New Blood

Chapter 12

It was late spring, but the cold of the Northwest Territories lingered as it always did. Constantine Booker hated the cold. When he was younger, his parents, grandparents, and older relatives told him the cold would make him strong. Constantine did not believe them. If that were true, why weren't they strong enough to take back what was rightfully theirs?

Constantine sighed as he turned to the fireplace. The heat radiating from the roaring fire was one of the few things he took comfort in. He stoked the fire, adding additional logs as he caught a glimpse of someone at the room entrance. He turned to see Spencer standing in the doorway.

“Do you have an update from our friend? Has he made any progress?” Constantine asked as he rose to stand his full height and turned to face Spencer.

Spencer hesitated before replying, “I’m afraid not, sir. Alaster has only been successful with teleporting himself to Obsidian. Each time he has attempted to send someone else through the opening, the outcome has been less than desirable. Even when taking someone with him, it has been fatal for the other person.”

A roar escaped Constantine as he grabbed a vase from the fireplace mantel and smashed it against the far wall. He had counted on the warlock, Alaster, to transport him to Obsidian when the time came. If Alaster could not do what he had promised, not only would Constantine be forced to find another way to enter Obsidian without detection, but he would need to deal with the warlock.

“I’m sorry, sir. Alaster has assured me that he is continuing to diagnose the issue, and he will be capable of taking us to Obsidian when the time is right,” Spencer said, hoping that it would calm his boss.

“He had better figure it out, or we will find out if he is fireproof,” Constantine smirked. “My money is on him being reduced to ash in seconds. Until then, we need to think of another way of getting in.”

“If we can create a big enough diversion, in one of the far corners, we might be able to sneak in.”

“What do you have in mind?” Constantine asked as he walked to the map pinned to his study wall.

Spencer joined him at the map and said, “If we start a forest fire on the southeast corner of Obsidian, that would leave it open for us to fly in from the northwest. On the day of the coronation, they will undoubtedly have every available ranking dragon in the air to prevent interruptions. Fires often break out, and if we need him to do it, Alaster would be more than happy to produce some dry lightning so it all looks like an act of God. No one in Obsidian would think twice about another one, even if it is on the day Tyson Emery’s children are to take over the dragon clan.”

Constantine sneered at the thought of the Emery children taking over for their father. He had seen pictures of them. Constantine could tell they were entitled and got anything they wanted. This time, it included the clan which, by all rights, belonged to him. Constantine would not let that happen this time.

“I will have Obsidian,” Constantine said. “I don’t care if we have to reduce the whole of Obsidian to ash in order to claim it. It will be mine.”

Spencer smiled at his boss and said, “Yes, sir. It will be yours. I will make sure of that. I will make a few calls, and we will determine the best location to start the fires and for us to enter while they burn. I will also check in with Alaster. If, by chance, he has worked out a way to make his portal work for more than him, I will let you know. I will also insist on a demonstration as proof that it will work. I will not risk him taking either of us through it without seeing others use it first.”

“Agreed,” Constantine nodded as he went back to studying the map. “If we do start the fire, I want it to begin here, along the border. Being up in those mountains will make it more difficult for them to fight it. That will keep them busy longer.”

“We can also set them in multiple areas on the southeast side, so they have to divide their resources,” Spencer suggested.

“Good. I like that idea. Now go. I need to think,” Constantine curtly said, dismissing Spencer.

“Yes, sir,” Spencer said with a nod. “Dinner will be ready soon. I will bring it to you in here if you like.”

“Yes. Fine,” Constantine said, dismissively waving his hand at Spencer.

Spencer said nothing as he gave his boss a final nod. He spun on his heel, quickly exiting the room as he thought about the conversation he had just had with his boss. Things were not going as planned. Spencer hoped that Constantine’s obsession did not lead to disaster.

-

Alaster was sitting in the garden outside his meager cottage, although calling it that was an insult to all other gardens. The space was a small backyard that contained a paved courtyard, a small table and a single chair, a few carefully selected plants and shrubs, and an ancient cluster of trembling aspens that had long since merged into a single massive tree.

He smiled as he looked at the tree. Alaster was a warlock who practiced the dark arts. That tree was one of the few things he had encouraged to grow and thrive in his long life. He had remembered how excited his mother had been when the aspens had sprouted when he was only a child. When his mother passed away, he could not let her prized trees succumb to time. He had taken from others to give to his mother’s tree to ensure it had what it needed.

Alaster sighed as he thought about recent events. He had been hired by a dragon named Constantine Booker to transport him and his entourage to the Obsidian Dragon Clan. Alaster had tried to explain that moving a single person a short distance was not overly complicated, but to move several people, hundreds of miles in a single action, would be nearly impossible.

Constantine had refused to listen to him when he explained the nearly impossible task. He still expected Alaster to do it, leading him to try, unsuccessfully. Alaster had been able to open a portal that opened in the forest of Obsidian. It had taken so much out of him that when he stepped through it successfully and it had closed, he was barely able to open it to return home. Sadly, each time he had tried to open the portal and take someone with him, it had been fatal.

Alaster shuddered as the screams of the last man filled his mind. Something had gone horribly wrong. The man was ripped limb from limb as they traveled, and spitting them out back where they started.

He closed his eyes tightly as he sighed. Alaster needed to find an answer, and it had to be soon. If he did not, he feared the dragon who had hired him would also be what would end him.

Alaster got to his feet and sighed once more. He muttered to himself, “Back to work before that crazy dragon charbroils me alive.”