Patrice backed away and fumbling with obvious panic, lobbed another watch. Devin could follow the twisting arc of the device before the dragon smacked it from the sky. Patrice cried out as she stumbled and fell backwards. She threw another watch in desperation, which smacked the dragon's shoulder.
Devin leaped to his feet before her butt hit the pavement. The strong arm of General Festus pushed him back down into the seat he'd fashioned from dragon parts. “It is your plan as much as your leadership on trial here today, Devin Artifice Mage. And that plan is already in motion. You may advise or command, but you shall not interfere.”
Devin nodded and hunched his shoulders. What could he do? Nobody was close enough to render assistance. Patrice's cowardly retreat . . . “Hey, Devin. Look here,” Patrice cried . . . and her horrible, faulty aim . . . Patrice threw a watch across the room and smacked another sconce off the wall. She snorted and placed her hands on her hips.
Patrice sobbed and cowered, shielding her face as the dragon approached. The woman who faced down behemoth dragons, crying on the ground. Devin shook his head and squinted as through trying to pierce the veil surrounding Patrice's odd behavior with his eyes.
It's a ruse, he thought. It must be a ruse. To fool the dragon? Are they really so cunning? So intelligent?
The empire has been good for your sense of perspective, the artificer mused. Time was you thought you were half dragon yourself. Convinced they spoke to you in their little whuffs and growls.
It is a language, Devin thought watching the dragon saunter toward his prey. And I am . . . I mean, all mages are supposed to be part dragon, aren't they?
Superstitious nonsense, the artificer retorted. I would expect such grandiose drivel from . . . from him, but not the mind of a craftsman. That awful mage was scoured from your mind and you are cleaner for it, healthier for it.
The blue dragon loomed over Patrice and roared. She threw a watch into his open mouth.
See? Nothing but stupid, predatory beasts. The artificer shook his head. Not a lineage one should be proud to claim.
Patrice scrambled off the ground and stared at her adversary. The dragon seemed to have lost interest in her. The beast choked and its rich, blue hide was turning gray. The drake coughed and snorted, bloody froth dripping from his nostrils. Then with a long, loud groan, the dragon collapsed on the ground and the humming sack of watches grew silent.
“That's it?” Festus muttered.
Devin shrugged. “So long as you can get them to swallow the watches, yes.”
Patrice hiked her skirts, placed one red leather boot on the dragon's neck, and raised her arms. “This is how the Dragon Revolution Party treats our enemies.”
“And our namesakes,” Jemmy said, emerging from the alley and retrieving his sword. He wiped the blade on his tunic and sheathed it.
Lord Tarbon came around a corner, dusting off his trousers. He eyed the large carcass in the middle of the street. “Be a shame to waste so much dragon meat. It's not bad on these medium-sized fellows with the right spices.”
Styx shuddered. He stood at the base of the pile of dragon parts careful not to let any of the blood or grime touch him.
“Are you satisfied, General?” Devin asked. “Shall we trade the sack of devices for your magic dragon lure? And lead as many of the beasts from the city as we are able? And in recognition of this service to the city, you will not arrest us under martial law?”
“As the ranking member of the army, I agree to this pact.”
“The emperor won't like that,” Devin chuckled.
“The mighty imperial dragon Horatio II best run far and fast,” General Festus growled, “lest I stuff one of those watches up his rear end. The first duty of a ruler is to rule. He has failed utterly in his duties. You think we'll find a new emperor among your little political group? Have at it. Some advice, lad?”
“Yes?” Devin asked.
“When you folks are nominating a new emperor, don't select one from amongst yourselves. Commoners are a venal, suspicious lot. If they think you launched this whole revolt to solely benefit the Dragon Party rather than the glorious people of the empire, it shall bode ill for you. Pick a soul who is honest, popular, and merits the post.”
“I don't agree with your view of the common citizen, but your point is well made. We do want this to be an act to free mages and commoners alike, not shackle them with another tyrannical egotist.”
“But be wary, Devin. Commoners? Low-ranked guild members? Your fight is not truly with the emperor, but the council. They are civilians whom I am sworn to protect. This is but the first battle in a long campaign.” He fished for the crystal pendant under his armor and displayed it.
Devin stared at the glowing blue crystal. The general smiled.
“Often the most dangerous enemies are the ones breathing fire and destruction. They are the ones we cannot see until they strike. Easily hidden, yet powerful for their size. Much like the council.” Festus removed the glowing talisman from his neck and gave it to Devin. “Use this artifact more wisely than I.”
Devin nodded and began climbing down the small mountain of dragon parts.
“Are you happy?” Styx asked when his father reached the bottom. “Your precious ill-named Dragon Party has won the day and the Dragon Preservation Society has lost.” He raised his arms. “Let the slaughter of the dragons begin!”
“I claimed this artifact for the Dragon Preservation Society,” Devin said, placing the glowing crystal pendant in his son's metal hand. He closed those steel fingers over the artifact. “The thing is too dangerous, too powerful. I don't trust myself not to take advantage of it. But I trust you. Go save your dragons, Styx. Hide this somewhere far away. Then meet me back here in the capital.”
Styx looked at his clutched fingers then back to his father and nodded. His wooden face was still stiff as he placed the crystal around his neck and walked away. Soon, the automaton was running.
Devin watched him go and sighed. I suspect time is the only magic that will close the breach I have opened between us.
The Dragon Revolution Party kept a few of the watches in reserve and gifted the remainder to the Red Army soldiers. Devin looked around for Drusilla, but she had disappeared. Patrice came running behind him and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well, you're a shit mage.” The woman laughed. “Damn fine leader, though.”
“You're not angry I lied?” Devin asked.
“Maybe a little.” She shrugged. “We didn't need your magic. We needed your wits, your
passion, your verve. Stop moping and let's celebrate. We drove the emperor from the capital.”
“That's not quite how it happened,” Devin said, still looking for Drusilla and watching Styx sprint into the distance.
“Well, that's how we're telling it,” Patrice grinned. “Are you saying Horatio II didn't abandon his own capital in the midst of a dragon attack while the glorious Dragon Revolutionary Party marched down the street to confront the Red Army? Give it a year and they'll be saying we called down the wrath of the dragons ourselves.”
Devin shook his head and held up his hands. “We haven't won, yet. The emperor is out there somewhere. People will fear mages more than ever if they think we unleashed dragons on the city.”
Patrice pursed her lips. “Perhaps they should. Maybe you had the wrong idea trying to combat their prejudice and fears. They don't need to adore us, Devin but they do need to respect us.”
“Respect through fear,” Devin snorted. “That worked so well before.”
“No, lad, this is something new.” Jemmy came from behind and patted Devin's other shoulder. “The party and the mages within the party have gained respect through battle. You've won a greater victory today than you realize. We harnessed the power of wild dragons with tactics and skill, not magic tricks. We can build on that.”
“We will have no choice,” Tarbon muttered, kicking a loose cobblestone with his foot. “So much to build and rebuild. The expense will
be ruinous. But for today, the capital is ours, wrecked as it is.”
Patrice nodded. “We're ready to move a few key party members into positions of power. But for today, it's time for a different party, eh? Let's celebrate.” She hugged Devin. “Oh by the gods, was I right about you.”
As many of the dragons began to follow Styx's lure and the army and the party slew what remained, people began to trickle back into the capital. Impromptu barbecue pits were fashioned from the rubble.
“Devin,” Festus shouted, drawing the artificer's attention to the hip of a large, fallen dragon. “The boys and I stand ready to harvest the mighty fire-breathing foes of the people and feed the hungry revolution. Dragon Teeth saws butchering actual dragons. What a lark.”
Festus had organized his guild members and pairs of dockworkers were using their giant mechanized saws to carve the giant beasts. The saws buzzed through meat and bone alike as the dockworkers wielded them with gleeful smiles.
“How did you get ahold of the rest of the mechanized saws?” Devin called. “They were in pieces.”
“Drusilla helped us assemble them,” Fordus replied, before revving the saw and returning to his task.
Drusilla, yes. Where is she? Devin smiled as his inventions cleaved gigantic cuts of what Tarbon assured him was prime choice dragon meat.
Other party members foraged for spices and plates and mugs. Bless the five gods many of the public fountains still worked. There was even a sharp gradient from pure to alcoholic water depending on the number of dragon spleens setting within each pool.
The party leaders were so organized by now, Devin hardly had to do anything except sit back and watch the wondrous concert of people in motion. The sun was out again after the long, dark day and he could feel the warmth seeping back into his bones.
Mages and commoners with fireballs or igniters in hand were bonding over the cooking pits, arguing over fuel preferences and cooking times and other such nonsense. But these were friendly arguments between people who had set aside their differences in favor of a free lunch.
Devin wiped the sweat off his brow and grinned. Everyone's cooperating and enjoying themselves. We should have toppled the government and hosted a dragon roast ages ago.
Someone had even raided the ruined spires for whatever fresh fruits and vegetables were available. Long tables made of doorways and boards were crafted, soon groaning under the weight of fresh melons, steamed corn, salads, and steaming platters of grilled dragon steaks, dragon ribs, dragon fillets, and dragon brisket. There was the odd bit of broken glass imbedded in some of the fruit, but in this place at this time nobody cared.
Patrice is right. Now we truly are the Dragon Party. Devin grabbed a plate of charred meat and vegetables someone thrust into his hands and went looking for Drusilla. He found her relaxing against the shell of a house on a burnt quilt stretched on a patch of warm pavement. A mug and brimming plate sat beside her. She caught his eye, patted the empty space on the blanket beside her, and raised her mug.
Devin smiled, holding his mug high. To us. And to our glorious future. Somewhere in his mind, the two mugs reached across the murky void and clinked.
~ THE END ~
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GLOSSARY OF ESOTERICA
A Loose Scale on a Wyvern: (idiom, Corel) An utterly small insignificance next to the greater issue at hand.
Alabaster Tower: (slang, Empire) The White Tower.
Artificer's Guild: An association of talented techno artisan princes who are both literally and figuratively responsible for keeping the steam-powered Iron Empire running. They are the hands that grease the gears.
Black Guards: The province level, state administered police force of the Iron Empire. Trained at the Imperial Academy. Responsible for quelling domestic enemies. The magistrate's men.
Black Tower: The promise of eternity after death for all devout imperial citizens.
By the Gods' _____: Misappropriating the gods' holy body parts and excretions to manufacture crude epithets is the delight of the uncouth and lower classes everywhere. The bodies and bodily functions of the five major deities are sacrosanct and should not be used for verbal profanity.
Calamity of '95: (slang, Empire) The Wizard Rebellion, Year 195.
Catastrophe: A group of dragons / wyverns.
City Council: The appointed local administrators at the base of the bureaucratic pyramid who serve at the emperor’s pleasure, yet wield considerable power within the confines of their narrow responsibilities. A thorn in the magistrate's side when state and local interests collide.
Dragons: Ferocious, wild beasts with furnace breath, diamond scales, and razor claws. Tend to see large, armored forces as a territorial threat. Juveniles and adults exhibit different preferences for both dietary and habitat selections.
Drake: A male dragon / wyvern.
Fed the Wyrm's Morsel: (idiom, Corel) To be given the smallest, most tantalizing hint of information.
Golden Diplomats: The diplomatic corps of the Iron Empire. Trained at the Imperial Academy. Responsible for quelling foreign allies.
High Guards: The national level, state administered police force of the Iron Empire. Trained at the Imperial Academy as an elite division of Black Guards. Responsible for quelling domestic enemies. The emperor's fist.
Lobsters: (derogatory, Empire) An epithet for the Red Army, who have largely been shunted to political irrelevance, debased their once noble traditions, and precipitously lowered their recruitment standards.
Mage: A wizard, a sorcerer, someone with the ability to manipulate and store ethereal energies. They enjoy a revered social standing in the Kingdom of Corel, but are largely feared and reviled within the Iron Empire.
Magic: Ethereal energies governed by their own set of parallel unnatural laws which exist outside the bounds, yet mirror, the strictures of natural philosophy. The ultimate source, possible religious significance, and responsible application of these energies are points of contention among noted mage scholars, who divide themselves into two camps: either magic is derived from an ancient nature spirit and is a resource to be safeguarded or magic is a gift from the five gods and should be exploited to serve mankind.
Maven: A female dragon / wyvern.
Poke the Wyvern: (idiom, Corel) To aggravate an already tense situation.
Quill Jockey: (derogatory, Empire) Someone whom through the whimsy of the five gods has been chained to a desk and had a nib glued to their fingers.
Red Army: The military arm of the Iron Empire. Trained at the Imperial Academy. Responsible for quelling foreign enemies.
Sign of the White Tower: The act of clasping one's hands and raising the index fingers to form an approximation of the Alabaster Tower while praying to the five gods. Otherwise known as steepling.
The Five: An abbreviated appellation for the collective five major deities.
The Dark Cabal: A group analogous to a guild, but acting outside the bounds of government regulations and sponsorship, who hunt wyrms and wyverns and supply the thriving market for products made from the flesh and organs of the pesky beasts. Headquartered in Corel. Enemies of the Wyvern Preservation Society.
The Wizard Rebellion: The violent uprising in the Iron Empire, Year 195, when the disenfranchised mage population sought to overthrow their emperor and smash his bureaucracy. This rebellion resulted in a draconian backlash as mages are not only still suppressed, but hunted and executed as traitors to the state 300 years later.
The Wyvern Preservation Society: A collective of individuals within Corel who champion the rights of those misunderstood,
magnificent beasts of the fire breathing persuasion. They seek to promote safe wyvern-related activities and act as a check and balance on the flourishing illicit trade of wyrm and wyvern harvested products. Enemies of the Dark Cabal.
The Wyvern's Wingtip: (idiom, Corel) A hint or beginning which will unfold and reveal larger, greater things.
Turn a Wyrm Hole into a Wyvern Pit: (idiom, Corel) To needlessly expand a minor problem into a travesty.
White Tower: The fortress dwelling of the gods and demi-gods.
Wyrm: (slang, Corel) A juvenile dragon.
Wyvern: (slang, Corel) An adult dragon.
CHARACTER COMPENDIUM
CITIZENS OF THE IRON EMPIRE
Armand Delacourt Vice, The Butcher: (Captain) A sadistic Black Guard who is in charge of administering torturous punishments to captured and convicted mages and exacting confessions from other, non magical prisoners. A fervent imperial patriot and devotee of justice. Perhaps enjoys his job a little too much.
Bernice: (Merchant) A thoughtful, skilled woman who rose from the sewing factory floor to run of her own business, a clothing boutique, in a largely patriarchal, male dominated society. Devin's and Misera's mother.
Devin, The Artifice Mage: (Journeyman) Ex apprentice of the Artificer's Guild who turns to wizardry instead. Persistent and hardworking, if prone to arrogance. Occasionally hears voices. Perhaps over fond of dragons. Apprenticed to Cornelius. Bernice's son. Misera's older brother. Styx's father.
The Artifice Mage Saga Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 79
