The Last Dragon Lord

XXXI

XXXI

Lucan took one look around the factory, and the only thing he could do was curse.

The dragon’s muzzle lay on the floor along with buckets of half-eaten meat. Dark, Miri, and Earl were talking, and it sounded like the dragon understood what they were saying.

“What the hell is this?” Lucan asked, ripping off his sunglasses.

“Lucan,” Miri said, taken aback, “I’m glad you’re here. We were just—”

Lucan stomped across the factory floor and tore past Miri. He slid his grimoire out of his pocket, activated the wheel, and selected a paralysis rune. A bright blast slammed into Dark, making him rigid. The dragon tried to yell, but his mouth was held open in mid-roar.

“What are you doing?” Miri cried. She grabbed his arm, but he smacked it away.

“Gus! Orion!” he screamed. “Quit lagging and get in here!”

His fingers were numb, a side effect of the spell. He couldn’t feel them, but he didn’t need them right now.

The two men entered the room. Lucan scowled and pointed at them. “Get the goddamned muzzle on. Now.”

Both men lowered their eyes and entered the cage.

As the men screwed on the muzzle, Lucan wheeled around and aimed his finger at Miri. “Why the hell did you make them take it off?”

Miri, who had grown increasingly flustered throughout the whole exchange, was beet red now.

“Why the hell are you yelling at me?” she asked.

“Earl!” Lucan shouted.

“Sir,” Earl said. He stood next to Miri and tried not to show his fear.

“I told you to keep a lid on her,” Lucan said.

“No harm in it, sir,” Earl said.

“Harm?” Lucan asked. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to the dragon?”

“How about you talk to me?” Miri said. “I’m right here, and I can speak for myself.”

“Professor Charmwell,” Lucan said. “I have a thousand problems right now. I’m running a campaign. I’m trying to carry out the biggest cover-up in the history of the world because I have the most hated dragon lord ever in my factory. I don’t need this right now!”

“What are you talking about?” Miri asked. “You promised me I could do research.”

“Yes, research! Not make friends with him. Do you realize who he is?”

“How am I supposed to do anything with a muzzle on his mouth?”

Lucan lowered his voice.

“There’s a reason they called him Dark the Wicked, Miri.”

“There’s no point lowering your voice,” Miri said. “He can still hear you.”

“And apparently he can understand me, too, thanks to you.”

“I don’t understand what the problem is!” Miri cried.

He wanted to shake her. Typical professor. All she cared about was her work. She couldn’t have been thinking straight.

Or maybe he wasn’t thinking straight. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop the outpour of anger. He kicked over a chair and yelled.

“Keep talking to him and he’ll figure a way out of here,” Lucan said. “Do you want to explain that to Dean Rosehill?”

Miri approached him, her face inches from his.

“First, I am in front of the greatest dragon lord in history,” she said. “He’s the most enigmatic figure that has ever lived, and you’re not going to dictate what I can and can’t do, seeing as you hired me in the first place. Second, he might be able to tell us where magical deposits are, which would help your campaign. Third, how dare you keep him in here without feeding him? You’ve been treating him like an animal, and the one who belongs in a cage is you.”

“You wrote a thesis on him,” Lucan said. “You know how he treated people like us. He’s not elven, Miri.”

“He’s not a wild animal, either,” Miri said.

“Yes, he is. He’s a bloodthirsty viper—”

“You’re quoting inaccurate history books,” Miri said.

“No, I’m not—”

“Those exact words were used in the Reign of Fenroot documentary,” Miri said.

“So?”

“You haven’t talked to him, so you can’t make any judgments,” Miri said.

Lucan puffed. “Earl, settle this for me. Is he a teddy bear or a son of a b***h?”

The question surprised Earl; he raised his eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t know if those choices are a fair estimation of his personality, but I’d say he’s probably closer to the latter, sir,” Earl said.

Lucan folded his arms and smirked at Miri. “I win.”

“You believe in human and elven rights,” Miri said. “Why doesn’t that extend to dragons?”

“Because if dragons believed in human rights, then our ancestors wouldn’t have been prey,” Lucan said. “Call it pragmatism.”

He snapped his fingers and the lights went out. The television glowed in the dark, illuminating everyone’s face.

“You’re in my factory, you’re on my retainer, you play by my rules,” he said.

“Which are?” Miri asked.

“Old Dark stays in the dark,” Lucan said. “Until I figure out what I’m going to do with him.”

Dark mumbled something, but the muzzle made it unintelligible.

Both men exited the cage and latched it shut. The paralysis spell wore off and Dark crashed to the ground, groaning.

“Since he’s eating now, that muzzle only comes off two times a day for meals,” Lucan said. “You want permission to do anything else, you ask me.”

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” Miri asked.

Lucan turned his back and sighed. “I don’t know.”

A while passed before Miri said anything. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Lucan laughed.

Finding Old Dark had been scary. Finding a way to transport the dragon and cover up his tracks in the process had been challenging.

But he wasn’t scared now.

He was pissed. Every hour was something new, and the only way to deal with it was to fight.

He glowered at the great dragon curled into a ball in the cage, and said, “If you understand anything, know that I’m the boss around here. I don’t care if you were a dragon lord or not. The world has gone to s**t, and it’s better that you live in a cage. Trust me.”

He heard faint voices.

The television set was playing the news.

“What is this, a hotel room?” he yelled. He grabbed the television and pushed it over. It landed on its side and the screen cracked.

Miri packed her purse and started for the door.

“And where are you going?” Lucan asked.

“I won’t be a part of this,” she said. “I won’t sanction torture.”

He could tell that Miri wanted to cry.

Damn. She was serious. He couldn’t let her leave. If she did, he’d have no one to advise him.

Those familiar pangs in his stomach kicked in.

Dial it back, Lucan. Dial it back.

“Listen, I was a jerk,” Lucan said, jogging after her.

“Worse,” Miri said.

He blocked her path. “I’ve got big problems, Miri. And if I don’t do something, those problems are going to become all of our problems.”

Miri tried to push past him, but he ignored her.

“I might be the subject of a government investigation—all of us might,” Lucan said. “My uncle is suspicious.”

Miri’s eyes widened. “How?”

“Let’s just say a lot of stuff happened while you were sleeping,” Lucan said.

Miri’s phone rang. She pulled it out and put her hand on her forehead, pressing against it as if a migraine were coming on.

“I completely forgot,” she said. “I’m supposed to give Dean Rosehill an answer.”

“An answer?” Lucan asked.

“Magic Hope University was selected to conduct the investigation into the bog,” Miri said.

“Miri! Why didn’t you tell me?” Lucan said.

“I didn’t realize the government was after you.”

“What do they know?” Lucan asked.

“They haven’t started anything yet,” Miri said.

Lucan sighed. It was the first break he’d gotten since he found Old Dark. It was about time.

“They asked me to lead the investigation, but I said no,” Miri said.

Lucan walked around the room, thinking. “No. I need you there.”

“What!”

“I need to know what the governor knows,” Lucan said. “You can misdirect the investigation.”

“I’m not committing a crime on your behalf,” Miri said.

“Fine,” Lucan said. “Then we all go to jail when my uncle discovers that we covered up the tomb.”

“You covered it up, not me,” Miri said.

“You work for the university. My uncle is going to make sure he destroys you. Probably worse than me.”

Miri sighed. “What did I get myself into…?”

Dark lumbered to his feet. The after-effects of the spell were wearing off. He spoke through the muzzle, and his voice was tinny and muffled.

“Lucan Grimoire,” the dragon said.

Lucan turned toward the cage. “That’s me.”

“I demand a word,” Dark said.

“I’m listening,” Lucan said. “Nice to see you can finally understand me.”

“When were you planning on letting me out of here?” the dragon asked weakly.

“No idea,” Lucan said. “Probably never.”

Dark wanted to roar, but the muzzle choked his throat.

“Have you no mercy on an old dragon, Lucan Grimoire?”

Lucan wagged his finger. “Sure, I’ve got mercy. But I’m not falling for that.”

He pivoted toward Miri. “Well, what’s it going to be?”

Miri hadn’t been expecting any of this; it was obvious from her worried expression.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” she asked.

“I don’t have a choice, Miri.”

A low, croaky voice from the television filled the space between them.

“How many skies must a dragon travel to reach enlightenment? These’re words I’ve’ll be remembering for the rest of my life, because a wise old dragon tol’em to me. I remembered the past tonight, even though the Magic Index was low and I had no reason to. As a matter of speaking, I think of the past all’a time, even though’ve made my life in the present, and lookin’ back is just too painful for a river dragon like me. But if you felt the hum in the air last night, you’ve’ll understand my memories. For I felt something. I don’know what it was, but when I seen the leveled trees and the big circle and the reporters all standin’ around scratchin’ their heads, I got a flashback to a memory…”

On screen, a tremendous green dragon reported from a weather studio. He had a chubby, round face with warts all over it, and a red and white iridescent tie hung loosely around his neck. He held a microphone close to his mouth with a webbed hand, and he barely fit in the studio.

He hiccupped, and a plosive sound exploded through the television speakers.

“Memories are all a dragon like me has sometimes, and I’ve’ll not forget them even if it means having to bear pain. For I can feel it in my webbed hands. Somethin’as awakened.”

Dark gripped the cage with two claws and said something that Lucan couldn’t make out.

He was whispering the dragon’s name.

“Frog … Frog … Frog…”