David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Do they have any vulnerabilities that we can exploit?” Magda asked.

“Fire and heat,” Ixabrax said. “They are immune to cold, even my breath would have no effect on them, but they fear fire. Their scales act as armor, protecting them against most attacks unless the weapon is wielded with great force or imbued with magic.”

“Delightful,” Magda said. “Has Zuhl created any other abominations we should be aware of?”

“His clergy,” Ixabrax said.

Magda frowned.

“After he captured my sire and dam, he began to circulate the story that he is the dragon god, worshipped by dragons and therefore surely worthy of human devotion. As a reward for his most devout adherents, he provides our blood to drink in ceremonial rites of passage. He calls these servants his priests and priestesses. They begin to take on some of the characteristics of the dragons whose blood they’ve consumed, a blue tinge to their skin, sharper features, talons, and catlike eyes.

“Most noteworthy is the access to the firmament they gain as a result. His clergy are capable of wielding potent magic but of a limited scope. They can create a wide variety of cold-based effects and many are capable of causing their skin to scale over for a limited time, rendering them virtually immune to normal weapons. Some few of the more advanced can actually transform themselves into the form of a dragon, though smaller and weaker than any true dragon.”

“Well, he’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?” Anatoly said.

“How are you feeling?” Magda asked.

“Cold and irritated,” he said, sitting up and scrutinizing one of the glowing orbs bobbling around him.

“For warmth,” Magda said.

“Huh,” he said, struggling to his feet. “When do we leave?”

“Once you’ve fully recovered,” Magda said.

“I’m well enough.”

“I suspect the journey will be a cold one,” Magda said. “Perhaps you should take more time to warm yourself.”

Anatoly frowned but nodded as he began unbuckling his breastplate. “I’ll never get warm with this thing on.”

“Your armor is made from the scales of a dragon,” Ixabrax said, his eyes narrowing.

“Yep, one that died during the Reishi War,” Anatoly said, ignoring the suspicious look. “We found quite a few scales in Blackstone Keep. Mage Gamaliel used them to fashion several suits of armor such as this one.”

Ixabrax sniffed him. “Scales from a bronze dragon. Those that remain alive can be found in the high mountains on the east coast of Ruatha.”

Anatoly nodded. “Right again. I met Lady Tanis last summer. She’s magnificent and terrifying all at once. Unfortunately, she wanted no part of our fight with Phane or Zuhl.”

“No, I don’t imagine she did,” Ixabrax said.

“I’m not sure our enemies will be as understanding as we are,” Anatoly said.

“Challenging Tanis in her domain would be … unwise,” Ixabrax said.

“Yeah, I got that too,” Anatoly said. “But I’m not convinced wisdom is the driving force behind either Zuhl or Phane.”

Ixabrax chuckled, a deep rumble emanating from his enormous chest. “I suppose you’re right about that. Hopefully, Zuhl will learn the folly of his lack of wisdom, and soon.”

After drinking a cup of hot tea prepared over an oil lamp, Anatoly strapped his armor on and hoisted his pack.

“I’m as ready as I’m going to be,” he said.

“Very well,” Ixabrax said, lowering his neck to the ground. “Climb up and sit between my spikes. Hold on tight, I wouldn’t want to lose you before I’ve freed my family.”

“Your concern is touching,” Anatoly said, offering his hand to help Magda onto the dragon’s neck.

Ixabrax was unable to unfurl his wings in the narrow chasm, so he climbed the side of the ice cliff to the surface, a harrowing experience for Anatoly and Magda. Once he reached the glacier, he spread his wings and tested them with a few flaps.

“You spoke of an easy meal nearby,” he said, looking back at his two riders.

“I’ll guide you from the air,” Magda said.

“Very well.” Ixabrax crouched down and launched, springing scores of feet over the glacier before thrusting down with his wings and propelling them higher still.

Magda laughed with glee. Anatoly held on for his life, trying not to look down while the dragon gained altitude. Within minutes they landed in the field of dead that had been left in the wake of Magda’s reverse-gravity spell.

Ixabrax sniffed at his meal and frowned.

“Perhaps you could remove their armor, it tends to unsettle my stomach,” he said.

Anatoly looked at Magda incredulously. She shrugged with a wry smile and they went to work, stripping the men of their belongings before Ixabrax ate them one by one.

“I don’t actually prefer humans,” he said, chewing, “but you’ll do in a pinch.”

“I suppose that’s good to know,” Anatoly said, dumping the contents of one man’s pouch onto the frozen ground. “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, holding up a vial of slightly blue liquid.

Magda frowned, shrugging and looking to Ixabrax.

“Dragon draught,” he said. “It’s made from the filings of dragon scales. When consumed, it will render you virtually immune from the effects of the cold for several hours.”

“I like the sound of that,” Anatoly said, working the stopper loose and drinking half of it before handing the vial to Magda. She quaffed the rest.

“Perhaps others are carrying more,” she said.

Anatoly nodded and went to work searching the men more thoroughly as he removed their armor and weapons, piling them to one side. He found five more vials of dragon draught.

Once they’d finished searching the dead, and Ixabrax had eaten his fill, Magda cast a spell over the pile of equipment. A dagger began to glow softly.

“Ah, this might be useful,” she said, retrieving the well-made blade and attaching it to her belt.

“What’s it do?” Anatoly asked.

She shrugged. “I’d have to cast many more spells to determine the effect of its enchantment … or I could simply stab someone with it.”

“Fair enough,” he said, chuckling. “Are we ready?”

Ixabrax belched, the noise reverberating down the narrow canyon.

“It’s nearly nightfall,” the dragon said. “We should attack soon.”

Alexander appeared in their midst.

Ixabrax reared back, slightly startled.

“Sounds like you’re ready to go,” he said.

“Indeed, Human,” Ixabrax said. “You have a habit of appearing from nowhere.”

“I’ve been watching and gathering information,” Alexander said.

“I don’t pretend to understand the scope of your wizardry, but I’ll accept your guidance … for now,” Ixabrax said.

“Good,” Alexander said, motioning to a small patch of empty ground. An image of Whitehall appeared. “I’ve been working on this all day. At first I couldn’t even make a ball of light appear but I find the more I use my illusion magic the more capable I become, though I’m still fairly limited in duration so I’ll make this quick.”

He pointed to a tower near the middle of the sprawling marble fortress. “Abigail is in the topmost room of this tower,” he said. “Breach the wall here on the north side. Make sure you hit it from this side only. If you strike from a different angle you could hurt her. She’ll be hiding behind some furniture and ready to go when you get there.”

“Understood,” Anatoly said. “Once we have her, then what?”

“Retreat into the wilds and hide while we formulate a plan to free Ixabrax’s family,” Alexander said. “I haven’t had time yet to scout their aerie or the surrounding defenses. Besides, Abigail’s going to need some time to get her bearings.”