The Artificer's Artifice

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Then again, I hadn’t encountered an adventuring group this underhanded before.

They purposely displaced the dragons. They killed off the dragons’ food, blocked up their water, then threw a few bags of gold around the Valley as bait. Of course, the dragons came running. I don’t know which two-toed runion thought this was a good way to prove their worthlessness to the world (probably Vivian, if I had to guess), but they better hope they never happen upon me alone in a dark alley–on one of my good days, at least. Now the dragons were tearing around the valley, knocking down houses and eating all of the sheep. And, as usual, my team had to clean up the mess.

“Hey, Donovan,” came a flat, monotone voice from across the room. “When are you going to stop staring out that window and help us come up with a plan?”

I turned and met the black eyes of Marla, our artificer. Her pale hands wielded a sharp knife and a small piece of elder wood, into which she was meticulously carving the grooves that would transform it into a magical totem. She temporarily gathered the work into one hand and picked up the mug beside her for a drink. It was her favorite mug, upon which was inscribed, “Thou art not prepared for me, Nave.” It served as a warning to all passersby that they were, indeed, not prepared for her.

No one was ever prepared for Marla.

“Whatever the plan is, I hope it doesn’t involve plants this time,” declared Barak with a sniffle. Barak was a lean, sandy-haired druid with an unfortunate allergy to plants. The last mess we cleaned up involved bribing the Frostback Elves with rare herbs that we had to gather in the forest. Barak’s eyes were swollen shut for nearly two weeks afterward.

“Oh, I don’t think you can chase away dragons with special plants,” Ari, the group’s mage, chimed in a little too loudly. Her springy brown hair plumed around her head like a cloud. “They have an inhibited sense of smell and no known allergies.” She pushed up the loose sleeves of her robe, then grasped the top of her stool, immediately causing the sleeves to fall back to her wrists. “I learned all about them when I was in Brookshire. Oh! We should totally go to Brookshire when we’re done with this dragon snafu. It’s a great place to relax, and I met an old guy at the tavern who told the most hilarious jokes. There was this one about a raccoon, if I can remember the punch line. You wanna hear it?”

Marla sighed and rolled her eyes. “Donovan, for Gaia’s sake. She’s been talking nonstop since we got here.”

“Okay, okay.” I drew in a sharp breath. “Um, what else do we know about dragons?”

Silence. Then Marla spoke. “Well, I don’t think they’re terribly keen on people, as a general rule.”

“Oh, great,” Barak replied wearily.

Ari’s face furrowed for a moment, then brightened. “Dragons haven’t been seen in the Valley in over a millenia,” she volunteered. “Historical records say they once lived there, but they settled in the Howling Pass when some kind of alliance they had with the local mages went awry.”

Marla’s black eyes flashed with genuine amazement. “An alliance?” she asked. “What kind? How would that even happen?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” Ari replied, nervously twisting a lock of hair. “According to a book I read, an ancient king named Xander had a cohort of mages known as Dragon Talkers. They could communicate with the dragons and persuade them to do things. All the documents I’ve seen are sparse on the details, but it sounds like the dragons had agreed to help fight in some kind of battle, but it went sour for them. I haven’t figured out if they were pushed from the Valley or chose to abandon it on their own.”

Barak sneezed and rubbed his arms. “Okay. So what happened to the Dragon Talkers?”

Ari frowned. “From what I could gather, the dragons either torched or ate most of them–if not all of them.”

Barak and Marla blanched, and the room fell into a queasy silence. I glanced out the window again. Below, people hurried to and from the door of the Adventurer’s Guild, likely demanding that Soris, our guild leader, do something–anything–about the dragons. Nevermind that his number one adventuring group, the Kingly Berserkers, had lured them here. But only we knew that.

“Donovan,” Barak began slowly, “do you think we’ll have to physically fight them?”

Ari and Marla stared at me wide-eyed. The question hung over the room like a wet blanket.

Me? Physically fight them? The breath hitched painfully in my chest.

I drew my sword and balanced its weight in my hand. It was a simple sword with a medium blade and an unadorned hilt–much smaller and less impressive than the weapons most other warriors in the guild carried. Today, it felt only slightly heavy: a fair day. Meaning, I could put up a decent fight if I had to, but I’d be drained within a couple of hours. And who knew what kind of day it would be tomorrow? And I might have to physically fight dragons?!

Maybe if Marla carved me a special totem, or Ari cast an uplift spell….

Marla cleared her throat, and I looked up. Her black eyes bored into my chest. Was that compassion in her gaze? Or insistence?

“That should probably be our last resort,” I finally replied, my voice nearly squeaking on the last syllable. “As usual, we’ll need to find a roundabout way to success.”

“Well,” Marla replied flatly. “Any suggestions to that end, dear leader?”

“Maybe…” I said, my mind racing, “maybe we…look to see if…”

Barak looked up excitedly. “The Dragon Talkers, right? Maybe we look to see if they’re still around! If not, maybe they left behind some knowledge of how to talk to the dragons.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Ari exclaimed, leaping off of her stool. “We could resurrect ancient knowledge once considered lost forever! We’ll become the new number one group in our guild! People will finally know our names! And I’ll get to visit all the repositories in the surrounding kingdoms!” She clasped her hands together. “Oooh, oooh, I’m going to need my wand for this trip. Anyone seen my wand??” She began shifting the piles of documents that lay on the nearby desk.

Marla sighed. “It’s in your hair again, Ari.”

Ari patted the soft cloud of hair and withdrew a jewel-red wand that seemed to glow faintly from within. “Ah, thank you! Now I’m ready.” She grinned like the sun. Barak shrugged with amusement.

“Libraries,” I muttered, my arms suddenly feeling heavy. “We’re going to attempt to solve our dragon problem using…libraries.”

Marla cracked a sardonic smile as she sliced another intricate groove into the small knot of wood. “You’ve gotta admit, that’s not the weirdest thing we’ve ever done.”

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