by Aaron Crash
Morty smiled patiently.
Alonzo Mac Sterling nodded. He was a giant of man, with thinning blond hair and a ruddy complexion. He had a belly of his own. “I like that idea. Hell, if we could get rid of the kid, I wouldn’t even want his territories. I’m just sick to death of worrying about him. And the rest of you.” He laughed. Alonzo liked to laugh, and he did it easily. Until it was time to fight.
“We’ll get to that,” Morty said. “But to clarify something immediately—I didn’t join Steven Drokharis. I gave him two Primacies he’d have gotten on his own anyway. I made no deals. We have an uneasy alliance.”
Zuzanna stood near the door. Morty gave her a glance, and she nodded.
Ugly Ellis’s laughter sounded like chopped wood. “Bullshit. The way I hear it, y’all are thick as thieves. Fucking Candler. Fucking Helge. They couldn’t hack the game. Nope, they couldn’t. So you gave the kid their wives. You gave him land, taxes, Warlings, and other Dragonkind. Shit, Morty, why?”
“We’ll get to that. Who wants a drink?”
They all did. Except for Chosen Ben, of course. No, Ben wouldn’t be joining them, and he made it clear by refusing to drink with them. Some Dragonlords you simply couldn’t reach, not with logic, not with heart, and not with combat.
Ugly Ellis slurped a Bud Light. “Yeah, that’s fine beer there.”
“Piss is what it is,” Louis shot back. He was sipping on a tumbler of rare cognac, brought over from France, fifty years prior. Fifty years, a sip of time, nothing really.
“Fuck you, Frenchie,” the Appalachian Prime shot back.
“And that is why we are in danger of losing everything,” Victor said quietly. He had a highball, but he didn’t drink it. He held it in a hand with manicured nails.
“Give the man from the Carolinas a prize. That’s right.” Morty had a tall pint of beer he’d brewed himself and a shot glass full of his own whisky. Give a man three thousand years of life, and there are many things he’d rather make on his own than buy from the humans. He leaned on the bar and made eye contact with each of the men. “Roy and I tried to use the Americos Chambers, and we came close, but no cigar. Speaking of which, I have a humidor full of my own tobacco, if anyone wants a smoke.”
Ugly Ellis raised a hairy, knuckled paw. “You can bet your ass I want one, Mort.”
Morty joined him in lighting Churchhills, great big cigars from his own plantation in Cuba. Morty owned the Caribbean as well, but he didn’t tell anyone that. He had puppet Primes there, taking a page from Rahaab’s and Paanga Komang’s books. Why rule when others could do it for him and gave him tribute? The same was true for most of the Canadian Primacies as well. It was best that Morty’s true power remain a secret; otherwise, not one of the Primes would agree to an alliance. He would reveal just enough to win them and not a whit more.
Morty breathed out smoke and waited.
It was Victor who asked, “How do you know so much about the Americos Chambers? Javier Jones has been studying them for decades, and if he’d known about the master chamber, he would’ve used it against us. Did you build them?”
“Not me. But I knew the dragons who did. Two dragons, Arthur and Merlin, and one Alpheros, the late Mathaal. They created the defense chambers. All are dead. And I’m still around.”
Victor finally took a sip of his drink. Morty had impressed him. “The legendary Dragonknights, fighting to make the world a better place. It seems the Drokharis heir would’ve fit well among them.”
Louis spit on the floor. “Never! The Dragonknights were powerful, righteous, and had more honor than this child will ever have!”
“That’s enough,” Morty said sharply. “And don’t spit on my floor.”
Louis laughed. “Next you will tell us that you were one of the Americos brothers.”
Morty smiled at what was, essentially, a myth he’d helped create. “Knew them too.” He took a deep breath, drank a little, smoked a little, and then got down to it. “Three powerful Primes should be able to take down Drokharis...if they are smart and if they stay focused. But we have eight.”
“I see six here,” Victor said with an easy smile. “Or are you using the new math the humans are always working on?”
Morty’s puppet Primes, Lawrence Candler and Tiano Helge, came in, escorted by Zuzanna. Candler had food on his fat face. He was a lost cause, but as cannon fodder, he could be useful. Helge, with his pinched face, was pissed off, and he would turn against Morty eventually. Might as well throw him at the Drokharis problem. Maybe he’d land a lucky blow and things could return to normal. Doubtful, but Morty had learned that hope was a powerful thing.
Victor counted them up. “Yes, eight, I see.”
“Seven,” Chosen Ben said. “I told you, Morty, I don’t want any part of this.”
“Are you going to be joining the infant?’ Louis hissed.
“I’m going to wait and see,” the New England Prime answered. “And I think that is the correct course of action. If he can fight and beat the Zothoric, I say we let him.”
“He can’t,” Morty said quietly. “I’m going to let you gentlemen in on a secret. I was one of the Dragonknights. I was knighted by Arthur himself, and I held his sword, Excalibur, before the Lady of the Lake came to collect it. I was Sir Mordred in another life. I was trained to fight the Zothoric. I wasn’t there when they invaded during the time of Hammurabi, but I was there when Arthur, Merlin, and Mathaal prepared the defense chambers, the Ever-Seeing Eyes, for when they attacked again. They trained me to deal with the shadows of teeth and talon. Yet, I never believed we could win. Mathaal, back then, had a clear mind. And he was scared of them, scared shitless, as they say nowadays.”
The memories made him think of the grand mistake. He felt shame. He showed the Dragonlords nothing.
“That is a great pile of merde.” Louis sighed. “You are telling us stories, Monsieur Flint. I do not believe them.”
Ugly Ellis raised his beer. “Finally, me and the swamp rat can agree on something. Come on, Mort. Fuck you if you think we’re fools.”
Everyone lapsed into quiet. Candler and Helge knocked on the table, and Morty served them up big steins of his beer and slid shooters of his whisky over to them. He knew they would only want his finest.
“It’s true,” Candler said. “He’s shown us some things. Can’t argue with it.”
Helge nodded. “And why the fuck would he lie about something like that?”
Victor stood quietly. Again, he sipped his highball. “I’m inclined to agree with them. Are you the last of the Dragonknights, Mr. Flint? Or are there others?”
Morty liked that. Mr. Flint. Not Morty. Not Mort.
Every Prime in the room cast a glance at the charismatic Dragonlord. And Victor stood comfortably in their gazes, used to the attention. Morty had heard a rumor that the Carolina Prime had the U.S. president in his pocket. He hadn’t really believed it until that very moment.
“There are three of us still alive,” Morty said. Then corrected himself. “No, I keep forgetting Bedivere’s death. Just two remain—me and someone is in this very room, but we are keeping that a secret.” That was the final piece that would draw them all in. And it was a secret Morty meant to keep until the very last minute.
The Dragonlords took a minute to stare at each other, trying to figure who the last Dragonknight might be.
Morty chuckled. “Bedivere used to laugh that we were the three Americos brothers, but we were so much more than that.”
Chosen Ben’s face was closed. He might have been scared, but he showed nothing. “I don’t want to know your secrets. The more I know, the more danger I’m in. Morty, I’m going to take off. You come after me, and I’ll join the kid. Stay out of my Primacy. And don’t invite me to any more of these bullshit secret meetings. I won’t come.”
He walked to the door, lifted his wrist, and waited for Zuzanna to free him.
Morty nodded at her.
“Incanto,” she murmured, and the bracelet fell o
ff to clatter onto the floor.
Chosen Ben turned. “I want your witch to wipe my mind. I don’t want to remember a thing about any of you. So when you think I’m turning secrets over to the Drokharis boy, you can think again. Can you manage that?”
Morty pointed at Ben. “You might be an ass, Ben, but you are a smart ass. I’ll do it myself. Defensio!”
The New England Prime’s eyes went cloudy. Suzanna led him out.
Morty didn’t take all the dragon’s memories; he could’ve, but he only removed the meeting. Chosen Ben would know he’d gone to Chicago, and he’d remember he’d chosen to leave, but he’d know nothing else.
Louis sneered. “And that imbécile will die for leaving. Not right away, but he will die.”
Morty didn’t respond. He knew the outcome. Having one Dragonlord leave would only solidify the loyalty of the others. In their heart of hearts, both humans and dragons liked to take sides.
Victor drained his glass and set it on the bar. “I’d like another one, Mr. Flint. And I will keep your secret. I expect everyone in this room will. Now, tell us your plan.”
“You must be the other fucking knight.” Ugly Ellis laughed. “You’re all smooth and shit. Fine, Nutgrass. Fine. I don’t care. There are seven of us. We have thousands of vassals. So, Morty, what’s your plan?”
The Great Lakes Prime smiled. “Steven is going after the Holy Grail. He is still trying to get control of his new territories. Remember what he said during the conclave in the fall? He said that he was no longer weak, and that he was too strong for us to deal with. I agreed with him then. I don’t agree with him now. He will never be weaker than he is at the moment, distracted, swollen with pride, thinking I’m his ally. The time to attack is now. We strike his eastern border. We end him. A little bird...” Morty paused. “Let’s make that a little spider told me where his secret Aerie in Wyoming is. And the spider is also letting me track Steven. If we can’t pin him down in Wyoming, we’ll hit him in Kansas or Nebraska, where his forces are the weakest. We’ll kill him before he finds the Holy Grail. For I spoke to Mathaal of that, a long time ago, on the shores of the lake outside.” He motioned to the northern wall of windows. “If Steven wins the Holy Grail, he will be unstoppable.”
“And what is the Holy Grail?” Victor asked.
“The death of us all,” Morty said quietly.
Another beat of silence.
“I will join you,” Victor Nutgrass said.
The little swamp rat nodded. “Oui. I will bring my Gris-Gris and add them to the cause.”
“And I got my Inferno Dogs,” Ugly Ellis growled. “They don’t cast spells. They kick fucking ass.”
Alonzo Mac Sterling let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t have any fancy names for my people. But I have wives, Warlings, Morphlings, and Magicians. I’d rather lose them in war than give ’em in peace. I’m with you.”
Morty nodded. They didn’t need to know more. They would strike at the Drokharis child, invade his Primacy, and the war would start. However, Morty knew the outcome. Let these other Primes die, especially Candler and Helge.
Morty’s real goal was the Holy Grail itself. After centuries of waiting for Merlin’s daughter and the lost son to appear, Morty’s patience had finally paid off. Drokharis would find the Holy Grail, and Morty would take it from him.
With such power, he would take the Americas, and then the world. Let other more foolish dragons fight the Zothoric. Morty wanted no part of that.
No, not Morty, he was Mordred again. While the six other Primes plotted and planned, he stood behind the bar, wondering at how easy it was to shed the persona of Morty Flint. And how good it felt to be a Dragonknight again.
This time, however, there would be no more mistakes, grand or otherwise. This time, he meant to win it all, and no one, human or dragon, would stand in his way.
Chapter Five
STEVEN AND WILLIAM “Bud” Novak walked around the construction site to the west of the Infinity Ranch. The day was going to be warm. Spring on the Great Plains was always such a crapshoot. Sagebrush perfumed the air. The central tower of the Infinity Ranch rose seven stories above the northern garden and the two little bungalows there, one for Liam and one for Sabina. To the west was the Widow House, connected to the main ranch by a walkway that led through the outdoor living room, which was protected by wind breaks. The walls were Tessa’s design. The vertical waves of concrete had the names of the battles they’d fought up until this point. They still needed to add a couple, but Tessa was on it.
It was the last week of March, and Steven’s twenty-first birthday was only six days away. Last year at this time, Bud had been a snide fashionable fuckhead, a dickhead bully that Steven ignored most of the time since he was working three jobs and going to school full time. Little things didn’t mean much when you were caught in the grind, and Bud had been a little thing.
Now? Bud was on track to be one of the richest men under thirty in America thanks to the money funneling into his father’s law firm, Novak, Boaz, & Jessup. It had been Boaz, Jessup, & Novak until it was clear that Steven was going to be the only client they could handle, and so the Novaks got top billing. Bud was still working on his law degree in his free time. Steven admired that.
Bud wore a trim European blue suit, sans tie, and expensive black shoes. His hair was gelled into place. He’d driven up the minute Aria called him in the wee hours of the morning. Denise Pryce and Fimi Eyota came with him to get girl time with Steven’s Escort. They were kind of isolated in Denver, and not being part of a dragon family sometimes wore on them. And if they weren’t happy, Bud couldn’t be. It was the nature of the male/female relationship.
“So the new house is just for the Wayne twins?” Bud asked.
“It is,” Steven said, exhaling. “They wanted five rooms and three bathrooms. I got them down to three rooms and two. But they want this big balcony thing. We’re still in negotiations.”
Bud winced behind his dark sunglasses. “Sounds hostile. So they aren’t fitting in very well?”
Steven ran a hand through his black hair. “We’re trying to change that. They are a handful. Tessa calls them the mean girls sometimes.”
“That’s not good.” Bud sniffed at the sunshine. “We should probably get inside for the big meeting. It’s not going to be pretty for me, Cool Whipp. Aria thinks I screwed the pooch on security and she’s freaking out. And Aria can be, what’s the word...”
“Intimidating? Scary as hell? Intense beyond reason?” Steven couldn’t help but smile.
“All three.” Bud paused. “It’s like she’s a hot-looking Thanos mixed with Darth Vader mixed with an Indian Lara Croft, doing porn, but not the nice kind.”
Steven slapped the guy on the back. “That’s funny.”
“Kind of.” Bud sighed. “Hey, Cool Whipp, I want to thank you again for, uh, giving me Denise and Fimi.” He frowned. “That’s not right. I know you didn’t give them to me, but you could’ve taken them on as wives yourself.”
Steven thought of his many, many wives and shook his head. “No, man, I have more than I can handle, though handling them is fun.”
Bud laughed. “Just the two have me tired out every night. You dragons sure have a high sex drive. But more than that, I love ’em, you know?”
“I do.”
“It’s just...” The lawyer paused. “I’m not sure what they see in me. Sometimes, I wake up, and I can’t sleep, thinking they don’t really want me. It’s not that I’m insecure...” He laughed at himself. “No, I’m really fucking insecure.”
“Bud, without you, I could never keep all this under control. In the end, you’re running most of this. I know your dad helps out, but I also know you have kept all the balls in the air, and you have a lot to juggle. Denise and Fimi were drawn to you right away because you’re a good guy, smart and capable.”
“No, it was because of the Wayne twins,” Bud said. “They told me that Pru kind of freaked them out. Denise and Fimi had their lives rip
ped away from them. I guess I offered them security. They do feel safe with me. But that’s only because of you and how powerful you and your Escort are. That’s why we need to figure out how the Dragonsoul community found out about the Infinity Ranch.”
Steven frowned and let out a breath. “I just don’t get it. We killed every one of Rhaegen Mulk’s vassals. Cassius Pine is dead, and his widows are faithful to us. In the end, no one alive should know where we are. And yet, Umbra hits us out of the blue. It has the girls nervous.”
“Not you?” Bud asked.
Steven had to think for a minute. “No. Have you seen what me and my Escort can do? We have Tessa, who is becoming a force of nature. And we have Sabina, who can see into the future. As long as we’re smart, we shouldn’t have a problem.”
Bud laughed and shook his head. “Damn, Cool Whipp, you’ve come a long way. There is no way I’d mess with you now.”
Hearing that felt good. Steven just wished other Dragonlords felt the same way.
The pair made their way into the house, and it was a beehive of activity. The kitchen was packed with women cooking, making coffee, doing dishes, chatting, and laughing. Even some singing was involved. Bud went in to help and to kiss Denise and Fimi on their pretty faces, Denise so pale and Fimi so dark.
Aria was already at the big dining room table. She was shuffling through papers, with her laptop open and reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. It gave her a sexy librarian quality, but it also gave her a prop to point with. And Aria with glasses on, well, if she were a principal at a bad middle school, it wouldn’t be bad for long. She seemed unstoppable.
The twins were on the sofa, heads near each other, chatting a mile a minute. Both wore tight jeans and tight pink blouses and were in full makeup and hairspray heaven. Their perfume hardly covered their bubblegum smell. Pru kept glancing at Denise and Fimi in the kitchen, and Steven knew why. She’d had lurid thoughts about them, right away.