The Devil's Judgment

by Chris Pisano

  Landyr lowered his sword and stepped closer to the wizard. “You look familiar.”

  “We traveled together in an effort to discover the nefarious plan behind the disappearance of the twelve World Builders used to create Oremethus’ dragons.”

  “Hemmer?”

  The swords and claws lowered, the circle loosened as Landyr stepped to the wizard and embraced him.

  Ideria knew the stories. Every child remembered the tale of how their parents met if they had been fortunate enough to hear it. The Horde razing towns, the Demon War, the madness of Oremethus were all just subplots to the bigger tale. Twenty years ago, her parents had met. Ten years ago, they were taken from her. Oremethus called upon an ancient wizard to fuse the powers of ancient items imbued with arcane magic into a dozen dragons. At that time, Uncles Draymon and Bartholomew had been tasked by Perciless to find Oremethus. They crossed paths with a group of wizards accompanied by the Elite Troop to find who had been stealing the artifacts. Landyr was the last member of that Elite Troop and Hemmer was one of the wizards. Silver, a lifelong friend of her father’s, sacrificed his body and moved his mind and soul into the disgusting body of the ancient wizard who had helped Oremethus. Now Silver traveled with the void dragon—rumor stated that Landyr was in love with this creature—using his unique skill of creating doorways to help Tsinel with their war effort against Albathia.

  After a brief exchange of pleasantries between Landyr and Hemmer, the ex-soldier stepped to the side and allowed Perciless to interject himself into the conversation. Bale, Dearborn, and Landyr joined in as well. Phyl kept fussing, convinced that the Yullians wanted to eat him, while Lapin kept him calm by yelling, “Shut up! You’re being stupid!” Cezomir and Lina kept to themselves far away from the group. A trio of Yullians watched their every move and growled at them. The rest of the Yullians surrounded Methel, the skeleton content to stand in one spot.

  Ideria thought about heading over to the cluster of people to voice her opinion. She might not have the same training or a number of battle years associated with her name, but she had experience. She had escaped Prince Daedalus twice now and killed one of his dragons. She deserved to be heard.

  “Where’s Woe?”

  Rue’s question distracted Ideria. A cursory glance was all that was needed to see that he was no longer with them. “We’re certain that Daedalus’ dragon did not get him, correct?”

  “Very,” Nevin said. “He was right here with us after Daedalus flew away.

  Nevin was right. Ideria remembered him being with them as well. Hope looked skyward and fluttered her wings. “Maybe he’s flying. He likes to do that when he gets upset.”

  “He’s upset?” Ideria asked. “How can you tell?”

  Rue shielded his eyes from the dual suns as he examined the cloud-streaked sky. “He’s not one for adventure and ever since we found father, all he talked about was wanting to go home.”

  “Talked about?”

  Rue gave a slight shoulder shrug. “Talked. Mumbled under his breath. Kind of the same thing with Woe.”

  “This is true.” Ideria joined in looking skyward, but her attention slowly made its way back to the group talking with Hemmer. She made up her mind; she was going to join them. Before she could take her first step, a hole ripped open in the sky right above Hemmer’s head.

  * * *

  A strip of fur ran full and thick from the top of Lina’s head down to her tail, twitching and puffed. Cezomir had rarely seen her this upset. A low rumble emanated deep from within her chest, one warning of danger, as she paced in the snow. Across from them were three Yullian, two male and one female, doing the same thing. Bristled fur. Puffed tails. Deep, rumbling growls. Cezomir would have felt bad if he needed to kill them after they contributed to driving away Daedalus. He grabbed Lina’s arm and said, “Come here.”

  Lina gave him a dry hiss at first but allowed him to lead her away. They walked toward the horses and carts. During the attack, everyone who had control of a horse had enough wherewithal to loop the reins around any available handle or knob on the carts. The horses fussed as the two predators walked among them. Cezomir released Lina to grab a satchel from one of the horses.

  Whiskers twitching, Lina looked over her shoulder and mumbled, “They’re discussing the fate of the wizard.”

  “You don’t care about that and they’ll make whatever decision they’re going to make with or without us. Now, tell me why you’re no longer a Yullian.”

  Lina snapped her attention back to Cezomir and snarled. “I am still a Yullian just as you are a wolf.”

  “But you are no longer welcome in your tribe.”

  “This is true, yes. I’ve been exiled.”

  “Why?”

  Lina sighed and looked away. She opened her mouth, but Cezomir knew what her response would be and cut her off, “You’ve told me that you killed someone. I’ve killed and I’ve seen you kill. There are more details to that story, and I think today is the day you tell me the details.”

  Lina crossed her arms over her chest and made a noise that made all the nearest horses bray and trot in circles. “I murdered the queen.”

  “Murdered the queen? I know very little about the machinations of government, but it seems to me that exile is a weak punishment for killing a queen.”

  “She was my mother.”

  Cezomir laughed. “Your tale has become more compelling than most I hear from bards, filled with intrigue. Please continue and spare no detail.”

  “Very well. Our tradition dictated that no family shall have more than two children. If that does happen, then the youngest of the children are exiled on their twelfth birthday, unless one of the other children dies before that day. This was based on tradition when our tribe was a nomadic one, but hundreds of years ago we settled in the Yullia Mountains, so we no longer needed such antiquated ways. My older sister agreed with me, our mother did not, even though our youngest sister was small, frail, incapable of surviving more than a week away from the tribe. My sister and I made an agreement. I . . . upheld my end and she upheld hers. As soon as my sister became queen, she changed laws, allowing all families to remain whole. The tribe wanted me dead but found the changes in the laws from the new queen favorable, so they accepted her judgment of exiling me to be suitable.”

  Cezomir chuckled as he rooted through the satchel, sounds of metal clanking against metal until he found what he was looking for. A wide bracelet with two small holes on either side of a larger one. He tossed it to Lina.

  Her nostrils flared and her eyes went wide. “This . . . this is a Yullian marriage bracelet. Where did you find this?”

  “I made it. Remember the king’s tax collector caravan we hit a year ago? The one with all the soldiers? I re-purposed a couple of strips of armor.”

  “But . . . but why?”

  Cezomir’s lips rippled along his teeth as he lifted his hand enough to show Lina the bracelet on his wrist, identical to hers. “Why do you think?”

  “I . . . why now?”

  “I needed to know if you still considered yourself a Yullian. I needed to know the one thing about you that I didn’t.”

  “But—”

  Cezomir placed his hands on her face, his thumbs gently grazing over her lips. “I know there is supposed to be a ceremony to go with this, but I can’t imagine you giving a rat’s dick about ceremonies. But promises? I can do promises. I promise to never hunt without you. I promise to honor your name every time I tear someone’s heart from their chest. I promise to give that freshly plucked heart to you to feast upon. Until the day I die.”

  Lina studied the bracelet, turning it with her other hand, and then attacked his face with hers, shoving her tongue into his mouth. After she finished the kiss, she went back to admiring her bracelet. “You made this?”

  “I did. And mine, too.”<
br />
  “I accept this marriage. But I forbid you from dying.”

  “Very well. For you, I shall not die.”

  Lina’s smile faded as she looked back to the others still debating about the fate of the wizard. “What shall we do about Perciless? Do we separate ourselves from him now, or continue to make his journey our journey?”

  When Cezomir decided to pledge his allegiance a decade ago, it was because he had been duped into helping Daedalus reunite with Oremethus, while also giving them the means to imbue twelve dragons with unimaginable power. No sense of guilt, but he wanted to explore the idea of honor that started to appeal to him. Plus the heavy dose of vengeance against those who tricked him. Dreams about killing Daedalus visited him some nights, the same dreams he once had about Bale.

  Cezomir had blamed Bale for the years he spent in a dungeon. When he suddenly found himself joining Bale as a traveling partner, he realized that if it had not been for his time in the dungeon, he would not have met Lina. He since thanked Bale, which only led to a confusing and awkward conversation that he never wished to revisit. Now Lina presented him an opportunity to once again give up his quest for vengeance. He opened his mouth to give his answer, but the air above Perciless ripped open. “If we leave Perciless now, then I’m afraid we would never learn about the dragon that just appeared.”

  * * *

  A fire ignited within Landyr as Chenessa flew through the portal. Silver followed behind her, his loose entrails flopping as he glided along the wind. Landyr had no care for the wizard and barely noticed that he was there. He watched only Chenessa. She was a demon who flew like an angel.

  Gasps and murmurs came from those who had never seen her before. Much smaller than the other dragons, no bigger than one third the size of any of her other clutch-mates, she was still a dragon, one worthy of such open-mouth awe. If not for the tips of subtle red along her wings and claws, her scales were so black that she would have created a dragon-shaped hole in the sky.

  “No need for worry, my friends,” Perciless said, his tone joyful, excited. “They are our allies.”

  The Yullians still hissed and spat, gathering together as the dragon landed. She was close enough for Landyr to hear her breathing. Silver floated closer to Hemmer and Perciless. “I see you needed to reveal who you are.”

  “The Elite Troop is no more. All that remains is this.” He pointed to the skeleton of Methel, standing patiently. “We have yet to determine what to do with him.”

  Perciless scowled. “The choice is obvious. He’s now a minion of my brother’s. We must destroy it.”

  Dearborn stepped forward and said, “But he saved my life and no longer seems to be under Daedalus’ command.”

  An argument broke out, every voice expressing an opinion, not a single one could be heard above any of the others. Landyr used the distraction of the arguing to start toward Chenessa, hoping no one would notice, but stopped when Woe ended the argument. He dropped from the sky and landed on Methel with both feet, reducing the general’s remains to splinters. Frowning, he said, “Bones are not meant to move outside the body.” He spread his wings and took flight again.

  * * *

  Of all the siblings, Woe was the one Nevin was least familiar with. He certainly bore no ill will toward the winged ogre; however, moments when they would share conversation were few and far between. Had he the proclivity, the only conversation Nevin would have been able to muster was concerning Woe’s affinity to fried rat tails, the different ways to prepare them and the accompanying spices to make the dish perfect. It was a topic to which Nevin could offer little contribution. Woe had neither the mind nor the fingers for larceny, never joining any of his brothers or sisters in concocting or participating in a scheme designed to lighten the gold pouches of those who had an abundance. Despite having minimal interaction with the young ogre, Nevin never knew him to use violence as a solution to any predicament. Judging from the slack jaws of Rue and Hope, they were just as surprised by Woe’s outburst.

  “By the gods,” Rue whispered, neck craned back as his brother flew higher and higher.

  “Has he done anything like that before?” Ideria asked, eyes to the heavens.

  “No,” Hope said. She too had watched him fly away, but then turned to Nevin and grabbed his hand. “I’ve never seen him so angry.”

  Hope wore minimal furs to keep her wings from becoming too encumbered, but her hand was warm. Nevin said, “He’s probably never been in a situation like this. In fact, I doubt anyone here has been in a situation like this. The only reason why we’re not reacting the same way is because of our closeness with each other.”

  Hope’s grip tightened. “We’re close?”

  Nevin reached to her face with his other hand and wiped away her tears. “Yes. We’re close.”

  Nevin’s mind usually burned like a fire, ever-changing, always consuming, but now standing so close to Hope with his hand in hers, his mind cooled, slowed. He liked it.

  “Hope!” boomed from behind Nevin. He jumped and spun, releasing Hope’s hand.

  Bale. “Hope. Go see if you can find your brother. Rue, help with consultating the supplies. We’re leaving.”

  Hope’s cheeks darkened, blushing as she gave Nevin one last glance before taking to the sky. Rue followed his father toward the carts and horses.

  Nevin’s mother accompanied Bale to the children but stayed after he and Rue left. It was as if the gods themselves carved the frown upon her face. Nevin wondered if what she saw upset her. “Mother?”

  Dearborn’s expression softened as she reached out for her children. Her hands on their cheeks, she said, “I’m afraid Bale is correct. We’re leaving. And it seems Ideria will be getting her wish.”

  “What . . . what wish?” Ideria asked.

  “The Yullians. They gave us information about who sent them and why. An old ‘friend,’ one I wish was dead, found something important he wishes to give to us. Thankfully Hemmer contacted Silver because we will have to travel to the other end of the continent. Silver is quite powerful and can open a door large enough for all of us to pass through. This has given Perciless the hope that we can finally attack Oremethus and bring an end to his reign. He’s sending Hemmer through a portal to Tsinel to pass the information on to the wizards residing there. He’s taking Thorna with him. She was badly injured and the wizards will be able to help her.”

  Ideria bowed her head in shame, desiring war when their mother wanted to live out the rest of her years in peace. She whispered, “But wouldn’t ending the war be a good thing?”

  “Yes, but not if we end up owing any favors to the man we’re going to visit.”

  “Who?”

  Dearborn opened her mouth but closed it to let a shiver pass through her body. Looking away did not hide that her deep frown had returned. After one last cleansing breath, preparing herself to utter this name, she finally spat it out as if it were soured wine.

  “Praeker Trieste.”

  twenty-nine

  Daedalus dropped from the sky, the dragon’s claws shattering a dozen of the cobblestones paving the market plaza outside of the castle’s gate. The force of the landing should have hurt, but anger numbed his bones and joints. His face almost hit the saddle.

  His appearance was so sudden that the crowd doing their shopping had no time to react. People froze mid-conversation or transaction, eyes wide from trying to comprehend what they were seeing. The panicked screaming started when the dragon sprayed its mist over the fruit stand patrons.

  People slammed into each other, tripping and clawing to escape the instant madness. Daedalus held no regard for the fleeing masses. The living did not concern him, only the dead. Nine people were sprayed by the dragon’s breath, and all nine tore their flesh from their bones, exposing the slave beneath. If there was one bit of comfort to be had since retreating from Kallist
ah Pass, it was that his dragon’s breath still changed regular people to something better. Then why had Methel been able to resist Daedalus’ commands? Why did the breath not affect those infernal cat people in the slightest? Speekore would know. The damnable goblin had better know or he would become a snack for one of the dragons.

  Satisfied with his experiment’s results, Daedalus commanded the skeletons to enter the castle through the opened gates. They would spend the next hour or so marching to his chambers to await further orders, a sight probably disconcerting to the staff and guards. Damn them as well, let the ambulating bones serve as a constant reminder of what the future held for them.

  He guided his dragon over the walls and into the courtyard. Dismounting and dropping the reins, he spared no time to wait for the handlers. There were many pressing issues to attend to. As he strode into the building, he let everyone he passed know to find and fetch every member of his advisory council. He was calling an impromptu meeting.

  Within the confines of the stone walls, Daedalus became aware that his last bath was well more than a week ago. The stench rolling off him was nauseating. He had no time for such frivolities, but he could stand his own smell no longer. He stripped as he walked to the council room, leaving his filthy clothes to lie where he dropped them. If the servants lacked the intelligence to pick them up, then he would simply send them all to Speekore and find new ones. There was plenty of chattel within his kingdom.

  Naked and angry, Daedalus turned the corner and almost ran into Oremethus. “Brother? I am surprised to see you here.”

  “Why? You called a meeting. Wouldn’t it be prudent for the king to attend?”