The Saint of Dragons

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The Saint of Dragons Page 21

by Jason Hightman


  Alaythia remained sleeping. Simon checked to see she was unharmed.

  Valsephany neighed, shivering from the chilled dungeon air. Aldric was still atop the horse, letting it wander within the dungeon so it might feel warmer.

  “She’s sort of beautiful when she’s not talking,” said Simon, putting his coat over Alaythia. “Don’t you think so?”

  Aldric sighed. “Will you let me deal with our little mistake here?”

  “Mistake? I’d call this a failure.”

  His father gave him a most unappealing glance. “We aren’t finished yet,” he said, “despite your best efforts.”

  Simon looked up with a touch of anger. “What I did,” said Simon, “I did for everybody here. I was doing what I could to keep the world out of their claws.”

  “By joining with them?”

  “I didn’t know the Black Dragon was with them!”

  “You should have known. What have I been telling you since we began? The Dragon is the source of all that is rotten in the world. It can never be trusted.”

  “I didn’t believe that. Nothing is completely evil. No race, no species, no thing on earth is totally filled with darkness.”

  “Idiocy. You could see the good in anything.”

  “Yeah, everything. Everything but you.”

  The horse stamped its foot, discomforted with the fighting. It quieted them.

  Alaythia awoke, and regarded the argument with annoyance. “Are we working on a way out yet?”

  Aldric swung his sword against the white cage. Metal rang against metal. But the cage stood firm.

  “They’ve made something that can withstand our steel,” said Aldric. “Our weapons are useless. And there are many magics weighing down on us at once. It’s making us weak. It’s making our bones brittle. They’re going to break us, in every way possible.”

  Simon could sense it as well, as if gravity itself were getting heavier. He could feel himself growing tired and the bones of his body almost seeming to shrink inside him. “How long can we survive it?”

  Aldric dismounted and looked him in the eye. “Not sure. Days, perhaps. I have to say I’ve never felt the effect of their magic so strongly. There must be many of them.”

  He was quite right.

  Somewhere above them, in the Great White Hall, a gathering of Dragons was taking place. Nothing like it had been seen on earth in centuries. The White Dragon had sent out word that all the Pyrothraxes were to come together. He had personally journeyed to the homes of most of them and convinced them he could be trusted. He had invited them to his grand ancestral home in England, and he had laid down its protective magic so that all could enter. He was about to reap the rewards of all his work.

  The Dragonmen were finding their places in the immense hall above the dungeon. The huge, echoing ceilings weaved their voices together so that the noise was like a terrible music.

  It was an amazing sight.

  To begin with, everything in the palace was the color white. The white walls were supported with the sculpted beams of a Gothic cathedral, like a great animal’s rib cage. It was like being in the belly of the White Dragon himself. Which was exactly his intention. Guests of the White Dragon had only two purposes: either to be eaten and served to him, or to be beaten so that they would serve for him.

  Huge chairs had been set out for each of the reptilians. The White Dragon had placed his chair at the end of the hall, before an altar that held a long banquet table. Piles of medallions lay at the foot of his chair.

  And then there were the Serpents.

  Counted together, the creatures appeared to number about a hundred. In fact, there were many more who remained invisible, still distrusting the others. Of the ones that could be seen, many had to be seen just to be believed.

  The Red Dragon of Russia and the Blue-Gold Dragon of Paris looked quite different now, in their ceremonial armor. The Russian had brought three prized cats, who gnawed on the bones of something unknown, and the Parisian had painted a wonderful but somewhat terrifying abstract collection of red and yellow splotches over his chestplate for decoration. These Creatures were joined by the other French Dragon (of Calais), who smelled of cheese that had spoiled centuries ago, and the other Russian Dragon, a Bear Dragon of Siberia, who was as gray as stone, with a personality to match.

  Unable to endure the breathing of air for long periods of time, Brakkesh, the Water Dragon of Venice, had come encased in a giant water tank that moved about on wheels. He looked out on everyone from the murky green water in his glass bubble, munching seaweed. One could dimly hear his favorite opera music playing inside his tank.

  And there were others. The Sand Dragon, Mistral, whose leather-skinned reptile children surrounded him, fanning him with palm leaves to cool him from his own, always-smoldering red heart under his skin. White robes covered his head and his body. His children were dressed just like their father; they were proud to be following in his footsteps. Their mother, of course, was nowhere to be found. They had eaten her up years before.

  The Tiger Dragon, Issindra, was a female Serpent from jungle-land India, whose title derived from her tiger-striped hide. Issindra was beautiful. Even humans might have thought so. But her habit of scorching those who fell in love with her kept most suitors away. At the moment, she was whispering in the ears of the Parisian Dragon, and he was liking what he heard. When another female, the Fox Dragon of Quebec, looked in the direction of the Parisian and purred, Issindra became jealous, growling and wishing she could shoot a hot stream of flame at her rival’s face. She couldn’t, of course, it was too dangerous, so all were spared the sight of her fire. Issindra’s fire was tiger-striped like she was: Red-black stripes ribboned the flames whenever they flew from her mouth. Quite beautiful.

  Watching the Tiger Dragon with equal jealousy was the Spanish Lasher Dragon, who had numerous slim, whiplike tails jutting from her back. Her arms were like two bullwhips, and they were usually set afire. Her snout and her mouth were covered in tiny, hanging whips, and scars where the whips had cut her. When she was agitated or upset, she would slither and slash her whips around angrily. The other Pyrothraxes kept a good distance from her.

  The guest list went on. There was the heavy, baggy-skinned Elephantine Dragon, who had gray, sagging skin, a long elephant’s trunk, and huge ivory tusks. Even heavier was the Nine-Ton Dragon, an obese Belgian monstrosity so fat she could barely move, and was bed-ridden for life. There were the diminutive Midget Dragons, who had come from Romania and who were unhappy that their morsel-sized bodies had been seated next to the Nine-Ton Dragon; seated next to them were their exact opposites, the towering, slim African Tall Dragons, whose long black hair was coiled into braids of astonishing workmanship; there was the Spider Dragon of Brazil, who had a strange feature at the top of her head, something that looked like a giant spider turned on its back, with its eight legs opening and closing grotesquely.

  Mind you, these were not the most fearsome in the group. Those creatures remained invisibly safe and watchful, expecting to be double-crossed by their own kind.

  Only the Black Dragon held himself apart. He sat without speaking, looking at the little canary in his hand, his dearest companion and the closest thing he had to family.

  The chattering, arguing Pyrothraxes all quieted as the White Dragon finally entered and took his chair.

  “This is an historic moment,” he began, “and one which will never be forgotten. The raw talent in this room numbs the mind. Never have so gifted a group been gathered together for so significant a purpose.”

  The response from the crowd was a rumble of skeptical approval.

  It was heard, down below, in the white dungeon.

  It sounded like a million rattlesnakes, a million tapping spiders, a million growling wolves. If it was possible for a noise to be scaly, this was it. The entire palace shook from the presence of so much evil.

  “Incredible,” mumbled Aldric. “How many of them are there?”

  “More
than I want to see,” said Simon. His lack of faith in himself frightened him. His father’s fear frightened him. He felt hopeless.

  Alaythia felt a different anxiety. Her growing power had come with a price. The Dragons were now able to talk to her inside of her head, something they could not do to the St. Georges. She could hear the low rumble of their voices, taunting her, telling her she should have fled when she had the chance, trying to wear her down. There were more than she had ever dreamed. She had been ignoring the sound for some time, and now she decided to challenge it directly.

  Just by concentrating, she pushed the noise out of her head and slammed the doors of her mind. With effort, she’d done it. She surprised even herself.

  She simply wasn’t going to be afraid.

  “They’re going to kill us,” she said plainly. “That much is clear. I hate to think how. My vote is that we break out of here, and take some of them down with us.”

  Simon and Aldric looked at her incredulously. Their artist had become a warrior.

  “How do you suppose we get out of here?” asked Aldric doubtfully.

  “Well, the first order of business is to snap you out of this trance you’re in,” said Alaythia. “The two of you look like fish in a basket, waiting to be cleaned and gutted.”

  “I’m just being realistic about our chances,” said Aldric.

  “Enough of that,” said Alaythia. “We’re not exactly useless, Simon and me. I’m not going to hand myself over to these things to be burned, or swallowed up, or whatever it is they plan to do.”

  “What they plan is more terrible than you can imagine,” said Aldric. He’d pieced the plan together by now. “They’re planning to unleash the Serpent Queen.”

  Simon felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.

  “They’ve been at each other’s throats for centuries, ever since the Serpent Queen was banished to the shadows. Ever since the Great Egyptian Sorcerers sentenced her to a dark sleep in the core of the earth. Now…the White Dragon has hatched a scheme to get all the Dragonmen to unite for their queen. They think they can revive her, with all their magic combined.”

  “And you think they can do it?” asked Simon quietly. He already knew the answer.

  “Yes,” said Aldric. “And if they succeed, their strength will be beyond anything we can hope to fight. They will rule the earth. Right now, they have one difficulty, and we have one advantage: Their powers react and chafe against one another. Bring two Dragons together, and their magic becomes hard to control. Bring this many vile Serpents into one place, and there is bound to be chaos on a grand scale.”

  Aldric was right. Simply by having this many Dragonmen collected in the White Palace, the world had begun to react in unnatural ways. The rippling in reality fanned out from London, where there was a calm in the eye of the magic storm: mere earthquakes and foul weather, and a wicked yellow fog that swallowed up the sky.

  But in Oslo, Norway, people were already reporting vast rat populations infesting the city, so many they were like a flood in the streets. In Holland, butcher-shop animals, already quite dead, rattled and moved around; fish flopped off of the chopping block. In Ireland, snakes by the hundreds slithered out of the ground and emerged from people’s chimneys and sinks and toilets, and any opening into the world a home might have. In Germany, bats by the millions ripped over the sky and glided low through Berlin, squealing ferociously.

  Massive earthquakes hit cities throughout the Northern Hemisphere.

  Some people caught fire randomly and quickly burned beyond recognition.

  Across the world, storm winds began to blow, then would suddenly stop completely, and start again.

  Dragon magic was everywhere at once.

  In Paris, lightning rattled nearly every building, and flames shot from the ground mercilessly.

  As far off as Australia, millions of people felt weak, angry, and depressed. The clouds made vague and angry shapes: wolves and lions and evil, humanlike faces.

  A giant eye made of clouds peered down over the quaking skyline of New York.

  Shapes of Dragons could be seen in storm clouds across America.

  “All of this,” continued Aldric, “happens because the Dragons cannot live together. But if the Queen of Serpents is raised from the shadow world, the Dragons will live in harmony. Her magic will unite theirs. The danger to humankind has never been greater.”

  No one needed to say this. They knew it in their bones.

  All the world was depending on them.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  HEROES IN NEED OF HEROES

  SIMON LET OUT A heavy breath. The White Dragon was more resourceful than anyone had expected.

  “Well,” sighed Alaythia, “we can’t just give up. There must be some way out of here. I know I’ve made my share of mistakes, but I have been working to repair what’s been lost.”

  She pulled from her pocket an old scrap of canvas, and on the back of it were all the deathspells they had lost.

  “Where did you get that…?” Simon asked, astonished.

  “I drew it from memory,” said Alaythia, “each and every one.”

  Simon took a closer look. The runes looked exactly like the book’s, right down to the unnamed spell at the bottom.

  Aldric looked at her with new respect.

  “We have the spells,” Simon said. “We can destroy them with this.”

  Aldric did not share his enthusiasm. “Listen to them up there. We can’t possibly get that close to them. There are too many.”

  “It’s a start,” said Simon, and he took the canvas scrap from her thankfully, rolling it up like a scroll.

  “That isn’t going to do it alone,” said Aldric.

  Simon looked at him. “There are other ways. They have another weakness.”

  “What is that?”

  “They hate each other.”

  Aldric watched him, waiting to hear more.

  “They don’t trust each other. Everything the White Dragon is doing depends on all of them working together. We have to work on their natural hatred for their own kind. We have to make them believe this is all a plot he’s come up with to kill them.”

  Alaythia immediately saw his logic. “All we have to do is get the word out.”

  Simon stood and faced his father. “We don’t need the deathspells.”

  Aldric looked doubtful. But there was no more time to discuss it.

  The White Dragon entered the dungeon.

  “Uncomfortable, I hope,” he said, regarding the cage with pride. “I designed it to reflect my own artwork.”

  Alaythia saw him as the man in white, and couldn’t believe she’d ever had warm feelings for him.

  “Aren’t you missing your honorable guests?” asked Aldric.

  “You,” said the White Dragon, “are the guests of honor today. I have waited a good long time to have you here. Without you, there would be no grand celebration, as I’m sure you realize. You see…when I discovered the boy, I had a vision: If the Dragonhunter has one secret, perhaps he has many. I let it be known in the world of Dragons that a Knight with a new and terrible weapon was stalking them mercilessly. Everywhere you went, you made my lie more believable. Now the Dragons are uniting, largely because they fear this weapon I’ve told them about. Such silly superstition. It’s a shame you won’t see my plans fulfilled. You will be long dead by the time the Serpent Queen has risen.”

  “You turn my stomach, Venemon.”

  “Oh, that pains me. All I want in this world is to be loved by humankind,” he said, and snickered.

  “How did you know I would come here?” said Aldric. “I might’ve tried to round up new forces, new allies, before I attacked.”

  The White Dragon sneered. “And leave your boy in the meantime? Not likely. What’s more, in recent days, you have become all too easy to find. Love is like the scent of a wounded animal to us. Your emotions give you away.”

  Aldric looked to Simon.

  “Oh, not the bo
y,” said the Dragon. “Your feelings for the woman. And hers for you.”

  Simon and Alaythia were taken aback. Aldric lowered his eyes. Because Alaythia truly was a magician, the Dragons could sense Alaythia and Aldric’s growing feelings anywhere in the world.

  “If need be, we would have arranged for you and Alaythia to find each other,” said the Dragon. “And tracking you then would have been a simple matter. A Knight and a Magician? In love? It’d be so easy, there’d be no fun in it.”

  Simon could see Alaythia was feeling guilty.

  “How do you think we found her in Moscow?” the Dragon snorted to Aldric.

  “Are you so low that you would stoop to harming women and children?” he replied.

  “I didn’t bring the child into this,” scowled the Dragonman, and Aldric looked ashamed. “I left him alive. I was baiting you. As for the woman, I have never had difficulty dispensing with the female of the species.”

  The White Dragon pulled his long neck up, peering down at Alaythia.

  She kept a brave face, but moved just slightly back, away from the reptilian. “What use am I to you?”

  “Aldric hasn’t told you?” The White Serpent tilted his head playfully. “You hold a most distinguished place in our proceedings. You should be overjoyed.”

  In the pit of her stomach, Alaythia felt a slow, growing disgust. “You want to marry me.”

  “Marry you?” The Dragon laughed. “No, you will be swallowed up in far finer flames than my own. I find you delicate and ravishing, of course, but such exquisiteness deserves special attention. You are to be a sacrifice to the Dragon Queen herself.”

  Alaythia’s worry and nausea scraped within her.

  “I have already taken a bride,” the beast said pensively, “God rest her soul.”

  Simon knew whom he meant. His mother had been taken by this monster because in its own sick brain it thought it loved her. What a disgusting idea these creatures had of love. He understood his father’s hatred of them now completely.

 

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