She drew back her head on her long neck and breathed a torrent of fire on the mage. Nothing could withstand her breath, not even another dragon. Yet when her fiery breath finally petered out, the burning woman was still there, unscathed.
For the first time in centuries, Itzpapalotl felt true fear.
Rayan Zar Davi stepped inside the chamber, her pulwar held mockingly low, a self-satisfied smile on her face as she considered the occupants. Her soldiers fanned out behind her, only a handful left alive now, but others would replace them soon enough. To her very great surprise, Muluc was among those who had accompanied her into the city, his elven longsword bloody. The city was hers. Victory was hers.
The injured young mage placed herself before Marshal and Carter, while Wyn Renna, her own saber held ready, moved to face Rayan with the grace of a master fencer. But it was an act, Rayan knew. The woman had purposely moved to block Rayan's view of something on the table behind her.
"What are you hiding, elf?" she asked, her voice dripping with scorn.
Wyn Renna wore a bulky tactical vest, no doubt covering body armor. Rayan snorted in derision. The only armor that mattered in this room was the coat she herself wore; that was the only armor here that could stop a hexed blade. Rayan stepped to the side to see a golden egg a foot tall before Wyn Renna moved in front of her again, blocking her view.
But Rayan had clearly seen an egg, a golden egg.
Rayan gasped in sudden understanding. A dragon egg! Her eyes grew wide, and she stared in wonder at Wyn Renna. "How?"
"You'll die before you touch it," Wyn Renna said and then charged, coming at Rayan with a flurry of attacks.
She was only vaguely aware as Muluc attacked the other mage, the one with the bandaged head.
They fought, dueling one another as the soldiers watched. Their blades flashed and fell and cut and thrust. Her attacks were met by Wyn Renna’s saber and countered with lightning-fast ripostes and countercuts. Wyn Renna was good, every bit as good as the stories had said she was when she had spent all those years pretending to be Constance Morgan, the famed leader of the Brujas Fantasmas. But Rayan had perfected her own swordcraft in the constant internecine wars of her once-home in the Registan desert. It was true that the elf had the advantage in that she was free to try and kill Rayan while Rayan had to capture her, but Rayan had the coat.
She purposely opened herself up, appearing to have left herself exposed. Wyn Renna took the bait, darting in to thrust at Rayan's chest.
Just as Rayan had known it would, Wyn Renna's blade scraped along the dragon scales, unable to find purchase, and Rayan closed in, hammering Wyn Renna in the side of her head with the jeweled pommel of her pulwar, knocking her senseless.
The elf fell. Rayan had captured the prize, the Haanal X’ib.
"No!" screamed the young female mage with the head injury. She raced at Rayan, clumsily trying to slash at her with her saber. Behind her, Rayan noted with derision the corpse of that ambitious fool Muluc. Bit off more than he could chew with this one.
But Rayan wasn’t Muluc. She beat the injured woman’s blow aside with contemptuous ease and then backhanded her in the face with her free hand, knocking her to the ground. The woman was brave and tried to rise but only made it to her knees, which was as fitting a place to die as any other.
"You, too, can keep your heart."
Rayan drew back her pulwar, intent on driving it through her throat, but just as she struck, a figure darted between them. The impact of her blade driving through Duncan Marshal's frail body came as a surprise to Rayan. The old man, little more than skin draped over bones, stood between her and the mage, her pulwar through his chest, a look of self-satisfied spite on his features.
Idiot!
She yanked her blade free, and the old man fell dead.
At the sound of a zipper opening, Rayan turned to face Wyn Renna. Rayan froze. The elf woman had unzipped her tactical vest, revealing the improvised suicide vest she wore beneath it, one holding a half dozen soup-can-shaped grenades. Thermite grenades, she realized in sudden, horrified understanding—all slaved to a single pin. The elf glared hatred at her, rising on unsteady feet to face Rayan.
"Don't, you fool!" Rayan said, rushing to stop her.
But Wyn Renna wasn't trying to run away. She pulled the pin and launched herself at Rayan.
The vest detonated with a blinding flash. Only Rayan's shade saved her, throwing her back and away from the inferno.
Chapter 50
Angie cast spell after spell at the dragon: bolts of lightning, flame tornadoes, fireballs, tempests that buffeted the mighty creature. All the while, the power sang within her, urging her to do more, to cast even more wonderful spells. Nothing could stop her. Not this dragon, not Lodin, nothing. She was all-powerful. As she battled the dragon, she was aware of thousands of nearby life forms, both friend and foe. What difference to one such as she? With as much effort as taking a breath, she could take all their lives and use their mana to burn the dragon to a cinder.
NO, SOURCE MAGE, the Shade King urged. NOT THAT PATH. NOT YOU TOO.
But the Shade King was not her equal. It was a tool to be used. She was all that mattered, all that ever would matter.
A small part of her remembered the faces of her parents, her brother, Char, and Tec, but she forced those memories down, recognizing them for weakness. She unleashed fire and death on the dragon, wrapping bands of white-hot flame around its wings, crushing it, sending it falling to the earth.
She reveled in her power.
Encased in fire, she descended to the ground to finish the dragon and complete her ascendancy.
When Rayan rose once more, she saw that no one would ever use the blood of Wyn Renna for anything. The elf changeling was gone. All that remained was a blackened, smoking husk.
Rayan had failed.
But then she turned and faced the egg. Monique Carter, the elderly black woman who had once led the Norteno nation, had dragged the injured young mage away and was trying to shield her even now, using her own body, holding the mage's saber in both hands, hands that shook.
"It won't work for you," Rayan said gently. "Even if you were a mage, which you're not, hexed weapons can't hurt me anymore."
"Go to hell, you monster," Carter said, her voice quivering.
"In time, perhaps." She pointed at the egg with her pulwar. "That treasure might yet save my life. Where did it come from?"
Carter's startled gaze was the only warning Rayan had before the massive all-black were-jaguar launched himself at her soldiers, scattering them. The black were-jaguar tore them apart in splashes of blood. The survivors fled, and the were-jaguar snarled at her.
"Come, Jaguar Knight," she taunted, preparing her most powerful spells. "One last dance after all."
Tec launched himself at his hated foe, Rayan Zar Davi. A magical red tendril wrapped around him, arresting his attack and sending him flying back through the air to crash through a wall, shattering it. Debris and dust settled around him in his were-jaguar form as he rose, snarling hatred, and came at her again. Again, she caught him in a ribbon of blood and again sent him flying through another wall. Once more he rose and attacked. She sent clouds of biting blood insects against him. He ignored them, reaching her this time. He lashed out at her with his huge claws, intent on ripping her head from her body. Her shade protected her, blocking his attack, and she lashed at him with her pulwar, cutting huge gashes in his black fur. Hot blood coursed down his body, and he felt himself weakening. Her shade. He couldn't penetrate her shade.
He snarled and launched himself again. This time she cast Shutter, transporting herself just behind him and cutting into his back and spine with her sword. Tec fell, unable to move his legs anymore. As a red fog settled over his vision, he began to change back into a man again.
He was dying.
As his vision grew dim, he saw Rayan approach the golden egg. He had failed. After all these years, he had failed his one chance to kill her. Now she had the eg
g, the last dragon egg.
Chapter 51
On bare feet, Angie settled to the ground next to the dying dragon. The dragon's body was savaged, burned and scorched. Her wings were charred ruins of scale, sinew, and bone. The dragon's breath rasped and wheezed with fluid. Yet the hatred in her serpentine eyes remained strong as she glared at Angie.
The fire that had covered Angie vanished, winking out of existence, leaving her unscathed without even a singed hair. Tendrils of smoke rose from her body as she stepped closer to the dying dragon, clothed only in unimaginable power. She was the most powerful being on the planet. What have I become?
"What ... what are you?" Itzpapalotl rasped, parroting Angie's thoughts.
"Death, I suppose."
Smoke rose from the dragon's nostrils. One of its mighty horns had melted away, leaving only a smoldering stump of bone. The stench was oddly invigorating, and the sound that came from the dragon's ruined throat resembled a chuckle. "I understand now," the dragon rumbled, smoke drifting from her throat. "The prophesy never referred to Quetzalcoatl but … another feathered serpent. The egg, it all seems so … clear now." Again came the strange laughter-like noise.
"Sure," Angie said. "Why not?" She had no idea what the dragon was talking about, but it didn’t matter.
"For a thousand years, your kind worshipped me as a god."
"You're no god," Angie said softly.
"No. And now, I … I never will be."
"No, but I will."
Angie placed her hand on the dragon's head, just below one of her eyes, and prepared to take her life force. What would she become with a dragon’s life force?
Somehow Tec rose, even though his legs wouldn’t hold him. He managed only two or three shaky steps, but it was just enough. As Rayan bent over the golden egg, Tec slammed into her from behind. Her shade protected her again, but off balance, she fell forward, knocking the egg from the table. As the egg fell, Tec threw himself under it, catching it. As his back hit the floor, he felt the egg crack. No!
Rayan rose, fury in her face as she advanced on him, her pulwar in hand. "You just won't die, will you?"
"Soon enough ... I imagine." He held the egg against his chest.
His vision was going dim as Rowan Seagrave burst into the chamber, holding the obsidian-edged macahuitl with both hands. Rayan turned, tried to parry Rowan's attack, but Rowan wasn't a swordfighter, wasn't trying to fence Rayan. Instead, he used all his considerable werewolf strength to swing a giant two-handed bat at her. He smashed her hexed pulwar aside, and the razor-sharp edges of the obsidian-lined macahuitl tore through Rayan’s neck—just above the collar of her jacket. Rowan spun with the effort, almost falling over.
Rayan's head flew away to thud and roll across the floor.
Her body remained upright for another few moments, her silk scarves drenched in blood. Then it toppled as if pushed.
"That's for my brother Lewis, you bitch," Rowan said in a cold voice.
And then the egg cracked open, soaking Tec in its fluid. Tec's dragon-mark flared into life as he caught the baby dragon, a golden serpent with wings, covered in feathers.
It was several moments before he realized his injuries were gone, miraculously healed by the fluid within the egg.
The baby dragon cried out.
Just before Angie could take the dragon’s life force, she felt the dragon-mark on her palm throb with energy and stumbled back, falling and landing on her rump, pulling her palm to her chest. She gasped in wonder, feeling the birth of another dragon just as the life slipped away from this one. Then she stared at her wrist. Her family watch was gone, melted. But the metal had scorched the skin, leaving only the backward imprint of the words burned into her like a brand: Pflicht, Familie, Liebe—Duty, Family, Love.
She wasn't a god. No matter how powerful her source magic made her, no matter the bonding with the Shade King, she wasn't a god.
She was a woman.
A part of this new Awakened World, not above it.
YES, the Shade King whispered. BE STRONG, ANGELA. BE STRONG ENOUGH TO LET THE POWER GO.
And she did, releasing it all at once, becoming Angie Ritter once again.
It was enough.
Erin fired her anti-materiel rifle at another of the Aztalan soldiers, cutting his torso in half. She reached for another bullet and realized she was out. At least a platoon of enemy soldiers was getting ready to surge forward and kill Casey.
She cried out in anguish, looking about for another weapon.
There was nothing.
And then two things happened at almost the exact same moment.
Horses burst out of the northern woods—No, not horses, she realized, centaurs—each wearing a vest of scaled armor and carrying a lance. And other creatures burst out of the woods as well: a pride of lions, hundreds of elven warriors, and thousands of other Fey of all kind, including the distinctive beast form of Ephix Lamia as she ran on all fours behind the centaurs.
The Fresno Fey had come after all.
The Aztalan soldiers turned to face their rear just as the centaurs hit them, skewering them on their lances. Ephix Lamia threw herself against the enemy, and even from here, Erin could hear their screams. More Fey appeared, many mounted on horseback, others charging on foot. She saw a ten-foot-tall troll cleave an Aztalan soldier from head to crotch with a massive two-handed ax. Others fired rifles and used bow and arrow with uncanny ability. The Aztalan forces on the north side of the city, at least several brigades, had been caught unprepared, trapped between the Fey and the city walls. Now the Sanwa City defenders fired on the Aztalan soldiers as they were driven against the wall by the attacking Fey.
It was a slaughter.
The second unexpected thing was the sudden arrival of three armored vehicles from the east. The vehicles roared up behind the Aztalan soldiers preparing to assault the crashed helicopter and began firing on them from behind with their turret-mounted guns and grenade launchers, ripping them apart. Erin stared in wonder: they were the armored vehicles from Tec's bunker.
"Are you seeing this?" Casey asked over the radio.
Erin keyed her microphone. "Yes ... but who?"
As the Aztalan soldiers broke and fled, the driver's door of the lead vehicle opened, and a withered old man stuck his head out, hooting with glee and shaking his fist at the retreating enemy. It was the We Clan elder, she realized—what was his name? Earl. At that moment, she'd have French-kissed that gap-toothed old man.
Cheers rose in the city as the enemy broke and fled.
"The dragon's dead," Jay's voice broke over the radio. "I can't believe it, but Angie killed the dragon."
She keyed her radio. "Are ... are you sure?"
"I'm on the southern wall and looking at the dragon's carcass."
"Angie?"
"Well … butt-naked but alive," Jay said in wonder. "She's walking back to the city now. Don't worry. The Azzies are all running from her in terror. Don’t blame them."
Rowan's voice came over the air. "Rayan Zar Davi is dead. So are Wyn Renna and Marshal, but we're alive."
"How's Tavi?" Jay asked in fear.
"She's fine," Rowan answered. He was silent for a few moments and then keyed his radio once more, seeming at a loss for words. "And ... and there's a ...well, a baby dragon. We have a baby dragon."
"A what?" Casey asked.
Erin's smile was euphoric. They weren't going to die today after all. Erin wiped the tears of joy from her face.
Epilogue
13 January 2054, 18:00 p.m.
The Bunker atop Mount Laguna
Five months after the battle of Sanwa City
Angie sat atop a large wooden chair at the far end of the aircraft hangar upon a raised wooden platform that placed her high above the assembled crowd. Tec, as had become his norm, stood at her side, holding Lodin's spear for her. The golden-winged serpent—neither she nor Tec had the arrogance to name the dragon—sat upon her lap, resting its small horned head on her knee as i
t watched the crowd. Is it a he or a she? she wondered.
The chair she sat upon had been handcrafted by We Clan artisans with remarkable skill and was more akin to a throne. She had insisted it was not a throne, merely a chair, and the others had nodded in agreement…and immediately started calling it her throne. She had let it go, particularly after Tec and Sandman had convinced her that the new Angel of Mount Laguna needed a proper chair and a proper audience chamber in which to greet visitors.
And today was such a day. Hundreds of people gathered in the spacious chamber—all keeping away from the now-healed griffin Moonwing. Moonwing came and went as he pleased through the open hangar doors. Today, he was curious and watched the crowd, grooming his feathers.
She wore a silver gown, handcrafted by elven weavers, a gift of Prince Kilyn Star-Sword. He'd be King Kilyn Star-Sword soon, and she was expected at the coronation in New Coronado. Upon her forehead, she wore a small silver circlet with a single ruby glistening in it—a gift from Ephix Lamia. Not a crown, just a circlet, and she only wore it because the others insisted—and because Ephix was one of her visitors today, and to refuse to wear it in her presence would just have been rude.
Most of the crowd were members of the We Clan, but there were also a dozen new mage students as well as a delegation of Fresno Fey who had accompanied Ephix. Jay and Tavi stood off to the side, Jay with his arm around Tavi's waist, her belly already showing the swell of the new baby. Tavi had left the Brujas Fantasmas, taking service as Angie's new fight master. They both lived in the bunker with her and the students. The other Seagraves lived nearby in a log cabin on the mountain but separate from the settlement atop the mountain. Rowan was retired, at least according to Rowan, and Erin now spoke for her brothers. Every month, while the moon was full, Jay and his family disappeared into the wilderness, moving as far as possible from people but never so far that Jay couldn't be back with his new wife after the full moon.
The Awakened World Boxed Set Page 93