Destiny Pills & Space Wizards Read online

  Zephros turned away from the button.

  He walked to the cafeteria. The lights greeted him along with Theros.

  “Hello, wizard. What will you have today?”

  “Nothing today, Theros. I’ve come to say goodbye.”

  “I am sorry, wizard. I am not familiar with that dish. Please restate your request.”

  “Take care of yourself, Theros.” He patted the cold, flat screen of her cheek.

  “Please restate your request.”

  Zephros shook his head and wandered to the airlock, stopping by the wall of names. He read them aloud, filling the corridor with echoes of the men and women who had died encased in metal walls.

  He would not be one of them.

  Somewhere deep in the ship lay a population waiting to wake, to live, people he no longer knew. But he hoped to know them again. Excitement and longing grew within him. He entered the airlock and conjured the energy bubble.

  The bubble floated him toward the other end. He waved a hand at the bay doors to open them. Drifting down, he floated through the swirling orange and yellow gases until he came to an altitude that felt right in his stomach. The same place he’d stood before.

  With his eyes closed, he again formed the equations to create the seed. His mouth formed the incantations. The power surged within him. Light and warmth spread over his palms. He opened his eyes to behold the seed. The light blinked out. Brown and burnt-looking, the seed fell into his hand. He held it up, admiring the pattern of grooves and wrinkles along its hardened surface.

  Not a failure.

  Zephros glanced toward the ship floating far beyond his view and wished his people prosperity and luck. He guided the bubble lower, deeper into the dense gas that the ship had analyzed as suitable for atmosphere creation.

  There was no surface, nothing solid to perch his bubble upon, but rightness filled him. He stopped the bubble. The gas caressed its surface, a writhing myriad of reds, oranges, and yellows.

  Zephros placed the seed of life and death on his tongue. Bitter.

  He swallowed.

  Warmth flowed down his throat and settled in his stomach, a curling, comforting mass of wellbeing. His full purpose realized at last.

  His eyes closed as he drifted down the curve of the bubble to pool on the bottom arc. The bubble evaporated.

  For the next two hundred and eleven years, Zephros grew and multiplied. He changed and spread, rolling across himself, laughing at the tickling sensation of waves lapping on his sandy back and the antics of the tiny creatures that scampered across his skin.

  Every ten years, he’d felt the ship’s sensors, questing, examining. Each time they went silent after only one day.

  Until this time.

  The ship woke. It burned him as it dropped through his skies. The pain brought tears to his eyes.

  The first people took tentative steps down the long ramp that dropped from the ship. They peered about through the soft rain he’d used to soothe the burn. Two by two, they ventured out with equipment, testing and probing. Then, finding his sacrifice worthy, they spread across his surface. He laughed at their touch and revelled in their laughter.

  With each breath they took, they inhaled a tiny fraction of his power, but he did not mind. A little magic in each of them assured him that his seed would continue to flourish. Zephros smiled, looking down on his people as he faded away.

  THE EMPLOYER

  First published in The First Line 2011

  Sam was a loyal employee, which was good, considering his boss would have fried him alive for stealing.

  “Go ahead. Take something.” The dragon nodded to the storage chambers at the back of the back of the massive cave. “I’m hungry, and you smell so tasty.”

  Sam pulled an inventory book off the shelf behind him and set it on his wooden desk. His three-legged stool creaked as he sat down. “Quit smelling me. I told you before, it makes me uneasy.”

  “But you smell so good, like warm blood and a beating heart. You know how long it’s been since I ate a beating heart?”

  “Yesterday—that little old lady who brought you the silver necklace that had been in her family for three generations. You remember her, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Green scales shimmered in the candlelight. “She was stringy.”

  “Krasis, you need to let some of your supplicants live once they make their offering. If you keep eating them, there will be no one left to bring you tribute.”

  “Where is that necklace?” The scales above the dragon’s giant silvery orb of an eye arched.

  “Room three, aisle twelve, pile two.” Sam picked up his quill and pulled the stopper from the jar of ink beside the book. “You know, if I were going to steal something, I’d at least pick an item you may have forgotten.”

  “I don’t forget anything.”

  Sam thought it wise to not point out that the dragon often asked him to refer to the shelves full of tattered inventory books. Instead, he found his place amidst the columns of entries and waited. He was good at waiting. ‘Exceedingly patient’, the elders of his village had called him when they’d chosen him for this job two years ago.

  Replacing the old scribe was an important task. Keeping the dragon happy, even more so. Sam prided himself on doing his best on both counts. He tried not to think about growing old and dying without ever seeing the sunlight again. In fact, he tried not to think about much of anything beyond the tasks the dragon set before him. The elders had said that would increase his chances of success.

  “Let’s have a look at today’s offerings.” Krasis puffed out his mammoth chest and clawed at the rocky floor of the cave. His voice changed to an earthy, echoing growl. “Come forth!”

  Sam shook his head. “Must you always sound so terrifying?”

  “I’m a dragon. It’s what we do. We also burn the countryside if we aren’t happy, and we’re especially fond of cooking those who don’t show us the proper respect.” Mirth shone in his eyes, or maybe it was hunger. They looked much the same.

  Feet shuffled through the gravel in the tunnel that led to the dragon’s lair. Two young men entered, lugging a wooden chest between them with a basket balanced on top. “We come to make an offering to the mighty dragon. We also come bearing supplies for your scribe.”

  “Set them down,” Krasis said. He sniffed over the basket and picked through the contents with his long claws. “Sam, come get your things.”

  Like most every other basket or bundle his countrymen had sent, this one contained ink, a loaf of bread, a bar of soap, candles, fruits and nuts, strips of dried meat and a wedge of cheese. He might be stuck in a cave with a dragon for the rest of his life, but at least he hadn’t been forgotten.

  The men opened the chest. Krasis’ eyes darted over the fist-sized stone nestled on a bed of black fabric embroidered with threads of gold.

  He hissed. “What’s this? A rock?”

  “We’re sorry, mighty dragon.” The man’s gaze met Sam’s and he spoke his next words very clearly. “Our coffers are empty.”

  The way the man looked at him made Sam uneasy. Did they know him? His memories of the village where he’d grown up were hazy. He blamed the dragon and the cool cave air for muddling his mind.

  “This isn’t even a jewel,” Krasis roared. “Sam, come look at what your people have brought me. They bring you food, but give me a worthless rock.”

  Sam peered into the chest to see a polished white stone. He glanced at the men as he wondered why they’d brought such a poor gift. One of them nodded ever so slightly.

  Why was he nodding? A hint of nausea squirmed in Sam’s belly.

  The dragon thundered, “Well?”

  Sam shrugged. “How do they smell?”

  “Good.” Krasis bared his teeth.

  The men shook. “We brought all we could. The cloth is very fine. The women of our village spent all winter weaving it.”

  “It’s very pretty, but I like jewels and metal. Cloth rots, much like men who liv
e past their prime.” The dragon’s long neck arched and snapped forward. His jaws closed around the head and shoulders of the man on the left. The man on the right ran. He took three steps before he tripped over his own feet.

  Krasis swallowed the head of the first man and thundered over to the second. The villager screamed. The dragon bit him in half.

  “They’re so noisy,” he said while chewing. “I’ll have to listen to the echo of his scream for days.”

  Sam tried not to notice the blonde hair hanging from the corner of dragon’s mouth. “Move to a smaller cave.” He tucked his own blonde hair behind his ears. “It’s only the second ones that are loud. You don’t give the first ones a chance.”

  Krasis picked at something lodged between his teeth. “Perhaps I should decree that only one villager can enter at a time.” He dislodged a section of the second man’s jaw, recognizable by the well-trimmed beard still attached, and cracked it with a bite that made Sam shudder.

  “If they come one at a time, they can’t carry as much.”

  “True.” The dragon finished off the headless men. “I smell more visitors.”

  Sam tugged the chest over beside his desk so he could properly log the stone when he got a chance. A dull pain started to throb behind his eyes.

  A thick-set man strode into the main chamber. He carried a carved ivory chest in his steady hands and spoke with a clear, unwavering voice. “I have come to make an offering to the mighty Krasis on behalf of my village.”

  Sam’s head hurt worse with each passing minute. He wanted nothing more than to snuff the candles and lie down on his pallet, but he had a job to do.

  “Show me what you’ve brought,” Krasis said.

  The man opened the chest to reveal a black stone, polished to a high sheen, sitting on a red pillow.

  “What’s this? Another worthless rock?” The dragon’s tail went from twitching to swishing, its scales rasping over the stone floor.

  The muscles along the sides of the man’s neck stood out and his jaw went tight. “It is all we have left.”

  Krasis hissed. “What happened to the jeweled armor, coins, gems the size of eggs, the gold and silver? What happened to craftsmanship and metalwork?”

  “Look at the carved ivory, mighty dragon.” The man held up the chest. “This box took many long weeks to craft for you.”

  “Yes, yes, very nice.” The dragon swatted the chest from the man’s hands. It clattered across the floor. The black stone rolled against the wall.

  Sam bit his lower lip and willed the supplicant to produce something to satisfy the dragon. The man merely backed up a step.

  “What are your blacksmiths and jewelers doing these days?” The dragon shifted from foot to foot, growing more agitated by the second. “I ask for tribute once a year. I give you the long winter to work on your gifts out of consideration for your need for your craftsmen during the fertile summer months. I am considerate! Yet, you insult me with these paltry offerings.” Green scales expanded and contracted along the great dragon’s heaving sides.

  The man leveled his gaze on Sam. “Our coffers are empty.” He shook his fist at the dragon and stood his ground. “You have ruined us all, you fire-breathing tyrant.”

  The word empty echoed in Sam’s head. The pain grew more intense. What did the man want from him? He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t allowed to speak to supplicants unless invited by Krasis. He had no wish to be eaten for sake of satisfying his curiosity.

  “Our mines have gone dry. Our stores of treasure have long been depleted. Our blacksmiths and jewelers have gone to war with the rest of us.”

  He stalked forward. “We fight each other for the tribute you demand. Our fields are plundered. Our women and children are starving. You burn what little we have. There is nothing left!” He pulled a long, thin dagger from his sleeve and leapt at the dragon.

  Krasis reared back, avoiding the blade. His head grazed the top of the cave. His sides swelled and his jaws spread wide. Fire filled the front half of the chamber like a red-hot forge.

  Sam shielded his eyes with his arms and pressed himself against the wall. He stood there, trembling until the heat of the dragon’s fury melted away.

  Our coffers are empty. Had he imagined that both men had spoken directly to him and said the same thing? Did they blame him for their poverty or did they think he had some power over the dragon? A shudder passed through him, leaving a new-found confidence in its wake.

  “How dare he bring a weapon in my home? I should eat the rest of them without warning just to put them in their place.”

  Sam pulled away from the wall. “What if what he said was true?”

  “It’s not. I’ve seen their forges working. I’ve seen men in armor on the battlefields, beautiful armor—the kind that doesn’t belong near a real war, covered in jewels and gleaming in the sunlight. I want that, not a pretty rock.”

  “Maybe the beautiful armor is all they have left to fight in, to protect their families from those who would destroy their fields and homes in search of treasure in your name.”

  Krasis’ eyes narrowed to silver slits. His head lowered, snaking only inches from Sam’s face. “Don’t you believe a word of that nonsense. I’ve been out there. You haven’t.”

  Sam knew he was very close to crossing the line from scribe to lunch. The stench of hot dragon’s breath made his stomach roll. “Yes, of course.”

  “Retrieve his gift.” Krasis backed into his favorite spot. “Then mark his village. I’ll want to make sure it burns at nightfall.”

  Sam scampered past the charred remains of the man and the chest. The gift was still hot. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around the stone to protect his hands. He brought it over to his desk and set it beside the white stone. They made a matching set.

  Black, white, and beauty shall be his demise, but you must be patient, Sam. We will need time. Sam clutched his head, willing the strange whispers of memory to fade.

  The dragon’s breath wafted over him. “Sam, are you not well?”

  “I just need to sit down.” His stool offered little comfort, but he managed a weak smile.

  Krasis looked him over and huffed. “Not like you to have a weak stomach.”

  Sam shrugged, praying for the next supplicant to walk into the hall and divert the dragon’s attention from himself. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

  “Come forth.” Krasis shifted back on his haunches to wait.

  A girl tiptoed in, her face perfect in its youth verging on womanhood. Her brown dress wisped over the gravel as she came to stand before the dragon. “I come bearing the wealth of my people.”

  Krasis gazed down upon her, tilting his great head this way and that. “And what is it?”

  “We don’t have much left.” She kneaded her hands and looked to Sam. “Our coffers are empty.”

  The pain in Sam’s head exploded. A cascade of memories flooded into his mind. The elder’s instructions and the clarity of his purpose washed away the haze that had protected him while his people had prepared.

  Krasis’ eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard that a lot today. Are you all sharing your pitiful excuses outside my lair?”

  “Many consider me as pretty as the finest jewel. My mother named me Ruby. Is not a living jewel better than a cold stone?”

  Krasis dipped his head low and sniffed, the great intake of air stirring Ruby’s long brown hair. She flinched.

  The dragon jerked away. “You smell odd.”

  Ruby blushed. “Forgive me, mighty dragon. My mother insisted I wear her finest perfume. I told her it was too strong.”

  The whispers came again. Black and white must go with beauty. This is your part, Sam. Why couldn’t the haze have dulled him just a few moments longer? Sam’s throat felt thick and tears came to his eyes. He quickly blinked them away.

  He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should compare the lovely Ruby with your other gifts.” Sam snatched up the black and white stones and darted to her side. “Is she not fine
r than a small white rock?”

  Ruby held out her hand. Sam placed the stone in it.

  “Perhaps,” said Krasis.

  “And is she not finer than a black rock?” He placed the second stone in her other hand.

  Ruby swallowed hard and raised her gaze to the dragon.

  Krasis’ head returned to its usual position just below the ceiling. “You may share a name with a jewel, but you are neither stone nor treasure. You will lose value with each passing day and your flesh will soon lose its sparkle.”

  Ruby’s lips trembled. “I beg you. Please accept my offering. We have nothing else to give you.”

  Sam took one last look at the pretty girl beside him and backed away. Why did his job have to be so difficult? He was patient, but he wasn’t heartless. He’d never had to make sure the dragon ate anyone before.

  Sam prayed for the mind-numbing haze to come back, but he knew it was too late for that. He took a deep breath and turned away from Ruby and the dragon. “I don’t know, Krasis. I’m not impressed. I think you should eat her.”

  The dragon rasped with laughter. There was a loud crack and a scream cut short. Sam didn’t have to look to know Ruby was gone.

  “Mark that village for burning too.” Krasis’ words were muffled by chewing on the girl.

  Sam kept his voice steady. “I will.”

  He scanned the floor of the cave to make sure Ruby had kept the stones in her death grasp. He didn’t see any sign of them, but they could have rolled under the dragon. He couldn’t be certain.

  The spells in the stones would take time to combine with the foulness inside poor Ruby. He had to be patient a while longer.

  Sam went to his desk and sat there, staring at his inventory book with blurred eyes. How many other Rubys did the elders have prepared if this attempt failed? His newly cleared mind couldn’t bear the thought of watching another person fall victim to the dragon’s hunger.