Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 3, Portal Guardians (5 page)

I threw my shoulders back and stood as straight as I could.
 
"Okay, listen up, old man ... I'm tired of this conversation.
 
You either need to tell us where we should go to find a friggin dragon or get the hell out of our way, because we're done here."

The dwarf leaned his axe against his leg and crossed his arms, drawing one of his hands up to stroke his bearded chin.
 
"Well, certainly I know of dragons ... but not the breed yer seeking in particular."

I was encouraged by his easy acceptance of my ultimatum.
 
Now we were finally getting somewhere.
 
"I didn't mention any specific breed.
 
Any dragon is fine."

"Yes, ya did," said the dwarf, dropping his hand and frowning.

"No, I didn't!" I yelled, throwing my arms up, wondering if we might be dealing with a mentally ill dwarf at this point.

"We have only
guardian
dragons here.
 
Not ... freggon dragons, I believe ya called them.
 
What is a freggon dragon, by the by?
 
Do they breathe fire like the guardians?
 
Same size and whatnot?"

Spike snorted, but quickly tried to cover it up with a cough.
 
"Uh-hem ... dry throat.
 
Sorry."
 
He took his canteen out of his bag and had a sip before putting it back.
 

I glared at him as he went through the motions before turning my attention back to the dwarf.
 
"You misunderstood me.
 
I'm just looking for a guardian dragon, not a friggin dragon.
 
Can you tell us where one is or not?"

"If ya'd told me from the beginnin' that ya wanted a guardian dragon and not thrown me off with the whole freggon dragon - which I doubt very highly even exists because I'm well-acquainted with all of the dragons in these parts, and I've never heard of it - ya could have saved us both a lot o' trouble."

I clenched my teeth together, willing myself not to lose my cool or unleash the string of cuss words that were banging on the door to come out.
 
Focus.
 
Get the dragon on board, get the hell out of this realm.
 
And do not piss off the locals.

"Well, I'm sorry about that," I said as diplomatically as possible.
 
"I hope I didn't delay you too much.
 
If you could just point us in the right direction, we'll get out of your hair."
 
And hurry up about it before I'm tempted to strangle you more than I already want to.

"Ya said you were on a mission."

I nodded once.
 
"Yes.
 
I did.
 
And we are."

"A journey of sorts.
 
To find a dragon."

"Yes."
 
Now, finally, we understand each other.
 
Jesus H. on a friggin stick, why does this have to be so difficult?!

"Giorraíonn beirt bóthar," he said, nodding sagely, now leaning on his axe.

"Okaaaaay ... ," I said, wondering if he'd just put a hex on me or maybe given me directions to the nearest dragon nest.
 
It was impossible to tell by his expression, most of it hidden behind a thick, gray beard.

"I will not tell you where to find a dragon," he said, smiling now.

"Why not?" I asked, getting pissed all over again and wondering why the jerk was acting so happy about not being helpful at all.

"Because, as I said, a journey is better when shared with companions.
 
I will
take
you to the dragon."

"Oh," I said, partially mollified and mostly confused.
 
"Okay, then. I guess that works."

"Yeah, man.
 
That's cool.
 
Thanks," said Spike, sounding genuinely happy.
 
Apparently he wasn't worried about dealing with a lunatic battle-ready dwarf like I was.

"Ya say the pixie went that way, did ya?" he asked Spike.

"What pixie?"
 
Spike looked at Willy in my hand.

"The one who tried to bind ye with a light-weave."
 
He leaned over in my direction, never taking his eyes off Spike while speaking in a lower voice meant just for my ears.
 
"Is he a wee bit slow, then?"

I laughed at Spike's offended expression.
 
"No, he's not slow.
 
But we didn't know the web-weaver was a pixie.
 
She doesn't look like the pixies we know."

He jerked his head back, pulling chin to neck, obviously confused.
 
"Well, what else would she be then?"

I shrugged.
 
"How would I know?
 
I'm not from here."

He jerked his chin out now, and then leaned towards Spike, speaking now only to him.
 
"Is she soft in the head, then?
 
Is that the problem?"

Now it was Spike's turn to laugh.
 
"No, she's not soft, believe me.
 
That's the last word I'd use to describe her head, or anyone who knows her would for that matter.
 
But she is holding a pixie in her hand, so I can see how you'd wonder how we don't know one when we see one."

Understanding flicked on like a light in my head.
 
"Oh, I get it.
 
Maybe you don't remember from the Here and Now, Triden, but pixies there don't have light ropes or whatever coming out of their butts.
 
Just pixie dust."

The dwarf smacked himself on the forehead.
 
"Oh, yes.
 
How could I forget.
 
Pests in every realm."
 
He shook his head.
 
"Some things never change, no matter where they be."

"They really aren't pests in the Here and Now.
 
They're just misunderstood," I said.

"I gotta pee.
 
Oops.
 
Never mind," said Willy.

I felt moisture in the palm of my hand and sighed.
 
"On second thought, they really are pests, no matter where they are."
 
I transferred Willy over into my other hand, and bend down to the ground where I wiped my wet palm off as best I could in the leaves.

"Problems?" asked Spike.

"Don't ask," I said, almost growling but stopping myself just in time.
 
The little kid couldn't help himself; it was probably my fault for not listening to him in the first place and finding a spot for him to drop trou as soon as he'd said something.
 
In the back of my mind, I'd been kind of hoping bodily functions weren't a part of life in the Overworld.

"Are ye ready, then?" asked Triden, lifting up his axe and holding it halfway down the handle.
 
"We're burning the good light, and if ye want to find a dragon ye need to do it soon."

"Why soon?" asked Spike, stepping forward to follow Triden, gesturing for me to precede him.

"Because.
 
They'll be moving on soon.
 
Today will be the last day they are in my home."

"Why?
 
And where's your home?" I asked, taking up my spot between Triden and Spike, concentrating on the ground so I wouldn't trip on one of the many branches that lay in our path.

Triden picked up his pace, easily avoiding the worst of the obstacles.
 
"Why?
 
Because ... they never stay in one place very long.
 
And I live in the mountain known as Sliabh gCuillinn."

"What language is that?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being rude, but it sounded like nothing I'd ever heard before.
 
Maybe it was angel-speak or something.

"It is Irish," he said, sounding as if he didn't believe that I didn't know that.

"I like it," I said.
 
I'd always thought Irish was English with a kickass accent on it.

"Bah," he said, the one cheek I could see coloring a little pink.
 
"It's nothing, really.
 
Just one of many ways to communicate.
 
Been speakin' it since I was a wee one."

"Why don't the dragons stay in one place for long?" asked Spike.

"Restless creatures.
 
They don't belong here any more'n you do, I suppose."
 
Triden took a sharp right turn through a break in the trees, which put us on what looked like a well-used and much easier to navigate path.

I nodded as I thought about what he said.
 
If I'd gotten sent here forever for something I didn't do, I'd be restless too.
 
Or more like super pissed.
 
For some reason that thought caused images of Torrie to jump into my mind, but I quickly pushed them away.
 
The last thing I needed to be stressing about was a demon a million miles and two realms away from here.

"So where are we going?" asked Spike.
 
"To your mountain?"

"To the entrance of me home.
 
Whether the three of you will be admitted is not my decision."

Why did I think this was going to be easy?
 
"So, what ... are we going to have to solve some sort of riddle to get in?"

Triden stopped walking and turned to face me.
 
"Why in the Overworld would a riddle give ye entrance to my home?"

I shrugged, stopping just before I bumped into him.
 
"I don't know.
 
I saw it in a movie once.
 
Maybe you have witch spells that work like locks, and the riddle opens them."

The dwarf leaned over to the side and spit in disgust.
 
"Witches."
 
He glared at me.

I smiled.
 
"So you're not too cool with witches either, huh?
 
I like you already, Triden."
 
I leaned over and spit too for emphasis.

He squinted his eyes at me.
 
"You do not care for the witches?"

I wiped the spittle off my mouth with the back of my hand.
 
My spitting technique needed work.
 
"I find them to be a royal pain in my ass, to be honest."

"Well, to my knowledge there are no witches of royal heritage here in this area of the realm, but I can tell you for certain that there are none in Sliabh gCuillinn.
 
We do not tolerate their games in our mountain."

I snorted.
 
"I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that."

We began moving again, the path getting wider every few feet so that Spike was able to walk next to me.
 
He took my hand in his, and I welcomed the feeling of lightness it brought more than I ever had before.
 
It wasn't that this realm was depressing or anything, but feeling his strong presence gave me a sense of security and of not being alone, not being the only one who had to take care of everything.
 
He lightened my load.
 
Willy wasn't able to do that for me.
 
In fact, he made me feel more weighted down with responsibility - weird since he weighed no more than a cricket himself.
 
Apparently, the laws of physics ceased to work in the realm of matters of the heart.

Triden's continued explanation cut off my self-directed philosophizing.
 
"The witches have made overtures, to be sure.
 
Especially now.
 
But we are not interested in their new age magical mischief."

"Why now?" asked Spike.
 
"What's changed around here?"

The dwarf didn't really answer, he just grumbled.

"What was that?" I asked.
 
"We couldn't hear you."

He turned around, now seriously cranky and no longer walking.
 
"I said, young fae, that certainly ya must know the answer to yer question, and so I wonder why ya would bother to ask me if that be the case."

"We
don't
know," said Spike before I could get a word in edgewise.
 
"Tell us."

The dwarf looked from Spike to me, probably trying to judge whether we were full of crap or not.
 
When he finally made his decision, it was like the air drained out of him.
 
He shrank inward noticeably before he said, "The Overworld is being overrun."

"Overrrun?" I asked, feeling a little sick inside.
 
"By who?"

"Not by whom ... by
what."

"What then?" asked Spike, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Triden stared at us, his brows furrowed and his back stiff.
 
"Demons," was his response.

My heart sank.
 
What does it mean for the Here and Now if there are demons in the Overworld?

CHAPTER FOUR

TRIDEN BEGAN WALKING AGAIN AND we followed as before, only now there was this dark cloud floating above us and my mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was going on.

"How can there be demons here?" I asked.
 
"How are they getting in?"

Triden glanced back over his shoulder but answered without stopping his forward movement down the path.
 
"Through the void."

"That's how they're getting into the Here and Now too.
 
There's a tear in the veil.
 
I've seen it," I said.
 
"So has Spike.
 
Well, at least, his body and mind were there.
 
I'm not sure if he remembers it."
 
I looked over at my friend, but he was shaking his head in a weird way, lifting up his eyebrows at me and jerking his head towards Triden.

"Who be Spike?" asked the dwarf.