by James Maxey
“Aren’t you the bold one?” asked the goddess. “Boldness can be dangerous here, dragon. You’ve discovered that things aren’t always as they seem. I’m curious… How did you break my sky? Mere collision shouldn’t have caused such chaos.”
“I don’t know,” said Hex. “I was flying when it parted of its own will.”
Jandra stepped around him, facing the goddess, raising her hand in a shy wave.
“Actually,” she said, “It was my will. I, um, sensed what it was made of at the last second. I didn’t mean to cause so much damage. I just lost control.”
The goddess narrowed her eyes. It was difficult to tell due to the scale of her gaze, but it seemed to Jandra that she was focusing on her helmet.
“That is an interesting toy, little one,” the goddess said.
“Perhaps we should sit down and talk about toys,” said Jandra.
“That could be amusing,” said the goddess, the corners of her mouth pulling into what Jandra assumed was a smile. It was difficult to read facial expressions when that face was too wide to take in all at once. “Very well. Meet me at my temple.”
After she spoke, her body broke apart, becoming a swarm of insects. Everyone coughed and covered their mouths as whirlwinds of iridescent green bottle-flies spun through the air for several minutes before dispersing.
Afterwards, Adam stood and guided Trisky as she rose. Everyone stared at him, as if expecting him to explain everything with one sentence.
“I told you,” he said, with a knowing smile. “The goddess.”
Chapter Sixteen:
Merciful
Pet sat up, mildly disoriented. He blinked his eyes, feeling as if he’d moved back in time a year to his old life of comfort and privilege. He was in room with a vaulted ceiling and a stained glass window similar to the ones that had adorned Chakthalla’s castle. He was sleeping on a large red silk cushion, the sort of cushions Chakthalla used to sleep upon with him curled up beside her. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he remembered he was in Shandrazel’s palace. As leader of the human diplomats, he had been granted these plush accommodations.
It was just after dawn judging from the soft light coloring the high windows. He was freezing, naked upon the cushions without an inch of blanket. The thick wool covers were all pulled off to the side of the cushion and wrapped around the slender figure of a sleeping woman. Pet stared at her for a long moment. Who was she? How had she gotten here?
She had her back to him. Her long brown hair was tousled from the night’s activities. Pet started to wake her, but his fingers stopped inches from her shoulders. He decided to let her sleep. He couldn’t recall her name, but the memory of meeting her was beginning to resolve from his mental fog. After the fiasco of the previous day’s talks, when the valkyries had stormed out, Pet had decided it was time to get out of the palace and run far, far away. He’d only made it as far as Richmond when he’d decided to fortify his resolve with an ale or two at the local tavern. A trio of musicians had been performing and the girl beside him had been their flute player. He recalled how she reminded him of Jandra in the color of her hair and the shape of her jaw. Yet, while Jandra was never impressed by anything Pet did or said, this girl had been quite enamored by Pet’s claims that he was an advisor to Shandrazel. He vaguely remembered inviting her back to his room, deciding he could put off fleeing the talks at least one more day. His memory grew cloudier after that. In truth, he hadn’t drunk enough to affect his memory, though it was possible she had—she’d accepted his generosity in buying rounds readily enough.
Pet suspected the real reason he couldn’t remember the further details of their encounter was that he’d simply found it boring. His true pleasure in seduction came in the early stages, when women were attracted by his smile, his wit, and his fine breeding. The sun-dragons who found it fashionable to keep humans as pets engaged in selective breeding to exaggerate certain desired traits. Pet’s lineage was that of a purebred, and he enjoyed being admired for his physical perfection.
Pet rose and went to the mirror. His body was a work of art; he knew that women enjoyed feasting upon him with their eyes, and more. It was the rare woman who could resist reaching out to touch his flowing golden locks, or feel his broad and well-formed shoulders. He was proud of his appearance, and took care with his diet and exercise to hone its finest details. His face possessed the same perfection. He paid attention to the smallest items that could detract from his appearance. He tried to maintain even numbers of eye lashes, for instance, and was ferocious in seeking and snipping any split ends in his hair. He possessed an array of fine brushes he used to clean and polish his teeth after every meal; he even washed his tongue three times daily to ensure the freshness of his breath.
Yet, staring into the reflection of his brilliant blue eyes, Pet wondered if all his outer perfection had left him tarnished on the inside. He’d witnessed purebred dogs. The prettier the breed, the crazier they tended to be. Had breeding him for physical perfection left him with a damaged personality? He frequently seduced women he didn’t truly desire. He only wanted Jandra, he suspected, because she didn’t want him. Was this perverse? To impress her, he’d repeatedly risked his life. This couldn’t be healthy. And as irrational as his behavior was around Jandra, his actions around dragons were becoming outright insane. Why had he yelled at Shadrazel over the whole bow thing? What did he care if men had bows? Perhaps his long years of subservience to sun-dragons had left him with a pent-up need to yell at one?
Or perhaps he could only summon passion when he was pretending to be someone else. He embraced the role of Bitterwood because the man was a hero. Pet was only, well, a pet. He was the exact philosophical opposite of a hero. If he were honest with the other humans at the talks, he would tell them what he truly believed: Humans would have better lives if they just worked harder to make dragons happy. Treat a dragon with flattery and obedience, as he had Chakthalla, and you would be rewarded with a life of ease.
Would he dare march into the Peace Hall and speak the truth to his fellow men?
He sighed, shaking his head. If the truth ever came out of him, they’d lynch him. Better to be praised for a lie than hung for the truth.
Feeling he’d had his fill of introspection for the day, he dressed himself quietly and crept from the room, careful not to wake his guest.
As Pet entered the Peace Hall for the third day of talks he noticed that the room seemed empty. None of the dozen sun-dragon representatives had arrived yet. Shandrazel, Charkon, and Androkom were huddled together in conference. A few of Pet’s fellow humans were gathered across the room, murmuring among themselves, looking worried. Only a handful of the biologian representatives were present, and there was no sign that the valkyries had returned.
Pet bypassed the humans and walked straight to Shandrazel. The giant dragon looked agitated. Before Pet reached the throne pedestal, a trio of earth-dragon guards stepped into his path, blocking him. They barked out, “Halt!”
Pet stopped, confused. “Are you new or something? I’m supposed to be here.”
“No humans are to approach the king!” one of the guards snarled, lowering his spear until the point was aimed at Pet’s neck. “Any closer and we’ll run you through!”
Fortunately, the commotion caught Shandrazel’s attention. “Lower your weapons!” he commanded. “I gave no such order!”
“I did,” Androkom said. The high biologian was less than half Shandrazel’s size, but somehow this morning he looked more composed and in charge than the young king. “I felt it would be a logical precaution.”
“A precaution against what?” Pet asked as the guards lowered their spears.
“It may be nothing,” said Shandrazel. “But, during the night—”
“During the night all of the sun-dragon representatives vanished,” Androkom said.
“What do you mean, vanished?” said Pet. The word “vanished” had taken on subtle shades of meaning ever since he met Jandra. Just because s
omething couldn’t be seen didn’t mean it wasn’t there anymore.
“No messages were left,” said Shandrazel. “And there were no signs of struggle. I’ve sent out members of the aerial guard to try to—”
“We believe it was the work of Blasphet,” said Androkom, sounding impatient. “And there are signs of struggle; there are seven dead earth-dragon guards.”
“I meant we’ve found no signs that any of the sun-dragons were harmed,” Shandrazel said.
“The guards died from puncture wounds crusted with black poison,” said Androkom.
“The sisters attacked again?” Pet asked. “Why didn’t anyone hear them? They were sort of loud last time.”
“No one heard anything,” said Shandrazel. “We still have more questions than answers.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Pet. “I mean, yes, they could sneak in during the night and kill some guards. But how could they kill a dozen sun-dragons without making a sound? What could they have done with the bodies? I don’t see how the Sisters of the Serpent could be responsible for this. Maybe the sun-dragons learned that Blasphet had assassins in the palace once more and fled?”
Charkon, the boss of Dragon Forge, cleared his throat.
“Sire,” the elderly dragon said. “Blasphet remains on the loose and you are unable to protect even your own castle. I regretfully must withdraw from these talks. My duty to my brethren at the forge must be my first concern. When you’ve established security in your kingdom, I’ll come back.”
“Charkon, you’re the wisest of earth-dragons,” said Shandrazel. “If Blasphet is planning some master scheme, I would find your presence at my side most helpful. Since Kanst died, my armies have been without a field commander. I’d like to offer you this position.”
“Sire?” Charkon said, his one eye opening wide. “No earth-dragon has ever held such rank. It is the birthright of sun-dragons to fill such roles.”
“Those are the old ways, Charkon. From this day forward, positions will be filled not by birthright, but by merit. No one can surpass you in experience and judgment, noble Charkon. You’ve fought in countless battles, and proven yourself a worthy leader as boss of the forge. I can think of no better candidate.”
Charkon raised a thick paw to scratch at a patch of flaky flesh just behind the scar-tumor where his eye had once been. He looked lost in thought.
“It will be my honor,” said Charkon. “I’ll start by increasing security here in the palace. You’ve allowed the gates to be too open. Humans are coming to and fro with impunity.”
“Humans who were invited to these talks” said Pet, bothered by Charkon’s tone. “However Blasphet’s assassins are getting in, I don’t think they’re walking through the front door. Beefing up security at the gates is pointless.”
“You would say that… human.” Charkon stepped close to Pet, his eye narrowed into a thin slit. “I’m not making accusations. But the ease with which the sisters pass suggests that they must have inside help.”
“And you’re saying that I—”
“I’m saying that your loyalties lie with humans, and the Sisters of the Serpent are human.”
“Charkon,” said Shandrazel. “Your theories have been noted. Your desire to improve security is reasonable. Do what you must; however, the free movement of the human diplomats must be allowed. I trust you’ll find an appropriate solution.”
Charkon punched his gauntleted fist to his steel breast plate with a loud clang. “At once, sire,” he said before marching from the room. The contingent of armored dragons who traveled with him followed. Once in the hall, Charkon began to bark out commands.
Shandrazel sighed wearily. He was still a young dragon, no older than Pet, but recent events were taking their toll. The skin around his eyes was puffy, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. He slouched on his golden cushion, and the feather-scales of his wings weren’t groomed as well as they should be. He sounded on the verge of despair as he said, “My father kept Blasphet imprisoned for over a decade. Why am I so powerless to halt his schemes?”
Pet searched for the words to console the sun-dragon. “It was your father who set Blasphet loose, and then gave him an army of construction workers to build the Free City. Blasphet could have a constructed a score of secret entrances with the resources at his command.”
“Perhaps,” said Shandrazel. “Yet I could have ended his threat. I could have ordered his execution.”
“Why didn’t you?” Pet asked.
“I don’t believe that death should be used as punishment,” said Shandrazel. “I know of innocent dragons accused of false crimes and slain by my father for political gain. I wanted to break with the past, and put an end to executions.”
“That’s a noble goal,” said Pet. “But perhaps, for Blasphet, you can make an exception.”
“Perhaps not just for Blasphet,” said Shandrazel. “The events of the past few days have opened my eyes. I believed that concepts such as equality and freedom would appeal to the reason of any thinking creature. I held, in my heart, that these truths were self-evident. Obviously, I was deluded. The world has been controlled by force for too long. Rule by brute strength didn’t start with my father, and cannot end with him, I fear.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’s time for me to stop wishing that peace and justice will spontaneously arise. If I’m to be the king who brings an end to kings, it seems I must first embrace the role of king.” Shandrazel looked toward the tapestry that depicted Albekizan crushing the human rebellion at Conyers. “I must establish safety and security by capturing Blasphet. I must win back the respect of my fellow sun-dragons by showing that I’m still in control of the greatest army this world has known. And, if I wish to have valkyries present to discuss the future of this Commonwealth, it seems I must drag them here in chains.”
“Don’t overreact,” said Pet. “You’ve suffered setbacks, yes, but—”
Before Pet could finish his sentence, an earth-dragon guard approached. He was holding a wooden bucket, the interior nearly glowing with the remnants of a lemon-yellow paste.
“Sire, we’ve found several of these buckets. I thought you’d want to see one.”
Androkom took the bucket, examining the contents. He lowered his snout inside and sniffed. “Honey and citrus oils,” he said. “And… an undertone of jimsonweed.”
“Jimsonweed?” Pet asked.
“There’s a whole chapter devoted to it in Dacorn’s treatise on botany,” Androkom explained. “When ripe, it produces a spiky seedpod filled with pink berries. The juice has hallucinogenic properties. There’s only a two or three day window of ripeness when it is effective as a drug, however. If ingested at the wrong stage, it’s poisonous.”
The earth-dragon guard had something further to say. “Sire, I’ve also been told that one of the guards on the roof saw two sun-dragons flying away in the night. They didn’t appear injured. The only thing that struck the guard as odd was that it looked like they were being ridden.”
“Ridden?” asked Androkom.
“By humans,” the guard said. “Females, he thinks.”
“The Sisters of the Serpent, no doubt,” said Androkom.
“What evil is Blasphet planning now?” Shandrazel said, rising from his cushion and stalking to a long sheet of parchment hung on the wall. The parchment bore a map of existing political boundaries in the kingdom. Various cities and landmarks were sketched upon the sheet with dark charcoal. Shandrazel tore the map down and rolled it up roughly. He turned to Androkom and said, “Follow me.”
“Where are you going?” Pet asked.
“This is none of you your concern,” Shandrazel snapped. His eyes were narrowed in anger as he moved toward the hallway. Androkom gave a nod toward the earth-dragon guards. As Pet attempted to follow, the guards rushed forward, blocking his path.
Pet backed away, wondering what to do next. He cast a glance to the other humans in the room. Kamon, the elderly prophet from the moun
tains, approached. “What’s happening?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“I don’t know,” Pet said. “Apparently Blasphet has done something to the sun-dragon representatives, and now Shandrazel is mad at us.”
Kamon took Pet by the arm and led him further from the earth-dragon guards. “Do you think he’s heard of Ragnar’s exploits?”
“He hasn’t said anythi—exploits? What have you heard?”
“Ragnar’s men have been recruiting soldiers from throughout the kingdom,” said Kamon. “So far, they haven’t killed any dragons. This may be why Shandrazel remains ignorant. The movements of humans throughout the kingdom are of little interest if no dragons are being harmed.”
Pet ran his hands through his hair. With Shandrazel looking for a way to prove he was still in charge, the worst thing possible would be for Ragnar to actually start killing dragons. Pet had caught a subtle look of hunger when Shandrazel had looked at the tapestry of Albekizan tearing apart humans. “What’s Ragnar hoping to accomplish? Shandrazel isn’t Albekizan. He wants peace; if we humans would work with him and try to keep him happy, he’ll grant us our freedom.”
“It doesn’t matter what Shandrazel wants,” said Kamon. “You’ve heard the hatred of his fellow dragons. He’s alone in his desire to grant us rights.”
“At least we have a dragon on our side right now,” said Pet. “Shandrazel was just talking about how he may need to use his army to gain respect. If Ragnar provokes a war, Shandrazel’s going to crush him.”
Kamon leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if the dragons were deprived of Shandrazel’s leadership?”
“How? What are you getting at?”
Kamon reached out a boney hand and took Pet by the arm. He pulled Pet further across the room from the guards, guiding him until they were behind a marble pillar, out of sight of the earth-dragons. Standing beneath a tapestry that displayed Albekizan in flight, his forty-foot wingspan depicted lifesize, Kamon whispered, “Shandrazel trusts you. Daily you stand close enough to end his life with a single thrust of a poisoned dagger.”