by Isaac Hooke
The monkey perked up slightly, but still seemed dispirited. Malem was sad to watch the little guy go.
Well, his link to the animals would ensure he could find them later in a pinch, if he had to. Bounder and Felipe, anyway. Presumably Neeme would be kept in a nearby stall.
At the arched opening on the far side of the hall, a small number of men and women stood in line, waiting their turn to see the king. He knew they were dragons because of the collars at their necks. They wore ordinary tunics and dresses. Malem and his escort walked right by them.
Beyond the opening, the group entered what seemed to be an audience chamber.
Thick pillars lined a red carpet leading to a dais. Stairs in turn climbed that dais to an ivory throne, where a grizzled man sat. He was leaning forward, his chin held in one palm, a gold and diamond crown resting on his troubled brow. He wore a lion skin draped over his shoulders, above a chest plate of golden dragon scales, with the sigil of a fiery talon carved directly into the breast. He had on ordinary leather leggings, with boots trimmed in ermine fur.
Like the other half dragons, Malem could sense the king with his beast sense. His mood was... dour.
The group followed the carpet that led between the pillars and crossed the room, heading toward the throne. Standing at rest between the columns on either side were dragon soldiers wielding pikes.
The group reached the front of the room and emerged from the columns into the clear space before the throne. Now that Malem was closer, he realized the armrests were shaped like dragon heads, and at their tips they gripped perfectly round agate gems in their mouths. Behind the king, the headrest also had that familiar fiery talon lacquered onto the surface.
An old, hunched man stood on his right side, dressed in a white robe: a mage of some kind. On his left was a younger man, garbed in rich silks: the distinctive protrusions at the shoulder and chest areas of his tunic betrayed the armor the man wore hidden underneath.
Behind the throne, there were two more pike-wielding soldiers, the pikes currently gripped like staffs.
All of them wore the small, neck-constraining silver collars, even the king. Those evenly spaced vertical strips were especially prominent on the king’s, seeming like teeth clamping down as if to constrain whatever vast power lurked within him.
The group members halted at the bottom of the dais.
“All kneel before Jeddah Agantas III, King of the Metal Dragons!” Henry said.
The half dragons promptly knelt.
Abigail remained standing, as did Malem and Gwen.
“Should we kneel?” Gwen asked him in a hushed, confused voice.
“She’s not kneeling…” Malem nodded at Abigail.
The king sat back; now that the others had bowed, he had a good view of Malem, Abigail and Gwen. The man’s imposing, troubled face broke into a smile when his gaze touched Abigail.
“Welcome back, Daughter,” the king said.
32
Malem looked at her in surprise. “Daughter?”
Abigail ignored him, and dipped in a quick curtsy to her father. “Thank you, my king.”
“I said, all kneel!” Henry shouted at Malem.
King Agantas raised a hand. “It’s all right. Stand, stand.”
The half dragons stood, but cleared to the side so as not to obstruct the king’s view of the newcomers.
The young man on the king’s left nodded at her. “Sister.”
She inclined her head in return to her brother, the prince. Their greetings seemed a little cold. But then again, from what Malem knew of royalty, they rarely displayed affection in front of others, let alone in their court.
“Who are these… vagrants?” the prince asked.
“They helped bring me here in one piece, after Sir Matthew died,” Abigail explained.
“He’s dead then?” The prince closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve been hunted all the way here from Mulhadden.”
“Hunted?” King Agantas interrupted. “By whom?”
“A Black Sword, I believe,” she said.
“Why would a Black Sword dare attack my daughter?” Agantas said. “Is the fool trying to draw me into the war?”
“No, I am,” she said softly.
King Agantas raised a questioning eyebrow. “Is that why you’ve come all this way? To convince me to join in the fight against Vorgon? I have told you before, and I will tell you again, the Metal Dragons are neutral in this fight. We will defend our territory if it comes to it, and our territory alone. The collars restrain us from doing anything more. I will not fight the armies of a Balor in human form. I refuse.”
“About that…” Abigail swallowed. “I bring news of an amendment to the treaty.”
The king leaned forward. “Oh?”
“If the Metals join the Alliance in the fight against Lord Vorgon, the collar requirement will be lifted. Never again must we wear these and constrain our forms. We will be free to roam the land once again in our natural state. The rest of the treaty will remain in force, of course. We can’t attack human settlements, or raid their merchant caravans, but we will be otherwise free to hunt monsters throughout the world at our leisure.”
She cut her finger through the air, leaving a horizontal line of floating flame in its wake. She reached into that fiery line with both hands and stretched it open, as if the air on either side had become the fabric of some container. She reached inside and her hand vanished from view, only to return a moment later carrying a small parchment. The flaming cut vanished and the air returned to normal.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Malem said.
She glanced at him as she extended her hand toward the king. “I can only carry one item this way at a time. And it has to be very small.”
The prince descended the stairs and took the proffered parchment, then brought it to the dragon king.
“Thank you, Jayden,” Agantas said absently as he broke the seal.
Jayden bowed and resumed his place.
The king unfurled the scroll and read the contents. “It says basically what you just told me, in long form.” He held his fingers to the parchment and broke something away that had apparently been glued to the inside surface. When he held that something up a moment later, Malem saw it was a key with a wide handle but a very small tip, almost pick-like.
“According to this,” Agantas continued. “This key will temporarily unlock the vise at our necks. That vise will remain open for two full days before sealing again, and the key can’t be used to open the same collar twice.”
“Yes,” she told her father. “Help the Alliance, and King Goldenthall, acting as the executer of the treaty, will give you the final key to unlock it forever. We fly to Mulhadden to receive the key, and then journey to the front lines.”
“Mulhadden,” Agantas said in disgust. “King Goldenthall sits there in his gilded halls, getting fat on his pastries and mating with his wives, while his men die for him thousands of miles away. A true king fights at the side of his men, in the field.”
She inclined her head. “Some humans have different traditions then we do.”
“Tradition has nothing to do with it!” the king spat. “I speak of honor, and securing the loyalty of those who would follow you by setting an example. By showing them no task is beneath you, and that you’re not afraid to do everything you ask of them yourself.” He shook his head angrily. “By staying home, Goldenthall does neither. It’s no wonder the Alliance is falling.”
“The kings and queens of other realms fight with their armies,” Abigail said quietly.
The king sighed. He squeezed his hands on the agate stones held in the mouths of the dragonhead armrests, and that calmed him visibly.
“Two days.” The king tapped his lips thoughtfully. “That’s certainly more than enough time for us to reach Mulhadden. But what’s to stop us from simply conquering the capital when we arrive? Most of Goldenthall’s army is
occupied by Vorgon. We take his city, chop off his head, and take this final key by force.”
Abigail shook her head. “Goldenthall has already given the order: the final key will be destroyed if we attempt an attack.”
“Then we pretend to join his foolish Alliance, and once all of our collars are unlocked, we chop off his head and take his city. There will be enough loot to brighten the homes of every Metal on the mountain!”
She bowed her head. “You certainly could betray King Goldenthall like that, but the father I know would never do such a thing. The father I know abides by the rules of honor and compassion.”
He frowned. “You always were good at manipulating me, little one. Using my own words and moral code against me.”
She shrugged ever so slightly. “I am my father’s daughter.”
“And so you are.” He narrowed his eyes suddenly, and he lifted the key in the air. “Why didn’t you use this key on yourself? You didn’t bother to open the message before delivering it?”
“Maybe she already used it,” Prince Jayden said. “It would have taken at least six days by carriage to get here from Mulhadden.”
“I knew about the key, but I didn’t use it,” Abigail said. “I couldn’t. It can’t be used on oneself.”
“Then why not have one of them do it?” The prince beckoned toward Malem and Gwen. “The monkey tamer and his green girlfriend?”
Malem was taken aback by the rudeness of the comment, but said nothing. Monkey tamer.
“It has to be another of our kind,” Abigail explained.
That meant Sir Matthew hadn’t been a Metal. Interesting…
The king frowned, and then beckoned toward one of the guards behind him. The soldier rested his pike against the wall and came forward.
“Turn around and bend over,” the king said.
“I’m sure he tells his men that a lot,” Malem quipped quietly to Gwen. He was still smarting over the “monkey tamer” comment.
But apparently the prince heard, because he gave him a dirty look. “What did you say?”
Malem felt his face grow hot.
Abigail glanced at him and urgently shook her head.
Malem wisely held his tongue.
The prince scowled one last time, then returned his attention to the king.
Agantas was jiggling the key into the back of the soldier’s thin collar. “Can’t... seem... to...”
And then Malem heard a barely audible click. The king sat back, removing the key.
The silver collar shrunk into the flesh of the soldier’s neck until it vanished completely. The half dragon tentatively touched his throat.
“How do you feel?” the king asked.
The soldier paused in wonder for a moment, as if searching for the words. Then: “Free.”
“See if you can open my vise,” the king commanded.
The soldier accepted the key and the king offered him the back of his own neck. The guard slid the key forward and twisted; the clink came again, and just like it had with the soldier, the collar seemed to sink into the king’s neck, swallowed by the flesh until it was gone.
The guard stepped back and returned the key.
The king accepted it absently; he was feeling at his now bare neck. Abruptly he began laughing.
“Free,” he said. The king sat back and sighed, shaking his head. “I’d almost forgotten what it feels like. A weight has been lifted. There are still several other burdens tormenting me, mind you, but that is definitely one less.” He turned to the soldier. “Go to the rooftop. Fly south, past the limits of our territory. Don’t turn back until you’ve traveled several miles beyond the barrier. Confirm that you maintain your dragon form. Then return and report your findings.”
The soldier bowed.
“Quickly, now,” the king said.
The guard hurried to a small door near the back of the throne room and vanished beyond.
King Agantas sat back. “What strange times we live in. An offer of freedom finally comes after all these years, when the land is wracked by war. The price: our help.”
The white mage beside him stirred. “This offer must be taken up with the council. It is not a decision you can make lightly. The lives of all Metals are at stake, not just the fighter class. With the fighters gone, who will defend the city? We will find ourselves in a similar predicament to King Goldenthall.”
“Obviously we’re not going to send our entire army.” The king glanced at the white mage beside him. “But you’re still right, of course, old friend. Convene the council. In the meantime, Jayden, provide quarters for the newcomers. Abigail, stay here. I want you involved. You are to give your eyewitness report to the council.”
Abigail inclined her head. “It will be an honor.”
“This way,” Jayden said impatiently.
Malem and Gwen followed the prince into the marbled halls.
“I thought she was an adviser to the king of Mulhadden,” Malem said when the throne room was well behind him.
“Indeed she is, among other things.” Jayden moved quickly, and Malem and Gwen almost had to jog to keep up. He took them down two flights of stairs and through a sparsely populated hallway. Those few men and women they passed were dressed in the livery of servants.
“You’re staying in the servants’ quarter,” Jayden announced.
“Great,” Gwen commented sarcastically. “Treated like the true royalty we are.”
“You’re lucky I don’t toss you in the dungeons,” Jayden told her dryly.
“We only saved your sister from certain death out there, that’s all,” Gwen pressed.
“The circumstances of which remain to be disclosed,” the prince retorted. “I reserve judgment on this so-called saving until I hear it from Abigail herself. More likely, she saved you from certain death. Several times.”
Jayden didn’t say a word more, not until they reached their quarters, which was essentially a small alcove set inside the wall. At least it had a door.
“You and your gobling girlfriend board here,” the prince said.
Gwen folded her arms. “I’m not a gobling.”
The prince ignored her. “You are not to leave these quarters until summoned. Inside.” He gestured for them to enter.
Malem and Gwen did so.
As soon as they were inside, Jayden, still standing at the entrance, extended a finger and painted an imaginary outline around the door frame. A rectangular flame appeared for a moment before sinking into the very wood of the frame.
“What did you do?” Gwen asked.
“Ensuring that you don’t leave these quarters,” the prince replied.
Gwen put her hands on her hips. “But what if I have to go to the bathroom?”
“There is a washbasin and chamber pot provided,” Jayden said coldly.
Gwen glanced over her shoulder. “But there are no room dividers, or even a curtain! What am I supposed to do, relieve myself in front of him?”
Jayden shrugged. “Hold up a bed sheet.” With that he turned on his heels and left.
“Jerk,” Gwen said.
Malem sat on the bed, as there were no other furnishings. Well, he could have leaned on the washbasin, but it looked flimsy, and would probably break under his weight.
Gwen leaned against the wall, and put her head in her hands. “What have we gotten ourselves into now?”
“Abigail will take care of it,” he told her.
“Ha.” Gwen looked up. “You banged the daughter of the King of the Metal Dragons. I’m sure he’s going to be just thrilled.”
“I don’t plan on telling him,” he said.
She threw up her arms. “Oh no, of course not. But what about Abigail? You think she won’t tell her daddy what you did?”
“I doubt it,” he said. “These Metals seem to be big on honor. Can you imagine the disgrace she’d bring to the family if she revealed she’d slept with a mere human? Besides, you know Abigail. She wouldn’t do something like that to us.”
He shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll come up with something convincing. She’s good at that. She strung us along all this time, after all.”
Gwen only shook her head. “A frickin’ dragon.”
“I should have realized something was up with that collar, and the way she tried to claw it off in the middle of battle,” he said. “But I missed that entirely.”
Gwen didn’t answer, instead only further shaking her head.
He reached out with his mind; predictably, he couldn’t sense any dragons in the rooms of this floor, but on the higher levels they were everywhere. He could also feel Bounder and Felipe a few stories down, probably tucked away inside whatever building served as the stable in the keep’s courtyard. He could also sense Hastor, still on the periphery of the keep, next to the dragon guards. The black dragon was impatient. And hungry.
Well, too bad. So was Malem. At least the creature wasn’t testing Malem’s hold over it. So that was good, at least.
He doffed the bulky monk robe and threw it in the corner. He also removed the scabbard he wore on his back, along with the sword it contained, and lay on the bed dressed in his breeches and jacket. He kept Biter attached to his belt.
Gwen stood straighter against the wall. “What, you’re going to sleep now, at a time like this?”
“I’m tired,” he said. “Keeping my will wrapped around Hastor is draining. He is a black dragon, after all. I need a nap.”
“Isn’t there a chance Hastor could break free while you’re asleep?” she asked.
“If the dragon tries, I’ll wake up,” he said. “Besides, Hastor isn’t going to do anything, not with all those Metals around that want to cut off its head.”
He closed his eyes, but before he could fall asleep, Gwen spoke again.
“They’re going to turn us into servants, I know it,” she said. “We’re doomed to live out the rest of our days as the slaves of Metal Dragons.”
