Iron Will

by James Maxwell

  Overriding everything were the wild emotions Palemon could sense through the copper chains. His steed had been his to command: whatever thoughts it had were buried deep in its skull, and it would never act unless he gave it permission. Now he was feeling what it felt. It was insane with loss, experiencing the deaths of the other dragons around it as vividly as if it were dying. The horror of every fatality made it cry out in agony. The emotions were so savage and primal they frightened him. And the pain was rapidly becoming rage.

  Palemon looked wide-eyed at Zara. She was pulling hard on the reins, her face screwed up with concentration. He tore his eyes away and saw that just below him the citadel’s defenders were watching, utterly stunned. He couldn’t waste time thinking about the enemy now. The greater danger was all around him.

  The hate felt through the copper chains swamped his senses. The dragon underneath him quivered with anger. It was worse than animalistic; it was demonic. It wanted to destroy.

  The piercing shrieks began to die away, just as Palemon realized that any control he’d had over his dragon was long gone. The bright-red creatures stopped screaming.

  Now they were turning on their riders.

  The dragons flew at each other in a gruesome display similar to the mock battles fought at Malakai. Alongside Palemon a creature’s jaws closed over the neighboring rider and bit down, releasing a fountain of bright blood. Another dragon craned its neck and snapped time and again at the man on its back, who tried to get away only to be grasped by sharp claws from above. Winged monsters swooped and darted, butchering their riders one after the other. Palemon’s soldiers and sorcerers began to leap off their mounts, trusting their fates to the gods, hoping that the fall to the plain wouldn’t kill them.

  Palemon was too shocked to think; it had all gone wrong so quickly. Occasional arrows shot out from the citadel, and a few more dragons died from the ballistae on the walls. He glanced down at the ground. He was higher than the citadel’s walls and the drop looked like it would kill him, yet some of his warriors had survived and were helping each other stand.

  He saw a flash of light and looked at Zara. Her face was grim as she clutched her reins in one hand and her fire staff in the other. The iron claw glowed bright red. She brought it down and pressed it against her dragon’s skull and an instant later the creature’s head burst into flame. She jumped clear and her limbs flailed as she fell.

  At that moment Palemon’s dragon bent its long neck and looked at him balefully. He made a decision. He dropped the reins and took his spear in both hands. Gripping with his knees, he straightened and lunged forward and down with all his strength. The sharp, iron-headed spear met resistance when it struck the leathery skin, but Palemon was a strong man. He roared and stabbed deep into the back of the dragon’s head.

  The creature died even as he tumbled off. He rolled over and over and then struck the ground hard enough to make starbursts bloom in his vision. The fall took the wind out of him, and he lay gasping on his back.

  ‘Sire!’ A soldier held out a hand and Palemon gripped it while the man pulled him to his feet. Palemon nodded his thanks, still wheezing.

  He looked up at the sky.

  The dragons weren’t just butchering their one-time riders. The scene he was witnessing was worse than any imagining.

  They were feasting.

  As the number still with men on their backs became fewer, an evil method was emerging from their madness. Like a flock of vultures they would descend on one of the remaining riders. Multiple sets of jaws would close down, tearing a grown man into flesh and blood in an instant. They would toss their heads back, gulping down greedily. Then they would search for their next prey.

  Palemon realized that soon they would turn their attention to the ground. He swiftly scanned the area, seeing the citadel a long stone’s throw away and then spotting Zara lying on her back. He ran over to her.

  ‘Zara!’

  Palemon crouched at her side. He carefully lifted her head and checked the back of her skull for wounds. Her eyes were closed, but then she opened them.

  ‘Are you hurt? Can you stand?’

  She coughed and nodded. Palemon knew he didn’t have time to treat her carefully. He pulled her to her feet. She weaved a little, yet she could stand.

  ‘We have to get out of here. You understand?’

  She met his eyes. ‘But . . .’ She put her hand to her chest as she coughed again. ‘But where?’

  19

  Dion had been facing imminent defeat. Now his soldiers were witnessing a scene of utter carnage above the plain. The dragons were feasting. Like something from a nightmare, the red-scaled monsters were devouring every warm-bodied human in sight.

  Soon almost every dragon was without a rider. They began to focus their attention on the last few mounted men remaining, and then they started to disperse. Some swooped down at the ground below, seeking the sorcerers and soldiers who had taken their chances by jumping.

  Others flew toward the citadel.

  Dion realized he was no longer facing an army, led by men whose actions he could comprehend. The red dragons had no discipline or purpose. They only wanted to kill.

  He also realized he now had an opportunity to save his men. To save Chloe.

  They might still come out of this alive.

  ‘Everybody flee the walls!’ Dion roared. ‘Abandon your posts! Get inside!’ The defenders started to flee as Dion raced to Liana. ‘Go!’ he cried.

  He wrapped an arm around Chloe and hoisted her up onto his shoulder. Around him everyone was rushing to the central stairs leading to the citadel’s interior. Archers threw down their bows; ballista crews left their positions. Dion kept bellowing for his men to flee.

  He saw Cob ahead of him, his short legs struggling to keep up with Roxana as she pulled him along by the hand. Liana raced by Dion’s side.

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  The dragons were tearing into the soldiers behind him. Scarlet wings flashed; open jaws lunged. Terror was on every soldier’s face. Red dragons were everywhere Dion looked. They swarmed over the citadel, biting down, grasping with their forelimbs, flying away with men in their jaws. Dion gritted his teeth. The press of soldiers was so great that he couldn’t see the stairs. He clutched Chloe tightly, desperate not to lose her.

  Finally he saw the opening ahead. Cob and Roxana vanished into the interior, and then Liana slipped in front to help him descend with Chloe. Knowing he couldn’t slow, that anyone who didn’t make it down the stairs was dead, Dion threw himself down, grateful for Liana’s help.

  ‘To the armory!’ Dion roared at the soldiers in front of him.

  It was the only secure room in the interior, and was big enough for them all to seek refuge. Even if the citadel’s gates came down, the armory’s doorway was too small for a dragon to get through.

  A tide of running men poured down the steps, wide-eyed and panicked. Dion again called out for everyone to head to the armory and soon they were on the ground level, streaming toward the stout wooden door. He glanced back at the opening at the top of the stairs. There were no more soldiers descending. But the opening was big. Too big.

  A dragon’s head suddenly appeared, and then the rest of its body. It tucked in its red wings and flew into the citadel’s expansive interior, jaws parted as it screeched.

  ‘Run!’ soldiers’ voices cried from all directions.

  An archer left the throng, standing off to the side. He swiftly nocked an arrow before lifting the weapon and pulling the string to his ear. The bow thrummed as he released, and the arrow shot through the dragon’s thin wing, leaving a hole in its wake. More archers joined in. The dragon swooped down on the fleeing defenders, but then a solid strike pierced its soft throat. A second arrow landed in its eye, and it crashed to the ground, twitching before it was still.

  Dion would thank his men later. He resumed his run, still carrying Chloe on his shoulder. The open doorway of the armory beckoned. Along with the last soldiers to ma
ke it from the battlements, he raced inside. Liana helped him settle Chloe onto the ground. Dion then sped to the door and helped his men haul it closed. They dropped the wooden bar in place.

  Dion put his back against the door and cast his eyes over the young soldiers who called him king. ‘Well done, all of you,’ he panted.

  He silently counted, estimating their numbers. Over a hundred had made it to safety. The armory was big and could accommodate them easily. The walls were made of strong stone and there were spare weapons and barrels containing food and water. The horrified soldiers clustered in groups of three or four men, ranged around the area. Chloe lay in the corner, tended by Liana. Cob and Roxana stood nearby, holding each other close.

  ‘Sire . . .’ a blue-eyed soldier ventured. ‘What happened?’

  They knew Dion’s heritage and were looking for answers. These men had been prepared to battle Palemon’s army of dragons to the death. But what they had seen was beyond their understanding.

  ‘In truth, I don’t know,’ Dion said.

  ‘It was when we started killing ’em,’ said a grizzled soldier with a salt-and-pepper beard. ‘The others went mad.’

  Outside, Dion could still hear spine-chilling shrieks and the sound of wings in the air. A man’s scream rose and fell, before falling abruptly silent. The dragons’ screeches came from all directions. They gradually changed pitch, beginning to sound frustrated.

  Dion supposed that Palemon and his followers were now dead. They would never have to witness the horror they had inflicted upon the world.

  He attempted to banish the chilling sounds while he pondered what had happened. He remembered when Zachary’s wife, Aella, had turned wild. Zachary had been beyond distraught.

  ‘There is a bond that eldren share,’ Dion finally said. He nodded in Liana’s direction. ‘I can sense where Liana is, even when my eyes are closed. If she were in pain, I would feel it. I think that this is what drove the dragons mad.’

  Chloe had told Dion that on Athos she learned there was a flaw in the magic of the Arch of Nisos. He now knew what that flaw was. If just one changeling died, any control over the others was lost. What were once compliant, living weapons instead became wildren. No, he thought. Worse than wildren. These dragons shared a connection. They were vicious in the extreme. Throughout history, there had never been a cohesive group of dragons to contend with.

  Lost in thought, Dion was jolted alert when a sudden thud came from somewhere close by.

  He raced to the armory’s stout door. He stood and faced it while soldiers formed up around him and drew swords. There was another boom, followed by a thud.

  ‘They’re trying to break the gates,’ a young soldier moaned.

  Dion wondered if it was possible. Were they intelligent enough to know to smash the gates? He listened intently as he watched the armory door.

  ‘Pass me a bow,’ he ordered.

  A soldier handed him a composite bow and a quiver of arrows. Dion shouldered the quiver, pulled out a single arrow, and fitted it to the string. The citadel gates thudded again, and then there was a mighty crash.

  ‘They’re in,’ someone whispered.

  Dion looked at the men around him. They were frightened, but ready. They formed a wide circle, standing with swords drawn or arrows pulled to their cheeks. Everyone faced the wooden door.

  Soon after the crash, a sequence of hard knocks came from the door itself.

  ‘Let us in!’ a panicked voice cried. ‘Hurry. Please!’

  ‘There’s men out there!’ cried the grizzled soldier who had spoken earlier. He ran to the bar and the blue-eyed soldier joined him. Together they lifted the stout timber out of the slots.

  ‘Keep your weapons ready,’ Dion said. He nodded at the soldiers when they looked at him for orders. ‘Do it. Close it as soon as they’re in.’

  The two soldiers opened the door.

  Dion couldn’t believe who was on the other side.

  Palemon, the sorceress Zara, and a few dozen others raced into the armory in a mad rush. Dion caught the flash of red dragon wings. The creature was descending on them, jaws wide as it lunged.

  Dion’s men slammed the door shut. With fumbling haste, they picked up the wooden bar and threw it back into the slots. The dragon on the other side shrieked with frustration. A second shriek sounded fainter, farther away.

  There was silence in the armory. Dion’s men remained on guard, weapons drawn as they watched the newcomers warily.

  Palemon was panting. His chain mail was dusty, and his gray-streaked hair was in disarray. Dion’s eyes moved on to Zara. Blood was splattered across her face. Grime covered her cheeks and there was dirt in her raven-black hair. Her dark-blue dress was nearly torn from her shoulder. Palemon was unarmed, and, for once, the sorceress was without her staff.

  Dion scanned the rest of the newcomers. There were four more sorcerers, all men in gray robes. Like Zara, they had lost their staffs, and their expressions were harrowed and desperate. Perhaps another thirty soldiers in chain mail were with them. Some were injured, and most were armed.

  ‘Soldiers of Xanthos,’ Dion commanded. ‘If they move, kill them.’

  His mind was spinning. Less than an hour ago, Palemon had been ready to execute him in cold blood. Now here he was, the same man, but everything had changed. Dion had far greater numbers; if it came to a fight, the warriors from across the sea wouldn’t stand a chance. Palemon had gambled with dangerous magic. He had gambled and lost.

  ‘Disarm them,’ Dion finally said. ‘Search the sorcerers, the ones in robes.’ His gaze flicked to Zara. Her dress was far too figure-hugging for her to be hiding any weapon. ‘Tell your men to stand down,’ he said to Palemon. He raised an eyebrow. ‘Or, you can take your chances outside.’

  ‘We will comply,’ Palemon said stiffly.

  Dion’s men came forward and stripped their captives of weapons. Dion watched from a distance, his eyes on Palemon the entire time. When it was done, he stepped forward.

  ‘Now, King Palemon,’ Dion said curtly. ‘Can you tell me what is happening?’

  Palemon shook his head. He muttered something, so low that Dion almost couldn’t hear him. ‘There was a message.’

  Dion scowled. ‘What message?’

  ‘We found it beneath the tower at Malakai,’ Palemon said slowly. ‘“The dragons are fierce . . .”’

  ‘No,’ Zara interrupted. Her face was pale. She showed none of her usual confidence. ‘It was old Aleuthean. I had it wrong. I realize that now.’

  ‘What did it say?’ Dion asked impatiently.

  ‘It said: “The dragons are wild.”’ Zara met his eyes. ‘“The Arch of Nisos brings doom upon the world.”’

  20

  After some time, the piercing cries of dragons calling to each other faded away. Nightfall came. Eventually most of the people in the armory fell asleep.

  One ragged group – Palemon and his followers – occupied its own corner. Dion was taking no chances: they were bound hand and foot. Palemon was stoic as the men he had recently sought to destroy fastened his ankles with strong leather cord and tied his wrists behind his back. Dion was surprised when the sight of the captive king didn’t bring him the pleasure he’d always thought it would. Perhaps it was because an even greater evil had been unleashed upon the land.

  The night passed slowly. Dion didn’t sleep. He sat beside Chloe, watching her chest rise and fall. She still hadn’t woken, and while Liana rested he moistened Chloe’s hot skin with a damp cloth.

  He glanced under the door, seeing a faint glow of daylight underneath. Looking away, his gaze inadvertently drifted to his enemy.

  Palemon was sitting up against the far wall with his knees bent. He met Dion’s stare without flinching. Dion climbed to his feet. He walked across the room full of sleeping soldiers and stood over the older man.

  ‘Wondering if you should kill me?’ Palemon growled.

  ‘Wondering why I haven’t already.’ Dion crouched. He spoke in a low voic
e for the benefit of his men. ‘The dragons. How do we kill them? Destroy the Arch of Nisos?’

  ‘No,’ another voice spoke up. Zara was watching them nearby. ‘The arch only transforms them. A man or woman enters, and a dragon comes out the other side. There was a book that we recovered from the sunken city. It is the combination of eldran magic and our own that maintains the spell over them.’

  Dion snorted. ‘Why should I believe a word you say?’

  Shaking his head, he left them behind and returned to Chloe. He saw that Liana was now awake; she held her hand against Chloe’s forehead, her eyes tight with concern.

  ‘How is she?’ Dion asked.

  Chloe suddenly groaned, and Dion sank beside her. ‘Chloe? Chloe, it’s me. Can you hear me?’ But Chloe remained still and unresponsive. Wherever she was, it was somewhere far away.

  With a sigh, he returned to his feet. He had never felt so helpless.

  ‘She will die, or she will survive,’ Zara murmured from across the room. ‘There is nothing you can do.’

  Dion didn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead he saw Cob sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Dion strode over to his old sailing master.

  ‘Sun’s rising,’ Dion said. ‘I’m taking a look. Care to join me?’

  ‘That’s one way to get an old man’s blood moving about,’ Cob grumbled. ‘A strong dose of fear.’

  Dion gave him a tight smile, and together they headed for the door.

  ‘Quietly,’ Dion said as they lifted the bar from the slots and rested it on the ground. He didn’t want to wake his men. They had earned their rest. Even if there was danger outside, the doorway was too narrow for a dragon to enter.

  The door creaked as they opened it.

  The first sight that greeted them was the corpse of the dragon the archers had shot. The red-scaled creature was sprawled on the ground, wings crushed under its body. Dion listened intently. All he could hear was the sound of his and Cob’s breathing.