Dragonseed

by James Maxey

  Tall shelves lined the room, full of wooden boxes holding an impressive collection of springs, levers, rods, pins, screws, and cogs. Other shelves held hundreds of thick books bound in leather. A large iron stove sat on the far side of the room with a bin of coal beside it. A bellows affixed to the side was powered by a clockwork mechanism. The room stank of rust, must, and dust.

  Thorny said, “Anza was only a baby when Burke arrived. He needed an assistant to build all this. I showed up a few months after he did. I was a former slave with no place to call home. I’d been trained to read and write, so Burke hired me to assist him in making this workshop. It’s sort of a combination of foundry, library, and apothecary all rolled into one.”

  “You were a slave?” Shay asked.

  “Long ago,” said Thorny. “I used to serve as a living quill to the biologian Bazanel before he changed his position on slavery and freed me. Still, my ruined hands bear testimony to my service to him. I was made to write until every bone in my hands ached, and would face whippings if I failed to keep pace with Bazanel’s nearly endless speeches and lectures. I take it, judging from your garb, that you were once a slave at the College of Spires?”

  “I served Chapelion himself.”

  “Ah. You must have escaped. Chapelion would never willingly free a slave.”

  Shay nodded. “Chapelion’s convinced that slavery is of benefit to mankind. He believes that people wouldn’t long survive in the world in direct competition with dragons—only by serving dragons can humans endure. I know the argument well. I was the living quill that recorded every word of his five volume history of human bondage, Slavery as an Evolutionary Strategy.”

  “Isn’t it risky to trust his words defending human slavery to be recorded accurately by a slave?” asked Jandra.

  “Chapelion doesn’t see it this way. Dogs are carnivores, with the instinct to hunt, yet they’re trained by men to protect sheep and cattle. They’re even trusted as companions for human children, though a wolf would regard the same child as a meal. Chapelion trusted me with his words the way men trust dogs with their families.”

  “You’re lucky you escaped before you were used up,” Thorny said. “These days, I can’t even button my own clothes.”

  During this discussion, Anza had her arms crossed. She looked impatient. Thorny, apparently sensing this, said, “I should get a wagon from the barn to load Burke’s inventory. Since we’re abandoning the place, the rest of you can look around and see if there’s anything you want to take. If you don’t grab it, the dragons will. I’ll wake some of the other men to help; it looks like you all could use some rest.”

  He and Anza moved toward twin wooden doors on the southern wall. She pulled them open to reveal a long tunnel leading up. Unlike the steep stairs, the tunnel had a gentle slope. Anza grabbed a lantern and stayed at Thorny’s side as they walked toward the far end of the brick lined tunnel. Vance trailed after them. Shay remained in the workshop, taking books from the shelves and reverently looking at their title pages. Jandra decided to stay behind as well. She’d witnessed Burke’s handiwork at Dragon Forge, and was intrigued by the unfamiliar tools that lay around the room.

  Fresh air swirled into the room as Anza and the others reached the end of the tunnel and opened the broad doors. Jandra looked up the long shaft, seeing starlight.

  Shay let out a gasp. Jandra looked at him. He was in front of the bookshelf.

  “By the bones!” said Shay. “He has all seven!”

  “All seven what?”

  “The Potter biographies! The College of Spires only had five of the volumes… four now, since I stole one.”

  “What’s so special about these books?” She picked up one of the fat tomes and flipped it open.

  “Potter was a member of a race of wizards who lived in the last days of the Human Age,” said Shay.

  Jandra frowned as she flipped through the pages. “Are you certain this isn’t fiction?” she asked.

  “The books are presented as fiction,” said Shay. “However, there are other artifacts that reveal their reality. I wouldn’t expect you to know about photographs, but—”

  “I know what a photograph is,” she said. In truth, the goddess knew what a photograph was, and Jandra was only borrowing the memory.

  “Photographs recorded the physical world, and a handful of photographs of this famous wizard still survive. Some show him in flight on his…” His voice trailed off. He turned toward Jandra, studying her face carefully. She knew what he was about to ask.

  “Is it true you know magic? That you and your master Vendevorex command supernatural forces? Are you one of the secret race?” His voice was quiet as he asked this, his tone almost reverential.

  Jandra twisted a strand of hair around her finger as she contemplated her answer. When she still had her genie and could turn invisible, or disintegrate solid matter, or heal almost any wound, she’d always been quick to deny that she possessed supernatural powers. She’d shunned the label witch. Now, stripped of these powers, it might be dangerous to deny them. Having people believe you commanded supernatural forces was a kind of power in its own right.

  She decided to answer his question with a question. “How did Potter control his magic?”

  “With a wand and words. Is this how you use your magic?”

  Jandra was intrigued. Her genie could take on any shape she desired. Why not the form of a wand? Of course, she’d never needed any magic words—the genie responded her thoughts. Still… could this Potter have been a nanotechnician? Perhaps one of the Atlanteans Vendevorex had warned her about?

  She knew little about Atlantis, but perhaps Shay knew more. “Have you ever heard of Atlantis?”

  “Certainly,” said Shay. “It’s referenced in…”

  His voice trialed off. He cocked his head toward the tunnel.

  Jandra tilted her head as well. What was that noise? Was someone screaming?

  Now, there could be no doubt. It was Thorny’s voice they heard as he ran toward the tunnel doors. He stumbled as he reached the slope, falling on his chest, the air forced out of him. He rose to his knees, sucking in breath. The entire workshop echoed as he shouted, in a high, panicked voice, “Dragons!”

  CHAPTER SIX:

  A VICTORY, MORE OR LESS

  JANDRA RAN UP the tunnel, shotgun at the ready. She stopped in front of Thorny, who was still sprawled on the ground. She glanced over her shoulder at Shay, whose face was pale as he trailed behind her.

  “You ever been in a fight?” she asked.

  “Once,” Shay said.

  “You win?”

  “I survived,” said Shay. “Because of Bitterwood.”

  “Bitterwood?” Jandra took Thorny’s twisted fingers into her hand as she helped him back to his feet. “You’ve met him?”

  “‘Met’ really isn’t the right word,” said Shay. “I watched as three slavecatchers who were brought down by an archer I never saw. The slavecatchers thought it was him, though.”

  “Sounds like him.” She nodded toward the gun in Shay’s hands. “Burke’s placing a lot of faith in you. You think you’re up to this?”

  Shay clenched his jaw. “Let’s do it.”

  Jandra gave Thorny a gentle shove back down the tunnel. “Lock the doors behind you,” she said.

  “I’d be out there if I could still hold a sword,” Thorny said mournfully as he loped down the slope.

  In the distance, Jandra heard a woman screaming. She turned toward the sound and ran out into the starry night. A half moon cast stark shadows over the town. The bare branches of a nearby apple tree swayed in a rising wind. She spun around, trying to get her bearings. The Forge Road was almost a hundred yards behind her. She ran, staying in the shadows of Burke’s tavern. Dozens of earth-dragons swarmed on the road, their steel armor glinting in the moonlight. Beyond the tavern lay a simple stone cottage. She watched as a trio of brawny earth-dragons kicked in the door and charged inside. A dog barked savagely at the invasion, then ye
lped and fell silent. Somewhere in the distance, a baby was crying.

  Jandra pressed her back against the tavern wall, mere feet from the road. The earth-dragons hadn’t spotted her yet. There were too many to count, a hundred at least, maybe twice that number. Even though this town hadn’t been stripped of its men by Ragnar’s recruiting, the villagers were still hopelessly outnumbered.

  Jandra fingered the silver bracelet on her wrist. Should she turn invisible? The shotgun was a powerful weapon. Burke assured her it would punch through a dragon’s armor. But it took so long to reload. After one or two shots, she’d be swarmed. From an invisible fighting stance, perhaps she’d have a chance. On the other hand, invisibility wasn’t the greatest tool against earth-dragons. As a race, they were notoriously near-sighted. They compensated with sharp hearing and a sense of smell far superior to humans. The shotgun was loud and the smoke stank. It wouldn’t take them long to find her.

  She looked over her shoulder to see if Shay was behind her. He was nowhere to be seen. In the distance, there was a clap like thunder. He’d apparently found a place to make his stand. Many dragons in the street paused at the sound, turning their heads toward a nearby barn.

  The brief moment of inactivity quickly gave way to resumed violence. One of the earth-dragons glanced in her direction. He cocked his head as he untangled the shadows that concealed her, and then narrowed his eyes. He lifted his battle axe in meaty paws and stalked toward her. Jandra raised her gun.

  She never got the chance to fire. The dragon toppled as a silver tomahawk dug into the back of its neck. As the dragon fell, Anza was revealed, standing in the middle of the street, a second tomahawk in her left hand, her right hand going for one of the throwing knives strapped to her leg. Anza spun on her toes and whipped out her arms. Two more dragons toppled as she released her weapons. A score of dragons all looked her way. As one, they raised their axes and charged.

  Anza drew the longsword from the scabbard slung over her back. In her left hand, she produced a smaller, curved blade. A dragon neared. Before it reached her, an arrow flew down from above and punched through the dragon’s breast plate with a loud thunk. The dragon dropped to his knees as a ZING rang out and a second dragon that neared Anza suddenly had an arrow in its belly.

  Bitterwood? thought Jandra.

  There was another ZING and Jandra realized where she’d heard the sound before. It was a sky-wall bow. Vance was on the roof of Burke’s Tavern, slaying dragons with every shot. The kid really was as good as Burke claimed.

  Anza also proved worthy of her reputation. Even as Vance slew a half dozen dragons in under a minute, there was a crowd of the scaly soldiers mere yards from Anza, with more approaching. Anza faced them calmly, her face utterly devoid of emotion.

  Anza’s arms were close to her chest. She crouched down, looking small against the backdrop of the brutish earth-dragons. She was taller than Jandra, but still had the slim, willowy build of a girl in her late teens. Any one of the dragons surrounding her outweighed her three to one. All were armored in heavy plate, while she wore only buckskin.

  Jandra raised her shotgun, wondering how close she could aim to Anza without risking hitting her.

  Before she could pull the trigger, Anza unfolded, a motion that reminded Jandra of a flower blossoming, but at the speed of an arrow leaving a bow. Anza’s blades flashed in the moonlight, and suddenly the turtle-like head of one earth-dragon was freed from the shoulders that held it. The axe-hand of a second dropped to the ground, leaving its owner staring wide-eyed at a blood-spurting stump.

  As Vance continued to rain arrows down upon the dragons, Anza began to whirl like a dervish. Dragons dropped around her in a neat circle. Their bloodied bodies formed a small wall that the other dragons would have to step over. She stopped spinning, as the remaining dragons hesitated, their jaws agape as they looked down at their slain brethren.

  In the distance, there was a second BOOM. Jandra grimaced. If Shay was killing more dragons than she was, she wasn’t pulling her weight. She darted onto the porch. The horses were gone. Perhaps they’d fled when the invasion began—she hoped that Lizard was okay.

  She paused at the door to the tavern and smacked the shingle Anza had pressed earlier. She charged through the open door and turned, looking out into the street. She raised her shotgun and fired into the crowd of dragons. She slammed the door shut without waiting to see the result of her shot, running to the stairs that led to the second story. At the top, there was an open trapdoor to the roof. A ladder was leaned against the opening. She climbed the ladder and found Vance. He startled as he heard her step onto the flat roof and spun around, an arrow drawn. She flinched, knowing that this was a stupid way to die. She relaxed as Vance lowered the bow.

  “Whew!” he said. “Good thing I’m running out of arrows. A minute ago I’d have shot first and figured out what I hit later.”

  “How many arrows are left?” Jandra asked, running to the edge of the roof.

  “Three,” said Vance.

  “Burke needs to build bigger quivers,” said Jandra, looking down into the street below. There had to be at least fifty dragons circled around Anza. Who knew how many were unseen, in the houses of villagers, bringing havoc?

  Yet, Anza wasn’t completely alone. There was another blast, much closer, as Shay fired again. Some dragons behind Anza dropped. Jandra didn’t know where Shay was, but apparently he was holding his own. Further down the road, she saw a half-dozen humans banded together. They were middle-aged men with longswords similar to the one Anza used. While they were dressed in nightgowns, they did have helmets and shields. They charged a small band of dragons near the barn and joined battle.

  The pile of dragons around Anza had grown. There were at least thirty corpses. Jandra felt an acute sense of her own inadequacy. Two weeks ago, she could have rained Vengeance of the Ancestors, a disintegrating flame, down upon these dragons with the speed of thought. She reloaded her shotgun, counting the long seconds. Vance perched on the edge of the roof, his arrow drawn, but held his fire.

  “What are you waiting for?” Jandra asked.

  “Anza’s amazing, but she ain’t got eyes in the back of her head,” said Vance. “I gotta put my last three shots into dragons attacking where she can’t see them.”

  Jandra nodded. “Good strategy. I’m going to be messier.”

  She brought the shotgun to her shoulder and took a bead on the thickest cluster of dragons she could find. With a flash and a thunderclap, the gun rained down a shower of deadly missiles. Four dragons were staggered by the blast, one falling over, the other three clutching at the wounds that suddenly peppered their shoulders. They looked toward the rooftop, squinting. A dragon pointed toward Jandra and barked, “Up there!” A dozen dragons broke from the crowd and thundered onto the porch. The whole building shuddered as they kicked at the door. Burke’s engineering held better than most of the other doors in town, but she could still hear woodwork splintering with each kick.

  “Vance,” said Jandra as she pushed another gunpowder charge down the barrel with her ramrod, “Why don’t you go pull up the ladder?”

  “Good idea." He ran back across the flat roof to the trap door. He crouched over the ladder and grabbed it, as another voice yelled, “Hold on!”

  “Shay?” asked Vance.

  “I saw you on the roof,” said Shay, panting as he bolted up the ladder. “Thought I’d join you. Things were getting hot in the stables. That’s not a joke. The stables are on fire.”

  Jandra could see the flickers of flame from a building several doors down. The odor of burning hay and dung flavored the night air. She squeezed the trigger again and every odor but the sharp kick of gunpowder vanished. As the smoke cleared, she saw three more dragons had fallen. Perhaps hoping Anza would be distracted by the blast, a pair of dragons lunged, swinging axes. With a flurry of silver blades, the barrier of corpses surrounding Anza grew by two. Shay fired his shotgun, and another dragon fell. By now, the band of armed villa
gers had proven victorious in their initial skirmish and were shouting for blood as they charged toward the tavern.

  The earth-dragons below looked frightened and confused. Anza circled slowly within her knee-high fortress of armored corpses. Vance’s sky-wall bow sang out as a dragon behind Anza lifted its axe, preparing for a charge. The dragon fell, and the dragon next to him spun on his heels and ran, his thick tail jutting straight out behind him.

  Jandra finished loading her gun and fired. By chance, Shay fired at precisely the same instant. The twin blast was deafening. Amidst the smoke, Jandra couldn’t tell how many they’d hit, but when the air cleared, full blown panic had seized most of the remaining soldiers. Only a handful nearest to Anza weren’t running, either braver than their brethren, or dumber. Jandra reloaded. Vance targeted a dragon with one of his two remaining arrows. ZING!

  Shay reveled in the apparent victory, standing right at the edge of the roof. “Ha!” he shouted, holding his gun over his head. “Run you green-scaled bastards! Run from the light of a new human dawn!”

  The moonlight grew dim as a shadow fell over the roof.

  “How poetic,” a voice said, as blue talons shot down from the sky and snatched the shotgun from Shay’s grasp. Spreading its wings wide, a sky-dragon dropped to the roof behind them.

  “Vulpine!” Shay shouted as he twisted around, his voice changing from triumph to despair.

  Vance swung around with his final arrow, drawing a bead on the new arrival, but before he could complete the movement a second blue form shot down toward the roof. The sky-blue crocodilian jaws of a second sky-dragon clamped onto Vance’s face. The momentum of the impact jerked Vance from the roof. The sky-dragon released the young archer and Vance dropped twenty feet onto the hard-packed earth below. He landed on his head with a sickening crunch. His arms fell limply to his sides as he stared up with unfocused eyes, his face bleeding from twin rows of puncture wounds.