Wizards Daughter

Taranis smiled, pleasure flowed through him, although no one could tell that. He opened his great mouth and sang, "I am Taranis, Dragon of the Sallas Pond. I am glad you are here. Time grows short. Come, my lord, Isabella, it is time to end this. Blood Rock awaits." He turned his great head toward Sarimund and sang, "You have kept faith with me. A wizard with a dragon's honesty."

Rosalind said, "Do none of you speak simply here in the Pale?"

Taranis sang, "The cadence of simple words is boring. The air lies flat when simple words spill out of a mouth. Singing the words gives them life and interest, and relieves tedium. I have waited for you for a very long time, as has Sarimund. We will see how well he casts his wizard's spells, though this one is beyond old and perhaps unravels. Welcome, Isabella." Then there was laughter, deep rolling laughter that seemed to come from the belly of that huge creature.

"Go with him," Sarimund said. "Taranis is pleased, he knows it is all about to come to an end. The Pale has been teetering as would a man on a stretched rope. What would have happened had you not come now? I do not know, but the possibilities curdle my i

He said to the spot where Sarimund had stood but a moment before, "Captain Jared is at Wyverly Chase."

They heard Sarimund's voice as a sigh in the still air. "What a grand man he was. He was so very sorry he could not pay the debt, but it was not to be; time had shifted on itself. And so the dreams came to many firstborn sons, and generations passed, all waited for the right time. When the two of you were finally united, Captain Jared wanted to see both of you, learn what you were about. He tells me you will succeed. But his magic is now as weak as a flicking flame in a high wind. Alas, he ca

The great dragon bowed his head to them and sang in a sweet high voice, "My son would like to burn you to your toes, my lord, but he swallowed his flame since it is forbidden that he expel fire until he has reached his maturity. The penalty is grave enough to make even an immature dragon consider carefully. I was pleased he was able to show some restraint. Unfortunately, his mother also believed it would be great sport. It is difficult to chastise her, for she is very quick to violence. I, however, am a god. I have knowledge none other have, dragon or man; I have visions that would blind others. I know what is and what could be. I am an extension of the Great Wizard. I am here and I am now, and will always be here. Let us go."

Sarcasm rolled out of Nicholas's mouth as he rolled his eyes. "You know 'what is and what could be.' Ah, I wish to take lessons in magic speak."

Taranis's eyes whirled madly. The ground shook. "Perhaps first, you should learn to sing properly."

Rosalind said, "He is right, Taranis. Perhaps when this is over you can give us instruction. But now, what are we to do?"

Taranis landed beside them and the earth shook beneath his weight. He lowered his great head and sang, "Settle yourself between my magnificent scales and hold on tightly."

After Nicholas and Rosalind managed to climb upon his back, he sang, "That's right, hold yourselves steady." He lifted himself effortlessly into the night sky.

I am riding on a dragon's back, Rosalind thought. I am terrified and I wish to sing with the joy of it. Her soft white woolen skirts billowed, longer it seemed now, billowing behind her. She and Nicholas clung tightly to Taranis's shining scales. His wings moved rhythmically, and her hair tangled about her head in the wind.

Rosalind tightened her hands together around Nicholas's waist. "Look at all the snaking rivers and lakes. They appear, at least from up here, to bulge inside their boundaries, like a man's veins rising on his hands. Isn't that strange?"

The barren land below them was a vast plain that led to Mount Olyvan, its peaks jagged-toothed, bleak, and desolate. On its highest summit stood the huge fortress of Blood Rock. It was like a Hieronymus Bosch painting-Nicholas could easily picture abundant sin and moral turmoil residing within that fortress, and endless suffering, and endless pain and wailing.

Taranis rose higher and they felt moisture on their faces as they passed through clouds the color of eggplant and as wispy as dreams before dawn.

Nicholas said, "Sarimund wrote that you, Taranis, were the Celtic thunder god. The Romans wrote that Taranis was the god to whom human sacrifices were made. Your name is Taranis. Are you indeed he?"

"It is all of a piece," Taranis sang. "All knits together in this realm and in most other realms as well. There is sin, there is worship, there is some good and more evil, and there is unity and devastation. The ancient Celts knew both, as do you in your modern day. As do we in the Pale. Ah, but the Romans, they were something else entirely."

Rosalind rolled her eyes at this and said to Nicholas, pointing, "There are so many animals ru

Taranis sang, "The Tiber believe the meat of the red Lasis will somehow elevate it above other creatures." There was a snort, then, his voice singing higher, sharper, "But the red Lasis is much too smart. You should see Bifrost throw the fire spears in the pits he builds. It is one of the few things that give him pleasure since the death of his mate."

But Bifrost has hooves, not hands, Rosalind thought, how could he ever build a pit or hurl a fire spear?

"Existing in your tedious, mind-numbing world has given you such limited imaginations," Taranis sang into the high wind that had just sprung up near Mount Olyvan. He glided straight up, right at the fortress of Blood Rock. "There, I have distracted you, made you forget what is to come. Endless worry can limit a wizard's powers, make his magic freeze. Now, however, it is time for you to focus and think and remember. As Sarimund said, be cautious, believe nothing you see.

"Ah, I quite despair of all this, but Sarimund is so very confident. Even though I am a god, all is hidden behind a thick veil. Events are trapped in the folds of time, and since time is bounded by place, my vision is obscured."

In the next moment, Taranis came to a smooth landing on a wide flat expanse at the top of the black stone fortress that had frozen Sarimund's blood when he'd first seen it, and now froze theirs as well. They saw the streaks of blood snaking down the black rock, thin as the rivers cut in the land below. It looked fresh, a vivid red. It looked thick and heavy, the droplets rolled slowly, inexorably. Nicholas remembered Sarimund had written that the sight kept all creatures in the Pale away from the fortress because it terrified them. Nicholas suspected all were right to be terrified of this hideous pile of blooded black rock. The fortress rose high above them, impossibly high arches with sharp spikes coming downward a good six feet, towers that speared into the eggplant-colored clouds or passed through them, wide entrances with huge iron portcullises poised halfway down, and so much ugly black stone covering everything. A marvelous illusion, Nicholas thought, and fancied he would alter this damned illusion once he had the time to do it. He smiled. He turned when Taranis sang, his voice deep and smooth, "Go, my children. I shall return when the time is right. Don't forget that here, in the Pale, you are very powerful, you are ancient magic." Then he raised his mighty head and trumpeted. It seemed the very fortress trembled and the streaks of blood on the black rocks spiderwebbed, creating new rivulets, a terrifying sight.