Dragonforge da-2

by James Maxey

  "Rise," Blasphet said.

  Arvelizan stood, looking more alert than Blasphet had suspected. Save for the yellow spittle dripping from his jaws, he showed no obvious signs of having ingested the powerful drug.

  "Now bow before me," said Blasphet.

  Arvelizan dropped to all fours, lowering his chin to touch the floor. He spread his wings like giant red carpets to his side as he pressed himself into a pose of unquestioning submission.

  "Truly, your works are mighty, O Murder God," said Colobi, staring at the now obedient dragon.

  "I won't deny it," said Blasphet. "However, I'm not certain how long our friend here will be useful to us. The paste has dissociative properties; Alvelizan is obedient because his own sense of identity has been suppressed. Alas, the paste rots the brain. He's functional now, but he'll grow increasingly drowsy and clumsy in the coming days. Hopefully, a few days will be all we need. Take him outside and fit him with the harness. Make sure all the sisters on the sky team get a chance to practice riding. I'll guide the kitchen in preparing more paste. I want you to select the stealthiest crew you can assemble. Soon, I'm sending you back into the belly of the beast."

  Chapter Twelve:

  Traces of Kindness

  The valkyries lowered their spears and advanced toward Pet. He'd long suspected he'd meet his end facing a mob of vengeful females, but somehow he hadn't seen it playing out like this.

  "Halt!" Shandrazel shouted, his voice booming through the Peace Hall. "Stand down, valkyries!"

  The valkyries stopped in their tracks, looking back toward Zorasta. The valkyrie diplomat turned toward the king.

  "Bitterwood's sins demand justice," Zorasta said firmly. "He killed your father and your brother. Why would you taint these talks with the presence of a confessed murderer?"

  "This man did not kill my father," said Shandrazel. "His whereabouts are well known at the time my father died."

  "What of your brother, Bodiel? This man confessed to the crime."

  Which was true. Pet had confessed; he'd even bragged about it. He just hadn't actually done it. He'd confessed because the king's army had been slaughtering the people of his home village one by one until they produced Bitterwood. He'd confessed and stopped the slaughter, partly driven by some faint flicker of courage within him, partly driven, he would admit, by a desire to finally impress Jandra. If she hadn't been chiding him for his cowardice all day, he doubted he would have made the decision he did. Acting and deception were Pet's innate talents; it hadn't been that hard to play the role of hero. Still, perhaps now was a good time to come clean? Perhaps he'd calm things by claiming his confession had been a lie. Or would that only make matters worse?

  Before he could answer, Shandrazel rose from his golden cushion. He strode toward the center of the room, taking a stand in the middle of the world map. He was silent, as if gathering his thoughts as he looked down at the inlaid gemstones beneath his talons. Everyone grew quiet as they awaited his words.

  Shandrazel lifted his head. "My honored guests," he began, in a thoughtful voice. "I've summoned you to this Peace Hall for a noble cause. Four intelligent species share this world." He motioned toward the map beneath him with a sweep of his wings. "This is our common wealth. We hunt in the same forests, we drink from the same rivers. I was born to a family that viewed this land as our domain, and ours alone. Everything on this map was the property of my father; by law, it now belongs to me. The labors of humans, earth-dragons, and even sky-dragons are never truly their own. If a human planted a crop, my father could claim the harvest. If an earth-dragon smelted gold, my father could claim that treasure. Any book a biologian wrote was instantly considered the property of the king's library. This is the history we share."

  Pet looked around the room. Everyone stood in rapt attention at Shandrazel's words. Even Zorasta seemed to be attentive.

  "As of this day, the book of the old world is closed," said Shandrazel. "We in this room must turn to a new page, and write the history of a reborn world. Let them remember me as the king who brought an end to kings. After these talks, dragons and men will no longer live in a kingdom; we shall all dwell together in a Commonwealth."

  Pet noticed that, as Shadrazel spoke, Graxen the Gray gave a nod toward the valkyrie with the teardrop scale on her cheek. The valkrie gave a subtle nod back.

  "We have a golden future ahead of us," Shandrazel continued. "Each of us can leave the Peace Hall knowing we've made the world a more just place. To do this, we must free ourselves from old hatreds and grievances. I know that every race in this room has suffered in some way; I don't wish to diminish the injustice that has occurred in the past. As of this moment, however, we must turn our eyes away from our yesterdays and face our tomorrows. To make a world that is truly free, we must release ourselves from the chains of memory.

  "Will you do this? Will you join me in drafting the future? Can I count on your hard work and dedication to ensure the birth of this Commonwealth?"

  Shandrazel's stirring words echoed through the hall. He'd delivered the speech with a voice that rang with confidence and leadership. Pet applauded enthusiastically, his long-practiced response to any speech a sun-dragon gave. The humans around him clapped in more sullen fashion.

  Charkon and his guards slapped their gauntleted claws against their breastplates, then unleashed a single cheering syllable: "WHOOT!" which sounded to Pet like a noise of support.

  Even the biologians broke out in scattered applause.

  Only the valkyries remained stock-still. Zorasta glowered at Shandrazel with eyes that could have shattered stone.

  Pet left the Peace Hall twelve hours later. He was giving serious consideration to finding a fast horse and being far away come dawn. Shandrazel had neutralized the demand for his execution with his speech, but that was about the only positive thing accomplished with the day. Once all the representatives had arrived, the room had quickly fallen into bickering over such trivial details as which part of the room each delegation was to stand in. It wasn't an auspicious start.

  While Pet had been the immediate beneficiary of Shandrazel's insistence that the talks wouldn't dwell on the past, Pet found himself disturbed by the logic. Centuries of oppression of humans were to be dismissed as no worse than the murder of a few dragons. As attractive as it was to focus on a better future, Pet couldn't forget the things he'd witnessed in the Free City. But, was it necessary to forget? Or only to forgive? Was one the equal of the other?

  Pet climbed the stairs to the roof. He walked to the edge and looked out over the Free City, ghostly in the light of a crescent moon. The frigid night air made his lungs ache; it was crisp and clean, yet somehow it couldn't quite remove the scent of blood and piss and muck that washed through his mind whenever he looked at the wooden palisades surrounding the Free City.

  Pet froze as he heard a loud, long sigh behind him. Turning, he saw Graxen the Gray perched on a wall on the opposite side of the roof. The sky-dragon seemed oblivious to Pet as he stared across the open courtyard toward one of the many towers that studded the palace skyline. Graxen almost looked like a statue, immobile against the backdrop of stars. Pet followed his gaze and saw a valkyrie standing at attention on a distant balcony. Suddenly, the Free City no longer loomed in his mind; Pet was ever the romantic. He couldn't turn his attention away from a case of unrequited love.

  Pet cleared his throat, startling Graxen from his reverie. Graxen flinched, as if he'd been caught doing something embarrassing.

  "So," Pet said, hopping onto the wall next to Graxen. From here it was a long, steep plunge into the courtyard. Luckily, Pet was immune to vertigo. "What's her name?"

  "W-whose name?" Graxen asked.

  "The valkyrie. You know her?"

  Graxen sighed. "Nadala. In truth, I know little more than her name."

  "I thought that sky-dragons of different sexes didn't mingle. How'd you meet her?"

  "She tried to stop me from entering the Nest," said Graxen. "I met her at the poin
t of her spear."

  "Aren't they irresistible when they play hard to get?" Pet said with a knowing chuckle.

  "I don't know what you mean," said Graxen.

  "Human women don't like to appear too easy. I assume the same is true with your females. They like to make you work to prove your interest."

  "I fear you know nothing of sky-dragon propagation," Graxen said. "My interest has nothing to do with mating. Desire may rule the reproductive choices of humans, but sky-dragons value their species too much to leave breeding to individual whims. Our biological destinies are determined by the matriarch and her advisors. We mate only with whom we are told to mate"

  "Where's the fun in that?" Pet asked.

  "What does fun have to do with mating?"

  Pet felt a gulf arise between Graxen and himself that he wasn't sure could ever be crossed. Yet, there was no mistaking the look in Graxen's eyes. This dragon was lovesick, even if he didn't know it.

  Pet studied the valkyrie across the way. He could see nothing remarkable about her except, perhaps, that she was standing at such diligent attention.

  "She shows a remarkable commitment to duty," Pet said.

  "Yes," Graxen said. "She's guarding Zorasta."

  "She's probably on duty for hours. She might appreciate some company."

  "I don't wish to disturb her," Graxen said.

  "You won't disturb her. I saw the way she looked at you. She's as fascinated by you as you are by her."

  Graxen wrinkled his nose as if the concept disgusted him. "Valkyries are too disciplined to ever be 'fascinated,' especially by one such as myself. You know nothing of our ways."

  "I saw the two of you nod to one another earlier."

  "It was only a respectful greeting."

  "If you fly over there, does your conversation carry any danger of turning into a session of passionate mating?"

  "What? No!" Graxen looked genuinely mortified by the suggestion.

  "That takes all the pressure off, then. You can hop over knowing all you're going for is a polite chat. There's no risk of anything messy. What's the harm?"

  Graxen didn't answer. Pet could practically hear the wheels turning in the dragon's mind as he allowed himself to be convinced. Pet gave him one last nudge.

  "At the very least, since she's stuck standing out here in the cold, you could ask if she'd like a cup of hot cider to fight the chill. You can bring her some from the kitchen if she says yes. It's not flirting. It's just being kind to a fellow dragon. It's showing respect and appreciation for her hard work."

  Graxen's eyes softened. "It is cold tonight. It would be simple kindness to offer."

  "Go," Pet said, giving Graxen a gentle push on the back. The sky-dragon tilted forward, looking for half a second like he would plummet into the courtyard, until he spread his gray wings and shot toward the distant balcony as if pulled by some powerful, unseen spring.

  Pet decided at that moment he wouldn't flee the castle. For one thing, he was curious as to how this meeting would work out for Graxen. Secondly, he hoped that, sooner rather than later, Jandra would return. He didn't want to miss the chance to see her again. He grinned as he dreamily watched the distant dragons talking. He drifted into a fantasy that began with the offer of a cup of warm cider on a cool evening, then moved to a vision of Jandra's gown and his pants tangled together at the foot of a bed. Some small, quiet voice inside him warned that he might be skipping some steps in this scenario, but he'd honed to a wonderful degree the ability to ignore such small, quiet voices. He closed his eyes and let his body grow warm in the embrace of Jandra's invisible arms.

  Nadala remained rigidly at attention as Graxen landed on a rainspout above her. Only the slightest tilt of her head revealed her awareness of his arrival.

  "It's, uh, chilly tonight," he said. His tongue felt stiff in his mouth as he spoke. His voice seemed to belong to someone else.

  She whispered her answer, so softly he had to strain to hear it. "It's not so cold. I've stood watches in snow. Tonight is almost balmy."

  "Oh," said Graxen. "Then, can I get you some warm cider?" He cringed as the words came out of him. She'd just said she wasn't cold!

  "We're not allowed to drink on duty," she whispered. She kept her eyes focused on the horizon, as if watching for the approach of invading armies.

  "It's… it's quite a difficult job, I imagine, being a valkyrie. I-I want you to know I… uh… appreciate your hard work." He grimaced at the prattle falling off his tongue. Why had he listened to the human?

  "Thank you," Nadala whispered.

  Graxen found himself with nothing further to say. He'd thought he'd be flying off for cider about now. His heart pounded out the long seconds as neither of them spoke.

  Nadala cast a brief glance upward, as if to assure herself he was still there. Her body quickly resumed the stance of an alert sentry as she whispered, "It's kind of you to offer. Under different circumstances, I would take the cup."

  "You're going to be here at the palace for a few days, at least," said Graxen. "Perhaps we could meet-"

  "I don't think that's wise, Graxen the Gray."

  "Oh," he said.

  "I wish the world were more fair," she sighed.

  "I know," he said.

  "Zorasta won't allow this conference to succeed," Nadala said, sounding bitter. "The matriarch has commanded that we cannot risk the existing world order. I wish she were open to the possibility that the world could be improved."

  Graxen felt his heart flutter as the implications of her words took hold.

  "Then, you aren't happy with the world as it is? You dream of changing the old ways?"

  "A valkyrie is devoid of dreams," Nadala said, her voice firm and, somehow, not her own. It was as if she were speaking the words from rote. "A valkyrie has no will of her own, no desire, save to serve the matriarch. We live and die for the greater good."

  Graxen dropped from the rainspout down to the balcony rail, twirling to face her, landing as silently as a leaf. With his voice at its softest, he said, "We both know that isn't true. You treated me kindly when your sisters turned me away. You're an individual as well as a valkyrie."

  "In the heat of battle, there can be no individuality," Nadala said. She no longer sounded as if she were repeating slogans. She believed these words. "A valkyrie must be a part of a greater unit. In unity, we will never know defeat."

  "But life isn't always a battle," said Graxen. "Shandrazel wants to bring an era of peace to the world."

  "There will never be lasting peace," said Nadala. "Especially not in this time of upheaval, following the death of a king. I know with the certainty that night follows day, I'll be called to battle soon. My subservience to the unit must be complete."

  Nadala sounded resigned as she spoke. Her eyes looked past Graxen, into the distance, as if seeing that future battle.

  Graxen nodded, accepting the wisdom of her words.

  "You're right," he said. "Mine was a foolish dream."

  Her eyes suddenly met his. She whispered, "Tell me of your dreams, Graxen the Gray."

  "I'd only lower myself in your eyes to speak of such fantasies," he said.

  "No," she said. "I'm fascinated by dreams. I envy your freedom to dream them."

  Graxen wanted to leap from the balcony and flee rather than confess his thoughts. Yet, for so long, he'd wanted to talk to someone about his most cherished hopes. He'd never been asked before; he couldn't run away now. "Before I visited the matriarch I dreamed… I dreamed I would be allowed to mate. It's utterly foolish. I know that centuries of careful planning aren't going to be set aside to accommodate the hopes of an aberration. Yet… still I dreamed, and still I hope."

  "I admire that you can hold on to your dreams," she said. "It's been many years since true hope burned in my heart."

  "But, certainly you'll be allowed to mate," he said. "You must be highly respected, to be chosen as a guard for Zorasta. I know from experience you're a formidable warrior."

 
Nadala lowered her eyes as he spoke, as if embarrassed to discuss the matter. Despite her discomfort, she said, "I find the possibility that I'll be selected as breed stock as dreadful as I do hopeful. I won't be allowed to choose my mate; he'll be assigned to me. The matriarch selects biologians who excel in intellectual arts, yet frequently these biologians lack even the most basic sense of decency. They spend their lives being lauded for their greatness, and they approach the mating as just another award they've earned."

  "I've heard the boasts of the chosen ones," Graxen admitted. "They do seem to relish in describing how they, um, dominated the female. I think they overcompensate. Many biologians fear the power of valkyries; they become overly aggressive when confronted with a creature they secretly believe to be their superior."

  "We don't wish to be your superiors," said Nadala. "Only your equals."

  "Those are the sorts of words that Shandrazel is hoping to hear. It's a shame you aren't the ambassador."

  "And it's a shame that the matriarch is blind to your virtues. It was kind of you to come speak to me tonight, Graxen. I fear for the future of our race, should the last traces of kindness be bred out of it."

  There was a noise in the chamber beyond the balcony, a soft mumble, like someone speaking in their sleep.

  Nadala whispered softer than ever. "If Zorasta wakes, it will be difficult to explain why I haven't gutted you."

  "Understood," said Graxen. "It's been worth the risk of gutting to speak to you. I feel… I feel less alone after hearing your thoughts. I wish we could continue our conversation."

  Nadala shook her head. "You mustn't take further risks. Leave, knowing that you're less alone in the world, yet also knowing we cannot speak again."

  Graxen swallowed hard. Could this really be the end? Ten minutes of conversation was so inadequate for the lifetime of words he'd stored up inside him. He could hear in her voice that she was also full of such words. She was simply too disciplined to risk speaking them. She had so much more to lose than he did. He should go and be satisfied. Still, some desperate part of him wanted more.