by James Maxey
“Forget the pig,” Hey You said as he carried her from the dark barn into the starlit night.
“No! He’s my friend!”
Hey You stopped and muttered several words Zeeky had never heard before. He put her down and darted back into the barn. He leapt to the ladder leading to the loft, bounding up the rungs quicker than she could blink. Poocher squealed more emphatically as Hey You again leapt from the loft, this time curling into a ball around Poocher as he landed, then rolled to his feet. Now that she wasn’t part of the jump, Zeeky thought it looked fun.
Hey You grabbed her by the hand and ran across the yard. Lights glowed from inside the farmhouse. Zeeky could see flames at the dragon’s castle, with the tallest spire engulfed completely in a pillar of fire, blazing like the world’s largest candle.
Hey You pounded on the farmer’s door. “Open up!” he shouted. “It’s a fellow human who summons you.”
The door opened quickly and Hey You dragged Zeeky into the house, into the presence of a frightened looking family. The farmer and his wife looked young, much younger than Zeeky’s own parents. Zeeky was relieved to see that they had a girl, a little smaller than Zeeky. Her own family was all boys except for her mother.
“I need you to watch after my daughter for a short time,” Hey You said. “We’re travelers, far from home, and I know no one who can watch her.”
“But…” the farmer said.
“Where are you going?” the wife asked.
“To battle,” Hey You said.
“To attack the castle, or to defend it?” the farmer asked.
“To attack the dragons,” Hey You answered. “Will you watch her or not? Time is short.”
“Of course,” the wife said.
“But…” the farmer said.
“Of course,” the wife said more firmly.
The farmer shrugged and said, “Of course.”
“Good. She comes with a pig,” Hey You said, handing Poocher to the farmer. “Don’t eat it.”
“Um,” said the farmer.
Zeeky tugged Hey You’s pant leg. He looked down into her eyes. She said, “Promise you’ll come back?”
Perhaps it was only a trick of the dim light, but it seemed to her that Hey You’s face turned ghostly pale. He stared at her for a long moment before whispering, “I promise.”
Then, he turned to the farmer and his wife and said, more firmly, “Thank you both for your kindness.”
Before another word could be spoken he stepped backward through the door and vanished into the night.
JANDRA WOKE UP. The ground lay far beneath her, swirling, spinning, swimming in colors. A heavy weight pressed against her stomach and she remembered she was falling. She closed her eyes, bracing for impact.
But the wind wasn’t rushing against her face. The seconds it should take her to reach the ground were dragging by. She opened her eyes again, blinking to clear her vision. The rope swayed above her, or rather, beneath her, since her head was pointed earthward. The lower window crept ever closer. Looking down and then up, she found herself face to face with Pet’s butt. His feet were pressed against the wall for balance. She was slung over his shoulder. He grunted with each inch as he lowered them, hand-over-hand, down the rope.
“You awake?” Pet asked, his voice strained.
“How’d you know?” she said, coughing as the remnants of smoke in her lungs raked her throat.
“You aren’t limp anymore.”
“You caught me when I fell out the window?” she asked. She could vaguely recall his strong hand wrapping around her wrist at the last second.
“I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress,” he said.
Pet’s feet reached the top edge of the lower window.
“Almost there,” Jandra said.
Pet stepped down, feeling for his next foothold, but his foot slipped into the open window. They lurched sideways, slamming into the wall. Pet cursed as he struggled to maintain his grip on the thin, slick rope.
Suddenly, they lurched down even further, another three feet, placing them well past the top edge of the window. Jandra watched as comets of flaming oak and copper rained past them, exploding on the distant ground below.
“The beam’s shifting!” Pet yelled. “It’s going to break!” His toes touched the lower edge of the window but his body angled out into space. Jandra knew he couldn’t pull himself into the window with her weight on him. She tried to rise, reaching her hand up behind her to grab the rope.
“Don’t struggle!” Pet said. “I’m losing my grip!”
Jandra’s hand found the rope and she pulled herself up, taking her weight from his shoulder. Pet lost his toehold on the ledge and they swayed away from the window, the rope twisting. As it swung back in Jandra let go, her momentum taking her onto the ledge. She waved her arms for balance then quickly turned. Pet had swung back out. As he swung once more toward the window, Jandra grabbed him by his belt.
“Let go!” she said, pulling backward as he started to sway away.
Pet released the rope and they both tumbled from the ledge, falling backward into the tower. They landed on a soft cotton cushion, big enough for a sun-dragon to curl up on comfortably. Shadows and light danced around the chamber as flaming debris fell past the window.
Jandra lay trapped beneath Pet’s muscular body, looking into his face which was framed by a mane of golden hair. His bare chest pressed firmly against her breasts. His lips were inches from her own. She stared into Pet’s deep, emerald eyes, seeing the powerful emotion that stirred within them.
“What the hell is going on?” Pet shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
“The castle is under attack,” she said.
“Yes! I know! We were almost killed!”
“Calm down. Panic won’t help.”
“I don’t see how it’s hurting anything!”
“You’re hurting me,” she said. Her breath was still painful and his weight on her wasn’t helping. “Get off.”
“Oh,” he said, looking as if he just now realized he was on top of her. “Right. Sure.” He rolled off, sitting up, looking dazed. “This just isn’t how I planned to spend the evening at all,” he whined.
She sat up, bracing her back against the wall.
“As soon as I catch my breath, we’ll go,” she said.
“Where?” Pet said, shaking his head. “It looked like the whole castle was on fire. Why is this happening?”
“Albekizan must know we’re here,” Jandra said, taking a deep breath and then coughing again. “We need to find Vendevorex. Fight by his side to defend this castle.”
“Fight?” Pet said, twisting a long strand of his golden mane around his fingers. “I don’t know anything about fighting!”
“Would you calm down?”
At that moment the rope hanging outside the window slackened and the flaming roof beam roared past the window. Glowing embers showered the room. Thin white twigs of smoke rose from several spots on the cushion.
“We’re going to die!” Pet screamed.
“If we stay here, probably,” Jandra said, struggling back to her feet. “Come on.” Jandra grabbed Pet’s hand, helping him rise. She pulled him toward the hallway. “Vendevorex will know what to do.”
Halfway down the hallway she heard a crash behind them. The crash kept rumbling for an absurdly long time. Smoke and dust rolled through the corridor as the hot wind at her back pushed her to move faster. She suspected the whole tower had finally collapsed, but she didn’t dare look back. She pushed ahead, ignoring the needles in her chest, dragging Pet along.
The further they went, the more her breath returned. Soon, she broke into a run with Pet still in tow. Racing through the halls of the castle, Jandra heard the sounds of battle all around. She hadn’t been in Chakthalla’s palace long enough to get a feel for what kind of army she commanded. She’d seen perhaps a hundred earth-dragon guards but nothing like the force outside the castle walls. And Chakthalla’s earth-dragons had seemed to
exist primarily as dolls to be costumed in elaborate uniforms. She’d seen very few of the rough, ill-tempered brutes that populated Albekizan’s ground forces.
Still, Albekizan’s army was outside the walls. This battle wasn’t over yet. Vendevorex could even the odds, she was certain. The Vengeance of the Ancestors the attackers used must have come from a supply Vendevorex had created. He could extinguish it with a wave of his claw. Better, he could turn it against the attackers.
They ran through the long, tall passageways to Vendevorex’s room. Luckily, this section of the castle was silent; the battle was being waged far from this area. But when Jandra pushed open the door to his chambers her heart sank. Empty. Vendevorex was nowhere to be seen. Of course, she thought, he would already be at Chakthalla’s side.
“Jandra!” Vendevorex said, his voice coming from thin air.
“A ghost!” Pet cried, jumping at the sound.
“Calm down,” Jandra said. “He’s only invisible.”
“Calm down! Of course!” Pet began to chew his immaculately trimmed nails. “I see invisible dragons every day!”
“My apologies,” Vendevorex said, shimmering into view as the air around him erupted in sparks. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Pet.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Jandra said. “We’ve got a bigger problem. The attackers are using the Vengeance! You’ve got to put it out.”
“That would be unwise,” Vendevorex said.
“What?” She couldn’t believe she’d heard him right.
“The castle is woefully under-defended,” Vendevorex said with a calm, observational tone that one might expect if he were discussing the weather. “It will fall to Albekizan’s forces no matter what we do. Better he gain possession of ruins than another base from which to command his forces.”
“I can’t believe this,” Jandra said. “You’re conceding defeat before we’ve even started fighting?”
Vendevorex sighed. He placed his claw on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes and explained, as if to a child, “We aren’t going to fight. We’re going to run. I fled the castle of Albekizan because I cared for your safety. It would be foolish now to endanger your life fighting a battle we cannot win.”
Jandra pushed his claw away. She poked his scaly chest with her finger as she said, “This isn’t like running from Albekizan. He wanted to kill you! Chakthalla wants to help you!”
“You must see that her desires are not supported by her resources,” Vendevorex said.
Jandra felt like slapping him.
“For what it’s worth, sir,” Pet interrupted, “I have a box of jewels in my room that could be of great assistance in a relocation, if you’ll take me with you, please.”
“What?” Jandra said, cutting him a withering look. “You’re going to run, too? This is your home!”
Pet nodded. He looked sheepish as he said, “Please don’t think ill of me. I’m a good person… I really am. But your master is making a lot of sense.”
“If you were a good person, you’d stay and fight!”
“Think about this,” Pet said. “If Chakthalla wins this battle, what then? The king will send a bigger army. We won’t stand a chance. Your master is right. Please listen to him.”
“Stop calling him my master,” Jandra snapped. “My relationship with Ven is nothing like what’s between you and Chakthalla. Tell him, Ven.”
“I don’t possess enough information to assess the state of Pet and Chakthalla’s relationship,” Vendevorex said. “In all candor, this isn’t the best time to discuss this.”
“So you truly don’t care for Chakthalla?” Jandra asked Pet. “When you look at her all lovey-eyed and call her Mother, that’s only an act?”
Pet shrugged. “I’m a good actor. I know who butters my bread. Unfortunately, Chakthalla’s not going to have any butter left once this place burns down.”
“Well argued,” Vendevorex said. “It sounds cold but it’s simple truth. Chakthalla is doomed. We doom ourselves by remaining.”
“You’re both cowards!” Jandra shouted. “You’re looking out for your own skins and not thinking twice about the ones who will die. They’re dying because of you, Ven! They’re dying from the weapon that you created. The king wouldn’t be attacking if it weren’t for you stirring up the possibility of rebellion.”
“Jandra,” Vendevorex said, lowering his voice. “We will not discuss this now. Gather your belongings.”
“What about me?” Pet asked.
“Retrieve your jewels,” Vendevorex said. “You may accompany us from the premises under the shield of invisibility.”
“Fine,” Jandra said. “You’ve got a new pet, Ven. You won’t be needing me. I’ve got more important things to do.”
Jandra turned and raced toward Chakthalla’s chambers, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision. Vendevorex shouted her name, calling her back, but she had no reason to listen to another word he said.
JANDRA FOUND CHAKTHALLA in the throne room, a cathedral-like hall that jutted perpendicularly from the main castle. The stained-glass windows along the tops of the side walls danced with the lights of the flames outside, casting colorful shadows around the room, painting the white marble floors with scenes of ruby dragons floating in amethyst skies above emerald fields.
Chakthalla’s throne was a giant, gilded pedestal, draped with blood-red satin. Chakthalla slumped on her throne, her head lowered to the floor, her eyes fixed on the doorway in which Jandra stood. Her expression was blank as if she were numb with shock. Her ruby wings draped to each side, spreading onto the floor like carpet. Her fore-claws clutched her breast as if she were feeling her breaking heart. The flickering light gave the illusion that her feathery scales ruffled in a breeze. At her side was a huge spear, twenty feet long, the sort only sun-dragons such as herself could wield.
“My lady,” Jandra said, hurrying forward. “I’ve come to help defend your castle.”
Chakthalla followed Jandra with her eyes as she advanced but she did not speak.
“Chakthalla? If you’ll tell me what to do to help, I’ll do it. My skills aren’t as great as Vendevorex’s, but I can turn invisible, and transmute simple materials, and-” Jandra stopped short as she reached the throne.
Chakthalla continued to stare at her but now Jandra could see the dark blood seeping down her chin.
Jandra’s eyes moved to the dragon’s bejeweled talons. The fine red scales glistened with moisture. Wet red spots dripped to the marble floor.
Chakthalla dropped her claws to her sides. The enormous gash in her breast was revealed. Her eyes closed as her body convulsed, sliding clumsily from the pedestal and sprawling at Jandra’s feet.
A long metal blade protruded from Chakthalla’s back, gleaming in the firelight. Suddenly, a claw so deeply green it looked black rose from behind the pedestal. Long nails dug into the satin. Then the assassin leapt to the top of the throne, crouching upon it. It was an earth-dragon, one of the Black Silences, a unit in the dragon army bred for espionage and assassination. Some mutation had rendered this subspecies of the earth-dragons a deeper hue than their brethren, and had gifted them with unnatural speed. The dragon’s scales were so dark they sucked in the light around him. His eyes burned like dim coals as they studied Jandra. Then his gaze shifted toward the blade in Chakthalla’s back.
“Why not try for the sword?” the assassin hissed. “You might make it.”
Jandra turned to run, reaching for the dust in her pouch so that she could become invisible. She tossed the dust into the air too late. The dragon tackled her squarely in the back and she fell forward. The assassin was no taller than herself but he was solid. His weight crushed all breath from her as he pressed her to the cold, hard marble.
Still pinning her down with his mass, the dragon wrapped his left claw into her hair and pulled her head backward. Her mouth opened in a silent, breathless cry of pain. The sharp nails of his right claw flashed before her eyes.
“Chakthalla was
too important to play with,” the assassin whispered, his beak next to her ear. “Now that my work is done, I think I deserve a moment to revel in your screams.”
He drew his claw along her cheek, his nails dragging along her skin with just the proper force to not cut her. Jandra felt the sharp claws caressing her cheek, her chin, and her throat. The slightest extra pressure would open her veins.
Fortunately, there were still traces of silver dust on her fingers. The combat training Vendevorex had subjected her to would prove useful after all. She grabbed the dragon’s wrist and concentrated. With the same talent she’d used to turn Pet’s shirt into a rope, she began to reshape her assailant’s hide and bones. His wrist melted beneath her fingertips… too slowly. He shrieked in pain. Then, with a slashing motion, he yanked his injured claw up and out.
For half a second Jandra felt nothing. She tried to breath and wound up swallowing blood. She coughed, spitting a fine spray of crimson on the marble before her. It was only then that she understood her throat had been slit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: FLESH
“YOU’LL DIE FOR that,” the Black Silence snarled. Jandra heard a blade being drawn from its sheath. It sounded very far away, far beyond the heartbeat that pounded in her own ears. She pressed her hand to her throat. Air bubbled from the gash beneath her bloody fingers as she coughed.
Jandra tried to concentrate. There was still a chance to use the dust lingering on her fingers to reshape the flesh of her own throat, to knit the wound. But her mind was locked up, frozen.
The weight on her back shifted as the Black Silence pulled her head back further. The blood gushed between her fingers more freely. She peered up to see the tip of a dagger high overhead. When it fell it would plunge into her throat. She closed her eyes, anticipating the blow.
Three seconds later and the dagger failed to fall. A rain of fine particles fell against her face. Suddenly the claw that pulled her hair went slack. Her face hit the marble with a tooth-jarring thump. She opened her eyes as a hilt bounced on the marble floor before her, its blade only a shard of crumbling rust. Fine red flakes continued to drift to the floor. The weight on her back vanished as the Black Silence let loose a pained gasp.
