Lynch’s stance hardened. ‘I’d rather watch this whole place burn than see it fall to the likes of you and your brethren,’ the prentice snarled through his lacquered mask.
Joss looked to Thrall in the dim hope that some small shred of Sur Blaek still remained. ‘You said he was a monstrous little creature.’
‘He is,’ Thrall replied. ‘My creature.’
Lynch emitted a hollow laugh, which Joss ignored. ‘And the Order of Tooth and Claw?’ he asked. Drake and Hero looked at him with confusion as Thrall angled his head to the side.
‘A lie. Told to keep you occupied as I went about my true agenda. A lie you all too eagerly believed.’
There was no ignoring Lynch’s laughter now. It rang out loud and loathsome, and was shared with two more cloaked figures whose size gave them away as the Brute and the Newt. They grabbed Joss in a headlock, while another set of followers seized Joss’s brethren, forcing all the prentices to watch as Thrall took rough hold of Rayner and threw him across the room. His lordship landed on his back with a pained yelp beside the open balcony doors.
‘You want the lordship? Have it!’ Rayner cried. ‘I’ll go away! Far away! You’ll never see or hear from me again, I swear!’
‘You think this is about your petty grab for power?’
‘Isn’t it?’ Rayner looked truly puzzled, as if it were impossible to be motivated by anything else.
‘In a way,’ Thrall conceded. ‘You blackened your soul with every lie, every treachery, every murder, never knowing that all your scheming only drew you closer to my flame. You thought yourself a master, Rayner, when all you ever were was a beast being fatted for slaughter. I would pity you if you were worthy of it. And if I had any pity to spare.’
Rayner was shaking uncontrollably now, quickly coming undone. ‘Please!’ he said, blubbering. ‘Please! I didn’t mean for it all to turn out like this! The lordship was mine by right! But Haven was never going to step down! And Cloudshadow was growing too suspicious! I only did what I had to do.’
Thrall brought his face within an inch of Rayner’s. ‘As do I,’ he said, grabbing his lordship by the ankle and dragging him out onto the balcony, with Lynch and the other cloaked figures hauling Joss and his brethren along behind. And though the prentices struggled against their captors, they were halted dead in their tracks by the sight that awaited them outside.
The crimson fires had spread across the fortress grounds and had formed the shape of an inverted crown, its central point leading right to the foot of the Lord’s Keep. All the cloaked figures that hadn’t stormed through the secret passageway were now standing in strict formation around the glowing red crown, chanting in the same arcane tongue that had haunted Joss from the Ghost City of Vaal all the way to the sunken ruins of Daheed.
With every word they recited, the flames grew taller. Brighter. Hotter. The black clouds overhead became a swirling vortex as Thrall heaved Rayner over the handrail to dangle him from the balcony. His lordship cried out incoherently, swinging back and forth above the red flames that leapt up to lick his brow.
‘Let this serve as tribute to His Highness, He Who Waits Beyond the Veil!’ Thrall shouted, his voice resounding across the fortress grounds. ‘May he send us his strength, that we might hasten his arrival! May the darkness take us!’
‘May the darkness take us all!’ the cloaked figures responded, with Lynch the loudest of them, right beside Joss’s ear. Rayner was screaming uncontrollably, his death only seconds away, untold disaster following directly behind it. Unsure of what else to do, unable to break free of the Brute and the Newt, Joss drew breath to shout.
‘WAIT!’
Thrall paused. Rayner was still swaying in his grasp as the masked man stole a glance at Joss from over his feather-cloaked shoulder. ‘What is it, Sarif?’
Joss blinked. This was as far as his plan had reached. He hadn’t thought Thrall might actually stop and listen to him. But now that he had his enemy’s attention, he had to use it to his full advantage, if only to keep him talking.
‘The crown – that’s the Crest of the Unhallowed, isn’t it?’
‘Some call it that,’ Thrall said.
‘The sigil of the Shadow God,’ Joss went on, still straining against the grip that held him tight. And to his surprise, Thrall laughed.
‘The Shadow God,’ he repeated the name as if it were a punchline, distracted enough to haul Rayner back over the handrail and dump him on the balcony. ‘A lurid name used by those who don’t truly comprehend the power they serve.’
‘Like Ichor and his men?’
Thrall paused, as if Joss had spoken of a stranger. But Admiral Ichor had been Thrall’s foremost servant back in Daheed. There was no way he wouldn’t remember him. Unless what Thrall had said a moment ago implied far more than what Joss dared to believe.
‘You … you’re not the same Thrall – are you?’ he said. ‘You say you’re one of many. That means there’s more than one man who wears your mask.’
‘A court,’ this Thrall said.
‘A court?’ Joss gasped, and the masked man offered the barest of nods. Joss steadied himself against the brunt of the revelation. ‘A court that we’ve defeated at every turn,’ he boldly declared.
‘True,’ Thrall conceded. ‘You and your young companions have twice now proved yourselves a hindrance to our efforts.’
‘So then why help us?’ Joss asked, his brethren quick to lend him their voices.
‘Why train us?’ asked Drake, while Hero twisted in her captor’s grasp to add, ‘Why befriend us? And encourage us?’
‘Many reasons,’ Thrall said, sounding the most like Sur Blaek since his transformation. ‘Because it served us well to play the parts of stalwart paladeros and loyal prentices and reliable fieldservs while we bided our time, waiting to strike. Because it gave me the chance to gauge your abilities. And because it proved to me that you’re not the swaggering champions you imagine yourselves to be. Just children, caught up in matters you could never truly comprehend.’
‘Comprehend them or not, we stopped you before,’ Joss told him. ‘And we’ll stop you again.’
Again, Thrall laughed. Darker this time. ‘Your triumphs were merely the failings of lesser emissaries. You’ll find this time to be quite different. Our master may yet have to wait for his glorious arrival. But a vast army will be awaiting his command when he finally shows us his true face. And all that’s required for that is a payment to be made.’
Thrall turned his stony visage on Rayner.
The lord, having been quietly working away at the straps on his boot, pulled out a small flick-knife he had hidden there. ‘Die, you treacherous fiend!’ Rayner growled, leaping at Thrall, only to shriek as the masked man grabbed his wrist in one gloved hand and squeezed tight.
The knife clinked onto the ground, useless.
‘My sentiments exactly,’ Thrall replied, and with one fluid motion he tossed Rayner off the balcony. Joss, Drake and Hero watched his lordship tumble into the flames, his screams drowned out by the fire as it blazed upward, lancing the vortex that the swirling clouds had formed. An explosion boomed, so loud it left the world in silence. And then, from the vortex emerged a pair of wings.
Black and leathery and riddled with red veins, the wings stretched further than those of any living creature Joss had ever seen, carrying a creature that darkened even the night itself. It had the neck of a brachiosaur and a spinosaur’s tail, its eyes glowing redder than the fires below as it snorted flames from its flaring nostrils.
Joss’s mind leapt to the Stitched Witch, dismissed by Thrall as a lesser emissary but powerful enough to have enchanted a monster’s bones to act as her flying mount. This creature put that ghastly wretch to shame. Because this was no ensorcelled skeleton. This was flesh and blood, scale and fire, fang and fury.
This creature was a dragon. Whole and alive.
And it wasn’t alone.
At its back emerged another of its kind, as large as the first. And th
en another, and another, and another. A whole winged horde descended from the tear in the sky, so much like the vortex that had destroyed Daheed, leaving Joss unsure of what exactly he should be most afraid of, but knowing one thing for certain.
This wasn’t about his future as a paladero. This wasn’t about imprisonment or treason or any petty mortal squabble.
This was the end of the world. And it was flying towards them all with fire in its belly and destruction in its heart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
A PATCH OF BLACKENED EARTH
‘AND so it begins,’ Thrall intoned as he stared up at the dragon horde, their snarls and cries as harsh as scraping metal. ‘First his forces, and then His Highness himself. First the Kingdom of Ai. Then the world.’
Despair welled up inside Joss like floodwaters threatening to burst a dam. There was no more room to fight. Nowhere to run. No way out. Doom had been stalking him all his life, ever since he’d escaped the destruction of Daheed, and it had come again to claim what it was owed. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
But then, beneath the beating of the dragon’s wings and over the sound of their roars, a high-pitched whine cut through the air. It was distant at first but growing closer by the second, approaching the Lord’s Keep from below. In mere moments it would be within reach of the balcony, giving Joss and his brethren a short window of time in which to act. He shot Drake and Hero a look. They were staring back at him, both of them having heard the same thing, both of them having come to the same conclusion.
Joss threw back his head. Hard. Smashed the Brute’s mask. Used the surprise of his attack to wrench himself out of the Newt’s grip. Drake and Hero did the same, biting and hitting and pulling free, and together they ran for the balcony’s railing.
‘Stop them!’ they heard Thrall shout. Lynch rushed for them but proved too slow as Joss and his brethren launched themselves over the railing and into the burning night. There was a moment of stillness when the only noise came from the roaring fire and the dragons circling overhead. And then the Fat Lot of Good bobbed up into the sky, carrying its newly acquired passengers to safety. Thrall and Lynch and the rest of the cloaked figures could only watch as Joss, Drake and Hero sailed away.
‘Sorry to be so tardy,’ Zeke said, eyes locked on the windshield as the airwagon skimmed the blaze spreading through the grounds of Blade’s Edge Acres, then rocketed past the fortress walls. ‘But you may have noticed that things have taken a sudden and frankly insane turn for the worse.’
‘We noticed,’ Hero replied, deadpan.
‘Your timing couldn’t have been better,’ Drake told him. ‘Though you may want to fly low to avoid the attention of those, uh –’ he faltered, unable to say the word.
‘Dragons?’ Zeke offered. ‘Don’t worry; I’ve gotten pretty used to flying this tub so that nobody’s the wiser. Even if that nobody happens to be a whole horde of enormous and supposedly extinct creatures that have somehow sprung back to life in order to menace us all.’
Joss sidestepped Zeke and took a spot behind the control panel. ‘Can you get us to the stables? We can’t leave the animals behind.’
‘I have good news and bad news,’ Zeke said. ‘The bad news is that the stables have burned down. The good news? Have a peek below deck.’
Joss and the others threw open the stowage doors to see their mounts staring back at them.
‘Azof!’ Joss cried with relief, rushing to embrace his trusty raptor. The thunder lizard chittered as it nuzzled Joss’s ear, his breath hot and comforting. Hero was likewise hugging Callie tight while Drake took Pietro’s head in his hands and held the big old bear close.
‘Part of the reason that I’m late,’ Zeke called out. ‘The moment Edgar and I realised what was happening, we hustled to get the animals out safely.’
‘Edgar!’ Joss exclaimed, leaving Azof long enough to pop back up onto the deck and ask, ‘Where’s Edgar?’
‘We’re on our way to meet him now,’ Zeke said, hands still plastered to the ship’s controls. ‘Don’t worry; the whole world may be taking a nosedive straight into Shoda’s Pits, but we’re not beaten yet!’
He fixed Joss with another of his winning grins, and for the first time in a long time it actually made Joss happy to see it, as if simply believing they could overcome all the madness unfolding around them was enough to make it true. That spark of hope was quickly quelled, however, as a long black shadow fell over them.
‘Muck!’ Drake whispered, emerging from below deck to stare at the dragon flying overhead. How something so enormous could remain in the air struck Joss as a complete mystery, but there it hung regardless, gliding through the night on boundless ebony wings.
‘Don’t worry – I don’t think it sees us …’ said Zeke, his voice hushed despite his reassurances. But even though he clearly had no idea if that was true, the dragon turned all the same, and circled back towards the Lord’s Keep to join the rest of its horde.
The beasts looked uninterested in giving pursuit, much as a tyrannosaur wouldn’t bother chasing a flea. Still, the prentices kept deathly quiet as Zeke flew them out into the ranges, where he brought them in for a landing on the peak of Mount Swordpoint, not far from where Rowan’s funeral pyre had been.
Nothing was left of it but a black mark on the ground and a few pieces of ash. But while Rowan’s pyre was now only the shadow of a memory, the crimson fires consuming Blade’s Edge Acres were bright and blazing. They lit up the horizon like an early sunrise, painting the surrounding forests in shimmering red light. Watching them burn, Joss considered the few meagre possessions he had in the world. Qorza’s Scryer. His mother’s journal. Her work on the Rakashi Revelations. All gone now, taken by the flames. The thought alone made Joss slump in defeat.
But whatever he had lost was nothing compared to Hero. Stepping free of the Fat Lot of Good, she walked first to Rowan’s patch of blackened earth, then turned to study the distant fires. Her eyebrows crinkled into a mass of furious lines. Her mouth twisted. And she let out a scream.
‘That treacherous! Two-faced! Deceitful! Despicable! Murderous! MONSTER!’ she howled, kicking up clouds of dirt with every word. ‘I am such a colossal, stupendous dolt! I can’t believe I ever trusted him!’
Drake, having drifted to her side while she’d been inspecting the ashes, now offered a consolatory hand on her shoulder. ‘We all trusted him,’ he said gently.
Joss watched them for a moment, wondering if there was anything he could say or do to help, when he spotted three sets of wings flapping out in the darkness. They were dimly illuminated by the flames, flashing red among the stony clouds, and for a moment Joss panicked that Thrall had sent his dragons after them. But as they drew closer Joss saw how small they were, and his fear eased.
It wasn’t an enemy approaching.
It was Edgar.
The pale-haired boy was hunched in Nor’Wester’s saddle, the giant pterosaur leading a tight formation that included Xeff and Tempest. Somehow, with only a practice sword in his hand, the lad had brought all three lizard-birds under his command. Joss had never seen anything so impressive from a prentice so young.
‘Joss!’ Edgar shouted upon landing, then quickly added, ‘Miss Hero! Mister Drake!’
‘Edgar, how –?’ Joss paused, unsure of how to phrase the question burning in his brain. ‘Just – how?’
‘You mean, how did I get these fellas to follow me?’ Edgar asked, gesturing to the pterosaurs. Joss nodded, while Edgar stared at his bootstraps.
‘Well, I’ve been sort of … training. In my spare time. First on the flight rigs, and then with one of the practice swords after watching you run the drills.’
‘And that was enough to get all three of them to obey your commands?’ Joss couldn’t believe what he was hearing, not after all the trouble he’d had winning Tempest’s trust.
‘Apparently,’ Edgar shrugged, sheathing the practice blade to riffle through a pouch on his belt. ‘Though I think this may have h
elped as well.’ He pulled out three freeze-dried mice, and the pterosaurs snapped their beaks. Edgar tossed them their treat, then turned a pair of soulful eyes on Joss. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Truth be told, I wanted to spare myself the embarrassment if it all went skew-whiff.’
‘Edgar, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. If it weren’t for you, we would have been lost without our mounts tonight. That makes you a hero in my book.’
A bashful smile slid onto Edgar’s reddening face, which disappeared as his eyes lit up with realisation. ‘Oh! I almost forgot!’ he said, sticking his hand back into his pouch and pulling out a small bundle wrapped in an old rag. ‘I managed to grab these on the way out of the fortress. I thought you might want them.’
Curious, Joss unfolded the cloth. Qorza’s Scryer glinted in the moonlight, sitting on top of his mother’s journal. Just the sight of them struck him with such a jolt of emotion that he grabbed Edgar in a tight and wholehearted hug, squeezing an appreciative chuckle out of him.
‘Thank you, Edgar! Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much I owe you,’ Joss said, breaking away from the young steward to safely tuck both items into his coat pocket.
‘Don’t be silly, Joss. That’s what stewards are for, not to mention friends. But I’m wondering …’ Edgar replied, then turned to address everyone. ‘What do we do now?’
His question was met with considered silence.
‘Well, one thing’s for certain; we can’t stay here,’ Drake pointed out.
‘What about Tower Town?’ Zeke asked. ‘We could tell the Grandmaster Council what’s happened and plan our next move from there.’
‘Makes sense,’ Edgar nodded.
Joss wasn’t quite so quick to agree. ‘Rayner referred to Sur Blaek as “Corrigan”. And when she was visiting, Sur Verity said the same. Does that mean … ?’
‘He’s Grandmaster Eno Corrigan’s son,’ said Hero.
Joss’s head whirred, wondering how he’d never made the connection until now. ‘Thrall – I mean, Sur Blaek, or whatever we should call him – he said there were others. A whole court spread across the kingdom. And if he’s a member of that court, it would make sense that his father could be as well.’
The Edge of the World Page 23