by Matthew Lang
“Adam?” Esmeralda asked from behind him.
“Hold on, Princess,” Adam said as the ziggurat of Selune came into view through the gaps in the buildings. “Is she gone from your head yet?”
“Yes? No… I do not know,” Esmeralda said weakly.
“Is there anything you can do to stop her getting in there?”
Suddenly Esmeralda’s left hand reached up and grabbed the moon spider eye pendant she had given him back in Boolikstaad. “Actually,” she said, her voice stronger, “there is.”
“The pendant?” Adam asked.
“Of course,” Esmeralda said. “Did you think I would send you into battle unprotected?”
“Thanks,” Adam said as he pulled Zoul into a shadowy alcove as Khalivibra flew over the street they were in, her eyes sweeping over the ground. “Damn, she’s close.”
“Did you come here alone?” Esmeralda asked.
“No. I hope the others have sense to run away.”
“Run away?”
“What are they going to do against a dragon without Wyrmbane?” Adam asked as he headed for the raised road between the two temples.
“You’re headed to the Temple of Selune?”
“It seemed smarter than the castle.”
“It is,” Esmeralda said, and might have said more if the searching pressure of Khalivibra had not pushed against their minds just then.
“She’s looking for us,” Adam said, his voice tight.
“Looking is not finding,” Esmeralda said with a smile and clutched him tighter. Burying her face in his neck, she began to chant softly, an arcane murmur that was as familiar as it was comforting, but with a slight edge to it he had not heard before, and the force of the dragon’s thought abated. He could still feel it, but now it washed over them, past them, through them even, and emboldened, he darted from the cover of one building to the next, ducking Zoul into the disheveled squat of a family home when the sound of her wingbeats grew loud enough that he thought her about to pass overhead. Up close, it looked like a peasant hovel with rushes covering the floor, and blackened flitterfish bones and shards of carapace were scattered around the hearth. The entire room was musty and moldering, and Adam was only too glad to escape after Khalivibra had gone past, guiding Zoul in one final dash across the Thoroughfare of the Gods and up the temple steps.
LIKE THE Temple of Helene, the main structure of Selune’s temple sat atop a great stone ziggurat, although the steps leading up to the temple were of the polished pearly white stone that Selune’s followers favored, as were the great braziers that now held little more than dirt and weeds. The temple had once possessed heavy wooden doors, both of which lay on the floor, blackened by rot. The heavy iron bands that once held the doors together were twisted shapes that poked above the weeds here and there, held together more by rust than anything else. The floor was tiled in marble, and looking up, Adam could see the entire domed ceiling of the temple had been carved from a transparent quartz. Great pillars of sandstone lined the approach to the main altar, although these did not reach all the way to the ceiling and appeared to be decorative, rather than structural. Off to the sides, he could see doors leading to other rooms, and golden frescoes adorned the walls, depicting what Adam took to be the glories of Helene.
However, Adam’s gaze was immediately drawn to the center of the temple, where a huge monolith of rough rock thrust its way toward the domed sky, supported on a stand of giant bones that had yellowed with age. They were near identical to the bones Adam had encountered in Blackwater, only much more numerous and of varying sizes, and pieced together in some macabre sculpture. A splayed stand of large leg bones decorated with small dragon skulls and edged with claws acted as a plinth, and curving rib bones as long as Adam’s arms cradled the great rock, which pulsed with a dim white light, stained red where it touched the bones. The menhir was topped with even smaller dragon skulls, and assembled vertebrae were aligned into swirling patterns that cascaded over the stone’s surface. And all of it blazed a bright blue-white as his pendant had when he’d stared at it all those sleeps ago in Boolikstaad.
Behind him, Esmeralda loosed her hold on the pendant and stopped chanting. “She’s stopped looking for us,” she said.
“She probably knows where we are,” Adam replied.
“Then why is she not here?” Esmeralda asked. “She would certainly fit through the door.”
“And risk knocking down her… what did you call it? An arcane booster?”
“Focus would be more accurate.”
“Right. That,” Adam said as he unclipped himself and slid from Zoul’s back. “She’ll send someone to get us, so let’s hurry.”
“Hurry with what, exactly?”
Adam grinned and started opening his packs. “Pass me every one of those sealed pots,” he said. He grabbed one and wedged it carefully in among the bones supporting the monolith, then started to do the same with all the others, in some cases prying them open to scatter black powder into the spaces between ceramic and bone.
“How did you beat it?” Esmeralda asked as she pulled pots out from between the folds of Adam’s clothing.
“Beat what?”
“The dragon’s mind. Even with the protection I gave you, that should have been more than you could bear. I know it was for me.”
“Was it?” Adam asked. “You beat her in the end.”
“Only when you showed up.”
Adam shrugged, taking the last two pots and cracking them open, allowing the black powder to fall freely, creating a trail leading toward the front entrance of the temple. “That’s still an escape.”
“And what about next time?” Esmeralda demanded.
“We’ll escape again,” Adam said confidently.
“Before she kills us?”
“She’s not going to kill us,” Adam said, brushing off his hands carefully and rummaging around in his green gym bag.
“Are you sure about that?”
Standing at the foot of the temple stairs were twelve of the black-cloaked guards, forming a semicircle around Duin, Joeri, and Elder Thera, all of whom were wearing the same vacant expression that had until recently adorned Esmeralda’s face. Behind them, the dragon landed on the Thoroughfare of the Gods with a force that shook the buildings, and the people of Aer Goragon came following it like baby ducks after their rather large scaly mother.
“Don’t even think about it,” Adam said, drawing Wyrmbane and holding it before him as the dragon advanced, towering over her black guard and the haerunwoln as they slowly started up the stairs. “Let them go, Khalivibra!”
“Let them go?” she said, her tone surprised. “You speak as if I have some hold on them, but I do not. They follow me out of love and devotion.”
“Bull crap,” Adam said. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”
“You think so? Look at your friend, Duin, is it not?” Khalivibra said as the haerunwoln nocked an arrow into his bow and aimed it directly at Adam. “Poor lost soul. All he ever wanted was a place to be, and I gave him that. A place at my side from which he will reap great rewards. Rewards you could have too.”
“Do you even listen to yourself? ‘Rule at your side,’ is that your offer? ‘Rule under your claw,’ you mean. You don’t share power. You just like to let people think you do. And for your information, Duin has a place where he belongs. He belongs with me—and you can take your offer and shove it. I’m going home, Esmeralda’s going to take this kingdom and sort it out, and Joeri and Thera are going to have to rebuild both this temple and the temple to your goddess. You know, the one you defiled?” Smiling, Adam dropped the open Zippo lighter from his left hand, and the pop as the black powder ignited beneath it was music to his ears. Turning his head, he stared directly into Duin’s eyes. “If you’re going to shoot, hurry up and do it already,” he said. “Just… I love you, okay?”
Chapter 26
THE BANG wasn’t particularly loud, but the sound of dry bone cracking and splintering in the sil
ence that followed sounded as loud as the explosion hadn’t been. Even that was soon drowned out by the screams of the crowd, who took off in every direction, trampling each other in their haste to flee from the great scaled beast.
Khalivibra paused, mouth open and one great forelimb raised midstep. Slamming her paw down into the ziggurat, her claws gouged out deep gashes in the crumbling stone, and the black guards trembled. Some fell to the ground, clutching their heads, others staggered back as if dazed, but half of them strode forward, brandishing their halberds purposefully. In one smooth motion, Duin turned and loosed his arrow through the visor of the closest guard, and Joeri gave Thera a shove that propelled her a fair distance away from the fight before dodging a thrust from the tallest guardsman. Twisting sideways to avoid the blow, Joeri grabbed the weapon’s shaft and pushed away, using the backward momentum to slam into another of the black-cloaked warriors, bearing him to the ground where he dispatched the guard by sliding a knife up under the man’s helmet.
“Out of the way!” Esmeralda cried as she cannoned into Adam, pushing him to one side as the pedestal behind them finally broke down completely, sending the monolith crashing through the temple wall right where Adam had been standing, raising a cloud of soot and dust. There was a reptilian chirrup of protest, and Adam could only hope Zoul made it out of the way when a searing heat engulfed them, and his vision went white as the dragon’s fire swept through the temple doorway.
Adam had never been seriously burned. The most serious burn he’d had was back in high school, when he’d attempted to heat a recalcitrant piece of limestone in a test tube before adding water in an attempt to make quicklime. Of course, Adam found himself with not only the one piece of limestone that didn’t want to heat, but with a succession of test tubes that only wanted to melt, and after the third time, he’d grabbed at the hot glass to change it—inconveniently forgetting that it was indeed hot. His yelp had been heard from the other end of the science block, and he’d spent the rest of the day with his hand under a cold water faucet, and it had been blistered for nearly two weeks after that. The dragon’s fire felt almost exactly like that, only over the whole of his body. Adam had heard that adrenaline could make time appear to slow and hoped it wouldn’t slow so much that he felt more pain.
It was Esmeralda who pulled him out of the line of literal fire and behind the stone walls, which were starting to glow in the heat of the dragon’s breath, both of them collapsing onto the floor.
“What!” Adam exclaimed, patting himself hurriedly. “I’m not burnt.”
“Not yet,” Esmeralda said, pushing at him. “But too much longer and you would have been. I did good work on that armor, but not that good.”
Rolling off Esmeralda, Adam sat up and reached for his sword. He closed his hand around the hilt just as Khalivibra thrust her head through the door.
“I wouldn’t,” she said in warning as he tightened his grip around the hilt. “Put that down, slowly.”
“Why?” Adam asked. “You’ll kill us anyway.”
“Oh yes,” Khalivibra said smugly. “But that doesn’t mean I have to kill you quickly and painlessly. That mercy is more than you deserve—and my final offer.”
Adam stared up into the reptilian face, eyes easily as big as his head, and great flaring nostrils. As the reality of defeat rushed through his body, he felt tears pool at the edges of his eyes.
“Damn you to hell,” he said, releasing the sword.
“Now, now, Sir Adam,” Khalivibra chided. “Is that any way to treat your most merciful servant? Oh, I have one last gift for you,” she added.
The sound of heavy boots clanked up the stairs as three of the black guards entered the temple bearing a body, which they deposited on the floor next to the fallen monolith, and Adam bit back a cry when he saw Duin lying in an undignified heap, his fur matted with blood and his torso shorn nearly in two.
“Where are the others?” Adam asked.
“Oh, they’re dead too,” Khalivibra said. “But I know you didn’t care nearly as much for them. Now rise, Sir Adam.” Khalivibra lowered her head so her forked tongue flicked over Duin’s body. “Accept your fate with dignity.”
The attack came from nowhere, and long fangs bit into Khalivibra’s neck, sinking into the thick muscle just behind the dragon’s skull.
“Zoul!” Esmeralda cried.
“Zoul, no!” Adam shouted, but it was too late. As the lizard’s feet scrambled for purchase on the dragon’s scales, Khalivibra swung her body to one side, all but crushing Zoul against the temple wall. The riding lizard barely had time to register a chirp of surprise before he fell to the ground, but Adam was already moving. Tears flowing freely from his eyes, he grabbed Wyrmbane, pushed past the startled guards, ran up the side of the fallen monolith, and jumped onto Khalivibra’s neck. Her skin was hot, even through his armor, and her shock evident as his weight landed upon her, forcing her head down onto the monolith’s surface. When he struck, it was like carving soft butter, so cleanly did the blade slide between her eyes until only the hilt protruded from the dragon’s skull. Adam was thrown clear as Khalivibra’s body spasmed, limbs flailing and wings buffeting the stone of the temple. Only when her convulsions stopped and silence returned did Adam notice the blade had gone right through the dragon’s skull and into the stone below.
“Ha,” he muttered bleakly. “The sword in the stone.”
“What?” Esmeralda asked.
“Never mind,” Adam said, sitting heavily next to Duin’s body. “Just… never mind.”
DUIN WAS still warm when Adam touched him. Warm, but still and lifeless. Adam stroked the rich chestnut fur as he tried to arrange his lover into a more dignified pose. “I love you,” he murmured again, pressing his lips to Duin’s forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
“May I…,” a man started hesitantly, his voice crackly as though from lack of use. “May I say—”
Adam looked up to see a black guard, armor splattered with blood that was nearly indistinguishable from rust and still clutching his halberd.
“Get out,” Adam growled. “I don’t care how many of you there are or how many sharp edges you have, if you try anything, I swear I will kill you with my bare hands if I have to.”
For a moment the guard stood perfectly still, looking again like the statue Adam had mistaken his brethren for not so long ago. Then the halberd dropped to the ground. “My liege,” he said, bowing stiffly at the waist before turning and exiting the temple, the other two guards beating a hasty retreat behind him.
“His what?” Adam demanded, staring at Esmeralda, who shrugged.
“You killed the dragon,” she said simply. “By custom, that makes you king.”
“Yeah? Well, I hereby name you queen and abdicate,” Adam said, rising to his feet and climbing carefully over the fallen moonstone monolith to Zoul’s crumpled form. “Promise me you won’t turn them into zombies,” he said suddenly as he reached down to close Zoul’s eyes, giving the lizard’s snout one final pat.
“I don’t know how,” Esmeralda said. “That’s something I never learned. But I promise,” she added hurriedly as he glared at her. “I’ll make sure no one turns either of them into zombies.”
“Thank you,” Adam said, retrieving his gym bag. “That’s all I really care about now, I suppose.”
“But there’s so much to do,” Esmeralda protested. “We have to rally the people here, get the surviving Children into the city, and get word to my people in Aergon—”
“And I’m sure you’ll do a fantastic job,” Adam said. “You don’t need me around for that.” Adam pulled out a few more items, covered Zoul with the oilskin he had used to make more shelters than he’d ever thought he’d build, and covered Duin with the thin silk blanket he had picked up from the Aergonite waystation way back when. “You said when this was over, you’d send me home. So send me home. Now. Please.”
“It’s not that simple,” Esmeralda protested.
“Then I guess you might want
to get started,” Adam said, pulling out Wyrmbane and using the blade to shear off a section of the dragon’s skin. “You need scales, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Okay, scales,” Adam said, taking out his smaller belt knife and prying off a golden scale slightly larger than his own hand.
“I need my pack and my books,” Esmeralda said. “I’m not going to be able to do this without them.”
Adam closed his eyes. “Please tell me you have them?”
“I think so—they’re back at the keep.”
Adam sighed. “I hate this.”
“He was my friend as well, Adam, and it would be a disservice to his memory if I did not take the utmost care of you.”
“Right, fine,” Adam said. “You know there’s no way I can argue when you put it like that, don’t you? Let’s go.”
“If you need a moment—”
Adam shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not going to let you walk through this city on your own,” he said firmly.
“All right,” Esmeralda said, shaking out her skirts, now smudged with dirt and singed by flame. “Let’s go, then.”
WHEN THEY finally exited the temple, they found the steps had been cleared and the bodies of nine black guards lined up at the foot of the ziggurat, shrouded in their cloaks, and Joeri and Thera lay with their hands folded over their chests. The three surviving black guards knelt at the foot of the stairs, their face-concealing helmets removed and laid to one side. Underneath, they were gaunt, pale, and surprisingly young, and Esmeralda started when she saw them.
“Sir Baltazar, Sir Edmund, and Sir Pascal?” she said.
All three men lowered their heads, although the youngest, the one Esmeralda had named Sir Edmund, flushed slightly. “Your Highness,” they mumbled, nearly in unison.
“You know them?” Adam asked.
“Yes,” Esmeralda said. “They were all sent to kill Khalivibra in the cycles before you.”
