by Dante King
There was nothing light or dainty about Saya’s Gargoyle Dragon, Scopula. She was the length of a Lake Placid-sized saltwater crocodile, but far chunkier. Her body was low-slung, and she had short, powerful-looking legs. Scopula’s thick tail left a great groove in the wet road. The children ran in and out of it as they darted across our path, much to the annoyance of the bearmancer guards. Scopula’s hide was more textured and rougher than any dragon I had seen, bar Wayne, and looked like it could have withstood a round fired from a fifty cal. The cement-gray wings were attached to her body by muscular joints, and her head was a blunt wedge with a pair of dark eyes that smoldered like coals out of deep-set sockets.
Tamsin, the red-skinned, pointy-toothed hobgoblin, was entertaining the children by leaning into the hobgoblin stereotype. Whenever kids got near to her, she would hiss and snap her bright white teeth in mock menace and send the ankle-biters squealing away in delighted fright.
Fyzos, her male Force Dragon, was a handsome example of dragonkind. Deep, honey yellow in color. A triangular head stuck at the end of a medium-length neck. Black wings and a unicorn-like horn standing out from its forehead. He was perhaps the most stereotypical looking dragon of the bunch. Following Tamsin’s lead, Fyzos would snap harmlessly at any child that came too near his head, although he did allow a couple of the braver kids to actually touch his perpetually warm flank or the edge of his wing before snarling at them and sending them scurrying away, laughing.
The most popular dragon, though, was Renji’s shining Steel dragon, Corvar. The creature looked like a cross between a forty-foot long Komodo dragon and an armored knight; all scintillating, smooth, mirror-bright flanks, and a tail like a mercury bullwhip. The beautiful beast was so shiny that the children were able to run alongside her and pull faces at one another in her glossy flanks.
I smiled to myself at the delighted children staring at their reflections. It was the same sort of kick that Earthling children, and stoned adults, got out of those mirror rooms at traveling carnivals.
The metallic dragon regarded the shrieking children out of glittering white eyes. Corvar opened its mouth, and darted a long, forked quicksilver tongue in their direction every now and again.
There was an almost festive mood in the air, despite the habitually reticent weathered faces of the Vetruscan villagers. With us fighting alongside the bearmancers at the battle of Berserker Hall, as well as muttered rumors of what had occurred in the Beinwood with the chimera, the consensus was that us Mystoceans were not as big a bunch of assholes as many had been led to believe.
I mentioned this to Queen Frami as we began heading through the outskirts of the town toward the main gate.
“Yes,” Queen Frami said. “Yes, I believe that the rumors circling the taverns about yesterday's hunt basically tell of how you—what’s the expression?”
“Saved your bacon?” I ventured.
Queen Frami grinned. “I was going to say ‘pulled my ass from the rat trap’, but ‘saved my bacon’ would also be accurate.”
I grinned.
“You don’t mind that your village thinks that I made some heroic save and rescued you from that chimera?” I asked.
Queen Frami shrugged her shoulders and looked with her one eye at the hovels and huts that we passed.
“A person’s own pride cannot stand in the way of the pride and care that they feel for their country, and that goes triple for a monarch, Dragonmancer Noctis,” she said. “If you saving my life—twice, no less!—helps keep this fracturing land together for the little while longer, then it’s a damned small price to pay.”
We rode along in silence for a little longer. The kids had been left behind, quickly becoming bored of their sport or else being called back by their parents or masters.
“You’re a good ruler, Queen Frami,” I said, breaking the silence without even meaning to utter the words. They were true words though, the kind that deserve to be spoken aloud.
The Queen snorted. “Met many monarchs, have you, Mike?” she growled gruffly.
“Nah,” I said, “but I’d never met a dragon before I came face-to-face with Gharmon over there, but you know what, Your Majesty?”
“What’s that, Mike?” the Queen asked.
“I still recognized one when I saw it.”
We rounded the final turn in the road that led from the center of Hrímdale to the outer walls. The gate through which we had first entered the Vetruscan capital, and through which we would be leaving it, was already ajar.
At first, I thought the gate guards wanted to expedite our exit. As we drew closer though, I noticed a heated debate taking place at the open entrance.
A troop of about a dozen guards were blocking the way, milling around, rattling their swords in their sheaths.
“What in all the hells is going on here?” the Queen growled, her thick brows descending like twin swords of Damocles.
As we got within hearing range, one of the gate guards turned and saw that we were approaching. With a look that was two parts apprehension and one part relief mixed on her face, the guard hurried over and saluted Queen Frami.
“Well?” the Queen said at once. She didn’t look overly impressed. “What damned pigfuckery is going on here? Speak quickly!”
“Uh, there are - there are strangers, Your Majesty,” the guard said. “Strangers wanting to gain entrance to the town.”
Queen Frami blinked. Orka let loose a dull growl that seemed to stretch on for ages. The big bear might have been a moody bastard, but he sure had a set of lungs on him. When the growl had subsided, the guard elaborated without prompting.
“Dragonmancers, Your Majesty!” she said, trying to get the words out in double time, so that they almost ended up tripping over one another in their haste to get past her lips.
Queen Frami looked at me. “Were you expecting anyone, Mike Noctis?”
In turn, I looked behind me and exchanged meaningful glances with Elenari and Saya. Both my wives shook their heads.
“No, Your Majesty,” I said. “We weren’t expecting anyone.”
The Queen considered for a second or two, while the indistinct arguing from behind the gate continued unabated. Then, she raised her voice to say, “Open the gate!”
“But, Your Majesty—” the guardswoman standing in front of us started to protest.
Queen Frami gave the guard one of those particularly regal glowers that all kings and queens had tucked away in their facial expression arsenal for such occasions. It was the one that said, “I’m the fucking King / Queen so whatever you were about to say it might be best to shelve it for the time being. Perhaps up your ass.”
“Did I stutter?” she said brusquely.
The guard paled a shade and then hurried off to help her fellows with opening the gate.
“Am I sure?” the Queen muttered. “Course, I’m damn well sure.”
I was interested in finding out who these dragonmancers were. We had had no word from the Drako Academy, the Overseer, or General Shiloh at Galipolas Mountain since we had arrived.
The gate opened slowly, as the men and women who had been guarding and arguing over it shoved it open.
And there, standing on the other side of the portal, were three figures. One of them, dressed in all blue, blue-skinned, and with blue hair, was Penelope. Next to her, flanking her like a couple of guards themselves, were Ashrin and Jazmyn.
The Queen had Orka push unceremoniously through the pack of milling Vetruscan guards.
“Ladies!” I said, grinning down at the three female dragonmancers from the back of Pan. “I think it’s safe to say that we weren’t expecting to see you here this morning.”
Penelope, Ashrin, and Jazmyn all nodded in return. Penelope’s gaze was locked on me, and I could tell that the Knowledge Sprite was simply bursting to tell me something.
There was no prize for being able to guess what that thing might be. Penelope was the exact same size as she always had been, which told me that she had birthed the latest
dragonling.
I gave her a small thumbs up and an encouraging smile. The Librarian beamed back at me, but she did not launch into an explanation as to why the three dragonmancers had turned up unexpectedly. Penelope was a stickler for rules and protocol, and I knew that she was waiting for either Jazmyn or Ashrin to start talking, as they were the senior dragonmancers.
Hell, they weren’t just senior to Penelope, Ash, and Jaz were senior to all but ten other dragonmancers on active duty in the whole of the Mystocean Empire. They were members of the Empress’ Twelve. As such, they must have had one hell of a reason for coming all the way out here.
Jazmyn looked over at the guards seething behind us. She nodded, clearly unimpressed with all the posturing. “Who took a shit in their breakfast, aye?”
“I think, Jaz, that would be you three turning up unannounced,” I said helpfully.
“Dragonmancer Noctis is right,” Queen Frami said, with a soft barking chuckle. “When he and his companions turned up at my gates, they were expected. That was the sole reason that stopped my guards from stripping them and searching every crevice until satisfied that they were not spies.”
Penelope blushed at this, but Ashrin and Jazmyn appeared unmoved.
“We could not send word of our coming, Your Majesty,” Ash said in her calm, assertive voice. “Due to the rebels that are massing in the countryside around Hrímdale, sending a messenger might have proved problematic. The news we bear is of a sensitive nature.”
At the mention of the rebels, Queen Frami’s face had once again clouded over.
“What do you know of the insurgents?” she asked snappily. “What news do you bear?”
It was then that I noticed that the all-black, carapace-looking armor that Jazmyn and Ashrin habitually wore was shinier than I remembered. They took a couple of steps toward the Queen, where she was mounted on her bear, and I caught the metallic tang of blood.
A lot of blood.
Ashrin and Jaz were covered in it.
“We did not know much about the insurgents when we set out, Your Majesty,” Ashrin replied, her voice not quavering one iota, “but now…”
“Now, we’re much better acquainted with the bastards,” Jaz said. She spat sideways. “I’ll be picking bits of them out of my hair for bloody days.”
Queen Frami looked at the women intently. With a snarling command, she bade all the jabbering guards to shut up and be about their business. She slid nimbly down from Orka’s back, ruffled the great war-bear’s ears absentmindedly, and then addressed Ashrin and Jazmyn.
“Now,” she said, “please tell me all. You encountered rebel forces. Were there many of them? I have many scouts out patrolling the lands hereabouts, but due to the adverse weather conditions, I have had less reports back than I should have.”
Jazmyn gave a little guffaw of dry laughter. Ashrin shook her head gravely.
“Your Majesty,” Ash said, “we came across a sizable force of rebels—both run-of-the-mill soldiery and bearmancers—a couple of nights ago. We decimated them, routing their camp and slaying all that we encountered, but not before we did a bit of reconnaissance.”
“Many of your scouts have been hunted down and rounded up and put to death, Your Majesty,” Penelope said in a small, shy voice. “We overheard talk that pockets of rebels, most of them numbering in the thousands, have been roving through your lands under the cover of night and waylaying your scouts. Those captured were tortured for information.”
“Information?” the Queen asked. “What kind of information?”
“The kind that is valuable, Your Majesty,” Jaz said. “The kind of information that’s valuable to disgruntled people, who might, say, want you off the throne. The sort of information that revolves around troop numbers, weapon stash locations, scout and sentry patrol routes, weak spots in defenses, possible leverage over guard captains and city officials. That sort of thing.”
The Queen’s single eye was boring into Jaz. Jaz seemed quite unmoved by the attention. She ran a hand through her ash-colored hair, which was speckled liberally with blood and looked at the Queen.
“It’s why we’re here, Your Majesty,” she said. “Partly, at least.”
“The Overseer instructed us to accompany our fellow dragonmancer here,” Ash said, gesturing to Penelope who shuffled her feet awkwardly, “and also offer our services to you and the Vetruscan Kingdom.”
“Your services?” the Queen asked.
“We are two of the Twelve, Your Majesty,” Ash said simply. “Our Overseer told us that you were a canny ruler, and that you would know what that meant.”
Queen Frami looked the two dragonmancers up and down. Then she looked out over the moorland that stretched out around us. I imagined that she was picturing hordes of rebels crossing the windswept ground.
“I know what it means,” she said shortly. “But what makes your Overseer think that I will not be able to crush these agitators myself, hm?”
Jaz tucked her thumbs into the red sash that she wore around her waist, reminding me of a gunslinger in some spaghetti western.
“The Overseer’s mind ain’t a book that is open to the likes of us, Your Majesty,” she said. “She simply told us that your lands were in turmoil. She then instructed us to bring Penelope to your door and, on the way, use our discretion to analyze the state of things.”
Queen Frami snorted, but there was a shadow of worry moving behind the eye that was not covered with a patch.
“And?” she grunted. “What say you two of the Twelve?”
Ashrin puffed out her cheeks and ran her tongue across her teeth.
“Whatever doubts or fears you might have been harboring about these rebels, Your Majesty,” she said, “I think you have been underestimating them.”
“Underestimating them?” the Queen said in a low and dangerous voice. “They are bearmancers who once fought for me. Soldiers and archers and trackers and engineers that used to fight for me. Trust me when I say that I cannot underestimate their skills.”
“Not their skills, Your Majesty,” Penelope said in a shy squeak. “It is their numbers that you may have underestimated.”
Jazmyn and Ashrin both nodded, backing Pen up.
“Trouble is brewing, you can bet your Etherstone on that,” Queen Frami replied, grinding what sounded like every tooth in her head. “But you can rest assured that I plan on rooting out the insurrectionists. For now, though, I have a promise to keep. I want to send Mike here, and his fine companions, on their way.”
“That’s very noble of you, Your Majesty, and we know Dragonmancer Noctis’ mission,” Ashrin said. “If I might just beg for a few more moments of your time, Jazmyn and I can tell you what we discovered at the rebel camp.”
Queen Frami cast me a look and then nodded, motioning that Jazmyn and Ashrin should follow her.
As soon as the trio had passed out of earshot, I got down from Pan, put him back in his crystal, and approached Penelope.
“Well?” I asked her excitedly. “How are you, Pen? Is everything okay? With the dragonling?”
At the mention of the dragonling, Penelope’s face glowed with pride and unbridled parental love.
“Oh, Mike,” she said, “you should see it! The Etherstone you left me worked like a charm, everything went as smoothly as it possibly could have done, I’m sure.”
“And?” I said, caught up in the rush of the Knowledge Sprite’s enthusiasm. “What kind of dragon is it? Actually, tell me whether it’s male or female. And does it have a name?”
Penelope laughed at me and put her hand on my shoulder.
“So many questions!” she said, her blue-on-blue eyes twinkling happily. “Usually that’s me.”
“Come on and fill me in, then!” I urged.
Penelope pulled me a little distance away from the others, reached into one of the many pockets of her blue Librarian's robes, and extricated the Etherstone that I had given her before I left the Galipolas camp. She’d had it fastened in a web of silver and
hung from a short chain that might have been a bracelet. The stone glowed now. As she pressed it into my hand, I felt the warm life pulsing within it.
“Who are you?” I murmured at the crystal in my hand.
In answer, a tendril of thought snaked out from it and connected with my mind. I gasped, awareness flooding through me as, for the very first time, I met…
“My mother named me Cyan,” said a smooth, dangerous feminine voice in my head.
I blinked rapidly a few times, trying to not get overwhelmed by the rush of emotions and personality that this fresh link with my latest dragon child had opened up. It had been the same with my other offspring, that sensation, and was like nothing I had ever come across on Earth before.
On Earth, when you had kids, I imagined that you got to know them as slowly, or as quickly, as their personalities developed. With dragonlings, you were caught in the deluge of thoughts, dreams, needs, desires, likes, dislikes and questions that comprised their minds. It was like meeting someone and instantly knowing everything about them, like swallowing their Facebook page with your brain—only on an intensely intimate level. Not only that, but you were aware that you were sharing every part of yourself with them too.
“Cyan,” I said, scrunching up my eyes to try and clear my head of the whirling mass of information. “I’m sorry, I just - Whenever I have joined with a dragon, with one of the dragonlings that I have sired, the bond has never been so forceful. Never been so... detailed.”
The flutter of Cyan’s laughter traveled though my reeling mind like a butterfly.
“That’s because I am your first daughter, Dad,” she said. “Don’t you know that the female of the species is more deadly than the male. And more intelligent.”