The Book of Warlock

The Book of Warlock 10. Great Balls of Fire.

 "Dark magic?? The Sceptre has dark magic in it, and can bring about the end of the universe? And you just carried it in?!" Anar roared.

The Dragon flushed and looked miserable, "I wandered into the wrong dimension by mistake. It happens."

"I died!"

"I know," it wrung its thin, scaly hands wretchedly, "that's why I brought you back to life. I felt awful about it, really I did."

"The dark magic purged your own simple magic," Lucinder said. "That's how it got transferred. The two kinds of magic repel each other. You pulled the dark magic out of Anar to save him, and in return your magic was pushed into the closest living vessel."

He nodded.

"Sounds very complicated," Brook chewed noisily, perched on a chair that was too big for her, boots dangling. "How are we going to stop the universe ending, then?"

"I need to get the Sceptre back," the dragon insisted, "only I can return it to its home. Only I can cross dimensional boundaries. The longer it stays here, the more living things it comes into contact with, the greater the danger."

"Weren't you a treasurer? You could have taken it then," Brook suggested.

"I wasn't the only treasurer, and I was in disguise, not to mention Nisgarant never parts with it. I was waiting for the right time."

"Ok, but why feel sorry for our General Warlock? Didn't the Sceptre kill lots of others, too?"

The Dragon sat up, proudly, "I am an interdimensional being that roams time and space. I have existed everywhere, and I have seen everything. True, I get muddled sometimes, and this is one of my mistakes that I have to put right, but I can honestly say that in all of the worlds and universes I have visited, Anar is the only friend I have ever made. He is loyal, and kind, and brave."

Anar's ears flicked back and forth, "you've only known me a couple days. Not that I'm arguing," he added.

It shook its long head, "I have known you for lifetimes."

"Mirror worlds?' he asked.

"Ehhhh... not exactly."

"I need the Sceptre to bring back to the stronghold, though," Lucinder complained. "Can you at least wait until I've done my bit before you whisk it off again?"

The Dragon twitched. "I can't do anything until my magic is restored."

"Oh, yeah. How's that coming along?"

"I'm feeling much better, already," it smiled, toothily.

"Anyone else going to have any of this rabbit stew?" Brook offered several steaming bowls out onto the table.

The fire embers burned into the night as the group pulled blankets around themselves and lightly dozed, their stomachs full.

Anar let his eyelids fall, they were heavy, his mind still ticking over with his busy thoughts. The Dragon was so firm in his belief that they were friends, and it was charming, but he couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead in their adventures together for that friendship to be cemented. Anar would never describe himself as brave, not after what had happened back in his hometown. And incurring Nisgarant's wrath was foolish, rather than brave, the more he thought on it.

"Psst! Hey," Luci's voice hissed by his ear.

He opened his tired eyes as she cosied up close by him on the floor of the hut.

"Do you really think Skecher is getting better? The Dragon, you know? I don't trust dragons. All the books I've read back at the Institute say they manipulate people and lie to get their own way."