Dragonseed

by James Maxey

  “I’d rather get a genie again,” said Jandra.

  AS THEY HEADED away from the shore, the tree branches took on a ghostly white pallor, as if covered in cotton. It wasn’t until Shay grabbed one to brace himself that he realized nearly every surface of the dead jungle was covered with a film of mold.

  He rubbed the slime off on his pants, then hurried to catch Jandra. She was carefully stepping over fallen branches as she worked her way toward the vine-draped ruins of some ancient civilization. Jandra moved confidently toward it and the stones began to shift, forming a staircase leading down into the ground.

  The air coming up the stairs was dry and fresh, a refreshing change from the odorous dank of the decaying jungle. An iron door at the bottom of the steps slid open as Jandra approached. The space beyond was brightly lit. “What if there are more guards,” Shay asked in a loud whisper. “Is this safe?”

  “There were only thirteen riders because I only made thirteen long-wyrms,” Jandra answered. “This was their barracks. It’s abandoned now.”

  Shay started to point out she’d said “I” when she meant “Jazz,” but held his tongue, not wanting to upset her.

  “We killed three yesterday, Bitterwood killed two on the beach, six were killed at the battle of Dead Skunk Hole, and Bitterwood told me he’d killed one at Big Lick. That’s twelve. Adam’s the only one left. If my math is right, there are still four long-wyrms unaccounted for. Maybe Adam knows where they are.”

  Shay stepped into the barracks, squinting as he adjusted to the light. The room was long and sparsely furnished with narrow cots. The walls were white brick. There were no windows. The ceiling was made of a translucent material like a large, uniform sheet of paper, glowing warmly. Toward the back of the room was a large desk. Behind it were shelves filled with books. Shay was afraid to approach them, given the recent ill fates of any book he touched.

  “Oh look,” said Jandra, as she peered over Shay’s shoulder. “A map.”

  Shay gathered it was the island they were currently on, since there was a yellow arrow pointing to a spot that read, “You are here.” Jandra placed her fingers on the map. The island got smaller as the area shown by the map expanded. Soon, a vast, perplexing network of white lines against a black background was revealed.

  “This is her entire underground empire,” said Jandra. “We’re underneath what was once called West Virginia. It was absolutely riddled with mines.” The image spun around when Jandra twirled her fingers on the image. “Ah. Just as I suspected. We took the long way here. We can make it back to the surface in just a few hours.” One of the white lines began to pulse with pale red light.

  Shay approached the frame. “A magic map. There are cartographers at the College of Spires who would kill for this.”

  “If you want to see magic, wait until we dig up the genie.”

  She walked over to the wall and pressed one of the white bricks. They slid back to reveal a large closet filled with tools. Shay spotted more of the wing disks on a metal shelf. Before he could examine the closet further, Jandra turned around with two shovels in her hand, as well as a small garden trowel.

  She tossed a shovel toward Shay and the trowel at Lizard. “Everybody digs,” she said.

  JANDRA LED THEM to a clearing. The ground was blackened by a relatively recent fire. It was cool now, but the air still held the smell of a well-used fireplace. Charcoal crunched beneath Shay’s boots as he stepped on what had once been a tree branch. Unlike the slimy ghost forest, the land here was bone dry. Jandra wandered over the ashes, her fingers outstretched.

  “Can you feel it?” she whispered.

  “Feel what?” asked Shay.

  “The buzz in the air. It’s a fine mist of nanites. Even without a genie, I can sense it. It feels like sunlight under the skin.”

  Lizard looked up at the stone sky. “Sun gone,” he said, sadly.

  “The sooner we get the genie, the sooner we get back to the surface,” said Jandra. With a grunt, she thrust her shovel into the black dirt. “Once I have my powers back, we can fly out of here and bask in all the sun we want. Then… then I’ll fix everything.” She tossed away a spadeful of shiny black dirt. “I’ll go back to Dragon Forge and heal Vance’s blindness. I’ll fix Burke’s leg so well he’ll be dancing.” She plunged the shovel into the ground again.

  Shay joined in the digging. Lizard approached and tentatively tossed aside a few scoops of earth with his trowel.

  Shay pursed his lips and put his back into the task. Could this device they were digging for really give Jandra the power to heal the blind and the lame? If so… would that matter much in the overall scheme of things?

  “I know you mean well,” he said, tossing aside dirt. “But… doesn’t the world have bigger problems than a few people’s eyes or limbs? If this genie makes you as powerful as you say, couldn’t you use it to fight dragons? Ragnar wants to drive all the dragons into the sea. Couldn’t you actually do that?”

  Jandra stopped digging. She bit her lower lip, lost in thought.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I just wish I could talk to Vendevorex,” she said. “He had so much power, but he barely used it. He hinted that he was afraid that the Atlanteans might find him.”

  “And you’re worried they might find you?”

  “Not in the least,” she said, with a cocky smile. “But… it’s easy to sit here and talk about driving the dragons into the sea when we don’t have the power to do it. Once I have my power back, though… I hope I’m wise enough to know what to do.”

  Shay brushed back the hair that was falling down into her eyes. He said, “The fact that you have thoughts like this is all the proof I need of your wisdom.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She leaned forward. He closed his eyes and met her in a kiss. It was much more pleasant than their aerial lip smash.

  She pulled back and gave him a wicked smile. Shay smiled back. “Would you like to take a break?”

  She put a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes. “First work, then fun. Keep digging.”

  THREE HOURS LATER and six feet down, Shay’s hands were blistered, his back was on fire, and sweat rained from his body with every thrust of the shovel. He’d removed his shirt and peeled his long-johns down, bunching them up at his belt. The deeper he dug, the harder the earth was packed. The hole was also becoming hotter.

  Lizard had long since tuckered out. The little dragon lay next to the hole, his chin draped over the edge, looking down. Lizard was roughly at eye level whenever Shay tried to straighten up.

  “I promise I’ll make you feel better once this is done,” said Jandra, who was sitting at the edge of the pit, her legs dangling. “Vendevorex had me study anatomy. I know what muscles to rub.”

  “If you’re trying to motivate me, I appreciate it,” he said. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “But, honestly, I think I’m done for the day. I’m a scribe, not a ditch digger. If you need someone to sit at a desk and write for eight hours straight, I’m your man.”

  “You’re my man anyway,” said Jandra. “I like watching you dig. Your muscles are really bulging.”

  She handed him the canteen. He tilted it up and let it pour into his mouth and down his chest in a bracing gush. He glanced at his shoulders and biceps. They did look particularly chiseled after his efforts.

  “Ten more minutes,” she said, staring at him hungrily.

  He swallowed another gulp of cool water. “For you, my love, I’ll make it eleven.”

  He plunged his shovel toward the black earth, driving it with all his strength. The shovel blade barely scratched the soil. It felt like he’d hit bedrock.

  “Ow,” he said, pulling his hand away from the shovel. The abrupt halt had pushed a splinter into his palm.

  He looked up, hoping for a sympathetic word from Jandra. Instead, her eyes were focused on the spot where he was standing.

  “Out of the pit,” she said, tossing off her coat.

  “Do you thi
nk…?”

  “I think there’s not enough room for both of us in there,” she said, holding out her hand. “Climb out.”

  She practically yanked him out of the hole. Before he could brush the dirt off himself, she’d grabbed Lizard’s trowel and leapt into the pit. She knelt on the black dirt, her fingers tracing the outline of something he couldn’t see.

  “The sword,” she said. “I can feel the heat.”

  Dirt flew up over her back as she hacked at the ground with the trowel. “Vendevorex and I wore our genies as helmets, but Jazz kept hers beneath her skin. It served as her heart. Bitterwood left Gabriel’s flaming sword piercing her heart but it never melted, even when the rest of her body crumbled to ash. We buried her heart with the sword still in it.”

  Suddenly, orange light began to dance around the walls of the pit. Jandra stood up, holding a sword over her head. Faint flames flickered along the length of the weapon. Jammed against the hilt, pierced by the blade, was a lump of silver metal the size and shape of a human heart.

  It was still beating.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:

  GET READY FOR MAGIC

  SHAY SWALLOWED HARD. He was ten feet away from Jandra but could feel the heat of the sword warming his face. The air smelled like a hot stove. Lizard, who normally clung to Jandra like a burr, scurried behind Shay and cowered between his legs.

  “I’m not certain this was a good idea,” he said. “I didn’t expect the genie to look so… alive.”

  “It’s not alive,” said Jandra, her eyes focused on the reflection of her face in the silver heart. “It’s only a tool. It’s no more alive than a hammer.”

  “I’ve never seen a hammer pulse like that,” said Shay. “I’ve stood by you Jandra. I believe in you and I’ve trusted your judgment this far. Now, I’m hoping you’ll trust me. I think we should re-bury the heart and consider this further.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” she said. “After all we’ve been through to get our hands on this? You want to put it back in the ground?”

  “I think—”

  “When Bitterwood and I escaped from the Free City, he told me his hate was the hammer he used to knock down the walls of this world. That’s all Bitterwood knows how to do—tear things down. I promised myself I would never walk that path. I don’t want my life to be remembered for the things I’ve ruined. I want to be known as a maker, a builder, a healer. I need the power of this genie if I’m ever going to be the person I want to be.”

  “Jandra, you’re already that person,” said Shay. “You’re a good woman. You’re going to change the world with your kindness and wisdom. Put the heart back in the ground. There are other wonders we can take from this place. The wings, for instance. Tools that are a little less frightening.”

  “I’m not afraid of the genie,” said Jandra.

  “Aren’t you afraid of the goddess?”

  Jandra shook her head. “There’re no such things as ghosts, Shay. Without a brain and a body, a person is gone forever. Jasmine Robertson is dead. You’re covered in the ashes that were once her bones. She’s not coming back.”

  “You still have her memories,” said Shay.

  “Those are, for better or worse, in my head,” said Jandra. “It’s my brain that will control the genie. Wearing this will help me make my own memories stronger, not weaker. I’m going to fix everything, Shay.”

  Jandra placed her hand upon the heart. Shay winced; given the unbearable heat of the sword, he expected a sizzling noise, followed by smoke. Her fingers skimmed along the surface. The metal pulsed more rapidly.

  “It senses I’m here,” said Jandra. “It’s responding to my thoughts. I was right. It unlocked upon her death. And and it’s hurting. It’s wounded. It can’t heal itself while the sword is inside it.”

  “You’re speaking like it’s a living thing,” said Shay.

  “Sorry,” said Jandra. “It’s not really alive, but it’s easy to slip into biological terminology. The nanocomputers woven into the heart are programmed to regenerate if damaged. Right now, they can’t overcome the constant destructive effects of the sword.”

  She grasped the hilt. “There’s no trace of her inside the heart,” she said.

  “How can you know?”

  “I know,” she said.

  She pulled the flaming sword free and dropped it on the ground. The heart pumped in her palm, the jagged puncture wound pouring out a stream of black ooze.

  “Get ready for magic,” said Jandra. She furrowed her brow and the heart began to melt in her hand. The silver slid across her fingers and down her arms. It flowed like paint under her sleeves, disappearing under her clothes. A few seconds later, it appeared at the base of her neck and flowed upward, covering her throat, creeping across her chin, tinting her lips with a sheen of silver. She closed her eyes as the metal flowed across her cheeks and nose and climbed over her brow. Within seconds, every patch of visible skin was enveloped by the liquid metal. Shay held his breath as Jandra stood silently, her eyes closed, a look of intense concentration on her silvery face.

  When she opened her eyes, they were no longer hazel, but were, instead, an intense jade green.

  Lizard dug his claws deep into Shay’s calves. “Good boss?” he whispered.

  “Jandra?” Shay stepped closer, to make certain his eyes weren’t playing tricks. “Are you okay?”

  Jandra grinned. She stepped toward Shay and draped her arm across his shoulder. She pulled his face to hers and pressed their lips together. Her lips were cool, much smoother than flesh, yet still soft. Her tongue slipped between his teeth. It, too, was cold and slick coated with silver.

  Jandra made a purring noise as she ran her hands along his naked back. She grabbed his butt in a fashion he found unnerving, despite their previous intimacies. He stood still as a statue, not even breathing, as she groped him.

  Her tongue stopped moving in his mouth. She pulled her head back, studying his face. She grinned again. She snickered and stepped away, giggling harder.

  “What’s funny?” Shay asked.

  Jandra laughed wildly, clutching her belly as silver tears ran down her cheeks. Her laughing turned harsh, almost braying. Lizard’s claws sank deeper into Shay’s legs.

  “Is it something I did?” Shay asked.

  “She slept with you?” Jandra said, between gasps for air.

  Shay scowled.

  Jandra straightened up. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, and then motioned with her hands along her body. “I mean, look at me! I’m hot! Why am I wasting time with some skinny, freckle-faced slave boy? Any man in the kingdom would kill to touch me. Half the women too, probably.”

  Shay frowned.

  “Nothing personal. I kissed you because, hey, you were convenient, and it was a nice way to celebrate the moment. Alas, I’ve outgrown you. I’m going to be more upscale in my partners from now on.”

  “Jandra?” Shay whispered.

  The woman shook her head. “Guess again.”

  JASMINE ROBERTSON, GODDESS, hacker, geek, had always lived on the razor edge of risk. She’d topped the FBI’s most wanted list when she was nineteen and had taken a paid tour of the White House to celebrate. She’d worked as an intern for Senator Coe the summer her Earth Liberation Army set off the bomb that toppled the Washington Monument. When she’d finally had to get out of town due to the tightening net, every member of the Senate woke up to a zero balance in their bank accounts and she’d been, on paper at least, the eighth richest woman in the world. Not that she ever cared about money. Money was only useful if you were the type of loser who actually bothered to pay for stuff.

  Yet, despite her rebellious, devil-may-care nature, Jazz had always possessed one cautious, even conservative, trait: she never failed to back up her data.

  Jazz stretched her new back. If felt as if Jandra had been sleeping on rocks, which was probably the case. Jandra's body was also scuffed and scraped and bruised in a variety of places, including some difficult to reach spo
ts that hinted of interesting stories. She felt curiously… bubbly. Hormonal, even.

  “Yowza!” she said. “I’m seventeen again!”

  Across the pit, the lanky red-headed guy gawked at her. There was something trembling under the dirty long-johns that hung around his waist like a backwards apron. Either there was a frightened dragon hiding between his legs, or he was really unhappy to see her.

  “Hmmm,” she said, searching Jandra’s memories. “You’re Shay? Runaway slave. Would-be librarian. How pathetically noble.”

  “What have you done with Jandra?” Shay asked.

  “I’ve evicted her,” said Jazz. “My genie did a running back up of my memories while I was alive. I’ve overlaid these onto Jandra’s synapses, onto the sections of her brain I altered on the moon to make her more receptive. The preprogrammed urge to rescue my genie in the event of my body’s demise must have worked. I’ve prepped a few hundred girls over the centuries, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually lost a fight.”

  Shay knelt and reached for a long leather pouch beside his backpack. He drew out a weapon, taking an oddly long time to free it. It was obvious the kid hadn’t watched many westerns. Jazz looked down the barrel of the flintlock as he stood, a bit perturbed that it existed. She’d worked diligently to keep the world gun-free.

  “Get out of Jandra’s body,” said Shay, in a low, hissing voice as he clicked off the safety. “Get out or I’ll blow you to hell.”

  Jazz shook her head. “Kid, you really need to work on your threats. I’ve just spent a month buried underground as a bodiless intelligence with a flaming sword burning big holes in my personality. What was left of my senses was all digital, meaning I felt the full chemical subtleties of being buried in soil composed of my own cremated remains. Hell would be a vacation after that. Besides, we both know you aren’t going to shoot your girlfriend in the face.”

  “You aren’t her,” said Shay. The muscles in his face twitched, but his hands remained steady on the flintlock.

  “Jandra isn’t dead, only dormant. I might give her back eventually. To be honest, she feels a little short. I’m sure I have enough DNA in my hairbrush to grow a new me. So put the gun … gun… guh… uh…”