Unchained (Master of All Book 2)

by Simon Archer

  I looked at my girls before we took off. Libritas had freed them, and they were enjoying the freedom they’d just been given, only to be clapped in irons again. In my mind, I imagined every horrid thought that could have been flowing through them. Every horrible memory of their time under cruel masters. It broke my heart to put them through this again.

  But I didn’t see any sorrow on Amalthea’s or Petra’s faces. They didn’t look saddened in the slightest. There was a fire in their eyes. It was like these irons were just reminding them that they had something to fight for. Their past didn’t have a hold on them. I looked upon their chains. The gold chains tied to me danced over them as if they were holding onto it for strength at this moment.

  Shikun, however, was quite the opposite. When she wore the chains, it was an acknowledgment of where she thought she belonged. The gold chain was still there, but the iron chains in the wounds on her back seemed to pull up against her, trying to rip out a chunk of her flesh. If it looked as bad as it felt to her inside, she was suffering as I could only imagine. She kept her head down as each of us was taken up.

  The ‘wind paths’ the blue draconian spoke of before wound throughout the mountain, twirling us over and around the range as if we were joyriding. I was going to question their methods when I noticed how warm it had gotten. The usual icy wind that permeated the mountains was absent here. If I had to guess, and I was in no way an expert, I would have said that this was some sort of special pressure tunnel caused by all the different winds colliding together, creating a winding path of stagnant air that could be moved through easily. I was no meteorologist back on Earth, so that could have been way out of line. It very well could be magic, just naturally being emitted from the mountain and affecting the air in mysterious and random ways. Either way, it worked, and that was all that was important.

  Once we had made our way through the wind paths, we emerged from a shielding wall of mountain peaks to reveal the draconian camp, hidden on every side but standing above all of them. The entire place looked to be housed inside the bowels of a dormant volcano, the crest of which had been weathered by the constant winds to reveal cragged spikes. The sides of the volcano dropped down after the spikes, making the whole volcano look like a giant chimney top. The closer we got to it, the larger it grew, until I could see its mile-high size in full view. Of course, mile-high only referred to the height from the spikes to the clouds below. Who knew how much deeper it got from there?

  We flew over the wall of spikes and into the draconian village. And I say village loosely, here. It was more like a secret city that brimmed with life. Dozens of houses lined the sides of the crater within the volcano, built into the rocky walls and held up with wooden beams. The houses had no ladders or stairs between them, relying on the draconians’ natural ability to fly to traverse the hidden city.

  Draconians of every color and varying size flew across the wide expanse inside of the volcano. Steam rose from vents, hissing as they escaped from deep underground. It was like a sauna inside at all times. Fortunately, the honeysteel armor worked both ways and helped keep me cool even in these intense temperatures.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure how it worked. I was just glad it did.

  Although, speaking of which, this was a volcano, and there was a lot of wood here. How did that work?

  “Petra!” I called out to dryad plant expert, crossing her legs in the air as her flying attendant held her up by the arms. “How’s the wood not burning here?” Even in the given situation, I was curious.

  “Based on its dark color, it’s probably rockwood,” she called back. “It doesn’t burn at normal temperatures. It makes terrible firewood, but it’s great for resisting forest fires.”

  “And building inside volcanoes, it seems,” Reggie pitched in.

  “Shut it, outlanders.” One of the draconians kicked Reggie and me in the ribs. Even though the claws were curled up to avoid killing us, those damn things hurt like you wouldn’t believe. Petra, however, avoided them easily, bending her body around her escort’s attempts to kick her in ways no human spine could contort.

  I bit back the urge to do something. Even if we didn’t need to try to be at least a little diplomatic, I didn’t relish getting dropped from this high up… even if there was a chance that I might sprout angel wings to prevent being splattered, not a guarantee with how little I knew of my inner power.

  We were all unceremoniously dropped anyway a short time later. Fortunately, it was only from a few feet up as the draconians dragged us to the largest building in the city which looked as if it was dug into the volcano itself. Adorned with metal over its entrance, it looked more like a giant decorated cave, a grander version of the one we were just in, but with a giant stone circle covering the entrance. The circle door rolled to the side into a slot built into the rock, and we were led inside.

  Inside the stone building held what had to be a mighty throne room. Several fiery pedestals lined the way to the throne, with an equal amount of red draconians standing guard between them, adorned in both furs and metal plates. A black-trimmed red carpet led down from the entrance to the edge of the dais which itself stood upon a wide staircase. The back of the throne reached the top of the cave, carved from one column of rock. Simple etchings and grooves flowed down from the cavern ceiling down to the seat of the throne, symmetrical in every point Both the armrests were wide enough to be a bed, and the seat itself wide enough for a hippo to sit upon.

  On that throne was what had to be the burliest and biggest draconian in the whole town, perhaps all of Etria. If he stood up, he would have been ten feet tall, as tall as the yeti, but instead, he slouched upon his throne. His wings curled around him like a cloak, obscuring the majority of his body. He was an ashen grey color, and the dragon horns and spikes upon his body were a bone-dry white. For even a draconian, his face was more dragon-like than most, with a snout that jutted out from a thick neck. At the end of his chin was a beard-like horn, lined with more horns drawing along his jawline.

  Most strikingly, he had scars cutting deeply across and into his eyes, the one on the right deeper than the left, clearly caused by two different wounds. He had to be blind, no doubt about it. These kinds of scars covered most of his face and even came down to parts of his wings, with small holes left over from battles previously fought. Honestly, the guy looked like he had fought his whole life, up to sitting down in that chair.

  “Libritas,” I asked my Brand, “why does he look more, well, dragony than the other draconians?”

  “Several species of dragon, like rock wyrms, grow until they die,” she explained. “With their dragon lineage, many draconians are similar and can often manifest similar traits. This big one may have more dominant dragon genes in addition to having lived for quite a while.”

  “You may approach.” The huge draconian’s voice thundered inside the cave as if the volcano itself was speaking to us. Before we could come forward on our own, our captors pushed us along the carpet, our chains jangling as we trod. When we approached the foot of the stairs, the other dragon-men kicked at the back of our knees to force us to kneel down at the giant draconian’s feet.

  “We wish to--” I tried to start.

  “You will speak when spoken to!” The black draconian, who I had the pleasure of being my escort, smacked me upside the head to keep me from talking.

  “Atura, calm yourself,” the giant draconian said, his tone filled with grave intent. “I smell yeti scent upon you all and yet no yeti flesh. Why is that, Atura?” The big dragon-man must ‘see’ through his nose, picking up on specific scents to get around.

  Atura, the black draconian, looked down upon the ground in shame. “Well, Great Dragon, we were--”

  “I send you to hunt the yeti to prove yourself,” the Great Dragon continued. He spoke slowly, intentionally, as if every word was heavy. “I wanted to eat yeti, and you wanted to be in the Magma Guard--”

  “I can explain myself, Karkaros, if you would--” Atura stuttered ou
t as he took to the first of the stone steps.

  “DO NOT INTERRUPT ME.” The giant stepped out of his throne, taking in a quick breath before spewing a flood of volcanic ash from his mouth upon Atura, drowning him in smoke and dust. The ash blasted all the way to the wall, pushing Atura with it until he was pinned to it.

  Finally, Karkaros closed his mouth, and the ash stopped, settling into a thick path from his throne to Atura. The small, black draconian coughed out puffs of smoke as he slid down to the ground, a shadow of his body imprinted on the wall behind him.

  “You will leave and return with the head of a yeti,” the Great Dragon sat back down on his throne, “or you will not return here at all. I do not allow the weak into the Magma Guard.”

  Atura crawled back to the stone door at the entrance. The guards stationed to its sides rolled it open for him as he stumbled out before rolling the door back with a thud. We all stood there, frozen for the moment, and while I couldn’t speak for the others, I was worried for our safety and even a bit afraid of what was against us.

  Still, I swallowed that fear as I looked upon Karkaros and focused upon the ethereal chains, hopefully giving me a clue as to how I could get this guy’s help. A thick golden chain, possibly as thick as my shoulder’s width, streamed from him to the outside, probably ending in the dead center of the village. Several silver chains lead to each of the draconians here, and many more leading upward from himself, all of them almost as thick as the gold chain. The monster of a man had a deep love for his people. Even the chain I saw shaking and moving the most, the one I would have guessed was tied to Atura, was as heavy as the others. He cared for them like a father, even if it meant some tough love. Maybe he was hard on the guy, but I couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied that he got put in his place.

  Good. I could work with that.

  He also had the bronze chains of conviction, and they were even thicker around him than the other draconians had. They even wrapped around his arms and his legs. The Great Dragon must have revolved his life around these convictions. It may have been what helped him stay alive all these years, surviving all the scars he had accrued.

  “Now, these new smells that have been brought before me,” Karkaros said, taking a deep breath, “who are they?”

  “They are trespassers upon the mountain, Great Dragon,” the blue draconian answered. “Outlanders who interrupted our Sacred Trial of the Hunt. It is their fault Atura does not come bearing the yeti.”

  “It is only the fault of the hunter not to catch his prey,” Karkaros breathed out. “Nature is not predictable. One must adapt to survive. Do not make excuses, Dothan.”

  “Yes, Great Dragon,” Dothan, the blue draconian, bowed his head.

  “Tell me, what became of the yeti?” the Great Dragon asked.

  “Well, Great Dragon, we--” the green draconian tried to explain.

  “I ask the trespassers.” Karkaros shifted in his throne. “I smell the faintest breath of burnt yeti. Residue from a heated weapon. Did you kill it, trespasser?”

  “I did,” I told him.

  The giant dragon of a man laughed, and the entire throne room shook. The rock dust shook loose from the ceiling, as well as few bits of rock sent crackling to the ground.

  “Perhaps, if you had brought its head, I would make you Magma Guard!” he said, still chuckling to himself. “Is that why you have come?”

  “I come to beg, Great Dragon,” I said, standing from my knees. “I am William Tyler from the Upland, and these are my friends, Sir Reginald Thorpe of the Upland, Petra of the Treison Woods, Amalthea the sphinx, and Shikun, of your people. I need your help to save a lot of lives.”

  “You will kneel before the Great Dragon!” Dothan said, kicking me in the back of the knee again.

  Still, I caught myself before I could fall completely. I had to speak my piece and get this train rolling. There wasn’t time to beat around the bush.

  “Enough, Dothan.” Karkaros put his hand up, and Dothan stepped back from me. Then the Great Dragon pointed his nose at me. “Why would I help you? You are outlanders. My concerns are for the draconians.”

  “Then your concerns are also mine,” I said to him, walking over to Shikun. “I have a draconian companion, and she needs you to help her. If you truly care for draconians, as you say, you will help us.”

  “She is of my tribe, this is true.” The ancient dragon-man moved forward, sniffing the air. “But she has lost the scent of the volcano. How long have you been gone?”

  “Longer than I can remember, Great Dragon,” Shikun said, keeping her head down. “I’ve only the faintest memories of this place. Memories of stories my father would teach me. Of my mother cradling me in her arms. But this volcano is all but unfamiliar to me. The Black Runes stole me from my tribe long ago. I am no true draconian.”

  “I remember this.” Karkaros fell back in his seat as if he was struck in the chest. I could almost see a tear begin to well up in his cloudy eyes. “They tricked us. The Runes had enslaved a great beast, a Behemoth, and we thought it exotic. I sent a group of my best hunters to take it. It was easy game, a good opportunity to help teach the young as well to hunt. The hunters brought their own with them to share in the bounty and learn how to hunt early.” Pain flashed across his face as he paused for a moment. “None of them returned. It was a trap.” He grabbed one of the arms of the stone throne, and it crumbled to pebbles in his hand as he tensed in his rage. “The Black Runes will pay for what they did to my people.”

  What little reserve Shikun had left broke then, and while she tried to smother her sobs, she couldn’t help but let out the sharp breaths she took in between them. I wanted to hold on to her forever and never let her go. Dothan grabbed me by the collar, holding me back from grabbing her then and there. The other members of my family had the same idea, as I could hear the chains and grunts of each of them trying to come to her side.

  “That is why we need your help, Great Dragon,” I said, shaking off Dothan’s grip. “You can help us stop the Black Rune’s plans in the Marches and save many people in the process.”

  “If it is as you say, outlander, then you have given me much to consider.” The Great Dragon stroked the spikes on his chin. “I need time to think about your proposal.”

  “I’m sorry, Great Dragon, for my impertinence, but we cannot help them,” Dothan said, stepping in front of me. “The draconian they claim in their party is Wingless. The wings that adorn her back now are conjurations of magic. She has been disgraced by the gods and cannot be considered one of us.”

  The other draconians looked upon Shikun, as she bent down, placing her head upon the ground, showing the remnants of the scars left over as much as she showed off her wings. The dragon-people began to murmur to themselves as they spoke rumors about the Wingless, how they’re cursed and unlucky, how they’ll bring a pox to the village if they’re allowed to live.

  Shikun couldn’t bear to show herself. She hid behind her wings, wreathed in flame as she buried herself in her shame. Even with what little she remembered, the Wingless curse must have been taught to children from an early age, so that they know to take good care of them from the start.

  Even when you’re dead, Weaver, you’re still giving me trouble.

  “If this is true,” the Great Dragon lifted himself up from his seat, “then I cannot help you. Your kind, the Wingless, is a curse upon us. If we aid you, we will die. That law is as old as the draconians and guides us even now. We cannot be led astray. Your journey is in vain. She must be executed, along with the rest of you.”

  Dothan and the other draconians took us by the irons and began to drag us away. As we marched towards the stone door, I wracked my brain for any plans to get the draconians to help us. Shikun was a draconian, but her wingless status made her cursed in their eyes. I had been hoping that they would see past that, given that she got a new pair, but apparently, that didn’t count. Now, it was turning into a life-or-death situation, and if we didn’t pull a miracl
e out of our asses, we’d be forced to fight the very people we needed the help of. There had to be a way out. But how?

  “Shikun invokes Rokna’s Rite!” Amalthea suddenly shouted back to Karkaros. The moment she said those words, our guards stopped dragging us off, turning to stare at the sphinx, and they weren’t alone. All the draconian’s jaws dropped as they stared, and so did we, to be honest.

  I don’t know what you just did, Amalthea, but I’m betting it just saved our bacon.

  I heard the other draconians whisper to each other about the scandal.

  “Can she do that?” a pink one said.

  “She’s Wingless! It shouldn’t count,” a purple one answered.

  “But it’s Rokna and Khan’s Rite! That’s the whole point of it!” a brown one rebutted.

  “We can’t let her do that! She’ll curse us all!” the purple one shouted.

  “The Rite counters it though, remember?” the brown one said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dothan replied. “They won’t survive.”

  “Whatever this rite is, Malthy,” Petra whispered over to Amalthea, “it sounds like it’s super dangerous.”

  “Bully fun to wrench these stagnant dragon traditions, eh?” Reggie said, trying not to sweat nervously. “These dragon lads seem quite buggered by the whole thing. What could go wrong?”

  Shikun, however, wasn’t quite as relieved as I was. “When did I invoke that?” she said to Amalthea, anger rising in her voice. “I don’t remember any draconian traditions!”

  “What’s this Rokna and Khan Rite?” I asked Amalthea amongst the chaos.

  “Rokna and Khan were ancient Wingless, by the writings I have seen in the Record,” the knowledgeable sphinx said. “They lived thousands of years ago and made the case to their Great Dragon back then that if they could prove they were stronger than one of the other draconians, that they deserved to take that draconian’s place in the tribe. The Great Dragon agreed to this, and so, the Wingless were pitted against his chosen warriors, his own sons. In truth, this was justice, for they were the ones who cut off Rokna and Kahn’s wings in the first place, though no one believed they committed the act. When the Wingless came away victorious, the sons were banished, and the tribe thrived.” She smiled knowingly. “Since then, draconians have believed the Rite removes the curse of the Wingless, passing it onto the winged draconians that were defeated by Rokna and Khan.”