As I’m working on the editing and revising I’m rediscovering scenes that just amuse me. So I’ve decided that I’ll share a few of them here (provided they don’t contain major spoilers). This scene is for the readers who enjoyed the character of Guy in Saving the Dragon just as much as I did. 🙂
As always, I wish to remind everyone that is my work and it belongs to me. No one else. You do not have the write to copy, use, abuse, or pass off my work as your own. You may of course share the link back to this blog post as many times as you like.
“You’re doing the right thing.”
Salarath’s hand dropped to his lap. He arched his neck to look around the back of his chair to the wall hiding the door to his horde. A small, metal dragon’s head stuck out of the middle of the map that appeared to hang from the illusionary wall. The head belonged to the horde’s guardian, who had randomly taken to calling himself Guy after encountering Penelope. Guy was, to put it in the simplest terms, a consciousness brought about through a complex series of enchant-ments. The spell forms that maintained and shaped the energy that allowed Guy to exist were one of Salarath’s greatest masterpieces. It had taken him three rather sleepless years to get it right. He might have reconsidered it if he’d known what a busybody Guy would become.
“And what makes you say that?”
“Well, you have been moping about for weeks,” the little dragon head said. “It’s clear you don’t really want to be out of your relationship with the little thief.”
“For the ten thousandth time, Penelope is not, was not, nor will ever be a thief. I specifically asked her to retrieve one of those books. It just slipped my mind to warn her about you.”
Guy managed to look hurt despite the fact that his dragonian features didn’t much lend themselves to human expression.
“It was nothing against you. I was a tad distracted, being locked up in my own dungeon and all.”
“Well, you could make it up to me.”
Salarath eyed the dragon head suspiciously.
“You could give me a holiday.”
Whatever the wizard had expected Guy to say, that wasn’t it. His horde guardian wanted a holiday? Did magical constructs take holidays? How did Guy even know what a holiday was?
“I’ll still guard the horde,” Guy said quickly, afraid that Salarath’s stunned silence was actually concern for his riches. “I’d just like to get out a little. Maybe see a bird.”
“What is it with you and birds?”
“Well, I’ve seen their baths, it’s only right to want to see one of the creatures. Your lady told me they have wings.” Guy paused a moment. “What are wings, Your Grace?”
“They’re what birds have instead of arms so they can fly. That’s not the point! How am I supposed to give you a holiday? You’re part of the wall, for gods’ sakes!”
“How should I know? You’re the wizard.”
Salarath jerked himself around in his chair and slumped into the overstuffed back. Both hands scrubbed at the stubble growing on his cheeks as he pondered Guy’s request. If he let the guardian loose – if he could even manage it, that is – what sort of havoc would he wreck upon Steelbourgh in Salarath’s absence? The Ancestors only knew. He will-ingly turned his mind away from the horror of that prospect and on to the technical problem at hand. If he recreated the spell forms that maintained Guy’s consciousness on something mobile, could he safely move Guy from his place in the horde’s door to this other “body”? Or would he, by the act of moving the energy from the horde to the new vessel effectively kill Guy as he knew him and create a new consciousness? Furthermore, did he have a moral obligation to tell Guy that was a possibility? Did Guy qualify as a living creature? The implications of the whole situation were staggering.
“Should have put more thought into this before I created him,” the wizard muttered.
“Oh, nothing. Just trying to decide if you qualify as a living being or not.”