Serpent Kings Saga (Omnibus Edition)

by James Somers

  The entire time, I worried about how we might escape. I prayed to Elithias for his mercy and, especially, for Ezekiah’s safety upon Mount Doom. Since my first time praying to him, I had found it easier to continue. I didn’t know anything about Elithias, but Ezekiah had painted him as a merciful God, willing to sacrifice himself for his creatures in order to save them.

  Still, there were no guarantees. Even a good man would eventually die. I only hoped that this was not the time Elithias meant to claim Ezekiah from this mortal life.

  A thunderous roar tore me from my dream. I knew at once who it was. “Belial!” I cried as my eyes flew open, beholding the terrified guards and Tobias in the room with me. The guards all looked just as shocked as I was, or more so.

  The screams of thousands filtered into our underground chamber from the city above. They were under attack. Something had happened. Something had gone very wrong.

  Tobias looked worried, but he said nothing. He was still strapped to his chair about six feet away from me. My chains held me fast to the concrete wall. The four soldiers with us flew into a panic. None of them knew what to do. They were on the verge of leaving Tobias and me here to die while they fled the coming wrath of the High Serpent King. I felt the air currents change in the room while I delved into the gifts, hoping to hear more of what was happening above us. Something, or someone, had moved through the room very fast.

  My eyes landed on the guards in time to see the flesh open up over the largest soldier’s carotid artery. It appeared as though an invisible knife had slid across the skin. The man reacted a moment later, reaching for the wound as a stream of his blood shot out across the room. Before he could cry out, the fury and color drained from his face. His eyes rolled up into his skull as he dropped unconscious to the ground.

  His fellows hadn’t noticed what had happened until he fell before them. “Lars!” they cried together. He was the biggest among them. Losing him in the midst of a dragon attack had visibly stunned them. My eyes had registered some kind of an attack even though I had not been able to detect who had committed the act.

  Suddenly, Helda stood before me, wearing twin fighting knives nearly three feet in length across her back. Her gray hair was fastened into a neat bun. She wore the dark blue uniform of a wraith dancer in combat. Compared to the soldiers standing beyond, she seemed as diminutive as a child.

  Helda had her back to the men. They took notice of her for the first time as she whipped one of the knives from its sheath. She placed the point into the link holding my right manacle together then palm-pushed it through, shattering the link.

  Rather than any sort of questioning, the soldiers simply reacted with violence. I cried out to Helda as a warning. However, it was the soldiers who needed warning, not her. The first approached with his sword coming down on her head. Helda’s whipped her blade behind her, stabbing through the man’s throat. He stopped cold, caught on the blade, the sword falling from his hand as his fellows came at Helda from flanking positions. She hadn’t even looked away from me.

  The ancient Elder Mother then blurred out of my sight, literally moving too fast even for my enhanced vision to track her. The soldiers nearly impaled one another as they sliced the air where Helda had stood a fraction of a second before. The old woman appeared behind them, somersaulting through the air at them. Her blades flashed outward as she passed between them over their shoulders. When Helda landed before me, two heads fell to the ground beside her.

  I was too stunned to ask the questions that needed asking. Tobias spoke up instead. “How did you do that?”

  Helda did not regard him. Instead, she broke my remaining chains as she had the first. “You must escape,” she said to me. “Varen’s explosives have roused the dragons into fury. I fear they mean to destroy the city and everyone in it in their terrible rage.”

  I had not gotten past her statement about the explosives. I grabbed her by the shoulder, completely forgetting decorum. “The prophet?”

  “Certainly, he is dead,” she reported. “Varen managed to do what no wraith dancer could: kill Ezekiah the Prophet.”

  If I had been able, I might have felt the sting of her slightly veiled rebuke. But all I could fathom at that moment was the loss of Ezekiah. And it was indeed a loss to me. My heart ached at the thought of his death; the understanding that I would never see him again. I felt a crushing weight overcome me.

  I slumped to the ground with tears flowing freely down my face. Helda became curious at that point. “Whatever is the matter, dear girl? Do you mourn our enemy?”

  I could not answer. The words choked me. He simply couldn’t be dead.

  A look of dreaded surprise crossed her face. “You love him.”

  Helda had not asked a question. She had already seen the truth in my eyes. I had not meant for it to happen. I had not been able to deny Jillian’s accusation. Neither could I deny Helda now. I could only sob.

  Helda stiffened. She turned, bringing her knife down across the ropes binding Tobias to his chair. He stood, holding the Elder Mother with a wary gaze. He looked surprised that she had not killed us both. Actually, I was a little surprised myself.

  My actions were blasphemous to a dragon worshipper like Helda. By law she must kill me for this. But she did not.

  The sounds of destruction continued to filter to us from the city above. Helda turned to me again. “If you want revenge upon Varen for Ezekiah’s death then you may follow these catacombs to the ancient rail yard where they have their trains. Varen and Jillian will no doubt seek to escape Belial’s wrath that way.

  Questions were popping into my mind at this point. How did she know of Jillian? How did she know of the ancient machines the rebels were using and this rail yard she had spoken of? Helda was becoming more and more a mystery to me.

  “Take the boy and go,” she said. “Avoid the city, or you will face the fury of the Serpent Kings.”

  I took Tobias by the hand and started back into the tunnels that led away from this chamber going deeper underground.

  “Gwen!” Helda called. “If you kill Varen, you may yet redeem yourself before our dragon lords.” She tossed me a brace of knives from her person.

  I nodded to Helda, but in my heart I had no such intentions. Belial was no god to me any longer. He had killed Zora. Ezekiah had been telling me the truth all along. I would kill Varen and his woman for what they had done to Ezekiah and for no other reason.

  A peel of flame engulfed several soldiers and the front of a nearby home as Varen and Jillian ran through the market square. Four dragons had come down from Mount Doom, destroying everything in their path. The beautiful city of Babale had been bathed in destruction. The Serpent Kings appeared to be in no way discerning about whom they killed.

  Varen’s soldiers had put up a temporary vigil with high-powered weapons. Nearly all of those soldiers had been killed by now. The rest had fled as Varen and Jillian were doing. His pride had been crushed, but he wasn’t going to stand around foolishly and lose his life to these vile creatures.

  Jillian’s warning came back to him as he stumbled then picked up his stride again, sprinting frantically for his life. She had not said, 'I told you so,’ but he knew she had. She had shed tears for his likely demise if he decided to take on the Serpent Kings head-on, while he had dismissed her concern in favor of his own pride.

  Varen glanced at Jillian running next to him. She was beautiful even when she was fleeing for her life. And, he realized, she was in better shape than he was. She didn’t even look winded, despite the terror clear in her eyes. He felt ashamed. He had dragged her into a situation even worse than her traumatic memory of Moloch’s fury upon the rebels she had recounted to him.

  They passed from the vast market street into one of the public bath houses. No one was inside at the moment. Everyone was trying to get away from the fire, acid, teeth and claws brought down upon Babale in the dragons’ fury. Varen and Jillian descended through a series of stairs that brought them deep underground. A
line of soldiers followed after. They had abandoned their rocket tubes and machine guns moments ago as their fellows died around them. No one wanted any extra weight hindering them from escape.

  Varen led the way to the hidden door they had found a month ago coming into the city from the other side. The locking mechanism had been blown away with explosives. What did it matter if anyone else found it? Varen had been in control, and what lay on the other side would be of no use to anyone unfamiliar with old world technology.

  He allowed Jillian through then followed with his soldiers behind them. Before them, lay several lanes of track leading into separate tunnels through the bedrock. “Let’s hurry,” Varen said. “We must get the locomotives out while the dragons are still preoccupied with the destruction of the city. Once they begin looking for us, we’ll be much more likely to have pursuit.”

  “Where are we going?” Jillian asked.

  “To the mines of Urtah,” he said. “We may have rid ourselves of Ezekiah today, but the dragons will hunt us. We’ll need to replenish our army.”

  “But why the mines?”

  “Who else would be so willing to fight against the dragons? We’ll take control of the mines and free everyone willing to fight for our cause. I expect an overwhelming turnout.” He turned to one of the soldiers. “Migale, I want you to take half of our men and get the other train out. Meet us at the mines, but be quick, or you’ll have dragons to contend with.”

  Migale nodded his understanding then split their group. Many followed after Varen while the rest took up the line after Migale. Each group took a different tunnel; Migale the first. Varen and Jillian took the third from the left, descending gratefully into the darkness and away from Belial’s fury above.

  RAILS

  Ezekiah descended Mount Doom rapidly with Donavan close behind. All he could think about was Gwen and Tobias held captive within Babale. And the dragons were coming; really already there by now. Their roaring carried all the way back to the prophet, urging him on faster and faster, hoping to rescue the only two people in the patron city he really cared about. Certainly, he hoped for the salvation of all men by faith in Elithias, but he was already invested in these two people, dear to him in ways he didn’t himself really understand.

  After nearly an hour, stopping to rest then starting again, they reached the border between rocky outland and the city of Babale. The palace stood close by. A little further in, Belial’s principal temple waited to receive the faithful. Here, Ezekiah and Donavan stopped.

  The devastation was unbelievable. Houses and businesses lay in ruins; massive marble columns scattered like a child’s toys; inconsequential. Bodies had been strewn through the streets, some half eaten or marred beyond recognition. Others had been utterly destroyed by fire. And still others had been dissolved by highly corrosive acid. They fell like wax figures before a desert sun.

  On the horizon ahead, Ezekiah saw the dragons still rampaging through Babale’s vast expanse. They were miles away at this point, leaving devastation in their wake as they punished everyone in their path. As he looked around at the victims of this disaster, Ezekiah could discern no discrimination. Rebel soldiers as well as the adoring faithful had been slaughtered together. And still their appetites for destruction had not been sated.

  “Hurry, Donavan, before they finish with their rampage and begin to search out their enemies,” Ezekiah said.

  “Surely they were safe underground,” Donavan said as they began to run through the streets.

  Fires still burned or smoldered among the ruins. They kept clear also of toxic pools of acid and its victims. It would be several hours before the acidity of the secretion leached away. Anyone splashing through it before then might well lose a foot or lower half of their leg.

  They ran through the ruined market, finding the building they had been brought to in order to access the underground passages where Gwen and Tobias had been held. Not surprisingly, there were no guards to be found when they entered the dwelling. Down through the spiral stone stair they crept without weapons but wary of attackers just the same.

  The scene they found below in the catacombs was unexpected. Several soldiers had been killed with keen precision; clearly the work of a wraith dancer.

  “I don’t understand,” Donavan said as he surveyed the grisly scene. “How did she manage it?”

  Ezekiah stood by the wall where Gwen had been shackled when he last saw her. He examined the broken links still fastened to the wall. “I’m not entirely sure Gwen did this,” he said. “These chains were not pulled apart, but cut.”

  “Another priestess, perhaps?” Donavan offered.

  “More likely than any other prospect I can come up with.”

  “At least they both appear to have survived.”

  Ezekiah grinned. “Absolutely. Now, the only question is, where did they go from here. These passages go back beneath the city.” He knelt down examining the steps imprinted upon the dusty floor. “Two sets of prints lead into the dark ahead.”

  “Are you sure?” Donavan asked.

  “No,” Ezekiah replied. “We’ll take the swords of these soldiers. There’s no telling what we might run into.”

  I watched soldiers boarding a locomotive like the one I had seen used by Ezekiah before my rescue at the hands of Zora with the dragon Moloch. Curiously, this was not exactly the same locomotive. Varen had managed to salvage some of the old world technology for himself, apparently from this very place.

  This vast yard held many of the rails that the trains ran upon, and there were quite a few of boxcars rusting away here as well. The locomotive the soldiers were boarding seemed to have been cobbled together from pieces and parts found lying about; a hodge-podge of collected junk. Nevertheless, the great barrel-shaped engine in front groaned and huffed, venting out steam like some beast roused too early from its winter sleep.

  Twenty cars stretched out before us, all connected by metal links. Tobias twitched nervously beside me; his pistol drawn in case someone happened to discover us among the shadows. I hated to douse his enthusiasm. I could probably have dispatched any unwelcome soldiers before he could aim his weapon. Still, the ache from my healed chest wound reminded me that I might be a bit presumptuous.

  “How do we get onboard?” Tobias asked.

  Currently, we were hiding inside one of the abandoned train cars only a few hundred feet from the soldiers in the last car linked to the train. We would not easily get into the car the way the soldiers had. The large sliding door would be heavy and hard to work with, especially while the soldiers were gunning us down. Then I spotted a panel rising on the top of the last car.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

  “Looks like an air vent of some kind,” Tobias said. “It will be hot in the boxcars that don’t have good windows. Too dangerous to leave the side doors open all the way.”

  The engine huffed and puffed loudly. Steam hissed and sputtered away from it as the great wheels began to move; sliding on the rails at first then finding purchase. It moved forward. A great cacophony of popping joints and screeching metal ensued. One by one the cars were drawn into motion with it. All went together upon the rails toward one of the several tunnels ahead. The many lanterns they had scattered around the train yard were left burning where they sat.

  “Let’s go,” I said, pulling Tobias with me through the shadows until we came behind the last of the train cars. As the boxcar pulled away, steadily increasing its pace, we raced for the ladder attached to its backside. The soldiers had found places of rest within, staying near the door but no longer hanging out of it. None of them wanted to be left behind in a city occupied by dragons gone berserk.

  I was tempted to call upon the gifts for speed, but that would not have done Tobias any good. So, I urged him on as we ran toward the car. We barely managed to reach the ladder in time. I grabbed Tobias by the wrist and jerked him forward at the last second, calling for strength at the same time. He swung by me and grabbed the ladder. I fa
ltered for a moment then surged forward, using the gifts for speed, and caught hold.

  The train practically yanked me off of my feet, but I was firmly onboard. We climbed, one after the other, up to the roof of the last boxcar in the line. Tobias went ahead of me. As I reached the top, I saw the vent open to the sky before us.

  A shot rang out, hitting the metal lip of the car. The soldiers were shouting. They had likely seen Tobias through the vent opening. Shots rang out again; this time popping holes through the roof of the car. We had nowhere to go. I spotted one of the soldiers climbing up to the vent. He brought a pistol from a holster under his arm and took aim.

  I rushed forward, using the gifts to propel me as fast as I could go. I managed to kick the prop holding the vent open just before the soldier fired his weapon. The heavy steel lid slammed down upon his head, sending him crashing down into floor of the boxcar ten feet below. His outstretched hand had been caught in the lid as it came down, knocking the pistol away. Tobias scooped it up as we ran toward the other end of the car with more rifle shots popping through the metal behind us.

  I grabbed Tobias by the arms, whipping him around. My release sent him across the gap between the last boxcar and the next in line. I leaped across to join him as some of the soldiers worked to get the vent open again on the last car. Tobias scrambled down the ladder below us at the end of the car, descending into the gap between where the joint fastened both cars together.

  Having a working knowledge of the mechanism I couldn’t grasp, the boy disengaged the lock. Tobias stood, observing his handiwork with a puzzled look. The boxcar was still running along in line with the rest of the train.

  In the meantime the locomotive had built quite a pace, easily faster than any horse I had ever ridden. Light suddenly engulfed us as the train broke through into the heat of the day. We had emerged somewhere beyond the city limits of Babale. Still, all I could see behind us was the tunnel we had exited and the sharp hillside ascending above it.