Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

The young man in the middle stepped forward. “We will protect you, Excellency. We promised. It is how we serve.”

  “That’s the correct answer,” she said, intentionally casual. Once they became full hawk guards, these young men would spend enough time in rigid formality, backs straight, arms at their sides in her throne room. “Tell me your names.”

  Captani Vos took a step forward, ready to introduce the candidates, but Iluris cut him off. “They can speak for themselves.”

  The one in the middle spoke first. “I am Cyril, and I’m honored to be chosen. I will not let you down, Excellency.”

  The second young man introduced himself as Nedd, and the third was Boro. “They will be fine additions to my family,” she said, studying each face. In their eyes, she read pride, eagerness, and anxiety. “You have no families of your own?”

  The three young men shook their heads.

  “All orphans,” Vos affirmed.

  “They are no longer orphans,” she said with a smile. “They are part of our family now.”

  She took the three gold rings from Captani Vos and slipped the first one on Cyril’s finger. He clasped his fist tight as if to make sure the ring would never fall off. She did the same for Boro and Nedd. All three young men looked up at her with tears welling in their eyes.

  “I now have three new sons to ensure the peace and prosperity of Ishara,” she said. Iluris had no doubt they would be fierce fighters, would sacrifice themselves for her. They were hers entirely.

  She opened her arms wide, waiting. The new hawk guards were hesitant, but Vos nudged them. They came forward, and she enfolded all three into an embrace. “After tonight, you may call me Mother, because you are part of my family.”

  29

  WHILE the godling of Serepol chafed in the incomplete Magnifica temple, Klovus attended worship where he had once been ur-priest. The harbor temple, which housed the lesser godling that had attacked Mirrabay, was also a good place to set up his secret meeting with the other district priestlords later that night.

  At sunset, fishermen, dockhands, porters, innkeepers, and brothel workers gathered to give thanks to their godling. “Hear us, save us,” they chanted. The temple had a tower as tall as the mast of a ship and lintels carved with hypnotic designs reminiscent of wind and waves. Ceramic tiles prominent with the designs of Serepol covered the façade.

  Klovus and a group of his chosen deputies joined the worshippers as the temple rang brass bells, each person bringing sacrifices of things they valued. He had donned his finest caftan, and wore gold chains around his neck, filigreed bracelets on his wrists, and a jeweled shadowglass amulet as wide as his palm. As key priestlord, he was revered almost as much as a godling.

  In the expansive temple chamber, a polished granite altar stood in front of the spelldoor that held the godling in place. The new ur-priest of the harbor temple, a former fisherman named Xion, stood by his altar. “Priestlord Klovus, we are honored that you join us again. I’m so proud our godling helped in the fight against the godless. Hear us, save us.”

  Klovus nodded. “Hear us, save us.” Everything seemed to be in order.

  The people showed their devotion, bringing their most precious possessions as offerings. Some with bandaged hands carried jars of dark blood, which they would feed to the godling. Others gave practical offerings of food, fresh fish, and baked breads for the priests. Some women looked with shy flirtation at Klovus. Such pleasures would have to wait, though, for he had important business later in the harbor temple’s underground chambers. That was the real reason he had called this ritual. It was a perfect diversion.

  Ur-priest Xion and his assistants poured the blood offerings into a gold trough behind the altar, and the red liquid spilled into the base of the glowing spelldoor. The rainbow lights of the contented godling flashed brighter, which drew awed gasps from the observers. Their belief always increased when they could see the power of their protector, and as their belief increased, so did the godling’s power. The innate magic in the new world created a cycle of faith and proof.

  All the godlings of Ishara were connected by the faint network of magic that infused the continent, a web that emanated from this city, where the first human pioneers had settled after the wreth wars. Klovus understood the mysterious source of their power, but most people didn’t.

  Klovus could feel the energy inside himself, too, the special affinity he had always felt for the entities. They were real, and powerful, even if they were created out of imagination and magic. If only the Magnifica could be finished, then all of Ishara would have a central protective deity of such might—under his stewardship, of course—that no force in the world could hope to stand against. Which was why Empra Iluris had good reason to be concerned. Klovus was sure he could control the godling, no matter how powerful it became.…

  Xion willingly relinquished his role, and Klovus spoke to the audience in the harbor temple. “Your godling rejoices in your devotion. He caused great harm to our godless enemies across the sea, and now he is home to guard Serepol Harbor—so long as you continue to believe.”

  Behind the spelldoor, the godling radiated contentment, and Klovus could feel its warm glow.

  “Hear us, save us!” the crowd chanted.

  After all the sacrifices had been received, Klovus blessed the crowds and sent them away, then he also dismissed the local ur-priest. “I require your temple this evening, ur-priest. You may go. See that we are not disturbed.”

  Xion looked protective and uneasy, glancing at the spelldoor as if worried that Klovus would take his godling away again, but the key priestlord made an impatient gesture. “No, that is not our business tonight. Your godling will remain undisturbed.”

  Relieved, Xion bowed. “Thank you, Key Priestlord. Thank you for this honor. My temple is yours. Hear us, save us.”

  “Yes, yes. Hear us, save us.”

  When the temple was finally empty and full night had fallen, Klovus issued instructions to his trusted deputies. They opened the hidden doors and prepared the thick-walled lower chambers, which he had often used during the time he had served as ur-priest here. They lit torches and cleared the musty room for the real meeting.

  * * *

  When Klovus had sent his summons across Ishara, the other twelve priestlords could not refuse to attend. He gave them enough time to travel from the other districts, and they arrived in Serepol as discreetly as possible.

  After dark, the twelve priestlords came in disguise to the harbor temple, where they were ushered down into the underground chamber. Small braziers burned in the corners, sending curls of sweet-smelling stimsmoke into the room.

  Klovus greeted each guest as they removed their drab coverings. A tall priestlord with a high forehead and a deeply seamed face looked out of sorts as he entered. Klovus said, “Priestlord Dovic, thank you for coming. You came a long way from Sistralta.”

  Dovic drew his brows together. “An incredibly long journey. The roads were miserable—a muddy quagmire through the entire Janhari District. The food was poor, and my body aches.” As if suddenly remembering to whom he was speaking, he gave a quick polite nod. “It is always an honor to come to Serepol, Key Priestlord, especially if you summon us.”

  Klovus hid the twinkle of anticipation in his eye as he spoke with the man. “Someday I’ll return the favor and make a pilgrimage to your district. Though Sistralta is far away, I hear your godling is powerful.”

  “It has to be,” said Dovic. “Because of our grass hills and muddy valleys, we face frequent fires and floods, and thus our godling is often called upon to defend us.” He glanced meaningfully at the two plump, contented-looking priestlords from Tarizah and Rassah, districts that faced few threats.

  The priestlords talked among themselves, and tension pervaded the air as the men and women speculated about why Klovus had called them. Finally, the last priestlord arrived, a stern woman named Neré from Tamburdin District, which was on the edge of the unexplored territories. “I have greater con
cerns than meetings or social gatherings,” she said, arranging her tight braids on her shoulders. “The barbarian Hethrren have attacked us several times, and our walls can barely hold them back.”

  Klovus frowned, stating the obvious answer. “You are a priestlord. Use your godling and annihilate them.”

  The hard woman looked away. “The more angry and desperate my people become, the stronger and more vicious our godling grows. It strains against my control. I’m concerned that if I unleashed it in this state…”

  Klovus snorted. “Any priestlord who cannot control a godling is not worthy of the title. Learn to guide your people’s sacrifices and prayers so that the godling does what you want it to.” He insisted that she take her seat at the long table, so that he could start the meeting. “I called you all here because we need to consider Empra Iluris and the future of Ishara. I fear she grows more intractable.”

  The dozen priestlords muttered, nodding and frowning. Adas, priestlord of Ishiki, said, “We heard her ridiculous proclamation about looking for a successor, as if it’s a game. She wants to make a mockery of our traditions?”

  “Thankfully, we priestlords can keep Ishara stable,” said the Janhari priestlord, a brown-skinned old man.

  The frail Mormosa priestlord let out a deprecating cackle. “Since she’s looking far and wide for her successor, Klovus, I take it that the empra declined your offer of marriage?”

  Other priestlords covered their snickers, and his cheeks burned. “It was never a romantic overture, but rather a business proposition. Iluris is stubborn and refuses to see reason. Therefore, we must find an alternate course of action.”

  Hurried footsteps whisked down the stone stairs through the secret passage from above. A tall man entered, disguised in the unmarked robes of a midlevel priest. He had a high forehead and deep wrinkles etched into his long face. He was out of breath, flustered. “My apologies, Priestlord Klovus. I only just arrived from Sistralta.” The other priestlords looked up in surprise, and the newcomer gazed curiously at each of them. “I was delayed in travel. It is a very long trip across muddy roads.”

  The newcomer stopped abruptly when he saw a man identical to himself seated at his assigned place at the table. “What is this?”

  The other priestlords muttered in confusion.

  “You see?” Klovus looked from the seated Priestlord Dovic to smile at the standing, newly arrived Dovic. “The first part of our demonstration is a success.”

  The seated Dovic’s shoulders straightened and his face bunched. His skin crawled as if all his facial muscles were spasming at once. His brow sloped and shrank, the color of his hair darkened until it became blue-black. The lines in his long face smoothed over, and his chin retracted.

  “Remarkable!” Klovus turned to the surprised priestlords. “Allow me to introduce Zaha, the current champion among my Black Eels. They have been practicing camouflage magic.”

  The real Dovic stared, aghast. “He looked exactly like me.”

  Once Zaha reverted to his normal appearance, he rose from the chair. “Priestlord Dovic, you may have your seat.”

  “The Black Eels can change the color of their hair, the tone of their skin,” Klovus explained. “They can adjust their muscles and take on new features using actual manipulation of flesh in conjunction with a hint of a glamour spell. If trained well enough, my Black Eels can look exactly like anyone they wish to be.” He smiled. “Which could prove a very useful skill indeed.”

  Several of the twelve guests were disturbed, but some were clearly excited. “How can we use this?” asked the Prirari priestlord.

  “That depends on Empra Iluris. She has been given every opportunity to strengthen the godlings—not just the primary godlings but the smaller local entities as well. Our people must continue to believe, because that is what feeds our power. That is what makes Ishara strong.”

  “And if the empra’s wishes don’t align with ours?” asked the Rassah priestlord. “Should we wait for her successor, since she has already begun her search?”

  “We could wait and hope for the best.” Klovus looked at the Black Eel champion, who stood imposing and completely silent. “Or, we could consider more immediate options.”

  30

  THE sandwreths headed back to the Furnace across the stark outer desert. The soft open sand slowed the pace of their augas, but on rocky ground their wide, three-toed feet were quite nimble. With wreth magic, the sturdy reptile mounts had been bred to the desert wastes, the perfect creatures for travel across the desolation.

  Queen Voo was intrigued by her encounter with the humans, their quaint king and their walled city. After hearing reports from her scouts, she had been eager to see for herself what they had done. It seemed impossible that the wreths’ orphaned creations had built cities and farmlands across what had once been vast battlefields. Not only had those poor creatures survived the apocalypse, but their independence and ambition came as quite a surprise. Voo had not guessed that the lowly humans possessed such determination, but perhaps they only needed incentive, a trial by fire.

  She mused aloud as the augas plodded along, “When we created humans, maybe we added more strength than we realized.”

  The wreth party passed among misshapen pinnacles of rock. Her brother rode beside her, holding the leather reins from his auga’s wide muzzle. “Is that why you took so many human lovers before the end of the war?”

  Voo’s face pinched. “That was for no reason but entertainment, and the entertainment was paltry. Surely I took no more than ten or fifteen of them into my bed. It has been so long, I cannot recall.”

  “I found their women worthwhile, as something different,” Quo admitted. “I do not know if I ever had any children by them. I paid no attention.”

  “Humans were created for a purpose, and they served it. Now we must start over, and there is very little magic left in the land. We have to rely on the humans that remain.” As the augas passed under the shadow of a rock pinnacle, she blinked up at the sun. “They may be useful again.”

  “What if they do not want to ally with us, my queen?” asked her primary mage Axus, a tall, thin wreth with a grayish complexion, large eyes, and hairless skin. His brown leather robe hung on him like a shed skin.

  “Then they are fools. They will be crushed between our army and the frostwreths either way.” Her thin lips quirked in a smile. “Choosing to be our partners in the coming war is a much better option for them. We can always force them.”

  “And we have in the past,” Axus said. “We do not need their cooperation, but you are making the process more convoluted than is necessary, as we have already proved.”

  “I enjoy it, and the end result will be the same.” As her auga moved along, Voo imagined shapes in the lumpy hoodoos. “This conflict has lasted since the dawn of our time, since the split between Raan and Suth.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “We remember what started it all.”

  She pulled her auga to a halt and held out her left hand. She pictured an image in her mind, sketched in the air with her pointed nails, and the changes manifested on one of the prominent hoodoos. Rock chips flew away and red dust skittered into the air as she reshaped the pinnacle into the face of a beautiful woman. “Raan, the wronged party … the reason for our war, and the reason why Kur abandoned us.”

  Her brother leaned back and watched critically. “How can you be sure that is what Raan really looked like?”

  “It is how she should have looked.” Voo sketched in the air again, manipulating a stunted hoodoo until a second female face appeared, nearly as beautiful as Raan, though with a sneer on her stone expression. “No one ever said that Suth was not also lovely. Kur chose the sisters for their beauty, after all, but we know that Suth was twisted and ugly inside. Her black heart was plain in what she did to Raan and the poor child that could have changed the world.”

  With an offhanded burst of magic, Voo shattered Suth’s face. Shards of rock crumbled into dust and debris. She turned to Quo
and asked in a surprisingly vulnerable voice, “When Kur comes back, do you think he will find me as beautiful as Raan?”

  “I cannot speak to the tastes of a god,” said Quo with a frown, “and one should never ask a brother how desirable he finds his sister.”

  The augas swiftly crossed the outer desert, creating dust devils in their wake. As she rode, Voo thought through what the sandwreths needed to do before Kur would return to save them. They had a world to save, and to destroy.

  Ages ago, when Kur manifested himself as a magnificent man among the wreths, he seduced the beautiful Suth, but eventually found her younger sister Raan even more desirable. When Suth became angry and jealous, Kur responded, “Are you not both my creations? I love and care for you all. Do not make a god choose.”

  Raan became pregnant with Kur’s child, even though Suth had been his lover for a longer time. Unable to control her poisonous envy, Suth saw the dragon moving in the night, the personified evil and wickedness, all the inner darkness that Kur had purged from himself. The very presence of Ossus corrupted the evil Suth, twisted her.

  In secret, she gave her sister a poison that nearly killed her and did make her lose the baby—who was half wreth, half god. Raan survived the ordeal, and when she discovered that her own sister was responsible, she commanded her warriors to kill Suth in vengeance, and the great battles began.

  When Kur heard that his unborn child was dead and the two sisters were trying to kill each other, his rage became uncontrollable. Even though he had tried to make himself perfect, the dragon was too strong here. Kur appeared before Suth and Raan as a towering angry visage. He told them he would remake the world and correct his mistakes, but he commanded the wreths to destroy Ossus first, thus erasing all evil and violence. Only after the dragon was killed would he save any wreths who proved themselves worthy. Then he vanished.…

  They had succeeded in wounding the dragon and driving him deep underground, as well as devastating the land and nearly destroying their race. Now, Voo vowed to lead her sandwreths, the descendants of Raan’s people, to victory over the evil descendants of Suth.