Transporters

By Israfil

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Chapter 3

"Hold up. Anshar, what's he talking about?" Parker asked. Evan’s brow furrowed at the prisoner’s name.

"Not important right now," Tia snapped, for which Anshar silently thanked her. She faced Mithras, "Since you technically haven't attacked us yet, I'm supposed to ask you to surrender before using violence. But to be honest, I'm really hoping you say no."

Mithras laughed again. It was a friendly and companionable laugh, as if Tia had simply cracked a joke over drinks instead of threatening to attack him. “I was actually about to say something similar. Unfortunately in your case, it would be a lie.” His pale blue eyes flared, almost turning as white as the scales that crept down his cheeks. “The punishment for treason is death. You refused my offer of amnesty once. I’m not inclined to give you another.”

Tia snorted. “That’ll certainly keep me up at night.” Mithras ignored her.

“The rest of you have a choice. Bend the knee or,” he chuckled, “face a very literal firing squad.”

“Dude, lame.” Jenson stated, retreating behind Parker when the dragon glanced his way.

“You three possess a great deal of raw talent, which would be a shame to waste. If you learned to channel your magic better, especially you,” he raised an eyebrow at Jenson, whose ears promptly began to redden, “you would all be a force to be reckoned with. You could go far - with the proper guidance,” he added thoughtfully. Jenson’s hand tightened on the staff. The tiny gesture did not go unnoticed. “You wouldn’t need that anymore either."

Anshar and Tia exchanged a glance. While the binding prevented him from assuming his true form, Mithras was more than dangerous enough without claws and fire. His skill with words would have been somewhat offset in his prison shape - threats of death and promises of power could be more easily disregarded coming from a Jack Russell terrier. As it was, group of down at heel young wizards would be especially susceptible to his mind games. “He’s trying to buy time for his servants.” Anshar warned before turning to their hosts. “Whatever he says, whatever he promises you, he can give you nothing.”

"Really? That’s news to me,” Mithras replied with an expression of mock surprise. “A king’s favor is not to be rejected lightly.”

“You’re the White King,” Evan interrupted. “I knew I’d heard the name before. The astral dragon who took over after the old queen was deposed.”

Mithras bowed with a flourish. “The very same. King Mithras, Lord of the Void clan and Sovereign of all Dragon-kind.”

“Clearly not anymore,” Parker scoffed. “Unless traveling as a lap dog is the new fad among dragon royalty these days.”

“A dear friend once told me that a monarch’s authority should come from their subjects,” he replied, casting an amused glance at Anshar. “So by that logic, as long as they still look to me as their king, I don’t think I could be considered truly dethroned.”

“You’re no king of mine,” Tia snarled.

“Despite what your little band of insurgents would believe, there are still many who think otherwise,” Mithras answered mildly before cocking his head. “Some of which are about to arrive, it seems.” He faced the others, “Once they do, anyone who would stand with the insurgency, I would be forced to consider an enemy. Bear that in mind.”

It was true - the dragons would be at their door within a few minutes. Evan could sense their fury, their adrenaline and their hunger as they drew closer. At this range, if Mithras tried to channel them again, the connection would not be so easily broken.

“You know, the Guild Masters told me something an awful lot like that,” Parker mused. Then his eyes narrowed, “I didn’t like it much then either.”

The dragon king smirked. “Guilds. A collection of petty, complacent wizards concerned only with maintaining the status quo in their backwater fiefdom. What do they know of innovation? Of power? In my court your skills would not only be appreciated, but flourish, rather than be scorned and branded as thievery.” Parker’s jaw clenched and Evan knew the last words had hit home, drawing out painful memories like blood from old wounds. Warlocks - those who practiced the skill of channeling and subverting the magic of others to use as one’s own - were not well thought of among wizards, often referred to by the derogatory name of “spell thieves.” For Parker, a particularly talented warlock, this lack of recognition and acceptance had always been a source of bitterness.

“Or how about yourself?” Mithras continued, turning once again to Jenson. “I doubt that confrontation with the gnolls was an isolated incident. It must be hard, always having to be rescued knowing the power within your grasp if only you could master it.” Jenson’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the staff. “Unfortunately, strength without control is useless and you will remain the weakest link in the eyes of your friends. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Parker shifted sideways, placing himself directly between his friend and the dragon. “Don’t listen to him, man. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You’ll get there, and you’ll do it without this prick’s help.”

“Of course, they care too much to tell you any different. Such sentiment does them credit but even now they see you as a burden, though one they willingly shoulder. But for how long? And how long are you willing to coast on the goodwill of those dear to you before you decide to stand on your own?”

“You’re wrong,” Evan cut in, hoping to divert the dragon’s attention from his friend. He should have done so sooner, he realized. All of the old texts he had stumbled upon regarding dragons (most often while studying for astrology) had cited their speech as a weapon in itself. With it they could erode trust among even the most stalwart of allies, if not turn them against each other outright, and the three of them would have to be united if they were to survive the night. "If all you can do is fish for insecurities based on what you've seen tonight then you really don't know the first thing about us. And once you realize dragon talk is mostly bullshit, it kind of falls apart," he added with a sneer.

"Oh, that is adorable," said Mithras, sounding genuinely pleased and not offended in the least. "I always appreciate a thirst for knowledge. Shame your guild clearly did not." Evan silently cursed himself for giving the creature an opening. “What did they tell you, shaman? Adhere to the old ways and ask no questions? Those bearded old mystics would sit in meditation atop a mountain while the world burned beneath them.”

“You know, you’re not wrong. But I’m not too keen on being the one doing the burning either,” Evan responded, “so don’t bother asking me to be one of your pet wizards.”

“Hmmm,” Jenson pretended to look thoughtful, “would I get a food bowl with my name on it? Actually, no, never mind I have one of those already, I’m good.”

“You do?” Parker asked, momentarily distracted.

“Well, a shot glass.”

“Ah.” Parker’s green eyes returned to Mithras’ ice blue ones. “And for me, I just don’t think I’d look good in a collar.” He leveled his sword once again at the dragon king. “However, while we’ll pass on joining your campaign for world domination - no, you didn’t say anything about it but you’re a megalomaniac so it’s probably in the cards - you’re welcome to join us.” Anshar and Tia’s eyes widened but Evan gave them a barely perceptible head shake. The spell thief comment had been a blow to his pride and Parker wasn’t going to let that go without a parting shot. “We’re looking for a fourth roommate and guild member,” his friend went on. “I can give you my email if you want to send an application. Get your name down early cause everyone’s going to be clamouring to join up once we hit the big time.”

Anshar raised an eyebrow. “You made your own guild?”

“No, but we will. And it’ll be epic,” Parker responded without turning his head. To Mithras he continued, “So how about it, your highness? Want to get in on the ground level of the next big thing?” For a whole minute, the room was utterly silent.

Then Mithras laughed. It was different this time, Evan realized, deeper, as if coming from a far larger set of lungs than any human could have. As the gales subsided and he faced the five of them again, the pearl white scales could be seen spreading from the corner of his eyes.

“That really is a pity. Oh well, no one can say I didn’t try.” He gave a thin smile and the temperature in the room plummeted as the lights went out. Evan’s head began to pound as he felt his chest constrict and breath shorten. He stumbled to one side and saw Jenson leaning on his staff, wheezing heavily as if he could not get enough air into his lungs with each breath. Parker had braced a hand against the wall as he tried to steady himself and raise his sword in a fighting stance.

At that moment, the protections surrounding the apartment fell and the pain was almost overwhelming. His warding spells sent back fragmented images as they shattered - claws, a tail, teeth and a burning red eye all flashed before his mind’s eye. The dragons were here, and they had broken through his protections as easily as a bear through a wire fence.

As his vision began to swim, he heard a voice, shouting yet muted, as if leaking from a pair of faulty headphones. “What is this, digger? What have you done?” The lights flickered back on and Evan felt a wave of warmth overtake his body, accompanied by the comforting scent of sunbaked earth. His vision cleared and breath steadied before he was aware of a hand on his shoulder. Tia stood beside him, her eyes glowing like molten bronze and scales covering her cheeks, the rest of her face bearing a slight green tint, as if the emerald scales were just beneath the skin of her human form. She was radiating energy just as Mithras had earlier but where his power had carried a clear sense of menace and the emptiness of space, hers conveyed hope and the stalwart strength of the earth. The contrast was almost literally night and day As a shaman, a wizard whose magic specialized in harnessing nature, the effect was particularly invigorating - he could feel his connection to the elements returning as the dragon king’s magic was dispelled.

“Renewing their wards,” Tia answered with a smirk. “For a few college dropouts their technique is actually pretty sound. They just needed an extra jolt.”

“Your guardsmen will have to stay outside for now,” Anshar stated. “You and I have unfinished business.”

Mithras scowled. “I suppose we do, at that.”

“What about us?” Parker asked, still panting but his strength clearly returning.

Anshar turned to the three of them. “You will help Tia greet our guests.”

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