Dragon Breeder 5

by Dante King

  The rim of the well sucked inward down the hole like the last of the bathwater draining down the drain. Then, there was silence. The entire well was an imploded tube, the top of which was now filled with sand and debris.

  Shaykh Antizah was well and truly dead and buried.

  I puffed out my cheeks and sighed contentedly. I felt slightly strange. After the epic battle, the one-on-one fight that had claimed about four city blocks and caused who knew how much property damage, I felt like I should have been far wearier in body than I was. That was the thing about being a dragonmancer, though: we could fight for as long as it took to take the bad guys down and still party all night afterward when the job was done.

  “Well done, team,” I said to the dragons in my head. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  There was a chorus of ‘thank you’s and ‘any time’s and ‘duh’s.

  I looked up at the stars above us.

  “Nice night,” I said.

  The crunch of feet on stone brought my eyes back down to earth. A smile lit my features.

  “Ladies,” I said, “it’s good to see that you’re all still in one piece.”

  “Did you really expect anything less, Dragonmancer?” Hana asked me, returning my smile with interest.

  “Honestly,” I said, “no. No, I did not.”

  Tamsin, Hana, Zala, Kakra, and Renji, followed by the unkillable Will, walked toward me out of the night. Covered in blood and dust, they looked like the very epitome of warriors who were not to be messed with.

  My companions came over to where I was taking a breather on a section of low wall that had somehow escaped the carnage.

  “No injuries?” I asked.

  Tamsin made a disparaging little noise in her throat.

  “I didn’t think so,” I said.

  “The Shaykh?” Zala asked me. She was sitting next to me, and I could feel the warmth of her body pressed up against my side. It felt good. Very good indeed. She had a look of beatific peace on her flawless face.

  I pointed at the crumpled collapsed mess of the former well in the middle of the plaza.

  “It would be far from the truth to say that he was the kind of individual that couldn’t punch his way out of a wet paper bag,” I said, eyeing the buckled stonework of the well. “He was cunning, driven, and strong in the end. But even in the fresh, hellish form that he took on, he couldn’t hope to walk away from how I finished him. There’ll be no comeback tour for Shaykh Antizah, I can guarantee that.”

  Zala sighed, looked down at her feet, and smiled. I wouldn’t have liked to wager money on it, not with one so hardy and resilient, but it looked to me like a tear might have sprung up in the corner of one dark eye.

  “How about things at your end?” I asked Renji, giving Zala the space she needed to gather herself. “Did you end up having to wipe out the entire palace guard?”

  Renji grimaced a little. “Many fell. All the catmancers who remained loyal to the Shaykh had to be put down and defeated, but once that was done, the regular troops saw that fighting on was a death sentence. They threw down their weapons, and we told them to go and be with their families until everything was sorted out and made clear.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Tamsin said. “I would not care to be in the shoes of any of Shaykh Antizah’s chief bureaucrats right now.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Because the catmancers we freed are cleaning house,” Tamsin said with relish. “After we had made sure everyone knew that Shaykh Antizah was on the out, we left the catmancers to keep the peace.”

  Zala looked up, evident delight at the memory of what they had seen as they left the palace burning in her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said, “those kowtowers and toadies and sadists that climbed so high in the Shaykh’s esteem were being dealt with justly.”

  “How so?” I asked, though I could probably imagine.

  “Being ruthlessly torn in half, having their decapitated heads kicked over the palace walls by the catmancers, being clawed apart and made to watch as their guts fell in piles in front of their still seeing eyes, that brand of justice—the Shaykh’s brand of justice,” Zala replied.

  “Sometimes that sort of justice is the only justice,” I said. “You sow bad seeds, and you can’t be surprised when the harvest isn’t to your liking.”

  Zala nodded, her eyes fixed on the imploded well in the middle of the plaza.

  It was then that I became aware of a building hubbub around us. Those citizens who lived around the square, who had seen and, more importantly to my mind, heard what had taken place between the Shaykh and myself, were tentatively walking out into the street. They snaked out of the streets tentatively, as if they weren’t sure whether or not the world was going to start exploding again.

  Renji looked around at the gathering mass of chattering folk.

  “Um, Mike, can we expect there to be a riot of any kind?” the djinn asked me.

  “I don’t think so,” I told her, my own eyes sweeping the gathering throng. “I was careful to only use a tiny bit of dragon power.”

  Hana raised a shapely eyebrow at me and nodded down the street that had been reduced to rubble and fire.

  “That doesn’t look like a tiny bit of dragon, Mike,” she said.

  I shrugged. “I guess a tiny bit of six dragons equals a lot. Don’t ask me; I’m better at Metal Gear Solid than math.”

  “So we shouldn’t expect trouble from the people?” Tamsin asked, rephrasing Renji’s question from earlier.

  I addressed my friends. “Shaykh Antizah basically dug his reputation’s grave. He blabbered on about how the populace of Akrit only existed to serve him. He spouted all this crap about how they lived to fulfill his requirements, the kink of thing ordinary, peaceable inhabitants would just love to hear come from the guy they pay their taxes to.”

  “So, you don’t think they’re here for our blood?” Renji asked.

  “Nah,” I said. “I think they’re here for closure.”

  I stood up and dusted myself off as well as I was able to.

  “Zala,” I said, holding out my hand, “I think it’d be a smart idea for you to come with me.”

  Zala looked at me, then at the crowd. Then she nodded her head.

  Holding our heads high, we walked out into the growing congregation of citizens.

  Many people tried to accost us as we walked through the throng, asking us what was going on, who I was, why the fuck half the city was on fire—all good, germane questions to the current state of affairs.

  We ignored them until we were standing by the pile of rubble that had once been the quite pretty and functional well in the middle of the plaza. We climbed the mound of shattered, warped stones, and stood above the heads of the crowd.

  I raised my hands for silence.

  The clamor simmered down once more.

  “People of Akrit,” I said in a loud voice that rang out over the hundreds and hundreds of people gathered in the plaza, “I’m not really one for speeches, so I’ll give you the short version; that slavemaster who once ruled this fine city, Shaykh Antizah, is dead!”

  Noise erupted from the crowd, as I knew it would.

  “Is this true?” someone asked. “Is this really true?”

  Zala addressed this question. “Yes,” she said loudly, “it is true. That foul snake is gone!”

  “What does this mean? What does this mean?” many people called from all sides.

  “It means that you are free, my friends,” I said in a ringing voice. “It means that you have nothing to fear from us and, more importantly, you have nothing to fear from that dog’s cock that you called a shaykh.”

  There was a deal of laughter at that and some half-hearted cheering.

  I continued. “It means that, in time, and when you have chosen a representative from amongst yourselves, that the Mystocean Empire, the Kingdom of Vetrusca, and the people of Akrit will be fast friends, and our nations will flourish together as
they have never flourished before.”

  “You said once we have chosen a representative from amongst ourselves,” someone nearby piped up. “Are you saying that we elect our own shaykh?”

  “Doesn’t necessarily have to be a shaykh,” I said. “Get a bunch of respected candidates together and have the city vote on one of them to lead. Then elect a council of men and women from each district in the land and have them help.”

  “We are an intelligent people,” Zala interrupted, before I had to get too deep into the bare bones of how democracy worked, “and I’m sure that we can work out a fair and impartial voting system amongst ourselves.”

  Privately, I thought that if voting really made any difference back on Earth, then the bastards in charge of things wouldn’t let us do it, but I kept this bit of cynicism under my hat. Who knew, maybe things would be different here?

  The tumult that now arose had an excited edge to it. It was a din fueled by possibility; the possibility of a newer and brighter future.

  Zala and I pushed our way back through the crowd. Distantly, I heard what sounded like a drumbeat go up.

  Zala pressed my hand. “And so,” she said, “the celebrations begin!”

  “No one is too pissed off that I leveled part of the city?” I asked in an undertone.

  Zala smiled at me and pressed my hand harder. “The street was occupied by tax collectors, and they were almost unanimously loyal to the Shaykh. No one will be mad over the destruction of their homes. Besides, Akrit is a harsh and unforgiving land, despite its wealth. The people here are used to adversity. They are used to rising above it. They will rebuild, and I guarantee that this part of the city will be more magnificent than it ever has been.”

  I nodded at her, and together we made it back to the rest of our waiting crew.

  “So,” I said, while in the distance the drums were joined by horns, flutes, and tambourines, “I think it might be safe to say that our work here is done.”

  Kakra came forward and flung her arms around me. The desert seer was surprisingly strong for one with such a willowy frame, but then again, she was a mancer.

  “You and your friends have done more for this country than I could ever have hoped you would,” the Last Wormmancer said to me, her red and blue eyes sparkling. “You have worked a magic here that far surpasses anything that any mancer who has come before you has ever worked.”

  I patted the older woman’s hand and cleared my throat.

  “It’s all good, Kakra,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I did what anyone else would have done, were they only accompanied by these awesome and powerful women.” I motioned toward Tamsin, Renji, Hana, and Zala.

  “And wisp!” I added, nodding and grinning at Will.

  The will-o’-the-wisp flashed a multitude of colors, going through the spectrum in his excitement.

  “Yes, perhaps anyone would have tried to do what you did, had the stars and fates aligned for them,” Kakra said. “But not anyone could have, Dragon Breeder. Among many other things, you are a catalyst for change. That I know without having to gaze into the future.”

  I gave Kakra another hug. She might have been grimy, her robes stained and smeared with blood like the rest of us, but I still thought she was a hot piece of ass for an older woman.

  “It’s a good thing that I’m covered with dust, Kakra,” I teased her, “otherwise I’d be blushing like a schoolgirl right now.”

  Kakra laughed and poked me in the ribs with her long bone staff.

  “What now, Mike?” Renji asked me as we all gathered in close. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the growing music and laughter. It sounded like there was going to be some serious revels happening in the streets of Akrit tonight, and probably well into the morning too.

  “I think,” I said, “that it’s time that all of us made our way home.”

  Zala stepped forward, as did Kakra.

  “I—we—owe you a debt of gratitude, Mike,” the beautiful catmancer said. “A debt that cannot be wholly paid in just words. I will come with you, if you will let me, and help you and the Mystocean Empire in their endeavors.”

  “And I will be coming with you too, Dragonmancer Noctis,” Kakra said to me, smiling her bright white smile. “Whether you will have me or not. It has been many ages since I have talked with your seer, Claire. I think now is as good a time as any for the two of us to sit down and have a well-deserved catch up.”

  “There will also be some catmancers who will be eager join us on this adventure, Mike,” Zala said. “I am sure that, in this coming battle with the Shadow Nations, every mancer willing to aid the allied force will be appreciated.”

  I had no argument with that. Every mancer would be needed. Besides, as I turned my gaze on the raven-haired, dark-eyed beauty of Zala, I realized just how badly I wanted to get to know the woman more.

  As I looked at her, running my eyes over her flawless caramel skin, heavily shadowed eyes, and toned physique, the catmancer looked up at me and smiled a feline smile that touched something warm inside of me and made it glow all the brighter, like a smoldering coal that is touched by the breath of the bellows.

  “So, Mike?” Zala purred. “Will you have us?”

  I smiled widely. “Yeah, I’ll have you.”

  Zala smiled another one of those feline smiles.

  I looked around at the assembled female warriors and nodded to myself.

  “All right then,” I said. “Let’s ride.”

  End of Book 5

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