Dodge City Knights

by Aaron Crash

  “This place is strangely intoxicating,” Aria agreed. “Rahaab had an Aerie here, which means we have a place to stay. It’s in the Empire State Building. I reached out to Bud to confirm. He has vassals getting it ready as we speak. They were surprised to hear from us.”

  Tessa grinned. “That’s a great job. You get paid waiting for someone to call you to clean. Not that you ever really clean, but you are ready for it. If my sorceress gig doesn’t work out, I’m going to do that for Steven.”

  “Never,” he said. Then, “Maybe.” He winked at her.

  Mouse dropped her bag, shifted, and stood there as a Homo Draconis holding the Slayer Blade. “Yes, this is all very cool. But I want to see what a red-star chamber looks like. I’m assuming we go down?”

  Aria shifted into her partial form, as did Steven. “Yes. Let us commence. But we must be careful. There might be humans here. There might be dragons. Stay alert.”

  Steven used IonClaws to slice through the locked door on the roof of the condemned apartment building. They started down the staircase. After descending five floors, they checked a hallway. A long corridor of doorways greeted them. All of the actual doors were gone, and they went through a couple of apartments, but they’d all been stripped. Graffiti, mattresses, and a few crack pipes littered the place, but they didn’t see anyone—no normal humans, and nothing supernatural.

  Five stories of staircase later, Tessa was breathing hard. “Okay, I’m out of breath, but I’m feeling good. I’m glad Zoey has been making me go on runs with her. If you’d have asked me to do this last year, it wouldn’t have gone well.”

  They reached the ground level and kept on going until they hit the basement. It was full of derelict machinery. Printing presses maybe? It was hard to tell. Maybe hard-core machinist equipment. Steven didn’t know. The basement was packed.

  Tessa quoted the Elf Queen. “Three places on the water, free from wind, sleeping in stone.”

  “Worst. Haiku. Ever.” Mouse sighed.

  They threaded their way through the old metal until Aria stopped at a grate in the floor. She stooped, picked it up, and set it to the side like it was a pizza box. A ladder led down into darkness. Somewhere, a rat squeaked, and water dripped.

  Tessa leaned over, turned to Steven, and whispered a single word. “Chud.”

  “What’s that?” Aria asked Mouse.

  The blonde shrugged.

  Steven was equally oblivious. “What’s chud?”

  The barista rolled her eyes. “Cannibalistic human underground dwellers. It’s a movie from the ’80s. Never mind. New York does have a vast underground city under it.”

  They had to shift human to fit in the tunnel. Steven went first. His sword was strapped across his back. The ladder was rusted, but it held to the wall. They descended maybe twenty-five feet until the ladder abruptly ended.

  “Defensio.” Steven stepped onto a shield spell. He unsheathed his sword. Using a simple Incanto spell, he imbued the blade with light. Underneath them was a vast chamber hundreds of feet deep and maybe a hundred feet wide.

  He lowered the shield down and raised his bastard sword, chunks of dragon scales sharpened to an edge connected by a strong cable of enchanted steel.

  A round culvert was on each wall, but no water flowed out of them. Around the culverts were ornate friezes carved into the stone, so intricate there was no way any human would’ve taken the time to create them. In the middle of the chamber was an exact copy of the statues they’d seen in the temple under Lyra Lake. Quinnestri and Icharaam, holding hands over an Ever-Seeing Eye.

  This was the place, all right. The floor had a mosaic of tiles, but moss and muck covered large sections. There was a picture there, but it was partially obscured. The place seemed ageless. And it stank—a dark wet smell—maybe from the sewer system, maybe from something else.

  Tessa used her magic to lower herself, Aria, and Mouse to the floor. They went to the round table. On one side, carved into the stone, was the outline of a clawed hand.

  Aria shifted back into her partial form. She checked the size of her hand to the size of the engraving in the table. “If I touch that, it will trigger the chamber. I know it. We will have to wait until the B and C teams are in place.”

  Mouse kept glancing at the culverts. Would something awful come pouring out?

  “Hold on just a second.” Tessa scraped a boot through the muck on the floor. “There’s a picture on the floor. I have to do a quick bit of cleaning, but how? I don’t have a wash spell.”

  Mouse hefted her sword off a shoulder. “I have a sword, not a mop. You wanted to offer Steven janitorial services, Tessa. Here’s your chance.”

  Tessa cocked her head. “I do love sweeping, but Steven is the master mopper. Let me try something. Stand back. Defensio!”

  He saw what she was trying to do. He, Mouse, and Aria climbed up onto the table. He hoped they didn’t trigger anything, not yet.

  The barista cast a wind spell that they normally used to combat the Toxicity Exhalant. A hurricane breeze struck the floor, pushing the dirt and grime off the tiles. It was like she had a leaf blower in full destructo mode. She walked around the chamber, cleaning off the image.

  Steven used a shield spell to lift them high into the air. The light of his sword rained down, illuminating the picture. Tessa was sweating when she floated up to them, standing on a gleaming platform of pink light.

  Yes. There was a series of images there. The first picture was on their left, three dragons flying toward the Earth, a blue-green gem. One was white, another silver, and the last one had black scales edged in gold. They were the three Alpheros that had fled to Earth, through space, using StellarFlight.

  The next image was of two dragons, Rahaab and Mathaal, standing alone, while Icharaam went forward, into an oasis of people—mostly women. Time had faded the multicolored tiles—the water was a pale blue, nearly white, and the palm trees were a dull green.

  Lines of white, silver, and black left the hands of the Alpheros, corresponding to each of the brothers. The lines twisting across the floor marked three men. The artist had painted dragon script on the robes of each man: Attur Dro, Mynn Lyrr, and Mulkred.

  Tessa’s sweat-stained face grew confused. “Okay, I know about Attur Dro and Mynn Lyrr. They were the legends. I don’t remember reading about Mulkred.”

  “He was a quitter,” Mouse joked. “He quit before he made it into the stories. Which is why we should never give up, kids.”

  The odd family tree continued, crossing a picture of Icharaam, lying in a pool of blood.

  “He knew his brothers were going to kill him,” Steven whispered. “That’s why he hid his gift. He didn’t want Rahaab and Mathaal to know.”

  Tessa nodded. “Yeah, Divination magic might’ve warned him. But look.”

  Walking out of Icharaam’s blood were two more men. On their robes were their names: Arthur Drokharis and Merlin the Magician. Lines of tiles connected them back to Attur Dro and Mynn Lyrr.

  The truth hit Steven like a club. He had to say the name out loud. “Arthur Drokharis.”

  “You are indeed the lost son, Steven,” Aria mused.

  Tessa connected some of it together. “It’s why you have such power. Attur Dro was your great, great, great—add several more greats if you want—grandfather. And then he had a baby and yeah, Arthur Drokharis. The start of the great Drokharis line.”

  Steven saw that each of the robed men looked exactly alike. Attur Dro had his clean-shaven handsome face, and so did Arthur. Mynn Lyrr had his big black beard and so did Merlin. “No, they’re the same guys. Both lived for thousands of years. No, their names changed over time, but they are the same men.”

  “So I’m distantly related to Mathaal,” Tessa murmured. “Through Merlin.”

  Mouse blinked. “Wow, we probably should’ve been nicer to the old guy. He was family.”

  The rest of the mosaic was clear enough. Somehow Steven knew it had been fashioned by Icharaam himself. He was tel
ling a story he’d divined before his death—the creation of the Ever-Seeing Eyes and the gathering of Dragonknights. They clustered around a glowing sword.

  Tessa was kind of baffled. “Okay, that’s Excalibur, but there’s not much about it in any of the books. And we don’t know what happened to Arthur, or to Merlin once he became the Dragon Slayer. I don’t think they’re still alive.”

  Around the Dragonknights was more dirt and moss. Tessa flew over and cast another wind spell. She cleaned off the tiles to show Merlin holding the hand of a woman, his Guinevere, without a doubt.

  Each of the Dragonknights was named. It was odd. Nine of the Dragonknights in the mosaic didn’t have weapons. Three did: Mordred, Lancelot, and Bedivere. And those weapons were pointed at Merlin’s Guinevere. Those three knights had killed the woman and unleashed Merlin’s fury.

  A single silver line connected one of the knights, Mordred, to the mysterious Mulkred, and then back to Rahaab.

  Steven felt his brow furrow. “Rahaab, to Mulkred, to Mordred, and wait a minute, Mulkred, as in Mulk, as in Rhaegen Mulk.”

  The feud between the brothers had continued on down through history. Rhaegen Mulk was dead. Steven had the idea that Mordred was still around, maybe the last descendant who could trace his lineage all the way back to Rahaab. Mulkred and Mordred looked nothing alike, but they were related.

  “And so the mystery of the Drokharis family has been solved.” Aria put a claw on Steven’s scales. “You are a descendant of Icharaam, who just might’ve been the most powerful of the Alpheros. All of this makes a great deal of sense.”

  Mouse shivered. “Okay, we got the story. Let’s get out of here, get something to eat, and check in with the other teams. We can’t trigger the chamber until the others are in place.”

  Steven agreed.

  They left the building and flew out and up to the top of the building, where they grabbed their bags. Clouds had come to block out the light, but that didn’t slow down the vibrant city any.

  Finding the Aerie at the top of the Empire State Building was easy. It had a hidden floor, like the one at the Antlers Hotel in Colorado Springs. His vassals must’ve triggered the magic to reveal the landing area, recessed into the building.

  For being an Aerie, the place was rather small. It had three rooms, a kitchen, and a living area that gave them spectacular views of the city. No one was there, but there were signs that his vassals had been there. It smelled clean, the refrigerator was fully stocked, and wine was chilling on the counter. The wood floors were polished to a shine, the carpets vacuumed of any dust, and the furniture all in place. Books and bookshelves lined the walls. The Alpheros liked to read, even Rahaab, and Tessa perused the shelves while Aria had a glass of wine and Mouse went to shower.

  Steven walked back onto the landing strip, listening to the city, smelling the smog, and wondering about what they’d seen. A part of him wasn’t surprised. His father might not have consciously known his destiny, or maybe he had, but it was clear that Steven was meant to finish the work Icharaam had started: to liberate dragons from their exile.

  Questions remained, however, including the fates of both Arthur and Merlin. And what was Icharaam’s Gift?

  No one in the history of the world had been closer to finding out for over ten thousand years.

  Mouse came out, dressed in a black dress, hooking an earring into an ear. “Okay, it’s pretty fucking obvious that you tourists want to see New York. We have money. We have time. So let’s take a bite out of the Big Apple!”

  Steven was about to say that he wanted them to rest and get ready for the coming fight. However, when Tessa squeed, he knew it was a lost cause.

  Javier, Savedra, and Liam, along with the Five Widows, were holding Kansas. Sabina, Zoey, and Uchiko were still on the road, heading toward the Outer Banks. The Texas machine-gun twins wouldn’t get to the Florida Keys until the next night. They did have time.

  And a lot to think about.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  MORDRED STOOD IN THE Queens parking garage facing Steven Drokharis’s orange Bronco. Even if he hadn’t known the plate number, the scorch marks on the top were a dead giveaway. The vehicle had been hit with dragon fire at least once. There were also bashes and gashes that showed it had survived a battle. Somehow.

  Somehow, the Drokharis child had survived every fight.

  There was a lot of Arthur in him, Arthur’s magic and Arthur’s luck. Yet the goody-goody white knight fool had encountered the ultimate misfortune in the end. Betting one’s life on luck was a risky, tricky thing. As long as fate was on your side, it was all victory and smiles. When fate turned on you? You had no recourse.

  Zuzanna, in her gauzy black dress, sniffed around the Bronco, her eyes glowing, lost in a Divination spell. She turned. “There is nothing. We have the truck. We don’t have him.”

  Lancelot, known to most as Louis Laloux, emerged from the shadows wearing a black suit with an orange shirt and matching tie. “Oui, sweet Zuzanna, no one has him.” He jabbed a finger at Mordred. “You put your trust in Stains and his technology. That will not win this. Drokharis is in New York, but New York is big, no?”

  “Then what do you suggest, Lancelot?” Mordred asked the Dragonlord in his garish black-and-orange suit.

  Lancelot shrugged his slender shoulders. “He is searching for the Holy Grail in this city. We cannot scry him, but what if we scried his search?”

  Zuzanna limped over to them. “I felt the powerful magic in Maine, near a lake, the same lake that held the temple that did not let you pass. For you stood there once, Mordred, with the other Dragonknights.”

  Mordred remembered. It had been happier times. If only he hadn’t made his grand mistake. If only he’d killed Merlin first. Alas, he couldn’t take it back, and he’d paid for the sin, over and over. And yes, he’d swum to the depths of the temple, but the Lady of the Lake had nearly killed him.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, we wait. We find a perch and wait, and when the time comes, when he does whatever he is here to do, we strike.”

  Lancelot took a cigarette and placed it into a holder. He lit it, inhaled, then breathed out smoke. “We will come in as if to fight, and perhaps we might get lucky, but that is not our main purpose. The Grail is why we are here.”

  Zuzanna anticipated Mordred’s desires. She removed a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, and lit it herself. A shadow broke from the darkness, running faster than sight.

  Umbra plucked the cigar out of Zuzanna’s hand and placed it in Mordred’s mouth. Then the dragon was gone, back to where she was hiding among the cars.

  Mordred laughed at her play, then took in a mouthful of smoke, which he blew out his nose. “And we have other business, Lancelot, do we not?”

  The Dragonknight nodded. “The Angel Knife, yes, full of Animus, and ready. We have the body. I can have it flown anywhere in the world. We just need to wait for the right time.”

  “Agreed.” Mordred paused. “And your Gris-Gris are ready with their spells? We’ve been playing with Drokharis’s vassals, but when we are ready, we will need them to push forward. I want to be in Colorado as soon as possible. That will give our enemy pause, distract him, while we find the Grail.”

  Lancelot laughed. “And find it we will. We have waited long enough, brother. We shall rule this world, finally.”

  Mordred pondered the “we.” For a long time, now, he’d seen himself as the Dragonlord Prime ruling over a Primacy that covered the blue-green gem. Yet, now, he wasn’t so sure he wanted it all for himself. He’d been with Lancelot for a long time, and they’d survived a great deal. Perhaps they could rule together.

  He laughed at himself. Perhaps.

  Mordred would play the game one move at a time.

  “Paanga Komang has disappeared,” Zuzanna said quietly. “He is in America. That is certain.”

  Lancelot cackled, smoked, cackled some more. “Of course he is! We all feel the end coming. The wheels of history are coming to cru
sh us all!”

  Mordred wasn’t sure why Lancelot was laughing. What the hell. Mordred laughed along with him. He was surprised at how good it felt.

  A car pulled up. Inside were Mordred’s most trusted soldiers, two women, Needles and Clutch, as well as a man, Cort Calot.

  “Do we have a plan?” Cort asked. He leaned a cheek on his assault rifle.

  “We do indeed,” Mordred replied.

  TWENTY-FOUR HOURS PASSED quickly for Steven. It was dizzying, keeping up with Tessa in full shopping mode. They bought outfits, tried them on, ate thin-crust pizza, which he liked, but Mouse wasn’t sold on. She proclaimed that Chicago pizza was the best possible pizza in all possible worlds. It was the Platonic ideal.

  Aria went off script and protested that the Colorado kind was the best. All hail Beau Jo’s! Giving the number of times he’d trekked to Idaho Springs to eat it, Steven wholeheartedly agreed.

  They went to Times Square, they flew around the top of the Statue of Liberty, and they even rode the subway just for fun. Of course, they had to run Central Park, and they all said how much Zoey would’ve loved it. She and Sabina had found their red-star chamber in the Outer Banks, and it was set up the same as the one in New York but without the mosaic history lesson.

  The Wayne twins reached the Florida Keys without an issue. They took shots of tequila and found their own chamber, under an island, weeping seawater. Instead of a claw-print in the stone table, however, there was a slot for an Animus dagger.

  They agreed they would all activate their various chambers at precisely midnight that night.

  The hours went by quickly, and soon enough, Steven, Aria, Tessa, and Mouse were back in the vast chamber underneath the abandoned apartment building in the Red Hook district of Brooklyn.

  Steven and Mouse shifted into their True Forms. Tessa was ready with revolvers and spells. Aria, as a Homo Draconis, approached the round table.