by James Somers
The sun sank slowly toward the horizon in the west—a hot coal soon to be doused in the warm waters of the Waron Sea. Various shades of orange and red intermingled to form new colors altogether. It was a very beautiful sight to behold. Bon’s eyes were transfixed, but not on the sunset.
The great cat’s attention centered upon the large village below his rocky perch. One hundred yards of scrub and rock lay between him and the commotion taking place below. The town teamed with the foul cyborgs. Their stench had found its way up the hillside to Bon’s disgust.
Beside the pantheran elder lay his son, Jale, having recovered not long ago from the metamen’s tranquilizing dart. He was a near perfect duplicate of his father, though slightly smaller. The two cats remained completely motionless, like stone statues painted to precisely blend with their surroundings.
They waited within an area of scrub grass, eyes peeled toward the activity below. Even the muscular contraction and relaxation necessary for breathing remained slow and muted so as to be only barely perceptible. Bon had spotted the cyborg leader, Hannibal, only minutes before and took careful note of everything he did. The panthera’s keen hearing brought him every word with clarity.
The village had been utterly destroyed. Its inhabitants lay strewn in the streets—a bloody morass of human suffering. The sight of the massacre sickened even Jale. Many of the townspeople had been impaled upon long staves and set into the ground like ghoulish shish kabobs. No one other than the brutal cyborgs appeared to be alive.
Aubrey had once been a thriving coastal fishing village. Bon remembered it as one of Gennedy’s strongest allies. Oftentimes, the king of Aubrey had sought aid from King Turin in Gennedy and they had fought side by side on the battlefield. Aubrey’s ships had engaged the enemies of Turin on more than one occasion, and it seemed as though they might one day come to be as great a port as Gennedy now was. But that hope lay smashed in the streets with her people. The dream was dead.
A cry from the southwest caught Bon and Jale’s attention along with everyone in the village below. A dragon carrying a cyborg rider glided into view, silhouetted against the diminishing sun. The beast landed gracefully in a small clearing near the perimeter of the village. Bon watched Hannibal seek it out. He knew the scent of this heinous mass murderer very well. The pantheras had had dealings with him before. Hannibal reached the clearing as the rider dismounted the dragon.
Bon thought this extremely unusual: to find dragons in the company of the tunnel dwelling metamen was unheard of before this day. This must be another alliance under Mortis’s command. How many more will ally themselves with that devil before this war is finished?
This dark colored dragon sniffed at the air as its rider walked toward the metaman leader. It was a good thing for Bon and Jale that the wind was blowing off of the sea. Otherwise the dragon would certainly have been alerted to their presence. The dry weeds blew back at their feline faces as they tried to discern the message the rider carried to Hannibal. The cats set their keen ears to the conversation taking place below them.
“What news of the last raiding party, Ven?” Hannibal asked. Bon saw the half-man’s features well from his position. He looked very similar to the others with two prosthetic legs and one arm hosting various devices and weaponry. However, his face and head truly set him apart as a nightmare beyond them all. Hannibal’s face, on the right side, had been blown away and a chrome skull lay exposed beneath the lost skin.
On the left side of his grisly face, the natural eye, skin, lips, and part of his teeth remained. But on the right side an electronic eye glowed red as though it were a window into his hate-filled soul. From mandible to teeth to forehead was metal. It reflected the dusky rays of the sun. Hannibal looked more like a partially disguised Grim Reaper than a man—more machine than human.
“Sir, the raiding party has been massacred several miles back along the seaside road. Their bodies were left in the woods, apparently ambushed by bowmen from the trees,” Ven said. Several metamen close by looked at their leader quizzically—ready to loot the corpses for parts.
“Did you find tracks?”
“I found an abandoned cart among the grasses and multiple tracks leading toward Gennedy, sir.”
“Gennedy, huh?” Hannibal mused.
“Do you think King Turin seeks war, Master?”
Hannibal laughed. “Turin hides behind his wall. He has no appetite for war. So long as his city remains impenetrable, he will not venture outside its gates. But whoever these people are, they’ve sought sanctuary from us there. We can expect them to remain in Gennedy for as long as they think we’re searching for them.”
Bon would have smiled at the ease with which he pulled Hannibal’s conversation from the air, had he possessed the facial muscles to do so. Then something unexpected and unfortunate happened.
The weed stalks, which had accosted his face, now began to blow away from him toward the village and the sea beyond. The wind direction had changed. Bon immediately tensed like a viper ready to strike. Jale had not noticed. But Bon knew a change of wind could cause one’s prey to be alerted, or one’s hunter.
Neither Bon nor Jale moved, but it happened anyway. The dragon below sampled the air and found them. The huge creature whipped its head in their direction and screeched a warning cry. Hannibal and his cyborgs were instantly alerted to the presence of intruders.
“Find them, dragon, and bring me their bones!” Hannibal cried.
The dragon took flight as Bon and Jale sprang away from their position like rabbits discovered in the grass.
“Split up, Jale!” Bon said, hoping to keep the dragon with him and allow his son to escape.
The two pantheras divided their ranks as the dragon arced in the air toward their position. Bon lingered just a second longer than his son, so that he would appear to be the closer target and draw the predator’s attention. The ruse was successful and the dragon veered toward him baring its massive talons.
Bon ran and heard the beast swoop down upon him. He came to a rocky outcrop as the talons reached out to snatch him from the ground. Using his tremendous strength, Bon hit the face of the rock and sprang hard back underneath the talons as the dragon tried to grab him.
The beast screeched as it realized the mistake of pursuing the cat so closely. The outcropping of rock stood too tall to avoid completely. The dragon slammed into the stone while trying to pull up. Bon saw the tables turned and leaped to its back. He scaled the dragon’s hide in moments.
The beast lay there dazed and wounded. Bon didn’t taking any chances. He quickly set to slashing the leathery membranes on the creature’s wing. The dragon had very little vulnerability, but its wings were key. The dragon screeched in pain as Bon shredded the right wing efficiently. Even with one good wing, the beast would never get off of the ground, and they were notoriously clumsy and slow in a ground fight.
Bon leaped away, following the scent of his son into the hills. Jale was near. The metamen tried to climb the hillside, but had little success. Their clunky forms hindered their efforts, and their guns were ineffective at such a long range. Bon escaped their feeble pursuit within seconds and soon found Jale crouched underneath an overhang of rock—a good place to avoid a flying dragon.
“Jale, are you all right?”
“Yes, Father. Thank you for leading the dragon away,” Jale said.
“You’re my son. I would do anything to protect you.”
Bon looked at Jale’s hiding place and began to laugh, shaking his head.
“What’s the matter? Why are you laughing?”
“You’re hiding in a good place to end up a pile of charred bones…they do breath fire you know.”
“Oh, yes…I forgot about that…thank you, again, Father.”
Bon laughed again. “Don’t worry, Jale, experience comes with time. Now, we need to get around the Waron Sea and hope the others are able to get to Corsica safely.
The older panthera began to walk off. “Father?” Jale said
, still standing with his head hung low. Bon turned.
“Thank you for coming after me. I was angry because of Mother’s death at the hands of the humans. But I shouldn’t have run off like that.”
Bon gave his son a slight nod. “True, but it isn’t me you should be thanking. Had it not been for the courage of the boy, the others would not have been convinced to join me in your rescue. Even though you vented your anger at him, Daniel eagerly risked his own life for yours against the cyborgs.”
Jale stared at the ground. “I’ve treated the boy unfairly.”
“So you have, but I’m sure he will forgive you as I do.”
Jale nodded but kept his head low.
They began walking. “You really should get to know the boy better. In human terms, he’s probably about your age. And you both could use a good friend.”
Jale looked up at his father, acknowledged his advice. His eyes brightened at the prospect. “I look forward to it, Father.”
STEWARD OF TURIN
Once the iron cage elevator had set their group down inside the wall of Gennedy, Marissa and the others found themselves faced with a thriving seaport city. Gennedy stretched about one half mile in width from the gate to the docks and the sea beyond and was perhaps ten miles long running with the coastline.
Daniel had never seen anything like it. The city buzzed with activity and the people all looked happy and healthy. All of the buildings stood shorter than the perimeter wall which even extended to the sea, shutting it out. It was constructed in such a way that the docks lay beyond the seaside face of the wall, allowing easy access to ships, but affording defenders the ability to cut off the dock area in the event of a seaborne attack on the city.
The buildings had been constructed of a curious material. Upon closer inspection, Daniel realized that every building had a covering of large dragon scales. Even the side walls were shingled with them. “Is that what I think it is?” Daniel asked Louie.
“Aye, if you’re thinking dragon scales then you’re right. You’re probably wondering why they did that, eh?”
“Think about it, Daniel,” Marissa said, taking interest in the boy’s curiosity. “You need to learn to reason these things out. One day there may not be someone around to just hand you the answers.”
Daniel remembered the dragon’s scorch marks from the burned out village near Parengore Forest. Marissa had wanted him to reason that out too, and he had come up with the right answer. He studied the buildings further for a moment and then the answer hit him. “Are the scales fireproof?”
“They are indeed,” Marissa said. “Now, what else.”
Daniel tried to reason it out. “The only obvious portion of the city which remains unprotected is from above. The scales would hopefully protect the city from an attack by dragons.”
Marissa smiled. “Very good, Daniel. Gennedy has been through real life dragon attacks and this tactic is very effective for preventing widespread fires during such an event.”
No sooner had their group been set at liberty from the elevator cage than a group of soldiers approached. A total of seven men encircled their group. They carried spears and swords, but they didn’t seem intent on doing harm—at least not yet.
The lead man spoke with Marissa briefly. She, in turn, relayed his instructions to the others. “We are to go with these men for a special meeting. Apparently King Turin would have a word with us.” Marissa smiled when she said this, alleviating Daniel’s concerns. If Marissa was happy to meet with this King Turin, then he must not be any threat to them.
The soldiers were dressed in elaborate polished, black armor. Daniel wasn’t sure exactly what kind of material it was. The armor gave them the appearance of ancient samurai warriors. Their group of humans, elves, cherubs, and one wil followed after the lead soldier while the rest marched on either side. Daniel still wondered if this escort was provided to them as dignitaries, or as criminals.