by Sam Hall
Miazydar, it looks like you’re gonna get laid.
What?
The Queen apparently likes your red hide and has chosen you to throw a leg over her queen.
What? I’m to be put to her, like a bull?
Maybe you can have a chat first, see if you both like long walks on the beach and pina coladas?
Dragons do not drink pina coladas. We prefer the blood of enemies.
You’re missing out. They’re fruity.
“Now, this is the standard of accommodation I’d like to become accustomed to,” Jez said, throwing herself on the richly brocaded bedspread. Scalla crept into the room like a mouse, eyes flicking from the candelabras and chandeliers, the ornate moulding on the walls and the thick satin curtains. She was the most unprepossessing revolutionary I’d ever seen and I hoped she stayed that way. Ostensibly, she was here as my ‘secretary’. Keya had given me one long look and a shake of her head when I explained her presence and then shrugged and told us to get on our dragon. I don’t remember explaining what Jez’s role was, probably because trying to articulate why I needed a Grand Vizier of General Mayhem was not going to go well.
Flea disappeared into a room off the main suite. “Whoa!” I flinched back when he came out with a pistol in hand.
“I told you to make a decision,” Jez muttered.
“You need one of these on you at all times, all of you,” he said. “The University was one thing, this is douchebag ground zero. There're thousands of armed soldiers out there and that’s not including the entitled fucks with the swords at their sides.”
“I don’t think—”
“Ooo, gimme!” Jez bounced forward and snatched the weapon from his hand. She stood with her arm outstretched, gun tilted to the side. “Take that, you pointy-eared mother fuckers! Pew pew!”
Bang!
The deafening sound of a gun going off had all of us clapping our hands over our ears. A neat hole had been made in the wall just above the skirting board.
“It’s loaded, you idiot!” he said, yanking it from her hands and putting on the safety. He opened a drawer and shoved the gun in quickly. “You never squeeze the trigger unless you know it’s not loaded.”
“What is that thing?” Scalla asked, eyes wide.
The door slammed open and two unfamiliar riders ran into the room, plasma blades sputtering and we all jerked our hands up. “What the hell was that?” one said.
“I farted!” Jez said brightly. “I had a cheese, onion and bean burrito for breakfast and phew,” she waved a hand past her arse, “it was lethal.” The two men looked about the room suspiciously, but by the time they’d come back to Jez she’d cocked her hip and was fluttering her eyelashes at them. “So, you two look like big, handsome gentlemen,” she sauntered over and slid her arms around their waists. “Any chance you’re proportionate all over?”
I sighed in relief when she walked them out, but Flea just shook his head. “I’m trying to make sure we all get out of this viper’s nest in one piece and she’s trying to get it on with the entire Royal Guard. I’m going for a smoke. Try not to get dead in the meantime.”
I watched him shut the door to the suite firmly. Taking his mood out of the architectural features was starting to become a pattern here. I knew I should go after him, see if he was OK, work things out. Even if our relationship ended up off the table, we were still friends. I didn’t get a chance though, there was a loud rap at the door and when I opened it, Alden and Vella were standing there, wide-eyed.
“You need to come,” Alden said, gesturing wildly, “the queens are fighting!”
“What?”
“Come on,” Scalla said, grabbing her jacket off the bed.
“You?” Vella said, looking her over. “What’s a merit doing here?”
“She’s helping me out. It’s OK, Keya’s approved it,” I said.
“On your head,” Alden said, “if she steps out of line Her Majesty will have yours on the chopping block. Now come on.”
34
You could hear the screams coming up the long walkway into the dragon queens’ pens. Sometimes you watch those nature documentaries that always seem to be on the TV on a Sunday afternoon and after shot after shot of cute fluffy animals, you get to a scene where you’re reminded that they’re wild. I’d seen one where baboons were locked in a mating battle, harsh throated growls and shrieks kicked me out of the soporific haze docos often puts you in. Suddenly, it wasn’t just monkeys with absurdly large butts; it was savage biting, scratching, scrabbling beings, each trying to rend the flesh of the competitor. But it was the sounds they made that set my hair on end. It’s hard to indulge in paternalistic feelings of indulgence when animals scream and growl, the ugly sound being torn from vocal cords as a declaration of intent, the scrambling incoherent noise rising in intensity, pitiful cries of pain punctuating the brutal symphony.
Scalla and I flinched as we drew closer. It sounded like murder, bloody murder going on in there. Alden shot us a look over his shoulder when we began to lag, his face a weird mask of glee. “Come on! Hurry up! This is a privilege to witness.”
It was hard to see why this was such a great opportunity when we entered the Queen’s domain. I mean sure, there were plenty of people richly dressed in expensive and elaborate clothes sipping glasses of wine, the Queen herself stood just away from the glass wall, holding court, so I’m guessing that many who wanted to schmooze with the rich and influential would love an invite. Servants circled with trays of canapes, a quartet of musicians played a strangely beautiful skirling tune on a series of odd-looking pipes, if you could get close enough to them to hear them over the din. But that wasn’t the weird part. Behind all of this, like some kind of hideous serpentine tableau, the dragon queens waged fucking war. The sound was somewhat muffled by the thick wall, something to be thankful for, I guess. I drew closer, Scalla following like my shadow, unable to look away.
The area before us was massive, you couldn’t take it in with one glance, having to walk along the length. Around the edges of the cordoned off space were tall cage doors that created a ring that encircled a large open area where the queens had obviously been let loose, and let loose they were. All the dragons were shades of purple, from a deep, almost blue shade to the lightest of lilac. It didn’t hide the blood though or mask the contorted faces as the queens reigned down bloody hell. Heads whipped around and teeth glinted in the artificial light so that every gruesome detail was easy to see. Claws raked through flesh as the victims screamed. Wings flapped and then were scored through, dripping blood and making it impossible to close them properly, leading to others trampling or scratching at them. Jaws closed around limbs as talons scraped at the eyes of attackers. Queens thrust on their backs kicked at aggressors as each struggled to gut the other.
“Interested in a wager?” My head whipped around to see a man with the rich clothing and sharply pointed ears of the highborn.
“What?”
“The favourite is Sephador, of course. She’s the darker beast, the same colour as Her Majesty’s dress, but if you’d like a more profitable transaction, might I suggest Lyssyt? She’s the Archduke of Elana’s beast and looks like she may well claw her way to second tier,” he said.
“No, thank you,” Scalla said. The man’s eyes flicked from me to her and then frowned before turning his back on us.
“This is fucking disgusting,” I murmured, unable to look away while knowing I’d be seeing snapshots of this over and over again after this day ended. My hands went to the glass, tentatively touching the smooth surface as if I didn’t want to make contact with the brutality beyond but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t see how dragons wouldn’t get killed through this process.
“Aravisia is at its core built on dragon pain,” Scalla said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “They do this to ‘make sure the strongest females mate’, but this isn’t how dragons act in the wild. Females are kept far apart from each other when they come into season, large groups of ma
les keeping them secluded until she’s ready to choose.” Her eyes slid away from the glass. “An adult dragon is too much of an investment in terms of time, food and resources to waste on such a decadent display. In the wild, if a dragon dies, the others mourn—”
“For days,” Miazydar said, popping into being in his cat-sized form. He dropped onto my shoulder, wrapping his tail around me and shuddering. “This is an aberration. Like many others, we’ve fought wars of our own making, but even then there were rules of engagement.”
“So how are you enjoying the mating battles?”
I turned to see Her Majesty had approached. Her violet eyes widened when she saw my dragon, her insanely long lashes fluttering so fast I wasn’t sure if they were about to take flight or something. “What is that?” she said, pointing with a trembling, perfectly manicured finger.
“This is Miazydar...”
Be careful.
“...he’s my dragon.”
“That’s not a dragon, that’s a lizard! Grenadine! Cancel the red dragon mating plans. He’s so small Sephador’s as likely to sit on him.”
A man in a neatly pressed uniform hurried over, then peered at Miazydar. “That can’t be the same beast we moved this morning, Your Majesty. He was of an excellent size, cruiser class at the least.”
“What devilry is this?” Her Majesty said.
I’ve got to explain this before she goes all Queen of Hearts on my arse.
I heard the hiss of his sigh. Of course. I shouldn’t’ve come.
“So your assertion is that your dragon can change shapes and appear and disappear at will?” Those finely plucked brows arched higher and higher. “This is unheard of, isn’t it, Grenadine?”
“Quite, Your Majesty. So much so one can’t help but wonder about the veracity of the source. There’s no record of any dragon possessing such attributes. I would suggest we cancel the planned breeding. We don’t know if this is even a dragon. Perhaps this is some kind of trickster shifter from one of our envious neighbours.”
“Hmm, perhaps, though spike tails were nothing more than oversized manticores when we first began breeding for them. It may be that a selective breeding program in whatever backwater this beast has come from has brought forward some recessive genes. Those pre-Succession reports on dragons always seemed like overinflated hyperbole, but it is conceivable that some of the old capabilities have been revived. No, put him to Sephador, though I want Doctor Olongth to look him over first.” The man nodded and scurried away to do her bidding. Those eyes switched to me, Miazydar specifically. “So, over what distance can he teleport himself?”
“About 500 metres,” I said.
“Good, well, return to your allocated cage, beast. You do not insert yourself into a court event without my express permission.”
Go, I said.
Fine.
“Ah, look, milord Duchenay, it appears your Galathia has been overcome. You’ll need to have your men remove her or Sephador will eat her right up!” the Queen said with a chuckle. The man in question’s face went white as he saw his dragon cower in the corner of the battleground, blood streaming from cuts to her head, limbs and body. She couldn’t roar anymore, now reduced to making these high-pitched screams. The other queens seemed to sense that blood was in the water, leaving off scratching at each other to converge on her. Galathia’s back pressed up against the cage walls, her spine becoming a bow. She tried to hiss at the incomers, but her jaw seemed to be injured so much she could barely open it. Sephador, the big blueish dragon, led the charge, her neck rising in an impudent arch as she prepared to strike.
Finally, the main gates to the queen’s cages opened and riders streamed in, helmets on, plasma spears at the ready. They didn’t even have to do anything; the dragons flinching back as soon as they saw the weapons. Now that they weren’t scrabbling so hard I could see the networks of silvery scars across their beautiful bodies. They’d obviously been well socialised. Galathia was half helped, half dragged from the cage into her own pen, a vet of some sort entering not long afterwards to see to her injuries. The minute the riders left to the complex, the dragons surged back, hissing and screaming at Galathia but prevented from getting to her by the thick metal bars on the gate. Lord Duchenay was ribbed mercilessly for his dragon being the first to succumb. Betting slips were dashed to the floor but his lordship just sunk into a sulk, gesturing the drink waiters over with swift regularity.
“He’ll lose social standing,” Scalla said. “The aristocracy are the only ones with females in their families and they use the eggs that come from each breeding to build alliances and garner favour. The queens that don’t mate face condemnation and ostracism from their rider.”
I looked back where the savagery had begun again, “Back in my world, the daughters of aristocrats would be married off for the sake of alliances but at least they didn’t have to fight for the privilege.” I nodded to the closest drink waiter who brought me over a glass of wine and drank deeply from it.
“Be careful with that, cadet.” I looked over to see Keya had arrived by my side. She observed the dragon queens scrabble without a change in expression. “You’re expected at the amphitheatre at oh-six hundred for the last dress rehearsal. I know Keel’s been blowing smoke up your arse, but you’ll be with me tomorrow. I need to make sure everyone has their part down. The war games will be watched by the entire population of the capital and casualties from 1000 feet from the ground affect morale. Have one of the riders show you the way before you retire for the night. Not being able to find the grounds is no excuse.”
By the end of the function, most people were drunk and most dragons were heavily injured and I was feeling bloody nauseous. I think Scalla was regretting coming. Her eyes wouldn’t leave what was taking place behind the glass. Ulle, the queen of Gaillard family and Lirrulith, the Jervis queen circled a now limping Sephador. Ulle was dragging her back foot and blood seeped sluggishly from a wide gash in Lirrulth’s neck, so they were all in a bad way but I think it was the coordination of the two that had Her Majesty’s beautiful golden skin paling. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” one of the Gaillard’s said. The man’s face was flushed red with drink and anticipated victory. He swayed on his feet when he sketched the queen an exaggerated bow. “Your Sephador is bound to rally.”
“If the Queen’s dragon loses her position of dominance, she can lose her throne,” Scalla whispered, her eyes flicking around the room.
“And let me guess, these guys are the jackals that think they can knock her off her perch?”
She nodded. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Gaillard and Jervis have been colluding, training their animals to move past their natural antipathy of each other during the mating frenzy and work together to take Sephador out. I’m hardly in a position to know, but Greynell says this isn’t normal behaviour, though I’m not sure if any of this is.”
“You’re in contact with her?”
She tapped her forehead. “She honours me with her link.”
A whoop caught everyone’s attention. The Queen drew closer to the glass, her eyes burning with an unearthly light. The monotonous grinding sound of dragons fighting had reached a climax, Sephador had drawn herself up to her full height, evidently making her last stand. Her wings spread, something that would make her more vulnerable, but the other queens just seemed cowed by her size, shrinking back. Lirrulith had a nasty bleeding wound across one eye and was hunching back to protect another on her middle. Ulle was exhausted, her wings hanging like flags on a still day, her eyes looking filmy and dull. “Yes, yes,” the Queen muttered, her perfect red lips pulled back from gleaming white teeth, her hands against the glass, fingers flexed into claws against the impervious surface.
The Gaillards and Jervis began to yell for riders to intervene, that the breeding tier had been established, that Sephador had found her place. The monarch didn’t respond, too caught up in her dragon’s bloodlust. Riders looked confused, not sure which powerful person to heed which meant i
t was all too late for Lirrulith. Sephador struck like a snake, ripping out flesh from the other queen’s neck, severing the major artery, the other dragon screaming as she bled out onto the sand below, her neck thrashing wildly. Sephador then turned to Ulle who just huddled there, unable to raise her claws to defend herself. People started to shout and run now, with riders bursting into the cage, driving the dominant dragon back before she could strike. Sephador protested, howling her defiance, lashing out with her claws, her tail whipping back and forth, all which stopped when the first rider struck her with a spear.
“NO!” the Queen shrieked, collapsing down into a ball, wailing incoherently at the phantom pain she felt. Her nails shredded at the silk of her dress, her servants approached at a rush, then dithered as they tried to work out how to serve her. Finally, she seemed to come back to herself, probably because Sephador was caged back in her quarters as Ulle was seen by the vet. The Queen’s eyes widened, blinking as she looked about herself. She brushed the servants away, getting to her feet under her own steam. She glanced out the window. “Why is Olongth seeing to Ulle first? Sephador has countless injuries that must take precedence.” Her head whipped around when she heard a murmur of discontent from the Gaillards. “You are welcome to supply your own healers. Sephador has fought hard for dominance and won, so her needs are met first, as is the natural order of things.” Her eyes dropped to the unconscious form of one of the Jervis women. “Take Dilys to her rooms to recover. She has paid a high price for her family’s ambitions.” She turned and gestured to one of the servants hovering. “She deserves our best care. Have our personal healer see to her.”
And then the crooning began. The Queen spun around in irritation as a loud hum picked up around the complex. I could see queens in their cages throw their heads back, joining their voices with the others. The Queen’s knuckles went white as dragons across the whole palace sang in time, a dirge for the fallen queen. Silence fell over the human inhabitants of the dragon cages, eyes automatically finding the floor. Scalla stepped forward, placing her hand on the glass and watched every movement the many, many riders made to move the huge corpse of Lirrulith as if etching it into her memory. “C’mon,” I said finally, once the poor animal’s body had been removed and all that was left was a pool of blood.
