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Authors: S. Andrew Swann

Dragons & Dwarves

Table of Contents
 
 
 
 
 
 
Praise for the novels of
Dragons and Dwarves
:
 
“A very well done contemporary fantasy.”—
Publishers Weekly
 
 
“It’s a good energetic mystery, with a complicated plot and lots of chasing-down-leads action.”—
Cleveland Plain Dealer
 
 
“A very enjoyable contemporary fantasy.”—
Science Fiction
 
 
“It’s a provocative world of deadly enchantment in which the dirty game of policics remains the biggest threat of all.”
 

Locus
 
 
“Skillfully done light adventure, with more than a dash of humor.”—
Science Fiction Chronicle
 
Other fine DAW science fiction and fantasy from S. ANDREW SWANN
 
Science Fiction
:
 
The Moreau Novels:
MOREAU OMNIBUS: (#1-3)
FEARFUL SYMMETRIES (#4)
 
 
Prophets:
APOTHEOSIS
 
 
Hostile Takeover:
PROFITEER
PARTISAN
REVOLUTIONARY
 
 
 
Fantasy
:
DRAGONS AND DWARVES
 
 
BROKEN CRESCENT
 
 
GOD’S DICE
 
 
Fiction
:
ZIMMERMAN’S ALGORITHM
 
 
THE DRAGONS OF THE CUYAHOGA
Copyright © 1996 by Steven Swiniarski
 
THE DWARVES OF WHISKEY ISLAND
Copyright © 1998 by Steven Swiniarski
 
DRAGONS AND DWARVES: STORIES OF THE CLEVELAND PORTAL
Copyright © 2009 by Steven Swiniarski
 
All Right Reserved.
 
 
DAW Book Collectors No. 1484.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
 
 
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
 
eISBN : 978-1-101-13330-9
 
 
 
 
 
 
First Omnibus Printing, August 2009
 
 
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
 
S.A.

http://us.penguingroup.com

THE DRAGONS OF THE CUYAHOGA
 
This is dedicated to a
poor little guy named Henry.
 
 
I want to thank all the hamsters
in Cleveland who saw this MS
and tried to improve it.
 
PROLOGUE
 
I
DIDN’T witness it, but I imagine it happening like this. . . .
 
The name he is given in English is Aloeus. He weighs over fifteen tons. A hundred feet from nose to tail and a wingspan half again that long. Muscles ripple under leathery black skin with every wing beat, as each sweep hauls his serpentine bulk into the sky.
Aloeus is unconcerned about the fact that his soaring is impossible by the rules of Earthly physics. His flight is as much through the forces that pour through the Portal as it is through the mundane air. More than any other creature, Aloeus is a creature of those forces. His mind is knit by strands of magic, and magic—as much as muscles and sinew—holds his wings against the biting wind tearing across the sky three thousand feet above the city of Cleveland.
He sees those forces as he soars above the city. Where a human being would only see sky and clouds, a brilliantly lit skyline, and the roiling clouds by the lakeshore—the constant vortex marking the Portal itself—Aloeus saw in a spectrum that humans could barely imagine, much less perceive. The Portal is a font of mystical power, visible to Aloeus’ eye, and to the mind behind that eye. Glowing, pulsing tendrils of power twist and whip out from the Portal, pouring through the streets like rivers of mana, flowing into the sky like an inverted waterfall.
Aloeus breathes the power like air, feels wisps of it glide through his mind, tugs against it with his wings.
The power has its limits, but Aloeus cannot see them this close to the heart of it all, the Portal. The irregular edges of the magical flood are far from here, just short of Canada to the north, just short of Pennsylvania to the east, halfway to Columbus to the south, Sandusky to the west, and perhaps about three miles up. If Aloeus could see the edges of the mana enveloping northeast Ohio, he would not be flying this fast. Here, though, practically on top of the Portal, Aloeus is immersed in the forces that keep him alive.
The forces that keep him practically immortal.
While it would be disastrous for him to leave the sea of magic that pools around the Portal, there’s no danger of that
here
. While the turbulent flood of magic ebbs and flows around him, like the air, or water beneath the surface of the ocean, it is always
there
. It may be more or less dense and spots might temporarily deaden, but unlike the fickle edges far from the Portal, the magic never fades this close to the source. He would have to fly three miles straight up for that to become a danger.
These facts are fundamental in Aloeus’ world. Very basic assumptions that he takes so much for granted that he isn’t aware—or, perhaps, does not want to be aware—that they
are
assumptions.
Of all the creatures in the world, magical or not, Aloeus should know better.
Unconcerned, Aloeus tears through the night sky, black as a thunderhead, and as powerful as a tsunami. The citizens who care to look up at the cloudless sky see him only as a tiny eclipse of a star or two. A few people, working very late nights or very early mornings in some of the skyscrapers around Public Square, look west in time to see Aloeus’ demonic silhouette against a swollen setting moon.
As to what his last thoughts are, no one can know and I don’t care to guess. He doesn’t see it coming; if he did, he might be able to do something, maneuver, avoid it. . . .
Around him, the impossible happens. A dead spot in the mana sea. Aloeus doesn’t even have time to understand the enormity of what is happening. As the magic disappears, his mind dies. Aloeus’ brain, the meat circuitry that regulates his physical body, is not complex enough to house his mind. The thinking part of Aloeus, his identity, lived in the mana that, until moments ago, had lived in every cell of his body.
His conscious mind is dead.
However, he is not unconscious. The higher functions are gone, the eyes that saw as much by magic as by light are now half blind, but, like any brute animal, Aloeus can feel pain.

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