by James Maxey
Ragnar hadn’t arrived alone. He was surrounded by eight burly warriors in armor he’d taken to calling his Mighty Men. The biggest of these, Stonewall, was a true giant—easily seven feet tall and thickly muscled. Unlike the other Mighty Men, veterans of battle whose grizzled faces were marred with scars, Stonewall’s face was pristine, youthful, and clean-shaven, beneath wavy black locks.
Frost, the man she’d shot, stepped from behind Stonewall, looking furious. His head was wrapped in bandages, and brown blood stained the cotton gauze where his ear had been. Jandra felt a twinge of guilt; she’d only intended to frighten Frost. If she still had her powers, she could have grown him a new ear. Of course, she would likely have been denounced as a witch for the effort.
“Burke,” Ragnar growled. “My tolerance has limits. Your usefulness as a weapon maker doesn’t give you the right to shelter a witch. This is to be a holy city; turn over Jandra, that she may face the fitting punishment for her kind.”
Jandra used the ramrod to slide a new bag of powder down the muzzle of the gun.
“I’m not a witch,” she said, calmly. “And I’m not Burke’s to turn over.”
“If you’re innocent you have nothing to fear,” said Stonewall. His voice was as deep and smooth as a sun-dragon’s. “There are tests we will apply to determine whether or not you’ve been touched by the devil.”
Jandra pushed a bag of shot into the gun.
Suddenly, there was a heavy weight clawing up her back. Lizard, the dragon-child, scrambled onto her shoulder and flashed the same shade of green as her coat.
“No eat! No eat!” he hissed at Frost.
“And now you harbor dragons?” asked Ragnar.
“Where did that come from?” Shay asked, approaching Jandra. “Did it just change color?”
“He was sitting by the fireplace,” said Jandra. “He blends into the background when he’s not moving.”
“Remarkable,” said Shay. “The chameleon mutation is exceedingly rare; fewer than one in ten thousand earth-dragons display it. When he’s fully grown, he’ll become part of the assassin unit known as the Black Silence.”
Jandra already knew more than she wanted to know about these assassins. She’d nearly died when one of them had slit her throat.
“If he’s one of those monsters, it’s all the more reason to kill him,” said Frost.
“And all the more proof that you are a witch,” growled Ragnar.
“Consorting with dragons doesn’t make one a witch,” Shay argued. “I’ve been a slave of dragons since birth, yet I’m not a witch. I’ve come to volunteer for the cause. I confess I am lacking as a warrior, but I have other skills that may prove useful. I’ve brought books, great works from the Human Age.” He held up a tome by Charles Darwin in one hand and by Adam Smith in the other. “If there are children here, I could set up a school. I want to lay the foundation for a new golden age of humanity.”
Ragnar walked toward Shay, his eyes contemplating the books. He picked up the copy of The Origin of Species. The book was over a thousand years old. Shay held his breath as Ragnar opened the yellowed pages. Jandra’s finely tuned eyes could see the dust that showered down from the book as it was opened, fine flecks of the ancient paper crumbling away.
“It’s very fragile,” Shay said softly, as if fearing that his own breath might damage the pages. “Please be careful. I intend to transcribe it before I—”
“The world needs only one book,” Ragnar said, closing the pages with a violent clap. He flung the tome into the fireplace.
Shay sucked air, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He dived for the fireplace, reaching into the bright flames to retrieve the book. He snatched it out, but it was too late. The ancient paper flared as quickly as gunpowder in a flash pan. In seconds, all that remained of the manuscript was a mound of black ash.
“You monster!” Shay, shouted, spinning around, his fists clenched. “Do you know what you just destroyed?”
“Useless old words by a man long dead,” said Ragnar. His Mighty Men drew their swords, ready to strike if Shay approached.
Jandra raised her gun. Frost stepped back behind Stonewall.
“Stop this!” Burke snapped, wincing as he shifted in his seat. “Ragnar, you’re not taking Jandra. She’s brought us the formula for gunpowder. Right now, I’m designing and testing weapons that will make the sky-wall bows seem like toys. She and I are the only two people who know the secret. If you so much as lay a finger on Jandra, I’ll have Anza slit my throat. I won’t use my talents in the service of a man dedicated to launching a new dark age.”
“Suicide will damn your soul to eternal torment,” Ragnar growled.
“And it will rob you of the weapons that will let mankind rule this world. I’m a pessimist, Ragnar. I’ve anticipated that you’d ruin this since the day we met. I’ve been in constant, non-stop, pain since Charkon ruined my leg. Don’t think I wouldn’t welcome death.”
Ragnar glared at Burke, as if trying to determine if the machinist was bluffing. Ragnar frowned; no doubt in his mind all heathens were unstable enough to kill themselves out of spite. The prophet turned his gaze toward Jandra. Lizard hissed at the hairy man. Glowering, Ragnar looked toward Shay, then to the pile of books beside the leather backpack.
“Take the books,” he barked to Stonewall.
“No!” said Shay, rushing to grab the pile.
“Let him have the books,” Burke snapped. Anza leapt forward, sword drawn, putting herself between Shay and the bag. She shook her head slowly as she eyed Shay.
“These may be the only copies of these books left in the world,” Shay said, on the verge of begging. “You can’t let him take them.”
“Books aren’t equal to human lives,” Burke grumbled. “Ragnar, take the books. Use them to wrap fish for all I care. As for Jandra, she’s leaving Dragon Forge before nightfall. You won’t have to worry about her witching up any more of your men.”
“I’ll allow her to leave,” Ragnar said, “provided she doesn’t return.”
“Fine,” said Burke.
“But—” said Jandra.
“Drop it,” Burke said, through gritted teeth. It was obvious that the stress of the encounter was causing him great pain.
Stonewall gathered up the books and went to Ragnar’s side. Ragnar and his Mighty Men turned and went back to the elevator. He glanced back over his shoulder.
“Burke,” he said. “Don’t think I will tolerate your blasphemy indefinitely. I can be pushed too far.”
“So can I,” said Burke, narrowing his eyes. The elevator rumbled, lowering Ragnar and his men from view.
Shay fell to his knees in front of the charred remains of the book on the hearth. “This book survived twelve centuries, only to vanish at the whim of a fanatic. Why did you give him the books, Kanati? I would have thought you, of all people, would have valued those writings. Aren’t you one of the Anudahdeesdee? The tribe that calls itself the Memory?”
“The Anudahdeesdee have copies of all the books you showed me,” said Burke. “I’ve got a collection of over two-hundred manuscripts in the basement of my tavern. The physical books you lost were rare, but the information inside them is more than just the paper they’re printed on. Information is essentially immortal with a little technological assistance. At my tribal home beyond the mountains, my people maintain an old press to preserve copies of essential works. We lost nothing here today.”
Shay perked up. “There’s a printing press in human control? That’s fantastic! I wish I could see it.”
“Maybe you can,” said Burke. “You aren’t going to be on Ragnar’s list of favorite people. You should get out of here tonight. Go with Jandra and Anza. They’ll be passing through Burke’s Tavern, my adopted hometown. Assuming the town is still standing, and hasn’t fallen victim to reprisals by retreating earth-dragons, there’s a map in my basement that would be of interest to you. It contains instructions on how to go to my homeland. It’s coded, but Anza can gi
ve you the key.”
“But… but I only just arrived,” said Shay. “I came to fight for the liberty of mankind.”
“Stay here and you’ll get your throat cut in your sleep by one of the Mighty Men,” said Burke. “You’ve never held a sword in your life, have you?”
Shay lowered his head, looking embarrassed. “No, sir.”
“You’re lucky I’ve already forged the pieces to make a second shotgun,” said Burke. “The beauty of a gun is the way it equalizes the slave and the warrior. Let me get the crew to assemble it and whip you up an ammo belt. I’ll send you off with Anza, Jandra, and Vance.”
Shay looked as if he were about to argue further, but held his tongue. Lizard, still on Jandra’s shoulder, stared intently as Burke rolled his wheeled chair over to the elevator and pulled the lever to raise the cage.
“Strong boss,” the little dragon whispered, sounding awed.
VULPINE DRIFTED ON the winds high above Dragon Forge, with Balikan a few yards off his left wing. Reports were that the sky-wall bows could reach a mile, and Vulpine took care to stay well beyond that range. He could see scores of humans armed with bows crowded onto the thick stone walls that surrounded the town. They watched him closely, though he knew at this distance he was little more than a speck.
“They look rather alert,” said Balikan.
“Alert enough,” said Vulpine. “This is why the brute strength, head-on approach of the sun-dragons was doomed to failure. Shandrazel was too eager to prove his strength and crush the rebellion in a grand slaughter, the way his father crushed the rebellion at Conyers. If he’d been more patient, he could have broken this insurgency without spilling a drop of dragon blood.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” said Balikan. “He had catapults in his army with a greater range than the bows. He could have lobbed in barrels of flaming pitch and burned the town to the ground.”
Vulpine shook his head. “There’s a difference between destroying Dragon Forge and reclaiming it.”
Vulpine motioned with his head, inviting Balikan to follow his gaze. Dragon Forge wasn’t a large town. The fortress was diamond-shaped, encompassing roughly one square mile of earth. Save for a few broad avenues, the interior of the fortress was cramped with buildings built on top of buildings, so that one dragon’s floor was another dragon’s roof. Three smokestacks dominated the skyline of Dragon Forge, belching plumes of ash high into the sky.
Outside of the walls there were hundreds of heaps of rusting metal dotting the low red hills, the raw material of the foundries. Amid these heaps were hovels where gleaners lived, among the poorest humans in the kingdom.
Threading through these heaps were four major roads. All were busy with traffic. In the absence of dragons, humans throughout the kingdom rushed to Dragon Forge. Some of this traffic, though, wasn’t here for the rebellion. Mule trains hauling wagon loads of coal wound along the western road. They cared little who brought their wares, be it human or dragon.
Along the southern side of Dragon Forge there was a river; a canal had been dug long ago to divert water into the city, where a water wheel powered the bellows that fanned the foundries. The water also served to flush the gutters and sewers of the town—crude but effective sanitation. In addition to this water, Vulpine could see a large well at the center of town. The rebels wouldn’t perish from thirst. “With the right eyes, you can see the city as a heart. The roads and rivers serve as arteries and veins, carrying in the lifeblood, carting off the waste. Choke off the roads and the city dies.”
“But by now the rebels will have been stocking up on supplies. They could hold out for weeks, or months.”
“And is the world suddenly in short supply of weeks and months?” asked Vulpine.
Balikan clamped his mouth shut, looking properly chastised.
“In any case, I don’t think they will hold out for months,” said Vulpine. “Humans lack the capacity for long term planning we sky-dragons possess. Presented with a blockade, with food and resources dwindling, they will likely turn on themselves in short order, especially once plague breaks out.”
“If plague breaks out,” said Balikan. “I must admit, it looks as if they are doing a fair job of keeping the town clean.”
"This need not be something left to chance," said Vulpine. “Let’s pay a visit to the Nest. It’s only thirty miles away and a few dozen valkyries can easily blockade the western road and cut off the coal supply. The valkyrie engineers can also block off the canal feeding water into the town. After that, we’ll follow the Forge Road back to the Palace to confer with Chapelion and get the authority to gather all the elements I need to truly solve this problem.”
“We are slavecatchers, not soldiers.”
“After I tell him his books are in the fort,” said Vulpine, “he’ll give me every last soldier in the kingdom.”
CHAPTER FOUR:
PHANTOMS
SHAY TOOK A sip of the steaming sassafras tea. The licorice bite of it opened up his sinuses, clearing his ears so he could better hear Burke as he whispered to Anza. It wasn’t Shay’s intention to eavesdrop, but over the years he’d grown sensitive to hushed conversations. All the politics and intrigues that swirled around a dragon of Chapelion’s station unfolded in whispers and nods. Thus, though he sat on a wooden stool by the fireplace across the loft from Burke and his daughter, he heard Burke’s words as clearly as if he was standing between them.
“We had several groups of refugees report that the earth-dragons are raiding human villages.” Burke slipped her a sheet of folded parchment. “It’s only a matter of time before they strike the tavern. Take this to Thorny. There are tools in the hidden room I need, and my notebooks would also be useful. Have him bring them to me.”
Anza scowled and made a hand gesture that Shay didn’t understand.
Burke gave a weary shrug. “Thorny will just have to sober up. I need you to stay with Jandra and Shay. If anything happens to either of them, make sure their guns don’t fall into the possession of dragons.”
Anza’s scowl faded.
“Thorny won’t be coming alone. Tell the villagers it’s time to join me here in Dragon Forge.”
Anza nodded, looking serious. Shay found himself intrigued by the tall, dark-skinned woman dressed in black buckskins. He’d yet to hear Anza say a word. Ordinarily, he would have assumed she was deaf, or perhaps an imbecile. Yet she followed Burke’s whispers easily enough, and she carried herself with an air that hinted of great intelligence.
Jandra sat cross-legged by the fire with Lizard in her lap. Lizard had numerous cuts and scrapes. She spoke to him in a soothing patter as she cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Shay knew Jandra by reputation—she was the human girl who’d been raised by the sky-dragon wizard Vendevorex. He assumed she’d been the dragon’s pet. In general, slaves and pets despised one another. Both were legally the property of dragons, but slaves were regarded as little more than domestic animals, useful for certain labors, while pets were pampered and treated as children.
Having grown up as the pet of a wizard, it was said that Jandra had acquired supernatural powers. He’d heard she could turn invisible, and set things on fire by staring at them. Shay wondered if it was true. Chapelion had been a strict rationalist, dismissive of supernatural forces. Shay, however, had seen proof that magic had once been a powerful force in ages past. He was certain that Chapelion was too quick to ignore evidence of things beyond his understanding.
Jandra was currently eluding his understanding. She looked human enough, yet there was something unmistakably alien about her. Perhaps it was her voice; her words had an odd inflection, an accent that made her sound more dragon than human. There was also a strange quality to her posture, the way she carried herself. Most humans tended to keep their gazes toward the ground and walked with their shoulders slouched. Jandra had the unnerving habit of looking straight at people like Burke and Ragnar when she spoke, even though they were obviously her superiors. Finally, her fussing over the d
ragon child struck him as wrong on some fundamental level, that a human should be displaying such motherly behavior toward a creature covered with scales.
Jandra cradled Lizard in her arms and scratched him beneath his chin. The little dragon’s eyes rolled up in his head and he made a soft humming noise.
“He doesn’t need all that attention, you know,” said Shay.
Jandra looked up. “What?”
“It’s a waste to give him so much affection,” Shay repeated. “Earth-dragon children are never coddled or cared for. They’re regarded as little more than parasites by adult earth-dragons. They live like rats after they hatch, hiding in walls, eating scraps and bugs and their smaller siblings. They absorb the dragon language by spying. Earth-dragons raise themselves until they’re old enough to hold a tool or a weapon, at which point they’re put to work and treated like any other member of the horde. They don’t get any mothering in their natural upbringing. They aren’t even clear on what the concept of a mother is.”
Jandra looked annoyed by his argument. “He’s not a rat,” she said. “He’s an intelligent being who can talk.”
“It’s probably nothing more than imitation,” said Shay. “I’d guess he’s as smart as a parrot.”
“If a parrot were injured, I’d treat his wounds too,” said Jandra.
“Good boss,” cooed Lizard, reaching up and stroking Jandra’s cheek.
Shay turned away, shaking his head. He discovered their fourth companion climbing up through the trap door. This was Vance, a young man roughly his own age, with a wispy blond beard and close-cropped hair that looked as if it had been trimmed with a dull razor. Vance was dressed in the modest clothes of a farm boy; a simple brown wool coat and patched-up cotton britches tucked into boots badly in need of new soles. The only thing new in his possession was his bow—one of the now famous sky-wall bows, forged from steel, strung with wire, the tension tamed by a set of cams at each tip of the bow. Vance was short, barely five feet tall. A series of small white scars on his brow and around his lips, plus calluses covering his knuckles, gave Shay the impression that Vance was someone who’d survived many a tussle.