The Last Slayer

by Lee, Nadia

  The memory of what had happened the last time I faced him covered my body with a thin cold sweat. The lightning flash of his sword, the faint hiss of air as the blade cut from so many directions. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid of him. I should have had more confidence now that I had a heartstone, but I didn’t. There was still only one in me, three in him. I didn’t think it would be much of a contest if we dueled. And Ramiel, even if he was with me, would have other dragons, and possibly Semangelaf and Apollyon, to fight. Even Alexandros thought I couldn’t win.

  History is replete with what your generation calls “losers.”

  Well, he could think whatever he wanted. I wasn’t going to lose. Leh had told me to make my destiny and that was exactly what I intended to do.

  My hand closed around the golden vials of her voice, their contents murky with magic. Why had she given them to me? Were they for the next time we needed to see each other or just in case Supäi visited me again? Of course, first I needed to figure out how to use the vials. I’d become so distracted by her condition after the heartstone extraction that I hadn’t remembered to ask.

  So many things to keep track of. When had my life become so complicated?

  I splashed my face with the cold water. Maybe things would work out. Actually, they’d better. Dying this young was definitely not in the game plan.

  I went to my closet, hoping to find a dress that wasn’t completely ridiculous, opened the doors and stared with utter stupefaction. Gone were the dresses. Blouses, shirts, pants and skirts of various styles and fabrics hung neatly. I walked into it, wondering vaguely if there was a trap door somewhere. Toshi and his buddies couldn’t have swapped all that stuff out while I’d been asleep. So how did they…unless this some kind of magical closet that gave me an unlimited choice of clothes?

  Okay, now I had to get the Madainsair dragonlords to back off so I could invite Valerie over and show her this thing. She’d have multiple O’s on the spot.

  I’d just put on a nice pantsuit when sudden loud clangs and the heavy thump of dragon footsteps came from outside. For a moment I thought Besade might be under attack, but then I realized the sounds were too regular and structured to be a battle. I opened the French doors leading to the balcony and, squinting a little, stepped out into the morning.

  In a courtyard the size of a hundred football fields, dragons—not bas-reliefs, but the real articles—were engaged in military drill. Their scales gleamed, the sun gilding their bodies as they changed positions smartly. I couldn’t remember why I had ever thought they were graceless monsters. Their movements were as fluid as water.

  The lawn was too big for me to see what was happening on the far side. I made a circular wiping motion in the air with my hand. Moisture began to converge and accrete until it formed a large convex lens that hung in front of my face. Light gathered and bent, enlarging the field so I could observe the details of what was happening.

  A tall man stood in the midst of the exercises. He wore elaborate armor worked in silver, the hydra of Besade crawling over his chest and bits of heartstone crusted around his vital points. A helmet with a beautiful royal blue crest protected his head. Even as the helmet obscured his face from my view, I knew it was Ramiel. Dwarfed as he was by the enormous beasts around him, his presence and air of command were unmistakable.

  And who else could have stolen my breath away?

  I spent some time watching him put his troops through their paces. Even after last night and everything else, my heart gave a funny leap whenever my eyes rested on him. It was hopeless, and I had a feeling that no amount of therapy could cure me of this…thing. People were stupid to sing of the wonders of love. It was an affliction on par with bubonic plague.

  Toshi appeared from under the balcony, his wings a shimmering iridescence in the early morning sun. “Milady. If you’re ready, Dorian would like to ask you to try on your armor.”

  “Sure.” I turned to reenter my room, but I couldn’t go in without glancing at Ramiel once more. God, I was pathetic. Shouldn’t the fact that he was part incubus repulse me? But no, I wanted him the way an addict craved another hit.

  Toshi gave me a look but was too circumspect to say anything out loud. To cover, I said, “Ramiel’s armor is magnificent. Who made it?”

  “Dorian, milady.”

  “So he’s immortal?”

  “Not exactly. He’s a mortal, but blessed with Lord Ramiel’s magic. He will never age or die so long as he is loyal to Besade.”

  He must be amazing if he was granted immortality, even on a provisional basis. Supernaturals don’t bestow such gifts lightly.

  Toshi led me through long corridors with high arches. The bas-relief figures on the walls were fighting with added ardor. Maybe it was the scent of dragon sweat and excitement over a battle to come, although that was kind of weird since they weren’t the ones about to fight. I ducked as a stone sword swung over my head.

  We finally arrived in front of an enormous door. It opened automatically to reveal a sparsely furnished room. Nothing covered the smooth stone floor. Inside the chamber a homely midget stood by a low wooden stool. A plain brown leather tunic covered his hairy ropey body. He bowed, the movement stiff and ill at ease.

  “Milady.” His voice sounded like he hadn’t talked in ages.

  “Mr. Dorian,” I said with a nod. What was I supposed to do when people started bowing before I could shake hands?

  I heard Toshi’s wings humming by my ear. “Did I forget to tell you? It’s Sir Dorian.”

  I glanced at him. He looked worried. “Of course you told me.” Any other response and I knew what the result would be. I turned to the armorer. “Pardon me, Sir Dorian. My mistake.”

  Grunting, Dorian gestured at a big suit of white and silver armor. I walked around it slowly, admiring it. A nine-headed dragon motif coiled around the torso. Two heads looked out from each limb, dorsal and ventral, with the last one centered in the upper back. One of the heads yawned, its forked tongue curling lazily.

  “Your armor, milady.” Dorian ran his hands along the scaled body of the dragon with obvious pride. “’Tis the famous nine-’eaded wyvern of Eastvale. Should protect your ladyship right enough.”

  All the other stuff that was going on retreated to the back of my mind as I gazed at the armor. It was exquisitely made, meticulously detailed. And a live wyvern to watch my back! What a bonus. If I had to fight, I wanted all the help I could get.

  “Go ahead. Try ’er on,” Dorian said.

  Toshi held out both foreclaws and a dressing room appeared. I nodded and went inside with the armor. It was impossibly light, hardly weighing more than a t-shirt. The wyvern heads converged where my skin touched the cool metal and inhaled my scent. Their breath tickled me, but I was careful not to make any sudden movements. The last thing I wanted was to startle them. Getting bitten by my own armor would suck.

  I took off my clothes and slipped into the armor, which was more like a body canister with built-in socks. The legs were entirely too wide. Actually, everything was too big and awkward. But the moment I put it on it began to shrink and mold to my body. Soon it fit perfectly, light as silk against my skin. When I swung my arms and kicked my legs it stretched and provided extra tension, giving the movements a smooth power they wouldn’t have had otherwise.

  It was truly alive and fused with me. Totally cool. No more need for Under Armour when I had the real deal.

  “If you’re finished, milady…” Toshi said from the outside.

  I smiled. It reminded me of shopping with Valerie, except she was never as deferential as Toshi. I came out of the room to show off my new “outfit.”

  Dorian made a few grunting noises and fussed over the armor here and there. His fingers pinched, tweaked and tugged at my sleeves, around my waist and my toes. He climbed up on a stool to adjust the neck and shoulders.

  “How much protection does this provide against dragonlord swords?” I said.

  “It’ll keep your ladyship alive, �
��less she receives a direct ’it to a vital organ,” Dorian said.

  “It will also regulate your body temperature,” Toshi added helpfully.

  Dorian straightened and looked up at me. “That’s got it. Not ’alf bad, if I do say so meself.”

  “You look quite dashing, milady.” Toshi beamed toothily. “I believe Lord Ramiel and his generals are ready for you.”

  I thanked Dorian and left with Toshi, who made my old clothes vanish with a wave of his claws.

  It wasn’t until I reached Ramiel’s antechamber that it hit me. Toshi didn’t mean Ramiel wanted to introduce me to his troops. He meant we were going to get briefed for battle.

  Normally the suddenness wouldn’t have bothered me. I’m fine with fast and violent. But shouldn’t there have been some training? Demigod Killing 101 or something?

  Ramiel and his generals were seated around a large table. The generals looked like handsome men, except that each of them was of a single vivid color from head to toe. Their skin, teeth and fingernails—all were of the same hue. They looked almost cartoonish…like coloring book figures when a child was down to just a few crayons. Most of them were some variation of red or silver—although no two were precisely the same shade—and green was also well represented. I could smell their dragon breath. It wasn’t foul, but it was different—deep and slow, as if they were sleeping, with a hint of sulfur. Each of them had an armor motif to designate its real form: wyvern, wyrm or drake. Not all dragons can change form, and even those that can generally don’t like to transform into mortal shape. But if they had remained at full size, no one would have been able to see the table.

  Ramiel raised an eyebrow slightly when I entered the chamber. “Armor becomes you.”

  “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. Ramiel’s stoic expression made me seventy-five percent annoyed, twenty percent confused and five percent nervous. His face might be blank, but his eyes seethed. Did he feel anything when he looked at me other than lust? Or was he keeping me off-balance with those cool incubus-demigod powers of his? “You look nice in yours too.”

  I sat in the only empty chair. The table held refreshments—dainty sandwiches, tea and some wine—compliments of Toshi, no doubt. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought it was a social call. I picked up a tall glass of iced tea and glanced around.

  “Where is Eastvale?” I said.

  “Perhaps not coincidentally, not far from where you used to live,” Ramiel said. A map appeared, hovering in the air over the table, and he pointed at a spot in Fair Lakes, of all places. “This tract of land.”

  Disappointment hit me hard. I did my best to hide it, but it was difficult. I thought I was getting something as pretty as the Lunar Garden or as impressive as Besade. The plot on which Ramiel’s finger rested was wooded, and I had always thought it was owned by the county or the state because it had never been developed. I was going to risk my life—and everyone else’s—for that?

  I wanted my condo back.

  Ramiel must have sensed what I was thinking. “Once you get there you may find it more to your liking.”

  Huh. Easy for him to say. What was I going to do with an undeveloped patch of land? Go camping?

  The wyvern on my right bowed. He was the color of a boiled lobster. “Tiamo at your service, milady. If I may speak…?”

  I nodded.

  “All dragonholds have barriers that serve as camouflage to hide them from mortals and to keep intruders out. Eastvale is a beautiful dragonhold, one that you will be proud to call your own.”

  The others around the table grunted in agreement. Tiamo was either the leader or the diplomatic one. Maybe both.

  The doors to the chamber opened, and a warrior in red and black armor entered. His straight black hair and the broad planes of his face reminded me of a shogun I’d seen in a Japanese drama. This was strengthened by the design of his armor—flaring shoulder guards and a horned helm. Drakes on his vambraces blinked at us.

  “I see everyone is here.” He drew himself up and made a bow that snapped to an exact forty-five degrees and back. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

  Ramiel rose from his seat. The rest of us followed suit. “Please join us.” He gestured at me. “I present to you the Lady Ashera, soon to be of Eastvale.”

  The newcomer bowed again. “An honor.”

  “This is Lord Kenji of Higashiro.”

  I bowed in return, probably getting the depth wrong. The social graces just aren’t my forte.

  Another chair appeared, and we all sat down.

  “Will Lord Hideki be joining us?” Ramiel said.

  Kenji’s bronzed skin took on an undertone of red. “He is nowhere to be found. I don’t know if he is even aware of the battle to come. I apologize for his inability to lend you his assistance.”

  “I’m sure yours will be enough,” Ramiel said smoothly. “I don’t have sufficient troops to face Madainsair in a full-fledged battle, but we may have enough to punch through their lines at certain points.”

  “So we will be quickly surrounded.” Kenji’s black eyes glittered. “Excellent. An enemy to kill no matter where one swings his sword.”

  From Toshi’s description I’d expected a spoiled demigod who squabbled with his sibling for dominance. But now I was getting a different impression. He didn’t look like the petty type. And his twin must have been yielding, because Kenji didn’t strike me as a compromiser.

  Something pinged by the entrance. Ramiel glanced over and raised a finger. The door opened and a small translucent shape blurred into the room. I tensed, ready to draw my sword, but everyone else around me looked relaxed. Whatever it was came to a halt in front of Ramiel and became distinct: a fairy dragon with two sets of wings.

  He—she? it?—saluted. As the tiny thing moved, its scales changed color to blend in with the environment. If I hadn’t been paying close attention, I would have lost it against the background.

  “My lords.” The voice was lilting and feminine. “Our troops are in position. Madainsair has deployed fifty thousand wyrms, five thousand drakes and four thousand wyverns. Nathanael of Windgar and Semangelaf of Frost Moor will attend the battle, but Apollyon of Hell Cave will not.”

  “Are you sure?” I couldn’t imagine Apollyon missing this confrontation for anything.

  Ramiel raised a languid eyebrow. “Shahamera is our finest scout. She’s also the leader of the scout unit, and if she says Apollyon’s not coming, then he is not.”

  “Why not? I thought he would relish an opportunity to carve me into bits.” I still remembered his gleefully sadistic smile at TriMedica.

  “He is undoubtedly plotting something. The question is what.”

  There were glances around the table. Even Kenji looked vaguely disquieted. It couldn’t be a good thing.

  Ramiel turned back to Shahamera. “Is there more?”

  “Hell Cave troops haven’t mobilized either. Their banner is nowhere to be seen.”

  “They have been lying low for almost three decades,” Kenji said. “If my calculations are correct, the Hell Cave dragons had their breeding season three years ago, and new parents tend to be uninterested in battle. Their absence may not mean anything.”

  “You’re probably right.” Ramiel dismissed Shahamera and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “We only have three-quarters of their number.” He glanced at Kenji and the generals. His lips curved as he leaned forward. “But I believe we have the advantage.”

  Kenji’s answering smile was as hard as cold-forged iron. “We should strike at once, before Nathanael can plan anything devious.”

  He didn’t have to elaborate. Nathanael had been the strategic brain behind the Twilight of Slayers campaign, and it was his military brilliance that had tipped the scales in the dragonlords’ favor. Nobody wanted to see what he’d come up with, given enough time.

  “I agree,” Tiamo said. “We’ve been waiting for weeks now, and many of our troops are becoming restless.”

  For weeks?
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  Ramiel turned to me as if he’d heard my thought. “We’ve been anticipating this battle and had spies in strategic areas for quite some time.” He glanced at Kenji. “Unfortunately I couldn’t involve you earlier. I wanted Madainsair to wonder where your loyalties lay. I apologize.”

  Not an eyelash flickered on Kenji’s face, but his entire torso inclined forward in a seated bow. “You were clever to do so.”

  After the dragonlords had engaged in a bit of mutual admiration, Tiamo stood and started to go over strategy for the upcoming battle. They apparently didn’t expect me to contribute to the discussion, which was just as well. I had no idea what they were talking about, and having studied Sun Tzu’s The Art of War at the Academy wasn’t enough to make me an expert. Besides, I always hunted solo. I wasn’t used to thinking about large groups.

  A terrain map had appeared over the table, more real than any hologram, and they pored over it. I couldn’t follow, because I couldn’t read the elaborate script on it and didn’t know the names of all the valleys, gorges and rivers everyone was talking about. But I wasn’t completely clueless. I managed to gather that about a tenth of Lapslora’s ground units would initiate a straightforward assault. The rest would penetrate the enemy line underground and come out from below while Madainsair’s ground units were occupied by the attack. Besade’s wyrms were already making tunnels big enough to let the drakes through. A careful campaign of disinformation had it that we planned to attack at one point, when the real assault would be brought to bear on another.

  I raised my hand. Tiamo said, “Milady?”

  “Why don’t we just use the wyrms to tunnel all the way to Eastvale?”

  “It would defend itself against the intrusion. Since you haven’t been officially recognized yet, it won’t allow you passage that way.”