Dragonseed da-3

by James Maxey

  "Poor thing," the girl who had pulled her from the river said as she squatted next to her. She placed a hand under Anza's shoulder and rolled her to her back. "We have to get you back on your feet. If you don't keep moving, you'll freeze. You'll go to sleep and never wake up."

  Anza found this thought acceptable. Her eyes closed. It would feel good to drift off peacefully, never to-

  SLAP!

  For a half-second, Anza wondered about the source of the sound. Her ice-cold skin was numb. She dimly felt the pressure of the blow on her cheek but no actual pain. Slowly, a tingling set in, as if her cheek were being stung by a thousand bees.

  She lifted her hand to her cheek, rubbing it.

  This small motion wore her out. She noticed fingers lingering near her face. The fingertips were pale white and puckered. Were they hers? She dropped her arm back to her side, and released a long, shuddering breath as her eyes closed once more.

  SMACK!

  Anza's eyes snapped open. The girl had her hand raised, preparing to strike a third blow. Instinctively, Anza caught the girl's hand as it raced toward her face.

  She sat up, giving the girl a stern glower.

  "Sorry," the girl said. "Can you stay awake now? Do you think you can stand?"

  Anza shook her head. She was surprised she was even sitting. The white-robed woman moved behind her and wrapped her arms around her torso, lifting her. Anza found her footing and was soon standing on wobbling legs. The girl draped Anza's arm across her shoulders to support her.

  "My goodness," her rescuer said, looking down at Anza's buckskin clad body. "You certainly have a lot of knives."

  Anza shrugged.

  "I'm Colobi," the girl said. Anza looked more closely at her rescuer. She was shorter than Anza and a bit heavier, with large breasts and plump shoulders. Her hair hung loosely around her face, so blonde it was almost white. Colobi's face was flawless as porcelain, without a scar or blemish. Her eyes were a bright, crisp blue.

  "Let's try walking," said Colobi, taking a step forward.

  Anza strained to move her feet. She had to look down to see if they moved. She really couldn't feel much save for the two burning suns in her cheek where Colobi had slapped her.

  "What's your name?" Colobi asked.

  Anza made no effort to answer. She focused on putting one leg in front of the other as they slowly walked away from the dark river.

  ANZA REGAINED CONTROL of her legs by the time they reached the Free City. The town was surrounded by a palisade of logs. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of tents had been erected by the road leading to the gates. Anza sniffed the air. There were earth-dragons nearby, a lot of them, as well as humans. She tried to remember everything she knew about the Free City, but her head still felt stuffed with snow. She did remember, however, that the place had been abandoned in the aftermath of the attempted genocide within its walls. So who were all these people?

  A tent flap lifted and a sky-dragon stepped out. The sky-dragon looked straight toward them and raised a fore-talon in a gesture of greeting. "Good evening, sister," the sky-dragon said. "I see you've found an injured soul."

  "I pulled her from the river, brother," said Colobi. "I think she's the one the aerial guards were hunting."

  Anza pulled free of Colobi, stunned by this betrayal. She raised her hand to the scabbard on her back. Her fingers were still too numb to grasp the sword.

  She shoved her fingers beneath her armpits to try to warm them.

  "There's no need for alarm," the sky-dragon said, shifting half his body back into the tent. "No one will betray you. Everyone is welcome here, human or dragon, no matter your past. I was once a tatterwing, surviving as a bandit, until the healer found me. He repaired my body and then charged me with the duty to repair my soul." The dragon pulled back from the tent carrying a heavy quilt. He approached Anza and draped it over her shoulders.

  Anza frowned, her body tensing. Was this some trick? Through sheer will, she commanded her fingers to move again, opening and closing as blood flowed back into them. The bones of her fingers ached.

  "I can see you're skeptical," said the sky-dragon. "You'll see the truth once you meet the healer."

  "We shall all be healed, brother," Colobi said.

  "We shall all be healed, sister," said the sky-dragon. He gave a respectful nod, then spread his wings and jumped into the sky, journeying toward whatever his original destination had been.

  Anza lowered her hands from her armpits to the steel tomahawks on her belt. The handles had been machined to fit perfectly in her grasp. She felt a little stronger as she held them. Colobi looked toward her with a gentle smile.

  "There's no need for weapons here," she said. Anza looked down. The quilt wasn't fully closed around her. The tomahawk in her left hand was plainly visible. "The Free City is the safest place on earth. The healer sees to all our needs. He restores our bodies so that we may work on the more difficult task of restoring our hearts and minds."

  Anza ground her teeth. She didn't have the energy to deal with crazy people. On the other hand, she also didn't have the energy to flee. She was dead on her feet. And right now, following Colobi offered the greatest probability of survival. Anza hooked the tomahawks back onto her belt.

  "Are you able to talk yet?" Colobi asked.

  Anza shook her head.

  "Once the healer feeds you, you'll feel better," said Colobi. "I imagine you have an interesting story given the commotion at the palace."

  Anza shrugged, attempting to convey the impression that she didn't have a clue what Colobi was talking about.

  "There's nothing to be ashamed of," said Colobi. "I once lived the most violent life imaginable. I was a Sister of the Serpent, a sworn devotee of the Murder God. I fell victim to his dark seductions due to painful events in my past. I grew up believing the only law was to kill or be killed. Until the healer opened my eyes, I was blind to the magic of simply being alive. You, too, will be freed from all your pains. Are you ready to be healed?"

  Anza wasn't sure how to respond. The Sisters of the Serpent were deranged. They killed because they thought it was an act of holiness. Anza had never taken a life in the name of a higher power, nor had she ever struck a blow in hatred, anger, or fear. Her father had taught her that it was only ethical to use violence when it was guided by the rational mind. Colobi was obviously not a rational mind.

  Still, Anza was cold, her legs felt like rubber, and she couldn't remember when she'd last eaten. Dawn brightened the eastern horizon. Off in the distance a cock crowed, joined quickly by another, and another. Within the Free City, she could see the smoke rising from hundreds of chimneys and could smell oats boiling as people rose to greet the day.

  The most rational path was to stay near Colobi, at least until she could knock the chill from her bones and get some food in her stomach.

  "Are you ready?" Colobi asked again.

  Anza nodded.

  Colobi smiled. "The healer may not be awake yet, but he will be soon. He'll be happy to receive you."

  Colobi held out her open hand. Anza tentatively placed her palm against Colobi's. The white-robed woman led Anza through the wide-open gate of the Free City, humming softly beneath her breath.

  The most disturbing thing about the streets was their unnatural cleanliness. In Dragon Forge. grime fell constantly from the sky. Even Anza's home town of Burke's Tavern had shown the wear and tear of daily life, with cracked paint on the houses, fallen slats on fences, and windows forever dimmed with lamp soot. In contrast, the Free City looked as if it had been built only yesterday. Every wall was bright with fresh paint. Granite cobblestones paved the streets, speckled with crystals that glittered in the morning light. Every shingle on the houses that lined the boulevard was precisely parallel to its neighbor.

  There was no hint of the savage battle that had covered these streets with blood. Anza wondered if reports of the Battle of the Free City had been exaggerated. Or perhaps the people who now lived here were simply working ov
ertime to erase all traces of the unpleasant history.

  They turned onto a boulevard where the houses were still half-finished. A crew of five human workmen stood near a stack of freshly cut lumber, mumbling words and laughing as they drank hot broth from tin cups. Their white canvas overalls looked newly tailored. There were no rips, patches, or stains. The men, all middle-aged adults, had a curiously pristine appearance as well. Anza couldn't recall the last time she'd ever seen five men together where at least three of them didn't show some obvious facial scar. Nor were these men sunburned or wind-chapped. Odd.

  The hair on the Anza's neck rose as a trio of green, scaly heads approached the workmen. Earth-dragons. The humans raised their hands and offered greetings as the dragons sauntered up to them. Additional cups of the broth were poured from a ceramic kettle and offered to the dragons, who took them gently in their massive claws.

  Colobi must have noticed that Anza was staring.

  "Here, there is no hatred between humans and dragons," she said. "For centuries, we've struggled to distribute the resources of the land between four intelligent species with uneven talents and abilities. Now, the days of hunger and bitterness are at an end. We've reached the time of plenty. Dragon and men shall be part of a greater family. We've been sickened by poisonous philosophies. We shall all be healed."

  As if to prove her words, a pair of sky-dragons descended to the construction site to be greeted with open hands by the humans and the earth-dragons. The sky-dragons unrolled a large parchment sheet atop the boards and everyone gathered around to look at the plans.

  Colobi walked on, heading toward a large red barn. As Anza followed, Colobi said, "You may be surprised to find that the healer resides in such humble surroundings. There are those among us who would prefer to build a temple for his comfort; he insists, however, that we use our labor for the good of the many rather than the good of the one. Priority must be given to building homes for the refugees."

  As they approached the broad double doors of the barn, faces peeked out through small windows. The doors opened slowly as they neared.

  Within the barn, it was warm as springtime. The room was full of candles that lined the walls and sat along the rafters. They flickered from the breeze of the opening door.

  Near the rear of the barn there was a large pedestal built of bales of hay covered with a bleached canvas that might have once served as the sail of a ship. The only people in the room were a score of young women Colobi's age. All wore white robes and knelt around the canvas platform, their heads bowed, as if praying to some unseen deity.

  Colobi came to a halt before the platform. She grasped Anza's right hand and looked into her eyes.

  "You haven't said a word since I pulled you out of the river," she said. "I know this is overwhelming. You'll soon understand. You'll be one of us."

  As Colobi spoke, the hairs on the back of Anza's neck began to rise. She detected a hint of ozone in the air, the same odor that she'd smelled when Jandra had struck her bracelet against the stone to turn them invisible. Fixing her gaze upon the canvas platform, she couldn't help but sense that there was some giant entity before her, despite the testimony of her own eyes that she was looking at empty air. Her pulse quickened and her fingers fell to the steel tomahawks at her hips.

  "You're nervous," said Colobi, placing her fingers on her arm. "There's no need for fear. Everything will be made apparent when the healer arrives."

  In response to these words, the air on the platform began to shimmer. Suddenly, a huge dome of sparks covered the canvas, a million small flares bursting into existence before fading almost instantly. In their wake, a sun-dragon was revealed sitting upon the platform.

  Unlike most sun-dragons, this one possessed scales of pure black, as smooth and dark as the surface of a lake on a moonless, windless night. His eyes were green as jade as he peered at Anza. A silver halo hovered a few inches above his forehead, glowing faintly.

  The sun-dragon looked toward Colobi and said, "Faithful one, you need not wait for my arrival. In truth, I am with you always."

  As one, the kneeling women help up their arms, with outstretched palms, and said in a single voice, "Welcome, oh merciful healer!"

  Anza let the quilt that warmed her slip to the ground, revealing the tomahawks in her grasp. She only knew of one sun-dragon with a black hide. But… he was dead. Jandra said Bitterwood had killed him. This couldn't possibly be the Murder God, could it?

  As if in answer, the chorus of women spoke again. "Hail, oh beloved Blasphet!"

  CHAPTER NINETEEN:

  BRAIN-DAMAGED FREAK WITH A VIOLENT STREAK

  THREE HEARTBEATS.

  Beat one: Anza inhaled deeply as she pushed all distractions from her mind. The ice in her bones, the weakness of her legs, and the pain of the burn mark on her breast were blocked out as she twirled the twin steel tomahawks around her fingers.

  Beat two: Her eyes narrowed, turning the world into a tunnel. At the end of that tunnel was Blasphet's throat. His trachea slid beneath the smooth onyx scales of his neck. His jugular vein, thick as a man's thumb, would run directly beside this.

  Beat three: Anza danced forward, swinging both tomahawks around in a graceful arc. Using the full momentum of her body, she released the left tomahawk, holding the right in reserve in case she needed a second shot. She wouldn't. The small, finely balanced hatchet spun almost lazily through the air in her hyper-aware state. The axe edge hit Blasphet's hide and sank into it.

  His serpentine neck jerked as blood gushed from the wound.

  Anza knew she'd just killed Blasphet. Unfortunately, it might take the giant beast a moment before he'd lost enough blood to realize it.

  She stood before him, blinking off her tunnel vision, cataloging the gauntlet of potential dangers around her. The Sisters of the Serpent were numerous, but none were armed, and they looked stunned by Anza's action.

  Behind Blasphet, there was a sky-dragon who glowered at her. This dragon, too, was unarmed but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat. The dragon spread its wings, revealing diamond studs within the folds of skin there. As he moved, silvery dust fell from his fore-talons. Anza blinked. In the span of that blink, the sky-dragon vanished.

  She'd spared as much time as she could surveying the room. She was ready to make her retreat, once she dodged Blasphet's counter attack. She focused on the Murder God, anticipating that his huge jaws would be shooting toward her any second.

  Instead, Blasphet reared up, his head nearly brushing the high rafters of the barn. He didn't look angry or frightened. Instead, he gazed at her with eyes filled with pity. His fore-talon moved to his throat and pulled the tomahawk free, letting it drop. Splashes of red dappled the canvas he stood upon.

  Whatever the cause of the delay, Anza decided to exploit it. She spun, bolting for the door. She didn't make it even a yard before Colobi jumped on her back. She hit the ground hard as Colobi fell on top of her. The white-robed woman straddled Anza's hips, pinning her.

  "Defiler!" Colobi shrieked as she closed her hands around Anza's windpipe. "This is how you repay our kindness?" She squeezed with all her might.

  The battle gears in Anza's mind clicked forward a notch. Colobi's choking attack was a reasonable one for unarmed combat. Under the present battle conditions, however, it possessed a rather serious flaw. Anza swung her remaining tomahawk, driving the blade several inches into Colobi's forehead. The young woman's eyes rolled upward until only white showed, and she fell.

  Anza pushed the corpse aside, freeing her tomahawk with a slurp. She rolled to her hands and knees and looked up.

  If not for her ordeal in the river, she might have stood a chance. The remaining Sisters of the Serpent fell upon her like a wave. Anza swung her hatchet, but it was too late. A trio of women caught her arm, pressing it down, tearing the tomahawk loose. Another woman wrapped her arms around Anza's waist and pushed her once more to the ground. A dozen hands grabbed her legs. More hands grasped her right arm, pinning that limb to the s
traw-covered floor.

  Anza arched her back, wriggling, trying to kick free, but for every hand she knocked loose, four more seized her. In seconds she was pinned, immobile, spread-eagle on the ground as the dark form of Blasphet loomed above her.

  Blasphet had his fore-talon pressed against his throat. When he pulled his gore-wet claws away, blood no longer squirted from the wound. The blood on his claws and neck faded, absorbed into his dark hide. The wound was no longer visible.

  The black beast stared at Anza, his brow furrowed.

  He ran his claws along his chest. The scales of his breast were malformed, no doubt due to the poisons that ran within his blood. The scales were bunched up, looking more like fat ticks than the smooth overlapping plates of a serpent. He plucked one of the scale polyps free and handed it to the woman who sat on Anza's chest.

  "Feed this to her," he said.

  Anza clenched her jaws. One sister pinched her nose shut. Another clawed at Anza's lips, sinking her nails into the gums beneath. Anza fought the pressure until she trembled, but it was of no use. Slowly, her jaws were pried open. One of her own knives was placed between her teeth to keep them from closing. A woman's fingers flickered against her tongue, pushing the seed-like scale toward the back of her throat.

  A jug carried by one of the women was held over her head. A stream of water poured into her open mouth. Suddenly the knife was pulled free and her jaws were forced shut. She closed her eyes, fighting to the urge to breathe. Against her will, Anza swallowed.

  The women released her mouth. When she opened her eyes, Blasphet no longer loomed above her. The black dragon leaned over Colobi's fallen form, ignoring Anza for the moment.