed by ignoring her and trying to teach her a lesson, instead. This is on us. But arguing about what we should have done, and whose fault it is will not change that. Let’s…at least try to honor her memory by taking some damn action, this time. We need to be prepared, because odds are this bandit and his dragon will be coming here next.”

Nell nodded a few times, sitting up straighter. “I agree. We need to focus on what we can do now, not what we should have done. We aren’t exactly swimming in dragonslayers these days, but we need to assemble what we can to prepare to defend ourselves against one.”

Kendrick glanced at Jekk. The older man stared back at him, and gave a slow nod. Kendrick licked his lips, and grimaced. “We need to activate everyone, then. Call them up, make sure they’re properly armed. No one thought we’d have to face this again, but we’ll do what we must. Get messenger hawks out to the others with their own villages.”

Nell tugged at a golden thread hanging from sleeve of her robe. “I don’t suppose we’ve heard word of Revaramek, either?”

“Nothing reliable.” Kendrick leaned his chair back, orange lamplight flickered across his dark skin. “He flew out of the village, chasing the other dragon. We think that’s when Mirelle was killed. But the urd’thin’s dragon came back, and Revaramek never did. So…” Kendrick splayed his hands.

Sarel grimaced. “So he’s either dead, or he fled like a coward.”

Nell traced a single on the table with a finger. “Or he’s lost in his own mind, somewhere, wandering his delusions.”

“Or he went to see that old harlot!” Jekk sneered, crossing his arms. “Perverse woman. Should have tossed her in jail.”

“Jekk, please.” Nell waved her hand at him. “Let it go.”

“What woman?” Sarel glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Wait, the one who used to have the gryphons raid our caravans?”

Jekk tilting his head. “Till we shot one down, yes. Her. Used to whore herself out to-”

“That’s enough, Jekk!” Nell slapped her hand against the table. “I haven’t the patience for your grudges and lack of tolerance right now. The world’s changing, Jekk, and it’s time you start acting like it.”

“Why don’t ya come over here and make me, then!” Jekk shook his fist at her.

“Maybe I oughta honor Mirelle’s memory by yanking that beard right off your face!”

Sarel raised his voice over the din. “What does this have to do with that old lady?”

Nell set her jaw, glaring at Jekk a moment longer before she turned her chair and faced the others. “If the dragon survived, he probably went to her. They used to adore each other. She was partly responsible for the truce, for the slayers sparing his life in the first place.”

“Should we try and send word, just in case?”

Nell burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Oh, Sarel, sometimes I forget that compared to the rest of us, you’re still new to all this. No, Sarel, she’d either laugh at us and rip up the message, or put the idea in that deluded beast’s head that we’re the bad guys. She’d turn him against us given half the chance. Come to think of it…now that we know this urd’thin has a dragon, I wouldn’t be surprised if Enora’s involved as well.”

“Like I said!” Jekk held out his bony hands, palms up. “Should have put her in jail.”

Nell pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning. “Jekk, I can’t handle you right now. Let’s hope she’s not involved. She’s got to be nearly as old as you are these days, and who knows what little army of monsters she might have assembled over the years. As if things couldn’t get any worse.”

“Oh, Gods, don’t say that. That’s always when things do get worse.”

As if on cue, the door to the Chamber of Law burst open with such force it was nearly wrenched from its hinges. Everyone whirled around to see a lanky, gray-furred urd’thin standing in the doorway. Elegant golden clothes adorned him, along with a royal purple cloak. Cackling, he spread his hands before himself and strode into the room.

“You’re so right! That is when things get worse!”

*****

Asterbury intended to eavesdrop a little longer, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. He blew the door open, strut into the room, spoke his line, and gazed around. So many startled faces, so many villainous robes. They were all staring at him. Oh, how he loved the attention. He glanced around the room, smiling, then grasped at the edge of his cloak.

“What’d you think of my entrance?” He perked an ear, tilting his head. “Needs more cloak, right? Should I flourish it, or…oh, I know! Let me try that again.”

Asterbury backed up a few steps and yanked the door closed. He threw it open once more and strode into the chamber, calling out. “You’re so right! That is when things get worse!” He twitched his fingers. A stiff breeze swirled around him, and his cloak danced upon the air.

A stiff breeze swirled around the urd’thin, and his purple cloaked wavered and danced upon the air.

“Much better!” Asterbury snapped his fingers and the breeze died down. A good thing, because the room smelt too much of incense, old humans, and lies.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the younger Men in Robes shot to his feet, his face flushed.

“How kind of you ask, Councilman.” Asterbury took a running leap onto the large, mahogany table they all sat around. He threw his hands towards the ceiling, pivoting on his heel. “I am Lord Asterbury, the All Knowing Urd’thin!” He lowered his hands and his voice. “Sorry, normally I have my minions do this when they sing my theme song.” He twisted around again. “Afraid I’ve had to leave them behind to run a village in my absence. But if you’re still confused, I’m your so-called bandit. Only I’m not really a bandit.” He stretched one arm up, and ran his other hand along his golden sleeve. “As you can tell by my clothes, I’m actually a noble. An important distinction because it puts me on par with you Men in Robes.” He glanced over his shoulder at the woman with the graying hair, then turned and gave her a little bow. “And ladies in robes.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” The woman rose to her feet, her palms on the table, robe rustling around her.

Asterbury ignored the question, turning to the face the man sitting at the head councilmen position. “You see, I’ve found that so often those who consider themselves to be in power, those of think of themselves as people of importance, well they can’t be bothered to talk to the little people. They’ll just brush you aside no matter how much you want a moment of their time.” He tugged on the end of his sleeve, then made a show off dusting off his golden tunic and matching breeches. “But show up with a big, important title and some fancy clothes, and oh, they’ll make time for you now. Takes a noble to know a noble, I suppose. You see, it was those who thought themselves of nobility, of more importance than the rest of us who started all this.” He held his hands out, palms up. “So after a while, it only seemed fitting that I-”

“How the hell did you get in here, you mangy little nutter!”

Asterbury whirled around to face the youngest man on the council again, baring his fangs. “Now that’s just rude. Here I am, trying to clue you into my backstory and you start pulling out the racist insults. I’ll have you know, I’ve never had the mange.” He waggled a finger, ears perked, voice a cheerful chirp. “You’re right about the crazy bit, though.”

“How! Did! You!” The woman’s every word was a sharp sound of its own.

“Get in here?” Asterbury finished for her, rolling his eyes. “I walked!” He strolled two fingers through the air. Then he gasped, as if in realization. “Oh, you mean the guards and all that?” He waved off the notion. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them.”

“Are they dead?”

Asterbury spun back around towards the head councilman, smiling at him. “I was wondering when you were gonna open your mouth. You and the old man over there have been strangely silent.” Asterbury looked the head councilman over. His dark hair and sharply set features were unfamiliar, but something exciting glinted in his eyes. A spark of recognition, of understanding. A glimmer of fear as he came to realize who…and what…stood before him. “Whether or not I’ve murdered your pawns is suddenly starting to seem a little irrelevant, isn’t it?”

“If you’ve harmed those men in any way…” The woman trailed off, balling up her fists behind him.

Asterbury glanced back at her. “Yes, I’m shaking in my exquisitely tailored trousers. Because after burying your watchful outposts, conquering your villages, and making my way through your layers of security via means I’ve not made clear, what really frightens me is an implied threat.” He raised his voice a few notches. “What’s she going to do, throw us in jail?” Asterbury laughed, glancing down at the knife at his hip. “Exactly, Mirelle Two. Or maybe she’ll draw that long dagger she likes to keep hidden beneath her robe and stab me in the back with it!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The woman sounded both appalled by his behavior and shocked he knew about the dagger.

“A whole lot of things!” Asterbury clapped his hands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Oh, I love that question because I always get to give that answer. And the best part is when the Men in Robes ask that question, because then I get to tell them it’s all your fault!” He splayed his hands in the air. “Well…not literally your fault…” He shifted on his feet, glaring down at the oldest man in the room. The old man stared back at him, his rheumy eyes wide, his mouth agape. Asterbury dropped his voice to a snarl. “Or is it?”

The old man worked his jaw a few times, but no sound came. The other council members gave him a confused look. The Head Councilmen stared at the old man, then glanced at Asterbury. His eyes widened. A tingle of excitement ran through Asterbury, a shiver along his spine and just under his fur.

Did they know?

“You haven’t said a word, old man.” Asterbury took a step towards him, his heartbeat accelerating. What little color remained in the old man’s face drained away. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Tell me…old man.” Asterbury dropped his voice in a harsh whisper, at once a sound of growing excitement and pure malice. “Do you know who I am?”

“It’s not…possible…” The old man’s voice was a croak.

“That sounds like a yes, to me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Asterbury saw the head councilman moving his arm ever so slightly, reaching into his robe a fraction of an inch at a time. Asterbury ignored him for now. The time for fun and games was coming soon enough. The other two council members were staring at their terrified elder in confusion. Didn’t seem like they knew. But they old man did. The old man knew who truly stood before him.

“Say it, old man.” Asterbury’s breath came in snarling growls, his whole body trembling in excitement. “Say it.”

The old man mouthed a name.

Even in silence, its ancient familiarity rang through Asterbury’s mind like a towering bell struck in his head. It shuddered in his bones. Asterbury sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his fur bristling. Music swelled in his mind, all shivering strings, tense and agitated. He balled up his fists at his hips, his tail bushed out, and for a moment he simply savored the thrill of being recognized by someone who knew the true immensity of it.

Someone who remembered him.

“You know me!” Asterbury threw his head back with a cry of sheer, almost feral delight. “You know me!” He jumped up and down, cackling his glee, waving his arms. “You know me, you know me, you know me!” He whirled in place, purple cloak sweeping around him. “Oh, I love it when they know me!”

“Jekk, what the hell is going on?” The woman reached out and put her hand on Jekk’s shoulder. The old men trembled so hard beneath her touch Asterbury half-expected his teeth to fall out. “Who is this urd’thin?”

Jekk. The name made Asterbury shiver. Oooh, no wonder the old man recognized him.

While the old bastard grasped for words, Asterbury focused on the other council members. All but Jekk were part of this world, and their names were easy enough to pull from the aether and vellum that enfolded it. Nell, Sarel, and Kendrick. And Kendrick seemed to recognize him too, so he must been the one Jekk confided in. But if Nell and Sarel didn’t know the truth, then Mirelle likely didn’t either. He’d have to keep that in mind, later.

“He…he shouldn’t…” Jekk stammered, glancing around at the others. His eyes lingered on Kendrick’s, and now even the head councilmen had gone a little pale. “He shouldn’t…”

“I shouldn’t what, Jekk?” Asterbury strode across the table towards him. “Be alive?” He prodded at himself with his fingers. “Well, I appear to be alive! Funny how disappointed you all are when you find out I’m not dead. Been a long time since it last happened, though. Since I met a Storyteller I mean, not since I died. Haven’t quite done that yet, despite the number of times people have tried to kill me over the years.”

“Years…” Jekk worked his jaw again. The old man looked like a puppet. Oooh, there was an idea. “So many years. You…even if you…survived, you should be…so much older…”

“Should I?” Asterbury tilted his head, his big gray-furred ears splayed in confusion. He looked himself over, adjusting his clothes. “Has it been that long?” He gave a sigh, flicked his tail, and shook a finger. “You know, it’s amazing what wandering from story to story most of your life will do to your sense of time. I sometimes wonder, though. If I spend three years in this story…” Asterbury framed a sphere with his fingers on the left side of his body. “And then I find myself in this story…” He framed a second sphere on the right side of his body. “Has an equal amount of time passed in that world? And what about the next world, and the next, or the one I spent six months in three stories prior? Does time pass equally, or is it completely relative and unique to each world?”

“What the hell are you babbling about?” Sarel thumped a fist against the table.

Asterbury ignored him as held up his hand towards Jekk’s face, covering up his beard. “Hmmm….you do look old. The Jekk I remember was…oh, but a sapling compared to the decrepit, diseased old oak I see before me now. You were but a boy, watching from your father’s shadow.” He dropped his hand back down. “Have you lived a good life, old man?” He bared his fangs, his voice a silken mixture of whisper and snarl. “Do you think of me? Or do you try to forget the things your people did to us?”

“I…I haven’t…thought about you in…”

“I understand.” Asterbury shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to think about it if I was in your place. Plus, age and all, plays tricks on the memory. Of course, I’m one to talk.” He circled a few fingers around his head. “It’s amazing what years of physical and psychological torture can do to your mind! To say nothing of thirty odd years of wandering from story to story…give or take a few decades. Why, maybe it’s been thirty for me, and sixty for you! Or maybe it’s the same for all of us and I just stopped counting. Either way, I do seem to have retained my youthful good looks while you’ve just gotten…Well you were always ugly, but now you’re old and ugly.”

“Jekk, what the hell is going on?” Sarel shifted in his chair, glancing back and forth between the urd’thin and the older man.

“He’s gotten old, that’s what’s going on.” Asterbury smiled and clucked his tongue. “You know what’s kept me youthful, though? My sense of humor! I recommend a good laugh as often as possible.” He slapped the back of one furry hand against his soft palm pad. “You’ve got to have a willingness to laugh at every horror the world can toss at you! You know what else helps you stay young?”

Asterbury glanced around at everyone. Silent now, they stared at him in a mixture of confusion, fear, and in Jekk’s case, horror. Kendrick tensed, and Asterbury smirked. Ready when you are, Head Councilman. “A love for dance!” Asterbury shuffled back and forth across the table, pirouetting, tapping his boots to the music in his head. “Gets the blood flowing, keeps you in good shape, you know.”

Asterbury danced to the edge of the table. He came to a sudden stop, looming over Jekk. His voice became rumble that filled the room, a mountain cracking and crumbling. “Or maybe I’ve just been put back together so many times I’ve become more vellum and ink than flesh and blood. I am so…far…beyond your story now, Old Man. They all think I died that day. But I did not die, I transcended. For decades, I have wandered every story, I have followed every coil of ink and blood you leave in your wake. And every day, every story I have grown stronger. You think I should be older? I age when I want to. And soon enough, I’ll be back home. I will show them what they made, and how far I’ve come. Their story will end, and mine will be set right. It’s too late for me to-”

Head Councilmen Kendrick jumped from his seat and thrust a long, dark-bladed dagger for Asterbury’s ribs. Music swelled in Asterbury’s head, a quick number with a pulsing, excited beat, something lively that made for perfect dancing music. With a delighted cackle, Asterbury spun away from the knife and smashed his elbow into Kendrick’s nose. The councilman stumbled back with a muffled cry, blood gushing down his face.

As the rest of the Council sprang into action, Asterbury danced atop their table. Nell jammed her own knife for his belly, and he pirouetted around her arm and wrenched the blade from her grasp. Sarel lunged forward to try and plunge his dagger into Asterbury’s foot. The urd’thin skipped sideways. Sarel’s knife buried itself in the table alongside the urd’thin’s tapping boots. As Seral tried to yank it free, Asterbury high-kicked in time to the music, planting his boot in Sarel’s mouth. Blood dripped to the table from split lips. A broken tooth clattered across the wood in perfect time to the beat.

Nell pulled Sarel’s knife from the table, and slashed at Asterbury with it. The old man pulled his own blade free and joined in the fun as Kendrick came at him again. One swung for the urd’thin’s throat, another for his hamstrings, a third for his belly. Asterbury twirled amidst flashing steel, singing along to the music. No blade could ever quite touch him. His cloak whirled around him, a flash of purple impeding their aim. Wherever their blades were, his dance carried him an inch away. Every strike, thrust and slash was close and yet never close enough.

All of them moved in time to the music, driving their blades at him in snyc with the bouncing beat. Thrust, parry, twist, spin, kick. With his next twirl, he back-handed the old man across the face, staggering him. Even his stumble was timed to the music. Another spin, another twist, and he stomped on Nell’s hand when she snatched for him. Her cry added to the music as he tap-danced off her arm.

If only they could hear it, if only they could see it like he saw it. He waved Nell’s dagger in the air, conducting his hidden symphony, guiding their actions to suit his dance. If only Aylaryl and Uncle Rekky were here to see it. And he’d have to tell Enora about it, she’d be delighted. He’d better leave out the next part, though.

When the song came to an end, he yanked Mirelle Two free and plunged her into Kendrick’s hand, pinning it to the table. Kendrick gave a cry so piercing it stunned the rest of the council. Nell cried out his name. Sarel, his own mouth still bleeding, ran to the head councilman’s aide.

“Oh, you want to free him? Let me you help you!”

Asterbury thrust both hands towards Kendrick, his palms out. A wave of concussive force slammed into the man, pushing him back so forcefully that the knife split the rest of his hand in half. Blood gushed as he flew back against the wall, a ragged scream wrenched from him. He dropped to the ground and Sarel was at his side an instant.

“Well that was fun!” Asterbury tossed Nell’s dagger away, and clapped his hands, glancing around the room. Wet blood glistened atop the table, near the fist and shield emblem. “Got a little something on your table, though.” He crouched down, licked his thumb, and wiped at the emblem. “Squeaky, squeaky, squeaky!” He glanced at Nell, who looked frozen, horrified. “Don’t you love that noise?” He jerked his head towards Kendrick. “It’s alright, you can go help him if you want. I’m not gonna kill him just yet. I’ve bigger plans.”

Asterbury wiped at the fist and shield with his thumb. He rubbed the edges of it till they wavered and ran like wet paint in the rain. The emblem changed beneath his touch. The localized lie it represented melted away, and in its place the truth took shape. A book, resting in clutching hands. Asterbury trailed his fingers across the emblem as the shield shifted, flattened into the shape of an open book. The fist spread its fingers, grasped at one side of the book. A second hand burned itself into the wood, taking hold of the tome’s other half. The whole sigil turned gold when it was complete.

“There!” Asterbury jumped to his feet, his gleeful cry rising above pained moans. “That’s better!” He smiled at Jekk, perking his ears. The urd’thin flicked his fingers, and Mirelle Two flew out of the wood and into his hand. With the bloody dagger he gestured at the golden image. “You remember that, don’t you? Never quite understood why you were all so keen to cover up who you really were. Maybe the whole localized genocide thing put you ill at ease, hmm? But now we all know where we stand, don’t we, Storyteller?” Asterbury cocked his head. “Well…you and I know. The rest might not yet understand.”

“He needs help!” Nell stood and whirled on the urd’thin, defiance flashing in her eyes. “Whatever…whatever you want, first we need to help Kendrick, he’s losing too much-”

“Put his hand on the table.” Asterbury gestured at the table upon which he stood.

“What?”

“Put his hand upon the table, and back away.” He glanced at Jekk, swiveling his ears.

“Do what he says.” Jekk’s voice was soft, raspy. An old man who’d given in to the finality of everything he saw before him.

Nell and Sarel exchanged confused looks, but moved swiftly to help Kendrick to his feet. They eased him to the table, and placed his rent hand down on the wood. Blood gushed from it, pooling around Asterbury’s boots. The urd’thin grimaced, but allowed it. He waved his hands at the other two who moved away. Nell pulled a chair up for Kendrick to settle into, trembling and pallid.

Asterbury stared down at the injured hand, watching the blood pump and flow. He spoke to Jekk, but did not bother looking at him now. “You tell them the truth, Jekk, and I stop his bleeding. You refuse, or you lie to them, and I take his arm and we see how long he lasts.”

“For the love of the gods, just-”

“He’s losing blood, old man.”

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“I’ll settle for why you founded this town. Why you came here.” Asterbury circled the dagger in the air. “Go on, Jekk.”

Jekk’s words came in a breathless rush. He certainly seemed keen to save Kendrick’s life. Or maybe he was just thinking of himself, hoping to be spared in return for cooperation. “Our world was dying! It was…hell, it was already dead. We tried everything to save it, but…in the end, we…we needed somewhere new. This place, this…marsh, it was so green, there was so much water. It was perfect. Not everywhere we went worked out, but…we had to try as many as we could. We…” The old man waved his liver-spotted hand. “I was still young when they first founded this place, you all know that. But I didn’t come from the west, I wasn’t…the west was empty, but…gods, our home was so barren by then. We settled here because of the marsh, all the water we’d ever, ever need. We didn’t flee tyranny, we just fled a dead world.”

“It wasn’t really dead though, was it?” Asterbury tilted his head, clucking his tongue. “It was only dead to those who ruined it. Some of us were meant to thrive there…till you decided to end our stories after they’d only just begun, in the hopes to saving yourselves. And you weren’t fleeing tyranny, you were spreading it!”

“Jekk, what are you-”

Jekk cut Sarel off. “I did what you asked. You can’t expect them to believe or understand it just yet! Please, help him.”

“A deal’s a deal, I suppose.”

Asterbury crouched down, tapping on Kendrick’s wrist. The man’s flesh knit together, and the bleeding stopped. Scar tissue covered the wound, but his hand remained rent, two healed halves rather than one whole. Kendrick screamed as his skin wrapped itself across the open wounds. The bleeding staunched, and his hand, split in two halfway to his wrist, healed itself in two separate halves. With a flick of his fingers Asterbury thumped Kendrick back against his chair, and sent the chair up against the wall.

“Kendrick!” Nell scrambled to his side. “You little liar, you said you’d save his hand!”

“No, I said I’d stop his bleeding. And I did. But the hand stays. A little reminder of what happens when you attack me in the middle of my grand, villainous speech.” Asterbury spun Mirelle Two around his fingers. “And let’s be clear about what just happened. I hadn’t attacked any of you. All I’d done was talk and dance, and here comes big, bad, Head Councilman Angry Knife trying to shank me in the ribs. And then the rest of you joined in. All I did was defend myself. So now he’s got two big fingers on his right hand.” He stared at Kendrick’s ruined hand as the man cradled it to his blood-soaked robe. “Wonder if he’ll be a better swimmer now? Oooh, I should have made it a flipper. Ah, well, I’ll remember that for next time.”

“You slew our guards!” Nell turned back towards him, fury flushing her face. Her graying hair stuck out in all directions. “You barged in her, threatening-”

“Pack it in, Granny!” Asterbury stomped. His boot squelched in Kendrick’s blood. “I hadn’t made any threats, Jekk just assumed because he knows who I really am! As, I assume, does Captain Flippers over there. I never said I killed your guards. I just let you assume whatever you wanted. But let’s face the facts, Grandma Shouty Face, striking first is what your people do. It’s what they did to us, after all. Jekk might have been but a boy at the time, but he knows what they did.”

“They just wanted you to heal the world!” Jekk’s voice rose. He pressed shaking hands against the table. “We had no choice! You refused, what else were we supposed to do?”

“Well, not burning down our village might have been a good start. Or, you know, not torturing us to try and get what you wanted. All stories end, Jekk!” Asterbury waved his hand. Trails of sand followed his fingers through the air, and fell to the bloody table. “Your people brought your own end about, you were meant to die there! We were given those gifts not to fix your mistakes, but to survive them!” Around his boots, the blood crystallized into cracked red stone, like broken earth. “Not that I’m surprised now that I know so much about you. Wherever you go, you bring tyranny, conquest, and bloodshed. You care nothing for any people but your own. ”

“That isn’t true!” Jekk swallowed, his eyes drifting to the shards of crystalline blood. He backed away from the table.

“Isn’t it?” Asterbury thrust Mirelle Two at the banners hanging above the table. “Your woven history says otherwise! That’s what those tapestries are, aren’t they? Images from this village’s past? Just look at them!” The urd’thin jabbed his knife at a few different banners in order. “Colonization! Bloodshed! Conquest!”

“Are you mad? That’s not what those depict!” Sarel left Kendrick’s side long enough peer up at the banners. “Those are our forefathers, courageously beating back the barbarian swamp hoards that tried to swallow our village as soon as it began! They saved our lives, our homes!”

“Barbarian hoards?” Asterbury made a show of gazing at the banner depicting the town’s defense against the so-called barbarian swamp hoards. “You mean those Va’chaak, fighting to take back their stolen lands, to avenge the deaths of their families? Throwing themselves against an army of men with better weapons and armor they brought from other worlds? Oh, I see courage, councilman, but it wasn’t your forefathers who displayed it. Your forefathers brought an army here to pacify everything that wasn’t human, to put them down so completely the survivors would never dare trouble you again. You found a new home, alright, and you claimed it with the blood of the natives.” Asterbury clapped, his ears pinned back. “Quite heroic.”

“That isn’t how it happened, you crazy little mongrel!”

Asterbury grit his sharp teeth. “You speak to me like that again, and I’m going to weave your village a new tapestry out of your skin.” He glanced at the old man. “Jekk? Tell him.”

Jekk pressed a trembling hand to his face. “It was…considered a…a very…dangerous world. They…they always send soldiers first. I’m sure they had orders to pacify long before the civilians would have been sent through.”

Smiling, Asterbury spread his hands. “Orders to pacify. You see, you’d learn something if only you’d listen to the crazy, ranting urd’thin. Oh, but I’m sure you’re all friends again now, right? Why, I hear Mirelle’s even hired a va’chaak to tend her bar! Rumor has it, she’s even let urd’thin patronize her establishment! Funny, though…they don’t all forgive and forget so easily. Why, you should hear the stories my dear friends Rekrek and Gavak tell me about their great grandparents! The va’chaak really like their oral history, you see, and even generations later…your villages are an open, festering wound.” He pivoted, and turned his gaze to the tapestry depicting the conquest of a rather deformed looking dragon, broken and bowing to a line of armored knights. “Knights in a marsh? Where’d ya get them? That sort of knight hardly fits the setting. A sure sign of Storyteller colonization. And suppose that’s supposed to be Revaramek.”

“They spared his life!”

Asterbury growled, his fur bristling. “So I hear. But you didn’t spare many other dragons and gryphons, did you?” He snarled, baring his fangs. “Like poor Aylaryl’s family.” He snorted, flattening his ears. “Then you made Revaramek fight on your behalf? No wonder she thinks he’s a traitor! Poor, poor deluded Revaramek. Of course, he’s not the first dragon your people have bound to your will across your stolen stories, is he?” He rolled his eyes. “Surprised you haven’t slapped him in a shadowstone collar yet. Oh, but you didn’t need to, did you? His brain’s all scrambled up! Why, he thinks a heroic dragon should keep his word once given no matter what. So he sticks to that word, to that promise, even when you try to cast him aside.” Asterbury waggled a single finger at Jekk, a grin stretching across his muzzle. “Oh, but don’t you worry. I’ve a plan for Revaramek far beyond your petty little desire to have him protect your council.”

Jekk took a deep breath, then wiped his brow with a hand. “What is it you want? You must have come here for something more than this…or are you just here to gloat? If you’re here to kill me, then do it, leave the rest alone.”

“Brave, old man, but unnecessary.” Asterbury shook his head. He smiled and bounced on the balls of his feet. “I don’t want to kill you! At least not yet. I’ve got something much better in mind for you, but one thing at a time. I’ll tell you what you can do for me, since I’m here.” Asterbury tapped Mirelle Two against his palm. “Fetch me your Codex.”

Jekk’s brows twitched. “I don’t know what-”

Asterbury was on him in an instant, the old man’s beard in one hand, Mirelle Two in the other. Snarling through grit teeth, he cut through the thick hair, right next to the man’s skin. “I can shave your beard, or I put your broken old teeth on permanent display.” The blade bit into skin, just enough to draw a few trickles of blood. “The Codex.”

“Alright!” Jekk held up trembling hands. “Alright!”

“You see?” Asterbury’s voice was once more a happy chirp. “All you had to do was play along!” He tossed a handful of bloodied gray beard hair to the floor, then wiped Mirelle Two off on the shoulder of Jekk’s robe. “Now fetch it.”

Jekk stumbled away from the table, towards the paneled wall. He moved a lamp set inside a recess, then reached back and pressed his hand to the wooden panel. It clicked. Jekk grunted in effort, pushing on the wall. Half of it slowly eased inward on oiled hinges. Beyond the door was a room lined with shining black rock, not unlike obsidian. Bookshelves covered with ancient tomes ran along the wall Asterbury could see from his vantage.

“Is that shadowstone you’ve lined it with? Wise. Harder to alter, from another story with more magic and all. Makes for good collars, I hear.”

Nearby, Nell and Sarel exchanged confused glances.

“I didn’t know we had that.” Nell pursed her lips, squeezing Kendrick’s good hand.

“Neither did I.” Sarel shook his head.

“Oh, don’t feel bad.” Asterbury waved his hand, cleared away the crystalline blood, and flopped down to sit on the edge of the table. He wasn’t tall enough for his feet to reach the ground, so he kicked them back and forth in the air like a child sitting in an adult’s chair. “The Storytellers are notorious for their secrets. Speaking of which…” He lifted his voice, calling after Jekk when the old man vanished into the hidden doorway. “If you remove, hide, or damage anything in that room, or if you escape through some hidden tunnel, I’ll…” He waved Mirelle Two, flicking his ears back. “I dunno, kill everyone you love.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Nell swallowed, staring at Asterbury. “Storytellers.”

“Oh, I didn’t give them that name, dear, it’s what they call themselves.” He waggled his fingers at her, shrugging. “I’m more apt to just call them the Men In Robes. Because for many years, that’s all they were to me. The Men In Robes who took us away from our homes, and tried to make us fix their world.” Asterbury glanced away, his voice softening. “Did you know, they used to…” His throat tightened, burning. He squeezed Mirelle Two, sucking in a breath. “Cut him apart. In front of me. To make me…piece him back together again. They wanted to make me stronger. My shaping, I mean. Using it to heal was rare, even for us, and only allowed…Well, we weren’t meant to use it to change a story’s end, but…I had too. I couldn’t lose him. But…so many times. They thought if I grew strong enough…”

Asterbury trailed off. He took a breath to steady himself, blinked away sudden tears and memories, and glanced back at Nell. To his surprise, she looked genuinely horrified. When their gazes met, she quickly glanced away and squeezed Kendrick’s hand again. He watched her a moment, tilting his head. He flicked his gaze to Jekk as soon as the old man returned, bearing an immense book.

“Ah, there it is!”

“Who?” Nell spoke up again, fixing her gaze on Asterbury. “Who were you talking about? Who did they…make you fix?”

“Oh, you’ll have to ask Jekk.” Asterbury glanced back at her, smiling. “He was there, you know. Just a boy at the time, but he never did raise a hand to help us. I’m sure his father had his head filled with all manner of lies about what we were, and why they were so cruel to us. What they thought we had to do for them. Why they robbed me of the life I should have lived. I should have been the hero, you know.” Asterbury set Mirelle Two aside, and held out his arms for the book. “They took that from me, along with…well, everything.”

Jekk stared at the immense book in his hands. It was bound in the hide of some long forgotten beast from another world, etched with images of spheres and pathways. He eased it towards Asterbury, then hesitated, his whole body trembling. “I…I can’t…”

“Now, now, Jekk.” Asterbury kept his hands outstretched. “We both know I’m leaving here with that book. Now give it to me.” A snarl crept into his voice. “Or I’ll fill your mind with all my pain as I age you out of existence. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pried something I needed from a Storyteller’s withered corpse.”

“Just…give it to him…Jekk.” Kendrick finally spoke up, his voice strained with lingering agony.

With a heavy sigh, Jekk passed the book to Asterbury.

“Thank you, Councilman.” Asterbury rested the book across his lap. He traced a few of the spheres engraved in the leather. “Been a very long time since I’ve seen one of these intact.” Asterbury moved to a clean spot on the table, and reverently set the book down. He glanced at Jekk. “World designation 3-B, right? My home?”

Jekk sunk into his chair, sighed again, and slowly nodded.

Asterbury waved his hand over the book and it flew open. Pages whirled by, and came to a stop a third of the way through the book. Lettering in an old language read World Designation 3-B across the top of a full color image. Beautiful golden sands stretched across one page, with broken, cracked red earth and black stone on the other. He flicked the page again, saw happy urd’thin like himself sitting around a roaring, red-orange fire in the dark night.

“Habitability low, my ass.” Asterbury snarled under his breath. He glanced at Jekk. “Must have been a wonderful place, before it was ruined.” He sighed, and brushed his fingers against an urd’thin pup sitting alongside his father, near the fire. “For us, it still was wonderful. In our story, it was perfect.” His throat tightened. “You know, I see it sometimes.” The flames danced upon the image, casting his fur in orange light. Happy laughter rang out from the moving picture. “The story where I was the hero. The life I should have lived.”

“What…what is that?” Nell walked over to the table, looking at the book.

“They call it the Codex.” Asterbury gave her a friendly smile. “The Storytellers, I mean. It’s sort of…a history of the places they’ve been, the stories they know. 3-B was mine. Jekk, tell her why you’re called The Storytellers.”

The old man rubbed his face with his hands. “We were…long before I was ever born, they were…chroniclers. They had…well…” He pointed to Asterbury. “He can do things, shape the world itself…there was a time they said we had the power, too. Not me, but…others, in the organization…”

Asterbury worked his thumb against his fingers, miming a speaking puppet as Jekk rambled. Then he cut him off. “They’re a cult. Some of them had powers, a bit like us, but not as refined. They called themselves the Storytellers because they fancied themselves…well, just that. They believed it was their duty to guide our stories. You see, they’d visited other stories, and they’d chronicled those worlds in books and tales, collected them. They felt with their array of knowledge, they were better suited than gods to tell their people’s story, to use my preferred parlance.”

He thumbed through the codex, shaking his head. “And surprise, surprise, not everyone liked that idea. Now, every world’s got its own hidden powerbrokers behind the scenes, its shadow governments, what have you…the difference is, to the Storytellers, not unlike to my own people, it was damn near religion. The other difference is, when their efforts unmade their own world, when their story ended…” He paused, glanced around, then shrugged. “Well, you can piece it together, I’m sure. Assuming I’m not just bullshitting you. You could always make Jekk tell you.” He smirked at the old man. “In the meantime, Old Man. I’m curious. What is your designation for the world we’re in now, hmm?”

Jekk muttered something against his hand.

“What was that?”

Jekk took a deep breath. “1-N.”

Asterbury froze. “Excuse me?”

“1-N!” Jekk glared at him.

“N?” Asterbury tingled under his fur. “Oooh, oh, ho ho hooo…I should have known. There was something different about this world. No wonder so many have ended up here. That’s perfect…absolutely perfect.” Asterbury closed the book without even flipping to 1-N. “I’d best adjust my maps, then.” He tilted his head, and gave Nell a smile. “You know, I rather like this place. It’s peaceful here, in your story. Peaceful enough that I tried to give up all this…” He gestured at Jekk and Kendrick. “I was happy with them for a while. Felt something I hadn’t felt in so many years. But the more pain and anger I saw in them, the more I knew I couldn’t truly rest until my work was done. So, I talked it over with her and…well, here we are at last.”

He pushed himself to his feet, flicked his fingers, and the book flew up into the air., hovering before him. “Anyway, I suppose that’s me done here.” He walked across the table, waving his hand. “Oh, by the way. I’m afraid I’ve been stalling you here in your sound-proof chamber while my negotiator paid your village a visit. And right about now, she should be…” He circled his finger in the air, his smile growing. How he loved this part. “Burning your council headquarters down around you.”

Asterbury pivoted on his heel, and thrust his open hand towards the ceiling. The entire roof came free of its mornings, and toppled down the side of the building, now engulfed in flames.

Asterbury pivoted on his heel, thrusting his open hand at the ceiling. The whole roof tore away from the building with series of skull-piercing cracks. Asterbury pinned his ears back as dust and splinters rained down into the Chamber of Law. The roof toppled down the side of the building. Flames twisted and crackled at the edges of the opening. The council members yelled and screamed, and Asterbury glanced back at them. “You’ve got…about thirty five seconds to try and make it out of here alive. I do hope you survive, Jekk, I’ve got big plans for you if you live. I’d run, if I were you. Oh, and take the back way. The main exit is only twelve seconds away from collapse.”

“Shit!” Sarel hoisted up Kendrick, and ran for the door.

“Come here, you old bastard!” Nell moved over to Jekk, holding out her arms.

Jekk swatted at her hands. “I can still run!”

“Not fast enough!” With a grunt, Nell hoisted up the scrawny old man, and made for the exit, ignoring his protests.

“Are you about done screwing around in there?” Aylaryl’s familiar voice called out over the popping of the fire.

“Be right out!”

Humming to himself, Asterbury waved a hand at the council’s chairs. The chairs floated off the ground, as if held aloft by invisible hands. Each chair rose higher than the last, forming a sort of staircase for the handsome urd’thin to make his escape. The chairs all wobbled and then floated up into the air. Asterbury grabbed the codex, backed up, then ran across the table and leapt onto the first chair. From there he clambered to the next, and the next, until he was standing above the burning building. The heat from the fire washed across him, the scent of scorched pine, cypress and oak burnt his nostrils. The smoke made his eyes water. He coughed, cringing. He really did need to work on his timing.

“My hands are full, Aylaryl, so I can’t really clap right now, so let’s just pretend I’ve clapped twice!”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that anyway!” Aylaryl swept through the smoke. It swirled in coiling vortexes beneath her wings. “I hate feeling like you’re ordering me around!”

“But it looks so cool!” Asterbury bounced in glee atop his hovering chair. The chair wobbled. “Just think of it from everyone else’s perspective. I clap twice, and suddenly, dragon!”

Aylaryl hurtled just over head, snatching him off the chair with a foreleg. Asterbury’s stomach lurched, but he kept tight hold of his book. She curled her neck to smile at him under her purple belly. “Alright, I have to admit, that does sound impressive.”

“You see? I told you!” Asterbury shifted his grip on the book, then cursed through grit teeth. “Oh, damn. I forgot something. Circle back around!”

When the dragon spun around through the smoky air, Asterbury cast his hand out towards the burning building. He grit his teeth, making another alteration. Though the shadowstone that lined the council’s vault proved resistant to his powers, the bedrock upon which it was built did not. The foundation cracked, split, and finally shattered as the entire vault rose into the air.

Over the crackling flames, tremendous shattering sounds rang out, like boulders crashing into walls of brick. Stone broke and split, burning wood fell away, and an entire stone vault rose into the sky, pushing through the smoke. Debris rained down from the marble foundation, dust and chips of stone fell back into the fire. A black cube resting on gray stone soon hovered in the air behind the dragon.

“Good Gods, Asterbury, what is that?!”

“That, my dear, is the Storyteller’s Vault!” Asterbury hugged the Codex to himself, then shrugged. “I figured it was better in my hands than it was in theirs, anyway. Now, I hope you had fun playing negotiator, because we’re going to have a big day tomorrow! You’d better get your beauty sleep tonight.”

Laughing, Aylaryl carried Asterbury away from the village. Walls and guardhouses burned all across the hillside. Men and women threw buckets of water on the flames. Others screamed for help, or stared, dumbfounded, at the purple dragon carrying the urd’thin across the sky, followed by a floating vault of black stone. Asterbury stared past his feet, savoring the chaos they had wrought.

“Good girl, Alyaryl! Put a scare into them, and still left enough for her to rule when we’re gone! You’re still sure you want to leave it all to Enora, and not rule it yourself?”

Aylaryl curled her neck to smirk at him. “She’d make a better ruler than me, anyway. And honestly, at this point? I’d follow you anywhere, you crazy bastard.”

“Just what I like to hear!” Asterbury cackled. “Then all we need now is Revaramek!”

*****

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