Fire Serpent

by David J Normoyle

  Dennis addressed Ally. “Weapons of base metal can’t harm you, you know. First you show the strength to defy our master, then you cringe away from a little pain. The power surges within you, but the vessel is weak. Don’t worry, I will shape you into something strong and terrible. Now get up.”

  Ally staggered to her feet.

  Dennis turned toward me. “Were you impressed by Beelzebub?”

  “What do you want?” I glared at him through the gaps between the wires of fire.

  “He is surely strong; if only he wasn’t so vapid and stupid, he might even be worthy to follow. But no!” Dennis shook his head. “I was not born to be a sheep.”

  “What are you but a sheep? Duffy crooks a clawed finger and you’re on your knees begging to hear his commands.”

  “When I’m free to be my own master, the world will quake at my name.”

  “Dennis? I don’t see anyone quaking at that name—more likely to give you a job as a janitor or garbage collector.” I was trying to make Dennis mad, not due to any strategy, simply because I was angry. Behind him, Ally’s face was white, and she looked close to keeling over. Blood had soaked into her top and down one trousers leg.

  “Perhaps my actions will earn a famous nickname.”

  “Why don’t you adopt a new name? Your master choose Beelzebub. You could be Lil Creep.”

  A flash of anger crossed Dennis’s face, then it disappeared. “You are more like Beelzebub than you care to admit, fire sentinel. Perhaps you are the one who’ll end up earning a terrifying nickname.”

  “I’m nothing like him.”

  “I saw footage of you.” The corners of Dennis’s lips quirked up once more in what was the closest he came to smiling.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The country-wide growth of LiSS is one of our greatest strengths, spread by, of course, the propaganda of Lusteer News Network, and I make sure to keep up with news within the society. Recently, a CCTV video has spread virally among LiSS social networks showing a certain naked fire sentinel lording it over a lowly LiSS member, a clerk.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I applaud your actions. You abused your powers to show the man his place.”

  Persia jumped out behind Dennis. “You need to learn your own place, little boy,” she said. She had circled around and was standing at his back with her crossbow raised.

  Dennis turned to face her. “Good, you are here. That solves one of my problems.”

  Persia gestured with her crossbow. “I have two foot of pure titanium pointed at your heart.”

  “And you are willing to shoot a young boy?” Dennis asked.

  “Without hesitation. I don’t consider you a boy at all; rather, a monster.”

  The crossbow in Persia’s hand glowed red-hot. She yelped, and it fell from her fingers.

  “You hesitated too long.” Bands of fire sprung to life around Persia.

  “Let her go.” My fireswords appeared in my hands, and I looked the fence of firewires up and down, wondering if my fireswords could force a way through.

  “You called me a monster,” Dennis said to Persia. “Do you want to take that back?” The bands of fire tightened around her.

  Sweat glistened on Persia’s forehead. “Yes, I take back that you’re a monster. You are much less than that; you are barely the skin of one, a bloated bag of horror villain cliches. You are nothing but a child who thinks that filling the emptiness inside him with darkness makes him strong. Well, it doesn’t—it only makes you pathetic.”

  A muscle twitched in Dennis’s cheek, and one fist tightened beside his side.

  I looked toward Ally. “Can you help us?” I mouthed silently.

  Ally shook her head.

  Dennis turned back toward me. His cheek twitched again. “You were trying to make me mad, but your girlfriend succeeded. I would like to watch her suffer, but I’ll settle for using her against you.”

  I guess it should have long since been obvious, but I only then realized that Dennis was insane. “You take pride in resisting Duffy, so help us.”

  “Why would I resist him for this?” Dennis asked. “He wants you taken to him. In which case, either you kill him and free me—unlikely, of course—or I get to watch you burn. All upside for me.”

  “Listen. The Sentinel Order is attacking Verge Tower. We can help you escape,” I said, feeling desperate.

  “The Order won’t get far. Duffy has sent his lessor minions to deal with them.”

  Over Duffy’s shoulder, I could see that Persia was in significant distress, though she was doing her best to hide it. Orange shadows flickered across her skin as the fire within the bands sparked and flared.

  “You win,” I said. “I’ll do whatever you want—just free Persia from the fire.”

  “As soon as I free her, you’ll attack me,” Dennis said. “No, we’ll leave her as she is.”

  “Loosen the bands at least.”

  Dennis tilted his head to the side, considering, then nodded. He made a small gesture with his fingers, and the fire bands widened. Persia’s breath came easier. “I’ll leave Ally with her,” Dennis said. “By the time we reach Beelzebub, the bands will have faded away. But if you try anything before that, I’ll be able to cut her to pieces with a thought.”

  “I won’t try anything.” In truth, I was happy for Dennis to bring me to Duffy. I wasn’t sure what chance I had to defeat the dragon, but this could be the best opportunity I’d get. I didn’t mind Persia having to be left behind either. If attacking the dragon turned out to be as suicidal as it seemed, then I alone would feel the repercussions. Which was as it should be—it was I who had created him after all.

  You won’t be alone, Uro thought. The helicopter will be ready to help.

  Chapter 20

  Thursday 23:20

  The corridors were empty as I followed Dennis back to Duffy’s reception room. Inside, an eerie silence had fallen, although the earlier chaos was evident in the overturned tables and broken chairs. Many of the torches which had lit the room were extinguished, and I thought the place empty until a large darkness uncoiled itself. Two glowing orange eyes stared at me.

  Dennis led me to the center of the room. “I captured him for you.”

  Duffy’s raised himself onto all four legs, and he stepped forward a few paces. The floor rumbled beneath my feet. I glanced behind me at the ramp and the transparent plastic shielding that led to the rooftop. This time, I would have to get Duffy to chase me.

  So you are accepting Uro’s help? Jerome thought.

  It’s Sulle’s helicopter, not Uro’s.

  Uro convinced you that Sulle is trustworthy, and Uro is the one who promised that the helicopter will be in place.

  I’m not actively conspiring with Uro, I thought. If information is freely given to me, I can’t just ignore that knowledge.

  Must be nice to be able to lie to yourself that easily, Jerome thought.

  “They all deserted you already,” I said to Duffy.

  THEY DEFEND MY FORTRESS.

  “Coward,” I said.

  WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME? Duffy’s head rose until it hit the ceiling, sending fissures racing across the plaster.

  “You claim to powerful, yet you hide in a corner and let others fight your battles.” After speaking, I burst into laughter.

  YOU CALL ME POWERLESS? Duffy spread his wings wide, towering over me. YOU REALLY DON’T WANT TO HEAR ME ROAR.

  With effort, I quelled the fake laughter being ripped from my throat. “You can’t roar; you can’t make a sound.” There was nothing fake about the way my legs trembled, but I managed to ignore my fear. “You use your telepathic link to force those around you to do your bidding, and you summon the spineless of the city to flatter you. Pathetic.”

  YOU DARE TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! Duffy’s neck muscles rippled, and his head shot straight at me. I dived to the side, just avoiding his head. Chunks of the floor shot up all around
me. Something that big shouldn’t be able to move that fast. I scrambled to my feet and raced up the ramp.

  Halfway up the ramp, I turned back. Duffy had stumped forward another few steps, and the red and yellow scales on his neck rippled as his head shifted from side to side. Still, it wasn’t certain he intended to pursue me.

  “You adopted the name Beelzebub to hide that inside you are nothing but a fat policeman called Connor Duffy who always clung to the shoelaces of society, a social climber without the ability to climb!” I shouted out. “And nothing has really changed. Do you think the Sentinel Order would be launching an attack if they thought you had real power? Everyone knows that you are hiding behind the skirts of shades who you force to do your bidding.” Behind Duffy, Dennis had backed away to the far wall, and I noticed that someone else was also still present, two someones: Fred Hanson and his cameraman, and they were filming.

  “Smile, Duffy, you’re on television,” I continued. “The world already knew about your size, but now they’ll learn that you are as toothless as a blue whale. I suspect that the video showing you destroying the Lusteer prison was faked. Can you really fly?”

  Duffy’s neck snaked back over his shoulder until his head faced Fred Hanson and the hapless cameraman. ARE YOU FILMING THIS?

  Fred Hanson dropped his microphone. “You told… Sor… Sor… Sorry. I can… can… can stop. I’ll destroy what I’ve recorded.”

  NO, KEEP FILMING. YOU RECORDED HIS LIES; NOW YOU’LL SEE MY RESPONSE. Duffy’s head whipped back my way. His mouth opened wide, and he blasted out a wide stream of fire.

  I summoned my fireswords, only just raising them in time as fire roared around me. A gale of hot air tore at my clothes. I crouched down behind my crossed fireswords, struggling to prevent myself from being thrown backward and swallowed up by the raging fire. A loud crack from above sounded, then shards of hot plastic rained down on top of me. Duffy’s fire had blown through the plastic doorway to the roof.

  The instant the fire died down, I turned and raced upward, jumping over the parts of the ramp which were still burning. I didn’t have to look back; the shuddering beneath my feet told me that Duffy was racing up behind me. A shock of cold air hit me when I reached the top. Hot breath coming up behind me warned me to dive to the side. As I landed on the cold surface of the rooftop, I twisted around to see the dragon’s head shooting up behind me. I scrambled backward, breathing hard.

  The hole in the rooftop had been created when Duffy had smashed through on the way down, so it had to be big enough for him to fit through. Nevertheless, his shoulders tore through metal and concrete as he climbed fully out onto the rooftop. Blocks of rubble slid down his back as he rose to full height. His arrival banished the dim of the night, for he glowed with the fire within him. He rose up on his back legs, pointing his head into the sky and spread his wings. If I thought he was big when inside Verge Tower, that was nothing to now. He seemed to dwarf the skyscrapers that surrounded him.

  Beelzebub!

  Is it possible for a plan to go too well? Jerome thought.

  Perhaps I overshot in angering Duffy.

  You think! He was happily having long sleeps and quirky receptions, Jerome thought. Now comes his full fury.

  As if to back up Jerome’s thought, Duffy pointed his nose upward and shot flames high into the air. He didn’t need to direct any thoughts into my mind for me to know that this was his way of claiming dominion over the city. Fire arced over my head, raining down sparks. A nimbus of orange light lit up the top of Verge Tower. I wondered how much was visible to the city below, though if the residents of Lusteer couldn’t see it through their windows, they could see it on their TVs courtesy of Fred Hanson and his cameraman.

  My throat felt hoarse, and it was only when Duffy released his trail of fire and fell back onto four legs that I realized I had been roaring at the top of my lungs. Duffy’s telepathic link had me howling in approval at the dragon’s display of dominance like a wolf backing up his alpha.

  I stared up into the night sky. Where’s the damn helicopter? I wondered.

  It’s on its way, Uro thought. You just have to hold off Duffy for a few minutes,

  Just, I thought sarcastically. I wasn’t sure how I was going to hold the dragon off for a few seconds, never mind a few minutes.

  Chapter 21

  Thursday 23:35

  I decided to begin the fight as I meant to continue it—by running for my life. I raced across the rooftop to put as much distance from Duffy as the building allowed. I didn’t feel the expected rumble beneath my feet from being pursued by a dragon, and I only realized why that was when I half-turned enough to look over my shoulder. Duffy had taken to the air.

  I had almost forgotten he could fly—as if he needed another advantage. Duffy flapped his wings to rise high into the night sky, then dived toward me.

  I pumped my legs, but even a sentinel didn’t have a chance of outpacing a flying dragon. When I sensed he was almost upon me, I threw myself to the ground. The wind of the dragon’s passing lifted me up and sent me tumbling several paces forward. I skidded to a stop, my face scraping against bare concrete. I looked up to see that Duffy had passed overhead. The back of him was a giant patch of darkness, and when he turned, the orange glow from his chest and eyes dimmed the surrounding starlight.

  Duffy dived once more, and I stumbled back to my feet and raced back the way I had come. I summoned my fireswords, and swiveled around, ready to block any dragon-fire. For the second time, though, Duffy flew straight over my head. I jumped, stabbing upward, but the wind of his passing blasted me backward before I could make contact. I crashed onto my back, breathing hard.

  He wasn’t shooting fire at me; he wasn’t even getting that close with his dives—Duffy was clearly just toying with me, and a moment later I realized why when I saw Fred Hanson and his cameraman appear at the top of the ramp. Clearly, Duffy wanted an audience—he wanted to defeat me on television. My taunts had worked better than I hoped; not only had they drawn him onto the rooftop, his desire to have the world see me defeated had provided the delay I’d needed. I climbed back to my feet, scanning the skies in all directions. Where was the bloody helicopter? I had done my part.

  I couldn’t conceive of defeating Duffy on my own, which meant my only choice was to keep delaying and pray that Sulle’s dragon-slaying helicopter turned up and was able to do as Sulle promised. Fred Hanson had moved to the edge of the roof, and had lifted his microphone to his mouth. His cameraman raised the camera to his shoulder. I ran at them, figuring that preventing the broadcast was the best way to cause a setback to the dragon’s plan.

  Duffy had other ideas. He landed between me and Hanson. The entire skyscraper vibrated. From where his feet touched down, cracks in the roof shot out in all directions, widening to chasms in places. I just about managed to hold my feet.

  DO YOU STILL DOUBT MY ABILITY TO FLY?

  The cameraman took several strides to one side for a better angle of the two of us facing each other, making me feel like I was on some bizarre movie set.

  “I still doubt your ability to rule.” I held my fireswords before me, but they felt pathetic, their light eclipsed by the glow of the dragon’s chest. A sling and a stone might have been more useful.

  A whirring sound brought new hope. “I absolutely doubt your ability to reign,” I repeated, louder, as a pair of rotor blades appeared above the level of the roof and just behind Duffy. “For millennia, strongman tyrants have clawed their way to the top of the mountain and been overthrown just as quickly. A little dragon-fire isn’t going to change…” I trailed off; I had gone from speaking to the entire world to speaking to nobody. The cameraman had turned around to film the helicopter, and Duffy was twisting his neck over his shoulder.

  The helicopter’s door was open, and the ballista—a strange looking contraption of metal tubes and springs—was aimed at the dragon. The man positioned behind the ballista didn’t waste any time in firing. Duffy body had already half-tur
ned, and he threw his massive body to the side when the ballista, with a loud pinging sound, fired. The titanium spear careened off the scales on Duffy’s upper shoulder, and I watched forlornly as the it wobbled away into the darkness. I was scarcely able to believe that, after everything that had happened to get to this point, the ballista had simply missed.

  The dragon, lying on his side, thrashed out with his tail, catching the retreating helicopter. The main rotors tilted as the pilot struggled to regain control. The helicopter cockpit spun all the way around, the tail of it almost hitting Verge Tower, then it fell from view, still spinning.

  My legs were moving before I realized I’d made a decision—some instinct had me charging toward Duffy, screaming. A part of me was screaming that I was being crazy, another part was screaming that I’d never get a better chance. He still hadn’t risen back to his feet, and he wasn’t looking my way. The second part must have out-screamed the first because I leaped straight onto Duffy’s back. I plunged both fireswords, hilt-deep, directly into his back. The dragon barely twitched.

  I had stopped shouting, but was still being driven forward by a berserker adrenaline rush, likely fueled by terror. I ran along the dragon’s back, stopping every few paces to sink both fireswords deeply into its body. The fireswords penetrated the scales without difficulty; the problem was that other than the initial twitch, the wounds were having little effect. He wasn’t even bleeding. As Duffy lifted his head, I climbed higher, jumping up onto his shoulder. I swung across the dragon’s neck—once, twice, thrice—swinging with all my sentinel strength and sinking my swords as deep as they could go. The cuts caused only scratches in the scales.

  Then Duffy flicked his head back, and I was thrown clear. As I flew through the air, I noticed Persia, Ally, and Dennis had also climbed the ramp to the rooftop. As soon as I slammed against the ground, I jumped back up again. “Get back inside!” I shouted to Persia. “Get away.”