by J. F. Lewis
She unhooked Kilke’s head from the single shed-claw hook holding him tight to her chest, and brought him up to eye level.
“Tell me what you want in exchange for the required information.”
“To formally cement our allegiance,” Kilke purred. “You acknowledged the change in our relationship when you became a dragon, and I must admit to a certain defensiveness on my part.” He paused for an apology that did not come. “Having given the matter further consideration, I accept your premise.
“You are quite correct, Tsan, to say dragons do not worship the gods, but your people are not dragons, and you are not a god. The Zaur are your people, true, but they are my worshippers. I wish your assurance that that arrangement will remain the unaltered state of things. In exchange, I will continue to protect and assist as I can, and your empire will continue to serve His Secret Purpose.”
“Why not grant me the knowledge first?” Tsan smiled, wondering in the moment what a smile looked like on the maw of a dragon. “A gesture of goodwill.”
“You live, walk, and breathe in all the true evidence of my goodwill you require, my dear.” Kilke clucked his tongue at her. “That you continue to be surrounded by your subjects, who also yet live . . . Need I continue?”
“I could swallow you whole and chew you to bits . . .” Tsan narrowed her gaze.
“And would not life—” Kilke’s eyes and horns crackled with lightning, “—be ever so much more difficult for a dragon whose eyes had been burned out by the lightning of an angry deity in his final dying act of spite?”
Tsan’s laughter boomed across the plains, sending her empire scurrying away from her in all directions until they realized the disturbing sound was a sign of amusement.
“Yes.” Tsan nodded. “That is the sign I needed. You are still a worthy ally, Kilke. You have my formal agreement. My ally and,” she indicated casually with her snout, “their god.”
Returning him to the hanging clasp at her throat, she rose to all fours, letting her tail whip out over the heads of her adoring subjects.
“Now,” she whispered, “flight.”
“Of course, my friend.” Kilke’s horns began to glow, and as they did, Tsan felt what it was to fly, the magic in it, the freedom; and this time, with a single flap of her wings, she flew.
*
The dragon came in from the northwest, weaving in and out of the second sun’s rubicund corona, vanishing then reappearing as the center of the blazing orb painted it black in contrast. Rae’en stared as only an Aern in a warsuit could, directly into the sun, relying on Bloodmane to keep her eyes free of afterimages and blind spots.
Kazan cursed in her mind, using the data from the scouts and warsuits Rae’en had dispatched to get a better view at the ground-bound mass following in the great wyrm’s shadow. The true picture of the enemy rendered itself in the upper half of Rae’en’s field of vision.
Not just thousands, Kazan thought. Hundreds of thousands.
“How many can we hold off?” Rae’en whispered. Her defenses were strong, stronger than Fort Sunder had ever been, except perhaps during the Demon Wars, but it had never been under attack by a dragon. For the whole of its existence, the only dragon had been Coal, and he far off to the south, harmlessly (for the most part) slumbering in the lava, stirring to hunt or stretch his wings, but not to wage any sort of war.
I liked it better, Bloodmane intoned, when we were the ones with the dragon.
How many can we hold off? Rae’en thought at her Overwatches.
I . . . Dragon wings and fire tinted Kazan’s thoughts. I . . .
Amber or Glayne, Rae’en prodded.
The dragon is a problem, Glayne sent. It doesn’t have to close with us unless it wants to, and the Aiannai elemancers are tired. Let me think, but while I do, Amber, I can feel you working the other problem, so—
Without a Zaurruk, the Sri’Zauran army is more manageable. Scaled-up versions of their existing strategies flowed freely from Amber’s mind, accompanying her words. Rae’en watched the plans, the formations, shift and evolve, but it felt insufficient. If they reanimate, then we need to know if they are in league with Uled or—
They aren’t, Joose and Rae’en thought together.
Joose, go. Amber thought, Glayne’s token turning gold to show his approval.
We’ve been watching them fight, Rae’en, Joose continued. Kazan and the others can correct me if I’m wrong, but this looks like a display of strength to me.
He’s right, M’jynn cut in. That’s how they work. If they attack by surprise, it means they want to send a message or to conquer, but look at the way they’re approaching—in ranks.
No, Kazan sent. That’s not all of it. Every interaction with the Sri’Zaur is like an audition. Joose is right; this is a whole power thing, but it is more than that. They aren’t trying to hide the army. They are trying to hide the dragon. That part is a test. We have to react to the dragon as if we are prepared to kill it.
I can’t kill it, Rae’en growled.
We can fight the Sri’Zaur and the Zaur, with our Makers dying over and over again, only to be stripped and dipped or held safe within us until that can be accomplished, Eyes of Vengeance thought. Unless they all have shards of the Life Forge, we would eventually win through attrition, even if it took one hundred years and we lost every non-Aern ally, but such a victory is suboptimal.
What do you suggest, Eyes? Bloodmane asked.
“We have to deploy the Aiannai in a convincing defense against the—” Rae’en shifted from a whisper to transmitted thoughts. I have to get Queen Bash to deploy her elemancers in a convincing dragon defense.
Rae’en ran down the bone-steel-coated wall of the keep, heading for Bhaeshal.
CHAPTER 19
ARMORED
Kazan leapt out of the tree in which he had been stationed. His leg bones flexed from the impact, springing forward as they snapped back to their normal shape. It hurt like hells, which he took as a sign all would be well. Stumbling for a few steps before he regained his balance, he charged into the newest clash between Zaur, Vael, and the dead.
Following the map in his head, Kazan scanned for the undead reptile named Kuort but could not find him.
Where did Kuort go? he thought at the others.
Off with Cadence and Captain Tyree, M’jynn thought back, showing direction with a silver arrow. They took the horse and a small escort of Vael.
They wanted to test a theory about Kuort. Joose backed up the icons on Kazan’s battle map to indicate when they’d left the dead Zaur, and exactly where. Why he’s still him even though he’s dead. Long Speaker stuff.
Thanks.
In Kuort’s absence, that meant the Flamefang, Brazz, would be in charge. Kazan worked his way to where Brazz stood, flanked by black-scaled guards, directing his fellow yellow-scaled Sri’Zaur. Orange zigzag markings went dark as Flamefangs exhausted their alchemical fuel and rotated out of the fighting, a fresh soldier with blazing orange markings stepping in to vomit gouts of liquid flame at the dead.
What do we need to know from the Flamefang? Joose asked.
More information about how the Sri’Zaur make overtures of alliance.
You think that’s what is going on with the dragon? M’jynn asked.
Warpick at the ready, Kazan sent an acquiescent token flash but ran on, tracking the local engagement through the eyes of his fellow Overwatches, each positioned in a tree at a cardinal point of the envisioned battle map with a few Vael warriors nearby to assist or help relocate them as the battle moved. Being in an armed conflict himself did not stop the rest of the Aernese Army from needing strategic information.
“What are you doing, Overwatch?” One of the frond-headed Vael who had been assigned to him dropped into the fray nearby.
He wished he could think it at her rather than explaining, but the Vael were allies and they’d come to the rescue. Kazan hated to think what would have happened to his small group of Overwatches if they had run into the
Zaur absent an alliance between the Vael and the reptilian empire.
“I need to consult an expert.” Kazan dodged a pair of mounted Zaur, moving in to help corral the burning corpses and herd them together until they had been reduced to charred ineffective combatants. Similar in form from an external perspective to the Jun beasts Kazan had seen in the deeper shafts of South Number Nine, the stony hides of the mounts showed no effect from the heat or fire, not even those with shaggy braids running from the place where the head on a normal creature would have been, which led Kazan to suspect it to be more like wire or horn than proper hair.
Intuiting his destination, the Vael sped ahead of Kazan, leading him skipping over a section of still-wriggling Zaurruk corpses, bulling through the groups of gray-scaled Zaur working in tandem with Vael to cut the downed serpent into smaller and smaller pieces, which they pinned down with fragments of the creature’s spine to keep them in place long enough for a Flamefang to burn them to ash.
“Fair hunting at Fort Sunder?” the Vael asked.
“A dragon showed up with half a million reptilian soldiers.” Kazan swung at a hissing Zaur, realized at the last possible instant that it was injured and not one of the dead, turning his overhand swing into a flip to avoid killing the unknown fighter. Twin arrows thunked into the skull of an animated corpse as Kazan stumbled into it. Trying to stand quickly, he found himself seized roughly and hurled back by two hulking black-scaled Sri’Zaur. Landing gracelessly on his rump, Kazan watched them grab the corpse and hurl it over the line of mounted Zaur and into the blaze beyond.
“Which dragon?” the Vael asked, a name he could not pronounce appearing over her head in gold, courtesy of Joose.
Oh-ar-HAR-wa, Joose thought at him, is the way you pronounce it, though how you get that from O-R-H-R-Y-A is beyond me. My own fault for asking how to spell it, I guess.
It does seem to be missing a few vowels while possessing at least one poorly chosen consonant, Kazan thought.
A blink later, and Kazan had found the interaction in Joose’s memory and replayed it for himself. How did I miss Joose flirting so shamelessly? Lack of tactical importance? Applying those words to the actions of one of his closest friends disturbed Kazan.
“No one knows, Orhrya,” Kazan said. “I need to know if they managed to keep one secret for several thousand years or what?”
“Tell Joose I said ‘Hi,’” Orhrya said.
Quick on the track, M’jynn thought, even if she does have a weird name.
“He heard,” Kazan said.
“Maybe the dragons are coming back?” Her violet eyes opened wide at the idea. Or he presumed that was what it was, until he saw the symbol for Eyes of Vengeance, a stylized 2 with an empty center where Kazan’s new symbol, Vander’s, fit perfectly, leave the world map Kazan was maintaining and arrive on the edge of the local map that bounded the current battle.
“Warsuits,” Orhrya whispered. Kazan smiled, baring his doubled canines and sharing in a little of the Vael’s awe. He had seen warsuits through the eyes of other Aern, but being in the presence of a warsuit for the first time was like standing exposed before an unflinching incarnate of battle, an ancient and relentless force. He’d heard Eyes of Vengeance in his head, but the idea that the armor was near, that he might soon don the warsuit for the first time, left Kazan speechless, all thoughts, even of the dragon, momentarily purged from his mind.
*
Why, Bloodmane asked, did we run from one side of Scarsguard to the other?
Rae’en vaulted the last of the steps leading up to the fortress, seizing the bone-metal-coated wall of Fort Sunder and latching onto it with the same force that let the Aern hang their chosen implements on their backs. Sunslight picked out the detail-work on her armor, her father’s scars in a stylized union of engraving and enamel, leaving the curved lines smooth and flat with the illusion of depth. She snorted once, the sound of metal on metal clinking as she climbed, anchoring her knees, toes, elbows, and hands.
“I need to add this to the training regimen,” Rae’en whispered.
Why, Rae’en countered, did you wait until I was already at Fort Sunder before asking that question?
It is a hard thing to question one’s rightful occupant, Bloodmane thought.
The memory of her father’s bridge test on the way from South Number Nine to the Guild Cities, Bridgeland, and to Oot beyond. Kholster had seemed out of his head, clearly wrong about the sturdiness of the stone bridge, but even so she had found it hard to question her father. Maybe it was the same sometimes for the warsuits. They bent their entire existences to the will of their “occupants,” so much so that they had willingly stood in an abandoned hallway for several centuries because the Aern had agreed that they would.
Fair point, Rae’en thought.
I am getting better at it, Bloodmane thought.
Don’t get too good, Rae’en teased.
A healthy balance?
Sure. Rae’en started to ask Kazan a question, but Glayne intercepted it, updating the queen’s location on her map before she could tell him what she wanted.
Kazan will be occupied for the next candlemark or so, Glayne thought at her. Unless you require him specifically.
Do I want to know? Rae’en asked.
Eyes of Vengeance has arrived and Kazan is going to don him for the first time.
It didn’t take us an hour, Rae’en thought at Bloodmane.
Kholster valued expedience, Bloodmane thought, but Eyes of Vengeance is more traditional.
Fine, Rae’en thought. Keep me up to date.
*
Bhaeshal stood on the roof of the keep, watching as an artificer in apprentice robes slotted lenses of varying shades into the end of a brass telescope mounted to a tripod. Checking the scope, the apprentice waved his queen over, and she peered into the eyepiece. She looked up, acknowledging Rae’en as she climbed over the edge of the parapet. The queen furrowed her eyes in an expression made unfathomable by the way her elemental focus banded across her eyes like a mask.
“You’ve seen the dragon?” Bhaeshal asked.
“Yes.” Rae’en took a deep breath, expecting to be a little winded after her mad dash from the exterior walls to the top of the keep. Bloodmane had declined to allow it, however. “What do you think it means?”
“Could you make out the object adorning the dragon’s neck?”
“What object?” Rae’en asked and thought.
And how did she find out about the dragon in time to get a telescope set up?
Her people are watching the borders, too, Bloodmane thought. Let me check with Hunter . . .
Hunter?
Glayne’s warsuit.
I’m aware, Rae’en thought. Everyone knows Glayne sees through Hunter and his—
“Mazik saw the dragon, kholster Rae’en.” Queen Bhaeshal stepped away from the telescope to offer Rae’en a chance at the eyepiece, but Amber already had a good view. Standing on the exterior wall next to Glinfolgo, holding the Dwarf’s own spyglass, Amber focused on the golden-hued object. Between the amplification from the telescope and Scale Fist’s ability to enhance his rightful occupant’s senses, all it took was a few wingbeats for Amber to study the approaching dragon closely enough to transmit the crystal-clear image of a disembodied head with curling ram’s horns and scales the color of gold.
What is that? Rae’en asked.
It is Kilke’s central head, Bloodmane answered. The one Shidarva cut off and cast down from the sky.
“Well?” Bhaeshal asked. “Can your Overwatches get a clear view?”
“Yes.” A strong wind whipped around them, lessening in intensity so suddenly that Rae’en was certain the queen had adjusted it with her Aeromancy. “It’s Kilke’s third head.”
As she spoke, the eyes of the god’s head shifted, looking straight at Amber, making eye contact. Kilke grinned, sending Rae’en’s heart racing in panic.
“Is it alive, or—?” Bhaeshal asked.
“Very much alive,”
Rae’en said.
Amber raked the oncoming force with her eyes, taking them all in, and relaying scope and size of the threat.
Outnumbered.
Out-dragoned.
With a long-missing deity thrown in for good matter.
Bird squirt, Rae’en thought. I want all available Aern and warsuits at the walls. If we have to fight this battle, it isn’t going to be an easy win, so let’s put on an impressive show and hope they want an alliance, not a fight.
If I comprehend what the Vael have relayed about their practices, Bloodmane thought, the latter may serve as preamble to the former.
*
How did you sneak up on me like that? Kazan turned to face Eyes of Vengeance, the pull of their connection taking his breath away.
You are failing to allocate sufficient attention to your physical surroundings, Kazan. Eyes of Vengeance strode through the battlefield with ten other warsuits at his back. Five of them broke off to help gather the dead, escaping the edges of the living barricade that encompassed the bulk of the remaining dead. A flaming corpse sprang over a mounted Zaur, carrying the rider to the ground next to the warsuit, the corpse’s skin sloughing off to land on Eyes of Vengeance’s armored boot.
Seizing the offending corpse, Eyes hurled it one-gauntleted over the spooked mount, then scooped up the rider and returned him to his seat.
“You will want to chain yourself in properly this time,” Eyes intoned. The remaining five warsuits altered course for the locations of Joose, M’jynn, Arbokk, Cadence, and Tyree. We will address that flaw as we learn to work together.
“Thank you for watching over my rightful occupant.” Eyes stopped next to Kazan, his eyes of crimson crystal and the tilt of his helm indicating that he was watching Orhrya. He offered her the back of his gauntlet and lower vambrace in greeting.
