by Lee Carlon
Vincent took two steps forward, but Pete’s voice stopped him.
“Incinerate? What is it with little men and big words?”
Vincent glanced back at Pete and realized that Pete knew his intent but wanted him to wait.
Amir approached the heavy wire door. He was small and scarred. “Be careful, Maiten believes you might be useful to me in my reign, but he is not patient. I—“
“Why not blow you up? Or,” Pete mused for a moment, “burn you alive, that’s a good one. Nobody likes the idea of being burned alive. Incinerate don’t quite feel the same, does it? Makes it sound like it’d be over before it started.”
Vincent continued to advance on Amir and the door separating them. He didn’t look away from Amir or try to cover his actions but glared at their captor, threatening impotent anger. Playing the part of a defiant, but caged warrior.
“Maiten has promised me his heart today. This might be hard for you to believe. I know you came here planning to overthrow Lord—“
“Where’s Stan?” Pete interrupted, speaking in a slow voice as though to an idiot.
Amir paused before continuing. “Forget about your plans to take Maiten’s heart. Maiten wants a truce with Rhysin. He says they came close earlier today, but that their plans were interrupted.”
Vincent glanced back at his companions and saw the surprise register on Walden’s face.
“Help me, and Rhysin and Maiten can have their peace,” Amir said.
“Fuck peace, where’s Stan?” Pete asked.
Amir looked at Pete.
Pete continued, “Stan’s a friend of mine. I ain’t seen him in a while, and I want to make sure he’s all right. I don’t give a fuck about all this God stuff. I’m just a soldier see, and I do as I’m told, but my friend is here, and I want to make sure he’s all right. He get’s himself in trouble. It’s usually drink or women or both, he never knows when to stop. I have to keep an eye on him. He’s a big fella, have you seen him?”
“What do you want?” Walden asked Amir.
“Fuck what he wants. What the fuck is wrong with you, Walden?” Pete demanded.
Walden turned to Pete unable to contain his anger.
“I don’t know where your friend is, I’ve never seen him,” Amir said.
Vincent looked back at Pete for a signal. Was that all Pete wanted to know? Pete met Vincent’s eyes.
Vincent turned and skimmed. He passed through the door and hit Amir, wrapping his arms around him, he skimmed back into the storeroom and pushed their former captor to his knees in front of Pete and Walden.
Pete grinned down at him. “Now, about that incinerating.”
Vincent held onto the back of Amir’s collar, but Amir didn’t try to resist or stand from the kneeling position Vincent had forced him into. Instead, he giggled.
Amir, where do I know that name from? Vincent wondered.
“This ain’t no game, sunshine,” Pete said as he drew a knife and placed it under Amir’s chin.
“I disagree,” Amir said, then giggled again.
Pete grimaced and raised Amir’s chin with the blade.
“This ain’t nothing but games,” Amir continued. “The Gods are having fun today, first in Turintar and now here in Damar.”
“The Gods,” Pete spat.
“The Gods put me here with you, didn’t they?” Amir asked. “They’ve laid an interesting board out to see what we do.”
“Maiten told you we would be here?” Walden asked.
“Valan told me you’d be here,” Amir said. “Maiten told me about the games that are being played. Did the games go as planned in Turintar?” When nobody answered, Amir continued, “Maiten wants peace with Rhysin. That’s why you’re here, that’s way I’m here. Together we can—”
“Together?” Pete asked. “There ain’t no together, sunshine. Where is Valan and why did he send you?”
“Why should I help you?” Amir asked.
“Because Maiten will be ever so grateful and might even take you in from the Abyss after I cut your throat.” Pete waited for a second, then lowered the knife. “Tell us what we need to know, and you can go, but not until you tell us everything and disarm whatever bomb you’ve got hooked up in here.”
Amir stood up slowly. He asked, “Go where?”
“Wherever the fuck you want,” Pete said.
“The only place I am going is to Maiten’s Hall to claim Maiten’s heart.” Amir looked at Pete then Walden. To Walden, he said, “Lord Obdurin sent you.”
Walden nodded. “He did.”
“You should go home. Maiten doesn’t need you. Rhysin rejected Warwick, now Maiten will choose his own Chosen.” Amir stood straighter, but his chin still jutted forward.
Walden met Amir’s eyes and asked, “Do you speak for Maiten then?”
Amir said, “No. Maiten came to me with words. I do not speak for him, but I know his will.”
“And you would claim his heart?”
Amir nodded.
Walden said, “As will I. I am here at Lord Obdurin’s request, but he no longer commands me, and when I wear Maiten’s heart we will be equals.”
“How will you claim Maiten’s heart if you cannot find your way through these tunnels to Maiten’s Hall where Lord Rarick sits on his throne?” Amir asked.
“Stan—” Pete started.
“Your friend is almost certainly dead,” Amir said without turning to face Pete.
“And how will you claim Maiten’s heart if you cannot leave this room?” Walden asked.
Amir giggled again, and this time he did look at Pete. “Do you still think the Gods are not playing games with us?”
“Fuck the Gods,” Pete said.
“Indeed,” Amir said. “You cannot claim Maiten’s heart if you cannot find it, and I cannot claim it if I am dead. I will show you to Maiten’s Hall so that you may claim Maiten’s heart.”
Walden started to say something, but Amir continued. “In exchange, you will grant me my life, so that I may claim Maiten’s heart.”
“How about I chop off your left arm, so you have nowhere to wear it?” Pete asked.
“I have two arms,” Amir said.
“I can chop all day. I’ll keep going until you show us the way,” Pete said.
“The tunnels are dangerous. I will betray you the first chance I get.”
Pete grabbed Amir and pulled him close. “You’re right. I should kill you now.”
Vincent remembered where he’d heard Amir’s name. He stepped forward. “You already tried to murder Rarick once.”
Pete let go of Amir and stepped back.
“What went wrong?” Vincent asked.
“Valan betrayed me. I was caught in the tunnels.”
“That don’t sound like Valan,” Pete said derisively.
“He let me out,” Amir said.
“You tried to kill Rarick, and you failed?” Walden asked.
Amir faced Walden. “I did, but practice makes perfect.”
“Is this part of Valan’s plan? Does Valan want you to wear Maiten’s heart?” Vincent asked.
“No, Valan wanted Maiten’s heart for himself,” Amir said.
“Wanted?” Vincent asked.
Amir nodded. “I killed him after he released me.”
“And you think we should trust you?” Vincent asked.
“No. That would be a terrible idea,” Amir said.
Walden had been silent throughout the exchange, but he spoke now, “Do you give your word that you will escort me to Maiten’s Hall?”
“I’ll give any word you like,” Amir grinned.
“And I give mine that I will not kill you,” Walden said.
“Walden,” Vincent warned.
“Maiten has already rejected him once; there’s no reason to believe he won’t again,” Walden said.
“No reason at all,” Amir agreed.
“Leave him to it,” Pete said. “We’re all fucked anyway. We might as well make it interesting.”
&nb
sp; Amir ignored them. “And if I become Lord of Damar and Maiten’s Chosen?”
“Then I will leave Damar and vow not to return until the ashes of your reign have cooled,” Walden said.
“The ashes of your reign?” Pete said. “You’re a pompous prick.”
“Agreed,” Amir said. “But I’m only taking you, Councilor Walden. These others must leave Damar.”
“No,” Vincent and Ulri said at the same time.
Amir looked at Walden and asked, “How much do you want to play this game?”
12
Tobin Dragonslayer
Cali lay almost flat against the bike and accelerated. The road curved left and right as it followed the coast. She leaned into the turns, altering the bike’s pitch to stay in the center of the road.
The Dragonwing was perfect. Not the rusted monstrosity she’d half expected when Valan told her about the bonus. She wondered where he’d found it. Somebody had given it some serious modifications, and it was in better condition than all the bikes she’d collected and stored back in Peak City.
Her smile faded with thoughts of home. Not home anymore, she told herself. She’d probably have to leave those other bikes rather than risk collecting them.
The road ahead curved right and Cali leaned into the turn. The corner came up quicker than she expected and the bike threatened to drift off the road. She applied the breaks, then remembered the Dragonwing could hover. She hit the control to switch from wheels to air-cushions. There was a sudden hot updraft, and the bike left the road and the wheels folded under it as it took to the air.
Sand and grass from sparse patches beneath the bike were kicked up in the airstream. Cali brought the bike back above the road and hit the accelerator to see how fast it would go.
Thinking of Peak City, she told herself, There’s nothing there anyway. She might have been able to claim innocence with Lord Obdurin in the matter of Vernie’s and Stan’s deaths if she’d acted quickly, but she figured the window of opportunity had closed.
It’s done. She pushed her regrets down and whooped as the bike hit its top speed. She tried to push for more, but when there wasn’t any she held the speed until the bike wobbled beneath her, and then she eased off.
There was a spit of land ahead, where the giant had stopped earlier. He’d refused to tell her what he was doing out there in the middle of nowhere, so she’d left him to test her new bike. He’d driven his oversized jeep and the covered trailer it towed to the water’s edge.
The bike’s wheels unfolded and took its weight when Cali stopped on the roadside. She watched the giant for a minute, deciding whether or not to leave. Finally, she dismounted and trudged across the beach toward him.
“What are we doing here?” she shouted over the sound of crashing surf.
He continued to work in the back of the open-top jeep. He’d fixed two metal cylinders into place at a forty-five-degree angle pointing out to the ocean. The seats had been removed, and heavy machinery had been bolted into place. The trailer had been disconnected from the jeep and sat open a small distance away.
“We’re not doing anything,” Tobin said.
“Okay, what are you doing?”
“I am working,” the giant stepped down from the jeep and sat back against it. He held an AI that looked tiny in his hands. He tapped a stylus against the screen.
Even when he was sitting, Cali still had to crane her neck to look up at him. She looked past him at the machinery he’d assembled, threaded metal ropes as thick as Cali’s wrists hung from the open ends of the cylindrical tubes and were gathered in large coils behind the front seats.
“Stay or go,” Tobin continued. “I don’t care but don’t get in the way, Descendant.”
If the suns hadn’t been so hot, Cali would have felt angry heat in her cheeks. “I’m Newterran,” she snapped.
“You live in Newterra,” Tobin countered.
Determined not to be baited she asked, “What are you doing here? There’s nothing out there.” Cali gestured at the ocean in the direction Tobin’s weapon pointed.
“Why are you here?” Tobin asked.
Feeling foolish, Cali answered, “Valan told me you’d have work for me.”
“People say all sorts of things, why are you really here? What do you hope to achieve by being here? To gain the good graces of a giant you don’t even know?”
“No,” Cali said indignantly, then instantly regretted her tone.
“I am here on the coast far from Ardel because Lord Obdurin Chi’Rhysin Chosen and my friend Valan have made a deal to eliminate Lord Rarick Chi’Maiten Chosen. Lord Obdurin has sent a few of his men to Lord Rarick’s citadel and wants to pretend they are enough to overcome Rarick’s defenses. Do you think Lord Obdurin is an idiot?”
Cali shook her head uncertainly.
“Then why does he pretend to be one?” Tobin asked.
Cali shrugged, wondering if Tobin would be angry if she left.
“Because he’d rather Valan think he’s an idiot than admit the truth.”
“What is the truth?” Cali asked.
“How do you name yourself?” Tobin asked.
“Cali,” Cali said, resisting the urge to swear at the giant. “What’s the truth?”
“What’s your full name?” Tobin asked.
“People call me Cali Descendant,” Cali said.
“I don’t care what people call you, what do you call yourself?”
Cali thought for a minute. She’d never considered the question. People had always called her Descendant, the scales on her cheeks and knuckles and down her spine identified her ancestry as surely as Tobin’s height and gaunt features identified his. The world was practically empty. What did she care what people called her?
“You should decide. Names are more than just markers to be placed on things. This is a rock, that is a beach, she is a descendant. By accepting the name people give you, you are accepting the identity they have decided for you and the legacy of a lost people. Are you just a descendant of the Dragon Lords who abandoned your ancestors here five centuries ago, or are you more than that? You should decide who you are and name yourself accordingly.”
“And if I don’t want people to know who I am?”
The giant continued to tap on the AI with his stylus, but he grinned without looking up. “Then you should give yourself a name that only tells people what you want them to know.”
“What do you call yourself?” Cali asked.
“I am Tobin. People have called me many different things, but after today they will call me Tobin Dragonslayer.” Tobin stood up. He reached into the jeep and withdrew a long shafted hammer with a heavy metal head the size of Cali’s torso. He swung the hammer through a short arc. Cali staggered backward and tripped in the sand.
With the hammer across his shoulder, Tobin looked down at her as he strode past. “Do not worry, little one. I would not claim the name Dragonslayer for killing a descendant child. You said there was nothing out there. Look again.”
Cali looked out at the glittering blue sea. Above it was the unmistakeable form of a dragon, silhouetted black against the blue of the sky.
Tobin shouted to be heard over the surf and the distance between them. “Lord Obdurin is not an idiot, but neither is my friend Valan. That is why I am here.”
13
New Scars
Valan shuddered violently as though from a falling dream. His heart, jolted by his sudden waking, beat hard and his senses came into sharp focus after the absence of consciousness. Above him was a familiar cracked ceiling. He lay back, sighing with relief. Whatever nightmare had woken him was purged from his mind in the instant of waking.
He turned to look for Lilly, but she wasn’t there, despite this being her room. He didn’t remember retiring here. It had been years since he’d last slept, but he felt relaxed and thought, I should sleep more often. Then almost immediately thought, There isn’t enough time. There’s never enough time.
A crack in the ceilin
g drew his attention. When he’d first arrived in Ardel and stayed in this room with Lilly the crack had been a small thing in the corner of the room, he didn’t think he’d even noticed it that first night. Over the years it had grown as the citadel shifted, tracing a jagged path diagonally across the room. Valan was not superstitious but he noted with amusement that the crack he’d tracked traversing the ceiling had finally made it to the far side of the room on the day he planned to leave Ardel.
Rarick must die. The words came back to him, and he sat up suddenly, remembering. Omar! Amir!
He tried to stand. He was wearing leather pants and a red shirt. No, a white shirt stained red. He winced in remembrance of the blade in Amir’s hand. The shirt was sticky to his touch. He pulled it open looking for wounds, but it was impossible to see anything through the blood. He probed his torso where the knife had struck, there was no pain, but several tear-shaped grooves beneath his fingertips revealed new scars where the blade had parted his skin.
Will those scars remain? Is it only interrupted deaths that leave a trace? Valan wondered.
Rarick must die, Omar’s voice was clear in Valan’s mind, and he knew it wasn’t just a memory echoing the Dead God’s instructions.
He remembered the words Omar had said in the Abyss. Not an end to the True Gods, but an end to their rule.
Omar wants to end his kin, or so I always believed. The thought was followed by another. He let me come back.
This time Valan stood. Things would happen fast now, and he needed to record these thoughts. He looked around for pen and paper. This was Lilly’s room, and the next leather-bound tome he would fill was in his study in a different part of the citadel. He pulled open draws and rummaged through shelves looking for something to write with.
Your role is not to take their hearts, but to keep them unbalanced.
He repeated the words to himself even as they infuriated him, worried they might evaporate if he didn’t capture them.
The door to the room opened, and a woman’s voice sounded, announcing Lilly before he saw her.