by Jack Conner
Ruegger dragged himself out of the water and plunged himself into a blackened pile of weapons, searching for one that still worked. He found a disposable missile launcher that looked like it ought to function, but by the time he had it to his shoulder, the dragon was gone.
No … not gone. It was circling the lake once more.
“Sorry, Colonel,” he said. “Too bad you won’t be missed.”
“Indeed,” agreed Sarnova, just a few feet away. The king turned to his surviving men and said, “Spread out. The last thing we need is to bunch up. Get ready. This will be the final round.”
The knights, dazed and bleeding and weary, obeyed. For his part, Ruegger lay down the missile launcher and just stood there by Roche Sarnova, silent, checking his pistols, which he placed back in their holsters before picking up the launcher once more.
“By the way, thanks for killing my horse,” Sarnova said.
Ruegger didn’t waste energy replying.
The dragon had almost completed its third circle of the lake, and it had transferred the still-struggling body of Col. De Soto from its rear talons to its fore talons. Before Ruegger could question this action, the dragon brought De Soto up to its mouth, inserted the whole body of the colonel inside, armor and all, and swallowed.
Another volley of missiles arced through the clear night sky toward the monster. Again, every single rocket went wide. This time, though, Ruegger had let his mind follow the missiles and had ascertained that the party responsible for the telekinesis was not the dragon but an immortal somewhere nearby. So it has an accomplice.
The beast unleashed another rain of fire. This time, instead of jumping in the water for protection, Ruegger ducked behind a boulder. As the dragon passed overhead, he fired his missile and used his mindthrust to ward off the telekinetic powers of the beast’s accomplice. The accomplice’s powers were very strong, but whoever it was wasn’t prepared for the Darkling’s interference. The missile drove straight through the golden scales of the dragon’s belly and exploded.
For several lengthy seconds, the dragon kept flying despite the fact that the area below its ribcage was now vacant of the guts that at that moment were spilling down on the rocky shore of the lake. Finally, its wings stopped beating and the creature began a long slow dive toward a thickly wooded area bordering the body of water.
Ruegger ran after it.
“Wait!” Sarnova called out. “What are you doing?”
Ruegger didn’t know how to answer the king’s question. There were probably many reasons why he was chasing the falling dragon. Sure, curiosity was a factor, a large factor, but what he found himself shouting back at the Dark Lord was: “Dragon blood!”
* * *
Hot on the trail of the leviathan, Ruegger ran, the wind drying his clothes.
The exercise felt good, even though his body was weary, but, more to the point the fresh flow of blood to his brain forced him to reevaluate the situation. Sarnova had hinted that he “rescued” endangered immortal things from the destructive hands of humanity. Surely a dragon fit this profile. Also, the Dark Lord had brought Ruegger to the lake for a purpose. At the time, Ruegger’s arrogance had allowed him to assume that this purpose was related to him, but now he suspected otherwise. Sarnova had known about the dragon, which had appeared immediately after he’d lowered his visor. That had been its cue—or rather the cue of Sarnova’s accomplice, who maybe wasn’t so much of an accomplice as a psychic controller of the dragon. If that was so, then the controller and Sarnova were partners—which meant that the death of Colonel De Soto had been very deliberate.
Ruegger saw a cloaked figure disappear into the underbrush ahead of him, trying to beat him to the body of the dragon.
The controller. It had to be.
Pushing himself on, Ruegger entered the woods and wove in and out of the knotted and snow-laden trees, his nostrils alive with the alien scent of dragon, like a blend of gold and honey and peaches and bronze and salt and power.
Behind him, he could hear the metallic crashings of knights that had heard his call to dragon blood. He imagined Sarnova was somewhere close by.
There, up ahead! He saw the cloaked figure again. It was a tall man, but with the hood concealing his face Ruegger could make no guess as to his identity. A clearing appeared through the trees, created only a minute ago by the plummet of the dragon. The large carcass lay belly up, steam from its enormous wound spilling into the air.
The cloaked figure leapt onto one the creature’s legs and scrambled to its chest. The tall man put one of his own wrists to his mouth and tore into the big vein there. Blood welled up out of him, dropping onto the dragon. The fellow moved closer to the point where the cavity began and rained his blood into the wound, then he bit into his other wrist and let blood from it too fall into the place where the dragon’s guts used to be. After a moment, Ruegger thought he saw one of the monster’s talons twitch. The man couldn’t be trying to bring it back to life. Surely that was impossible; even though the creature was mighty, such a wound was bound to be mortal ...
Just as Ruegger entered the clearing, the man leapt into the cavity and disappeared from sight. What was he doing in there—trying to hot-wire the dragon back to life?
Ruegger jumped onto one of the forelegs and climbed onto the creature’s chest, where the cloaked man had been just moments before. He stepped to the edge of the hole and peered down. What he saw was bizarre. The man, whoever he was, had immersed himself in what was left of the monster’s entrails and was so completely embedded that Ruegger couldn’t make out his face. But he could see a lot of blood, and not all of it was from the dragon.
The dragon shifted beneath Ruegger. He spun to see the head of the great being lift off the ground by its strong neck muscles. The terrible head approached Ruegger and gave the Darkling a tired snarl. It seemed as if it was trying to work up a gout of flame but was too weak.
Bam!
Ruegger felt the side of the creature’s tail crash into his side and send him whirling to the ground. Gasping, he stared up at the sky.
The dragon rolled over on its side and stood up, carefully. Then, with a few cautious flaps of its wings, it launched itself into the air. The dragon’s great dark shape disappearing into the night was the last thing Ruegger saw before he blacked out.
* * *
He woke up to the taste of some strange exotic blood in his mouth. When he opened his eyes, he saw Roche Sarnova kneeling over him with a piece of dragon intestine in his hand, which he was twisting like a wet rag so that the blood and juices of the great beast dripped on Ruegger’s face.
“Tasty?”
Once Ruegger had managed to sit up, the Dark Lord dropped the piece of flesh to the ground and patted him on the back. Ruegger waved Sarnova away and wiped the blood off his face with the gloves Danielle had made him bring. With a groan, he stood.
“What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Sarnova said.
“Oh, I remember. I just want to know what happened.” Scowling, he searched for his pack of cigarettes, but they were wet. He swore and faced the Dark Lord. “I know what you did,” he said softly.
“Maybe,” Sarnova said. “Now’s not the time to discuss it. The sun’s on its way up and we’ve got a long way to walk back.”
All about him, the knights were shedding the remains of their armor, tossing the charred hunks of metal to the ground. Roche Sarnova did the same. That done, the small war party ran at a swift pace back up the slope. They found the ledge, followed it around the mountain and crossed the drawbridge.
Once inside the Old Courtyard, Sarnova told them all to get some rest and to meet him for a de-briefing in eight hours. Ruegger felt certain that the king was giving them this much time on purpose so that they could spread the word of De Soto’s death. But why? When the knights were gone, the king turned to Ruegger and was about to say something when several Castle Guards stepped forward.
“Lord Sarnova, there’s been a murder. P
lus, seven shades, part of the Funhouse of the Forsaken’s entourage, are missing and presumed dead.”
“What happened?”
“In one of the rooms that the Funhouse of the Forsaken occupy—a man was discovered, dead and hung from the ceiling, or rather the corners of the room, in a strange fashion.”
“Show me the pictures.”
As if he had been expecting this, the captain of the guard retrieved several Polaroids from a pocket and handed them to his king. Sarnova studied them, then tossed them to Ruegger.
“Fucking Balaklava,” Sarnova said. “First the Sabo, now this.”
“The Sabo, my Lord?” the guard captain said.
“Never mind. Have you found the ones that did this, Junger and Jagoda?”
“We’re still searching. A couple of my men think they’re hiding in the catacombs. Some are afraid to go down there after them, especially after all the slaves they bought, if you see what I mean? Them being chalgids now, too.”
“Your men are right. Limit your search to areas above the catacombs. Otherwise, you have my permission to do a full and exhaustive sweep of the castle.”
The captain just stared at his lord for a moment, and Ruegger could imagine what the man must be thinking. Was the Dark Lord himself afraid of the Balaklava? Without another word, the captain and his men retreated, leaving Sarnova and Ruegger virtually alone in the Old Courtyard.
“I guess we have things to discuss, don’t we?” said Sarnova.
“Yes.”
“Very well.” The Dark Lord led Ruegger upstairs into his study. “You can take off your clothes if you want. I promise I won’t look.”
Ruegger allowed himself a small smile, but declined the offer. Instead, he moved over to the large fireplace and let the heat dry his clothes; unfortunately, as they dried they became stiff and uncomfortable.
Sarnova prepared some coffee and handed Ruegger a big mug for the third time that night.
“Thanks.”
The king added some liquor to his own mug. “Want some?”
“Please.”
“So you think I had a hand in what happened back there?” the king asked, once they were both drinking the enhanced coffee.
“A hand? That’s one way of saying it. I think you masterminded the whole thing.”
Sarnova sighed and sank into his big armchair. “I suppose you deserve to know what that was all about, but I hesitate to tell you. I don’t want it to become common knowledge. If I tell you, you’ll tell Danielle. I can accept that, but I want your assurance that it goes no farther than that.”
“You have it, Roche. But make it quick. The sun is already up and she’ll be worried about me.”
“Here it is. A large percentage of my subjects have grown weary of the war. This you know. Further, you’ve probably heard rumors that a coup was in the works. Well, our dear Colonel De Soto was the leader of that movement. Luckily, I have a close friend in Ambassador Mauchlery. Ever met him?”
“Never had the pleasure.”
“That’s strange. You’ve been here enough times as to make your lack of acquaintance with him rather unusual.”
“Anyway, I haven’t met him.”
“He’s my oldest friend, and for good reason. He was able to get De Soto and company to elect him as their leader. In effect, he was the man they wanted to dethrone me. Still is, for that matter. But De Soto was pushing the Ambassador for a fixed date. He wanted to depose me and end the war as quickly as possible.” Sarnova closed his eyes for a moment. “Obviously something had to be done about the Colonel if I was to maintain my position. However, the problem was that De Soto had enough sway amongst his men as to make murdering him or imprisoning him tricky. You follow me?”
“You needed him dead.”
“Let’s just say out of the way. But I couldn’t let anyone know that I was responsible—otherwise, his men would either revolt or defect, and I couldn’t have that. In fact, there could be no question about my involvement, because I require the complete loyalty of my troops. What I needed was to have him killed in plain sight of his own men. Thus I staged the little drama that you were so recently a part of. That dragon, as you may have surmised, wasn’t acting on its own. It was one of several that I managed to capture many centuries ago when I realized that they were in danger of being utterly wiped off the face of the earth.”
“Where do you keep them?”
“Deep inside the mountain, where I keep the rest of my collection.”
“Your collection?”
Sarnova shrugged. “I didn’t mean it quite that way. They’re not mine, as such, but they wouldn’t be here today without the refuge I had created for them. At any rate, the Ambassador and I organized the dragon attack.”
“Why a dragon? Don’t you think that was a little ... over the top? How are you going to explain the dragon to your troops?”
“I’ll have my elite guards—those I’ve had to protect me for many years now—lay hints about the Refuge. They know of the dragons, and of the Refuge. Some refer to it as the Zoo, but it’s a word I dislike. I took you out there to be rid of Malie and dispatch De Soto.”
“You used me.”
The king wet his lips once more. “No,” he said. “The Sabo is real and you did the right thing in warding off the Libertarian attack. Believe me, I appreciate your help in that.”
“But the part about you making Maleasoel an ally ...”
“It wasn’t a lie, if that’s what you mean.”
“No. I know what you mean. And I believe I know the reason you didn’t want Malie to enter the Sabo. Not because you wanted to keep her alive, but because you were afraid of her bringing nuclear weapons into your castle.”
Roche paused, then smiled a smile that was both guilty and unapologetic. “I won’t deny it. Truly, though, I’d like to make her an ally. I’ve heard that before Ludwig’s murder she was a good leader, one many admired, and I honestly would’ve liked to have someone of her fiber on my side, fighting against Subaire. The problem is how do I get in touch with her without getting any more of my men killed?”
“You didn’t have a problem with the dragon killing your men.”
“That was an accident. I hadn’t intended for the dragon to breathe fire. Mauchlery should’ve kept a tighter grip on its mind.”
“Your Ambassador was its controller.”
“Right. Where were we?”
“You and Mauchlery killed De Soto.”
“Actually, we wanted to capture him alive if possible. See, not all of the potential revolutionaries completely trust the Ambassador. He isn’t privy to all the inside information. Another revolution could have been brewing and he wouldn’t have known about it.”
“Whereas the Colonel would.”
The Dark Lord scratched his jawline. “You noticed that the dragon swallowed him whole? It was to regurgitate him shortly thereafter and the interrogation would begin.”
“I see.”
“Then you come along with your goddamned supersonic mindthrust and kill the damned dragon, probably killing the colonel too despite our best efforts.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sarnova waved it away. “I hold no grudges. Except, of course, for the fact that Gethraul—the dragon—is a friend of mine. Don’t ask. It’s a long story.”
“What I want to know is how Mauchlery got the dragon back on its feet.”
“He’s old and powerful and wise. Besides, such dragons as Geth can’t be killed by a single missile.”
“He looked like he was well on his way.”
“You placed a good shot. I don’t know how Francois revived him so quickly; my own bloods would’ve taken far longer to do the job. To be honest, I don’t know how Francois did it and I don’t care. I don’t want Gethraul to die. And maybe, through some miracle, De Soto didn’t die in the explosion and I can proceed to get some answers out of him. I haven’t heard back from the Ambassador yet. Until I do, I won’t know if De Soto lived or died.”
> “I can only apologize once.”
“I’m not asking for an apology. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”
“I’d prefer a pack of cigarettes.”
After taking a deep breath, Sarnova said, “I think I’ve covered just about everything. Go back to your room and tell Danielle you’ve just slain a dragon. Maybe she’ll see something positive in it. I don’t. Anyway, we both need our sleep. Remember, tomorrow night Kiernevar goes up against the last of my potential successors; if he wins, you’re my final line of defense against insanity. Do whatever you need to do to get yourself focused.”
Ruegger stepped away from the fireplace, immediately missing its warmth, and moved towards the door.
“Ruegger?” Sarnova called, and the Darkling turned. The king smiled, reached into a pocket and threw Ruegger a pack of cigarettes.
Lighting up, Ruegger left him by the fire.
* * *
Once the dragon and the knights had disappeared, Jean-Pierre jumped down from the small ridge and made his way around the lake, careful to keep his eyes and ears alert for the slightest sound. There was only the wind and the lapping of waves against the shore. For the first time in a long while, he stopped to enjoy the beauty of the scene.
This is the sort of thing Sophia would like.
Taking in the sharp air, he soon found himself outside the entrance to the Sabo. He wasn’t quite the spoonbender that Ruegger was, but he had little trouble moving the big boulder that blocked his way. As he started into the darkness of the tunnel, he found an odd sign: It’s a trap.
What did that mean? Surely it was a reference to the Sabo itself, an entity the Libertarians had not been made aware of, but why had Castle soldiers been the ones to place it here? Surely Sarnova wanted the Libertarians to come this way because it was a trap! It made no sense. And what of the dragon? Jean-Pierre’s powerful psychic sense had informed him that the dragon had been under the (very strained) thrall of an immortal, yet who could be powerful enough to control a dragon?
