by Aaron Crash
He marched forward, not intimidated by the wealth, power, and threat of violence that filled the room. Morty descended the stairs. He stopped to shake Steven’s hand.
“What you say is important,” the Great Lakes Prime said in a quiet voice. “All I ask is that if you are planning on fighting us all, you don’t do it here. Can you keep it civil?”
“No, I can’t.” Steven pushed past Morty and climbed halfway up. Steven’s eyes swept across the room. He saw Tiano Helge of the Dakota Primacy standing next to Lawrence Candler of the Farmlands Primacy. Both were his eastern neighbors. And they looked chummy. That could prove problematic.
But Steven could worry about that later.
The room was hushed. All eyes were on him.
“Thank you, Morty, for hosting us.” Steven started clapping and most of the Dragonlords followed, except for Carlo Bart Baxter, Roy Right, and Javier Jones.
The applause died out. Steven took over. “First off, I’m renaming my territories. The Rocky Mountain Primacy and the Great Plains Primacy will be called the Colorado Primacy.” This was a diplomatic maneuver. If he changed the names of his kingdoms, it would relax the Dragonlords around him. They might think he was done conquering. He wasn’t.
“What’s second?” Carlo Bart shouted the question.
“I have the floor,” Steven snapped. “You don’t. So shut the fuck up.”
“Oh, big man,” the Texas Prime laughed. “You want to take it outside?”
“No,” Steven answered, “because I’m not done. I want to make myself perfectly clear. You all have been playing this game a lot longer than I’ve been alive. I understand that. But if you come at me, if you try to hurt my people, I will visit hell upon you. If I can kill Rahaab, I can kill you. So if you want to fight me, come at me directly.” Steven grinned. “And I might show you some measure of mercy.”
Those bemused smiles were gone. Even Carlo Bart seemed taken aback.
Steven soldiered on. “I grew up as a human. I’ve only been a dragon about nine months, give or take. In that time, I’ve acquired three Primacies and murdered the Primes who butchered the Drokharis family. You might think to take me out while I’m young. You’re too late. I’m no longer weak. I want you all to know that I don’t blame anyone in this room for killing my family. The Conclave met in Japan twenty years ago, but it was the secret cabal that put the hit out on my father. I get that. But I also want you to understand that I believe in my father’s work. And I plan on continuing it.”
Some of the mouths in the room dropped open. Another wave of shocked silence permeated the crowd.
Steven had to laugh. “Yeah, probably not what you expected to hear. Surprise, surprise. I’m still studying my father’s spell books, and I don’t have the full power yet, but I see a day where we no longer have to fight for territory, women, and gold. I have a vision of the future where we come together to inherit this world and to live, out in the open, not hiding behind Magica Defensio spells.”
Surprisingly, Javier Jones nodded. Or was that just to throw Steven off his game? That wasn’t going to happen.
Steven gripped the railing. “But I give you my word that I won’t open portals to other realms, or go through the doors my father created, because I believe the Zothoric threat is real. Before we can fully come into our own and reveal ourselves to the humans, a lot has to happen, and I still have a lot to learn.”
He paused. Tessa had wanted him to talk about their desire to push for greater freedom for female Dragonsouls, but Aria and Liam said it wasn’t the time. No, the bombshells he was dropping were enough to endanger all their lives.
Steven met the eyes of every Prime in the room. “I know you’ll come for me eventually, like the cabal came for my father. He was caught unaware. I’ve learned from his mistakes. Not every one of you needs to die to make room for my vision, but if the only way we can move forward is swimming through your blood and walking over your corpses, then so be it.”
“You uppity son of a bitch!” Carlo Bart shouted. He went to storm his way through the crowd, but Morty Flint, along with the Dragonlords from the New England and the Carolina Primacies, stopped him.
Steven shot a finger gun at the Texarkana Prime. “Be seeing you, Carlo Bart, and you better fucking bring your A game, or I will be supremely disappointed.”
Steven left the room. Every single Dragonlord moved to let him pass.
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Copyright
Montana Firestorm is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Aaron Crash and Shadow Alley Press, Inc.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photoc
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About the Author
Aaron Crash writes adrenaline-fueled odysseys into the extreme regions of speculative fiction. If you're looking for cyborg vampires or jellyfish centaurs, you've come to the right place. He is the co-author of the War God’s Mantle series (Shadow Alley Press) and other over-the-top sci-fi/fantasy novels. He’s been an Amazon All-Star and his books have broken into Amazon’s Top 100. When he’s not wrestling the word dragons, he mountain bikes, kills pixels dead, and has been known to watch a movie or three. He lives in Colorado where he does devilish things. Sign up for his mailing list at www.ShadowAlleyPress.com/Aaron-Crash/.
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