table, he watched the empty sky and looked for it to fill.
And there it was, the dragon. His miracle. His gift. Heart lifting, throat tightening, he watched the magnificent creature tread the air lightly towards him. Its vast wings were dulcet, caressing the sunlight like a shy lover’s kiss. Spoiling the picture, Lional-his beautiful face ugly with temper, perched behind the dragon’s wings and clutching its elegant neck like a bully holding onto some stolen trifle.
“What are you doing, Gerald?” Lional shouted as the dragon settled sweetly on the grass. “What are you playing at?”
“Playing?” He frowned, reproving. “I’m not playing, Lional, I’m perfectly serious. Can’t you tell?”
There were blotches of cow’s blood on the dragon’s iridescent hide. Horrible. With a wave of his hand he removed them. Removed Lional while he was at it, tumbling Melissande’s mad brother off the dragon’s back into an ungainly sprawl on the ground. The dragon lowered its head and looked at him, crimson eyes banked with fire.
Lional scrambled awkwardly to his feet. There was cow’s blood on him too. It could stay there. And if he wasn’t very careful his own would soon be joining it.
“Dunwoody-”
Puzzled, Gerald stared at him.
I was afraid of him once. Not so long ago he made me soil myself with fear. How odd. And what a relief, to be done with that Gerald.
“It’s over, Lional,” he said quietly. Men of power had no need to shout. “Your reign is at an end. If you surrender yourself peacefully I’ll see you come to no harm. You’ll be imprisoned, of course, but you’ll still be alive. But if you don’t surrender peacefully-” He shrugged. “Well. Then life will become rather unpleasant and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
“ What? ” Lional laughed, incredulous. Beneath his smooth, pale skin a ripple of crimson scales. The Tantigliani still held. “Gerald, have you gone mad?”
He shrugged again. “Not at all. That’s what you did, Lional. What I’ve done is… find myself.”
Lional stared at him, ferociously silent. And then he reached out with his stolen potentias, with the magic that would never truly be his no matter how hard he tried to pretend.
“ Tagruknik!” he swore in a tongue that wasn’t his, either. What a thief he was, this mad king of New Ottosland. “Gerald-what the hell have you done?”
Oh and it was sweet, it was delightful, tasting Lional’s stark fear. The dragon, still chained to him, poor thing, lashed its tail and roared in frightened sympathy, flame shriveling the flower beds, poison dripping to corrode and char the clipped grass.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Lional. You know bloody well.”
The healthy color drained from Lional’s beautiful face, leaving it gray and sickly. “You can’t have. It’s not possible.”
“Not for the old Gerald, no,” he agreed. “But thanks to you and the cave I’m not the old Gerald any more. Thanks to you and the cave I’m an entirely new man. With your help I’ve found a fresh focus.” He smiled. “New purpose.”
Another ripple in the ether as Lional pushed with his potentias. Pushed to no avail. He really was wasting his time. Eyes wide, his breathing harsh, he stared. “No. It’s not possible. I left those grimoires guarded. Warded beyond any hope of breaching. No wizard could-”
“No ordinary wizard, true,” he said, and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. “But come on, Lional. You’ve known since your failure in the woods that I’m anything but an ordinary wizard.”
Sweating, Lional stepped back. The dragon hesitated, then echoed him. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “This is a trick.”
Gerald sighed. “Lional, Lional. Tell me, what did you think you were doing when you were torturing me in that cave of yours?”
Lional didn’t answer. Just stared at him, his sky blue eyes narrowed. One hand reached out to touch the dragon’s breathing side. As though touch confirmed ownership. As though he had the right.
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know? Or is it you just can’t bring yourself to admit it? Never mind. I’ll admit it for you. What you did, Lional, old chum, was murder me. The old me, that is. And the Gerald you replaced him with, you made that Gerald into a murderer-like you. And-well-the thing is, you see, I couldn’t live with that. I couldn’t live with being that. Being you. So now there’s me, Lional. A third Gerald. A Gerald who’s going to put a stop to your nonsense once and for all.”
“You think so?” said Lional, teeth bared in a feral smile. “Then you’re an idiot, Gerald. A doltard, like Rupert. You’re no match for me and my dragon.”
“Actually, Lional?” He pulled his right hand from his pocket and held it up, fingers spread wide. “It’s my dragon. And I’d like it back now, if you don’t mind.”
He clenched his fingers hard and fast, wrapping his potentia around the Tantigliani ’s tight strands. Shrieking, Lional dropped to his knees. Beside him the dragon roared, fresh flame burning the flower-scented air, head thrashing in wild protest as the binding incant cut deep.
He winced. “Sorry, my beauty. Sorry. Be strong. It’ll be over soon, I promise.”
Teeth gritted, blood trickling from both nostrils, Lional fought back. His magic may have been stolen but that didn’t mean it wasn’t formidable.
“No-you can’t have her-you won’t have her-we won’t let you-we are one!”
The punch of Lional’s resistance was hard enough to rock him on his heels. Bones thrumming, blood surging, he punched back. Felt a sizzle of pleasure as Lional cried out and fell onto his hands and knees. Felt a trickle of guilt as the dragon’s roar echoed his pain.
“It’ll only hurt worse if you resist me, Lional,” he warned. “Let go. Stop fighting. I won’t tell you again.”
But of course Lional didn’t listen. He was mad, after all. With an outraged howl he lurched back to his feet and spat out a slew of filthy curses. So foul were the incants that the air between them caught fire, drowning the scent of flowers with the stench of putrid death.
Gerald extinguished the hexes with three unbinding words.
“I swear, Lional, you’re the doltard,” he said, as Lional recoiled in shock. “Compared to you Rupert’s a bloody genius. Now for the love of Saint Snodgrass, you fool, stop this nonsense and-”
With another furious howl Lional launched a fresh attack. This time the dragon attacked with him, teeth and claws and flame and poison unleashed.
No time for kindness or a delicate touch. With both fists clenched now, with a word and a vicious push of his potentia, he severed the unnatural bonds of the Tantigliani sympathetico. Severed Lional from the dragon and set the beautiful creature free.
Lional collapsed, screaming as though he’d just been eviscerated. Half his face and his right arm were turned to blackened lizard scales. The dragon screamed with him, lethal tail lashing, thrashing the surrounding flower beds to shreds.
Gerald leaped forward. “No! No! It’s all right! It’s all right! He can’t hurt you now! I’ve saved you!”
Dazed and confused, the dragon swung its head side to side, looking first at himself and then at screaming Lional. One luminous crimson eye was clouded gray and weeping blood. Blood dripped from its wide nostrils and fell scorching on the ground.
Hating himself for hurting the creature, Lional’s victim like so many others, heedless of the green poison oozing from its mouth, he risked a hand to the dragon’s shoulder. Wrapped its pain in a soothing hex and forced it to calm.
“There, there,” he crooned. “Stand still. Stand quiet. You’ll be all right soon, I promise.”
The dragon looked at him with its one good eye, tail continuing to thrash. The flower beds Lional’s father had so lovingly cultivated were ruined, reduced to churned dirt and torn foliage. Bits and pieces of blossom. All that diligent work, destroyed in scant heartbeats.
Well, it serves him right for raising such a horrible son.
Slowly, slowly, the dragon’s tail ceased its thrashing. Its head lowered, drooping groundwards, as its anger surrendered to magic.
“That’s better,” he told it. “Poor thing. You be quiet now. I’m your friend. I won’t hurt you.”
“But I will, you treacherous bitch!”
