“You’re in no position to ask questions,” the giant said. “Unbuckle that sword belt nice and easy. The master wants to talk to you, but I doubt he’d be too upset if I just brought your body.”
“I’d be upset.” Moz held out his sword belt.
“Toss it back inside, along with any other weapons hidden on you. If I search you and find so much as an eating knife, I’ll break both your legs.”
Yup, this guy was way more competent than the ones they left on watch. Moz would have to bide his time and wait for the exact right moment to act. He doubted he’d get a second chance.
When he tossed the garrote back into his house Moz said, “That’s it.”
The mercenary spun Moz around and did a thorough search. “Smart. Looks like you can follow directions after all. You might just get to meet the master standing up. Come on.”
They led him around to where a handful of jon boats waited. Moz sat in the center boat beside the giant while two others took up paddles. Back in town, Moz spotted Cork watching him get paddled away.
He didn’t dare make a move, but silently willed the kid not to try anything stupid. If he was going to have any hope of escape, he couldn’t be worrying about Cork at the same time.
Aside from the splash of the oars, the ride through the swamp was silent. It was a different perspective for Moz. He was always standing at the back of his skiff poling himself along. Everything looked quite different from a seated position.
He debated striking up a conversation, but doubted his captor knew all that much about what was going on. No, the time to talk would arrive when they reached the tower.
And reach it they did, about an hour later. The jon boats slid up onto the bank and the giant motioned Moz out. The mercenaries had carved a trail through the jungle which made the hiking relatively easy, as long as you didn’t mind mud. At least there were no vines trying to strangle you every third step.
At the end of the trail, they reached the collection of tents Moz had spied on the day before. There wasn’t much activity. The rest of the mercenaries were probably out patrolling the swamp.
His captor took an iron grip on Moz’s arm and guided him to one of the tents. It was a simple tan canvas model no different from any of the others. Above the entrance flap hung a circle made of three dragon heads.
“Master Tor, I’ve brought the ranger as you commanded.”
An older man dressed in a green robe styled to look like scales and carrying a staff topped with a carved dragon emerged and looked Moz all over.
He touched Moz’s breastplate and shook his head. “Blasphemy. No man should wear the scales of a dragon. You’re not worthy. None of us are.”
“They’re collected scales,” Moz said. “No dragons were harmed to create my armor.”
“Did I accuse you of harming a dragon?” Tor glared at him with the mad, burning eyes of a true zealot. “I said, you’re not worthy to wear them. You need to listen more carefully.”
“My apologies.” Moz would need to keep a careful rein on what he said, or this madman was liable to have him executed on the spot.
“Your apologies are meaningless. For your insult, you and the other blasphemer will be fed to the Great One when she awakens. For the good of all dragonkind she must awaken and destroy the heretics that would see them enslaved again.”
“You mean the Dark Sages?” Moz asked.
Tor closed so their noses were almost touching. “You know them? They are the worst blasphemers of all! Leonidas hid his true plans from me. Said we were freeing dragons when he truly sought to enslave them all. He’ll pay for his treachery. They’ll all pay when the Great One awakens.”
“The great one?” Moz asked.
“Yes!” Tor backed away and rubbed his hands together. “Come, I will show you. The first heretic failed to rouse her. Perhaps smelling you wearing the scales of her kindred will do the trick. Bring him!”
The giant mercenary shoved Moz along behind Tor while the rest of the group fell in after them. At the edge of the sinkhole, the cultists had built a rickety set of steps down to the bottom. Moz also got his first look at the black dragon wrapped around the tower. The beast was titanic. A single bite could swallow him and his skiff whole. It had to measure three hundred yards from nose to tail. Moz shuddered to think what it could do if they woke the beast.
Not that he’d have to worry about that if he fell from the staircase. Each step Moz took caused it to wobble and sway. The planks creaked under his boots. Any minute now he expected to come crashing down.
By some miracle they made it to the bottom of the hole in one piece. Tor led the way over to the dragon. He seemed without fear which only proved how mad he was. As they walked, Moz studied the broken buildings. He didn’t recognize the style though he assumed it was imperial given the tower was built by them.
Moz’s guard shoved him right beside a nostril he could have climbed up into. A faint movement of air was the only sign that the dragon still breathed.
They stood there for half a minute before Tor shook his head. “It seems you will not wake the Great One either.”
“Shouldn’t we keep our voices down?” Moz whispered.
Tor barked a laugh. “Ignorant lout! She’s not asleep, she’s in deep hibernation. We could throw a party under her nose and not wake her. I know not what she waits for, but I believe soon she will rise from her long rest. Throw him in with the heretic, Dirk.”
Yes, Master,” the giant mercenary said.
He dragged Moz away from the dragon and towards a building across town that had been largely rebuilt. Another of the three-headed-dragon images had been placed over the entrance.
Dirk pushed the door open revealing a large room with an altar at the end draped in green silk. It appeared to be a temple of some kind. Probably to a dragon god Tor had hallucinated.
“Why do you follow that lunatic?” Moz asked.
He nearly went to his knees when Dirk’s fist slammed into his jaw.
“Master Tor understands the great ones. It is an honor to serve such a wise man.”
In his own way Dirk was clearly as big a madman as his master. All of them were. Anyone with an ounce of sense would keep as far away from a dragon that size as they could.
Dirk shoved him down the central aisle toward a door in the rear of the room. Beyond the door only a single lantern flickered. A heavy steel cage had been built and in it sat a miserable figure dressed in shredded rags. Every inch of visible skin bore a scar. What had these monsters done to him?
One of the other soldiers grabbed Moz while Dirk unlocked the cage. They shoved Moz in and locked the door back up before leaving him and his new roommate alone.
“Morning,” Moz said. “I hate to meet any man under circumstances like this. Name’s Moz.”
“You have a sense of humor.” The prisoner spoke in a raspy, harsh voice. “That’s good. You’ll need it. My name’s Yazguard and I’ve been a prisoner of these sons of whores for the gods alone know how long.”
“What did they do to you?” Moz asked.
His laugh was bitter and raw. “What didn’t they do? I would be tortured to the brink of death only to be healed so they could do it again. Tor said it was my punishment for enslaving dragons. Mad bastard. We took good care of our dragons and they loved flying with us.”
“You flew on a dragon?” Moz feared he’d been thrown in with another madman.
“I did. The dragonriders were the defenders of Dragonspire Village until we were betrayed. Now my people are scattered to the four winds and I’m stuck here where I can do them no good. I know not what I have done to anger the gods, but I pray every day that they either free me or kill me.” He flashed a broken-toothed smile. “As you can see, they haven’t seen fit to answer.”
Moz didn’t know how to respond so he kept silent and offered his own prayer that he wouldn’t be as broken as this poor man when he was free of this place. Assuming he ever was.
Chapter 7
&nb
sp; The rough stone passage from the dragon hybrid’s cage ran slightly downhill. After twenty paces the glow from deeper in the complex became bright enough that Umbra doused his red light. From his place at the rear of the group, Rondo looked around Shade’s back, but there wasn’t much to see yet, just gray stone and shadows. Given everything they’d encountered so far, Rondo was sure there would be something horrible waiting for them at the end of the hall.
Half a minute later the tunnel leveled out and began to curve until it opened into a huge round room. Thousands of books covered every surface and shelf. Glass vats held all manner of monstrous creations. This was like the mad emperor’s lab times ten. Rondo had hoped never to find himself in such a place again and yet here he was.
“This must be where the missing books ended up,” Rondo said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Shade agreed. “The boss is going to be thrilled when he sees this place. Domina too.”
“Only if it holds the secret to waking the girl,” Umbra said. “Nothing else matters.”
From behind one of the multitudes of book stacks a figure emerged. Whoever it was wore a dark, shapeless robe that covered everything from the neck down. The bald head turned to look at them.
“So you’ve made it past both my guard dogs.” The voice was definitely male. “Impressive. I assume you have a purpose in interrupting my work. Please get to it and make yourselves scarce.”
“Did you make the girl, Ariel?” Umbra asked.
“A girl child you say?” They had his interest now; Rondo could hear it in his tone. “Blond hair and draconic eyes? Are you in possession of her?”
“That’s not your concern,” Umbra said. “Did you make her or not?”
“I did. And it very much is my concern. I invested nearly a century in perfecting that hybrid. She is the culmination of scores of failed experiments. She was stolen from me some years ago by a faithless servant. I would be grateful for her return.”
“Unfortunately, that will be impossible. Our master has need of her,” Umbra said. “He also has need of a complete breakdown of her physical makeup. You will provide it for us.”
The man snorted a laugh. “Why would I do that? If you will not return my property, I certainly have no reason to help you make better use of it.”
Shade drew a dagger. “We could always make you tell us.”
The man’s response to Shade’s threat was different from any Rondo had ever seen. He laughed. A great, deep belly laugh. He laughed so hard he doubled over and grasped the edge of a work table.
Perhaps he held deep secrets and hidden magic, but nothing visible about him gave the impression that he was a match for Shade. If anything, he looked a bit frail and scholarly.
When he finally got himself under control he straightened and said, “Strike me down if you like. Or try to. I fear no weapon or magic.”
Shade looked at Umbra who shrugged. Of all the possibilities, clearly a mocking laugh wasn’t what they expected.
The man pulled his robe lower, exposing his thin chest. “What are you waiting for? Strike if you mean to.”
Shade crossed the room, raised his dagger, and plunged it six inches into the man’s breast.
He made no sound, simply staring into Shade’s eyes as the assassin pulled his weapon free. A little thick, black blood oozed out before the wound closed. Shade looked at his weapon as though it had betrayed him.
“You see? I feel no pain and cannot die. Your threats mean nothing to me.”
“Who are you?” Umbra asked.
“Polymus Draconis the First. And you?”
Rondo blinked, his mind refusing to process what the man had said. Draconis was the name of the imperial line of the Dragon Empire. If this man was claiming to be a direct descendant of that line…
“Polymus. Your father was the last emperor,” Umbra said.
“Indeed. I was to be his successor, but alas I was born without the ability to control dragons. Father was disappointed. I was instantly set aside and he tried again with equally poor results. The rest I’m sure you know from the histories. If you found this place and recognize my name, you’re clearly more than simple ruin explorers. I’ve killed a few of them over the centuries.”
“If you are who you say you are,” Umbra said. “You were born hundreds of years ago. How is it you’re still alive?”
“I may not have inherited Father’s gift, but I did inherit Grandfather’s knack for alchemy.”
“The immortality potion.” Umbra breathed the words in an awed voice.
Shade moved to stand beside Rondo. “Are you following all this?”
“Most of it. It seems we’ve stumbled upon a living relic. The knowledge he must possess is mind-boggling.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Why would you? He clearly has no desire to help us. If he made Ariel, and I have no reason to doubt that he did given what we’ve seen here, then he surely planned to do exactly the same as Lord Black. How he’ll deal with an immortal competitor with a superior claim to the throne will be interesting.”
“Not for Polymus,” Shade said.
Rondo grinned but wondered just how you dealt with an immortal. Killing him was clearly out. If he didn’t feel pain, torture was a waste of time. It was a problem for sure but luckily not his.
The conversation had moved on and Rondo struggled to catch up.
“You know,” Polymus said. “If Father had focused on the potion from the start rather than on impregnating every wench he could find, he might have figured it out in time to save the empire. But he didn’t and here we are.”
“Yes, here we are,” Umbra agreed. “You were planning to restore the empire as well, I take it? How did you plan to control the girl? We found a golden circlet that compels obedience.”
“I’d forgotten about that trinket. I engineered obedience into her. The hybrid must obey me, just as all the others must. The only reason she escaped was because I wasn’t careful enough with my commands to the caretaker I entrusted her to. How was I supposed to know a female hybrid was capable of developing maternal feelings?”
“It’s always the little details that cause problems,” Umbra said. “Will you help us with the information we require? I’m sure our master would find a place for you in the Dragon Empire Reborn.”
“Generous of him given that I’m the rightful heir to the throne. No, I don’t think I will help you. However, were you to return the hybrid to me, I’m sure I could find a place for you all in my new empire.”
“Seems we’re at an impasse.” Umbra gestured and dark tendrils wrapped Polymus from neck to toe.
“How dare you use magic on me!”
Umbra ignored the bound man. “Shade, cut his head off. Perhaps the knowledge we seek is hidden here. Or maybe Domina has some way to compel him to speak. Either way, he’s a threat that needs to be mitigated.”
“You got it.”
Shade drew both his daggers, walked over to Polymus, and hacked at his neck until his head fell with a plop facedown on the floor. Umbra ended his spell and the body fell the opposite way.
Polymus’s head mumbled something Rondo couldn’t make out with his face stuck in the floor.
Shade grabbed him by the hair and lifted him up.
“Gods curse you all! I’ll make you suffer for this insult!”
“How is it you can talk without lungs?” Shade asked.
Polymus glared at Shade but said nothing more.
“Put him on the workbench,” Umbra said. “We need to contact Leonidas. Rondo, stay here and keep an eye on him. We’ll retreat to the cell so I can work my spell without the lab’s magic interfering.”
“Where’s he going to go without legs?” Rondo asked.
Shade and Umbra both looked at him.
Rondo shrugged. “Fine. Have it your way.”
They departed the lab, leaving Rondo alone with his disembodied companion. Babysitting a head. This was what he had been reduced to.
On the la
b floor, the body started twitching.
Shade waited to speak until they’d gone out of what he guessed was earshot of the head. That was another first for him Usually when he removed someone’s head, he immediately stopped thinking about them. Of course, they also usually stopped talking so there was that.
“What do you think?” Shade asked. “Is he really the last emperor’s son?”
“My instinct says yes, especially given that he clearly had access to both the dragonspire and the hidden alchemy lab. He has also mastered his skills to such an extent that he could engineer a near-perfect human-dragon hybrid. I doubt anyone could do that in a single lifetime.”
“Yeah, the immortality thing’s pretty hard to deny. People I can’t kill make me nervous.” He paused. “I think they make Rondo nervous as well.”
“Everything makes Rondo nervous.”
He said it in such a dry, flat tone Shade couldn’t help laughing. The cadre had been in plenty of tough spots. They’d figure this one out as well.
When they reached the dragon hybrid’s cell door Jax stopped and sat in front of it. Shade crouched a few feet away. The wizard didn’t like anyone too close when he cast.
Jax did his thing and a moment later the empty viewing window appeared. The boss’s face entered it after half a minute. From the frown and deep creases around his eyes, Shade guessed he wasn’t in a good mood.
“Tell me you have something,” the boss said.
“We have a great deal of information,” Jax said. “Though not yet the information you require.”
He went on to summarize everything they’d learned so far. When he finished Jax added, “I believe his claims to an imperial bloodline are true. I’m less confident that we can compel an immortal who doesn’t feel pain to talk.”
“Don’t underestimate my ability to compel,” Leonidas said. “You three have done fine work here. Speaking of the third member of the group, where is Rondo?”
“Keeping an eye on the head,” Shade said. “Not that I expect it to wander off, but why take chances?”
The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 2 Page 25
