by J. A. Pitts
Seventy-two
The sheriff’s deputy stood on top of the car, firing his riot gun into the oncoming horde. He managed three rounds before the gun exploded and he was flung backward, out of sight. Katie disappeared behind the Black Briar trucks so I rushed forward, taking down another cultist. Ahead of me, where the terrain rose back toward the mountain, another wove a spell. I ran forward, knocking a dead guy aside, but I couldn’t get there in time. The caster brought her hands together, falling to one knee. A sonic boom broke over the area, knocking everyone to the ground.
My ears were ringing when I climbed to my feet a couple of seconds later. I’d beaten most of the rest to their feet, so I sprinted forward, stepping on a rising cultist, springing off her back and landing next to the spell caster.
The gunfire had quieted. The magic had to be interfering with the mechanisms. Luckily, Gram had no such limitations.
The spell caster retreated several steps, and another cultist flung himself in front of me, taking six inches of Gram into his gut, allowing the caster a chance to scramble back amid the knife wielders.
I kicked the cultist, pushing him off Gram with my boot, and assessed my next target. The caster was running up the hill, and a dozen knife fighters stood between her and me. I stepped forward, grinning.
A noise I’d only heard once before rent the air—the sound so horrible even the cultists fell to the ground covering their heads.
Dragon.
The world slid into slow motion. I looked up, searching for the source of that cry. High in the night sky, amid the parting clouds, one of the stars separated itself from the others and fell toward us—a glowing ember that grew larger by the millisecond.
It was a dragon, glorious and horrifying. One I hadn’t seen before. I shuddered, stepping back from the cultists. They stood frozen by that cry, their faces awash with terror.
Gram throbbed in my hand, in my brain. I rushed forward, smashing through the line and cutting down the caster. Then I was past them, running to meet that dragon. It fell from the sky like an eagle—wings thrust back and long neck straining forward.
Gram sang in my head, a song of victory and death. She needed to drink this beast’s life force. He—she told me—this new dragon was definitely male. He was beautiful and deadly, beyond even Jean-Paul, who had been black and sleek, a stealth bomber, bad-ass, killing machine.
The memory of Jean-Paul paled next to this new dragon, who glowed as he fell, the magic of Gram amplifying the light around him. The better to kill him, I supposed, but it lent him an aura of power beyond Jean-Paul’s might. If I could just look at him, appreciate the way the light glinted off his scales, at the varied colors, greens and blues, more dark than light, then I would have been content. Part of my brain wanted to marvel at his beauty. But the rest was locked up, panicked. All the crocodile brain could register was a lot of very large teeth.
For the briefest of moments there was no other sound in the world but the cry erupting from him, a sound that cracked the bones of the mountain and sent shattered stones falling from the heights above.
Seventy-three
The dragon pulled out of his screaming dive at the last second, his claws out like landing gear, and shredded two of the cultists in his first pass. I was nearly knocked to the ground by the force of his passing, but I managed to stay on my feet. The world stopped for a brief instant as he passed within a few yards, one great golden eye boring into me. I shuddered at that scrutiny but did not falter. There was an intelligence behind that eye, an appraising. I had the strongest feeling he knew who I was.
He flipped his tail around and smashed the burning trucks, sending flaming debris scattering across the road. He circled us once and rocketed toward the mountain, flying over the enemy. Where his shadow crossed, friends and foes fell to the ground, holding their hands over their heads—all but the walking dead. Our boys fired a few crossbows’ bolts at the dragon, but they just bounced off his scales.
I glanced back. The Black Briar crew had reformed beyond the ditch on the farside of the road, but their line was ragged. I debated going back to bolster them, when I heard Katie’s voice rising above the din. It was a song I recognized—one she sang when I sparred. The fear that permeated everything began to ebb back, allowing a hint of hope to creep in. The line firmed up, and the crew brought down several of the dead.
None of the dead were ours, not yet. I didn’t want to think how they’d react to face one of their friends brought back from the dead.
Okay, Katie was safe, the line was holding, and a dragon was sweeping toward the enemy encampment. Time for me to do something radical. I had to find that cave. If I could get to the shield—remove it from the ley line—maybe I could short-circuit some of Justin’s power.
I sprinted forward, cutting my way through the stunned cultists, following the dragon’s wake. I’d take advantage of the chaos he caused and get to the cave. Maybe we’d get lucky and this dragon would eat Justin. That wouldn’t suck.
Justin’s voice echoed down the mountain, amplified by magic somehow. I didn’t understand the words he used, but the hair on my neck did a little dance, and my stomach tightened like I was going to throw up.
I ran past a large bonfire, jumped over a pile of bones, and scrambled onto a trail that doglegged up the mountain. Here, everything was cast in the green tint of the glowing dome. The light from the fires below did not reach this high.
At the first bend I could see that the Black Briar line was holding back a wave of cultists and a few remaining undead. They had us outnumbered but hadn’t overwhelmed the line yet. It was like they were teasing us, playing for time. Justin had a plan of some sort and a quick kill of our side wasn’t in the cards. He wanted us alive, for a while at least. I bet it was the fear he needed.
As the sky opened and freezing rain pelted down onto us, two cultists ran at me out of the shadows. One leapt at me from the switchback above, missing me by inches. The second skidded around the end of the turn and came at me with a long blade. I caught it against Gram, and sparks shivered into the eerie green glow from the dome. It was like fighting inside one of those old CRT computer monitors. I spun around, ducking a blow from the first cultist who’d found his footing, and kicked out, knocking the second to the side. I punched Gram forward, stabbing the first cultist in the shoulder, and he dropped his blade. The second grazed my right arm, sending a line of burning pain across my bicep. I punched him with Gram’s pommel and then landed a bone-crunching blow with the hammer in my right fist. Not my strongest weapon, but enough to send him reeling back into his partner. I slashed forward with Gram, cutting the first man open, his guts falling to the ground, then lunged over him to skewer his buddy in the throat.
I didn’t wait, just ran around them, leaving them to their dying.
At the next bend I could see the altar on the plateau above. A young woman in a fast-food uniform fought against two men in red. Justin stood above her, dagger in hand, appealing to the heavens. Three bolts of lightning struck the blade, flashing down the length of his body. Power strobed about him as he struck, slashing the young woman’s throat.
“You bastard!” I growled, rushing up the last bend.
Justin’s voice rose in a great crescendo. “Arise, mighty one. Let us cower beneath your might.”
As I crested the final landing, a wave of energy flashed across the mountainside, casting the world in frozen images of black and white.
I held my hands up against the nova that blossomed on the plateau. At the center, a lone figure rose, its body arching and its head thrown back. An anguished wail broke from the figure, and in that instant it transformed.
Those on the plateau fell to their knees as a huge dragon materialized in their midst. The great beast reared back on its hind legs, unfurling its massive wings, and shot a column of green flame upward into the falling rain and snow.
My heart thudded in my chest as adrenaline coursed through me. Gram throbbed in time with my pounding heart. Holy crap. Another one
? I squatted down with my back against the side of the path, Gram across my knees.
The dragon crashed down onto all fours, shaking the mountain. In that instant I knew it was a she. Once again it was Gram who knew. The runes on my scalp and leg flared, driving spikes of pain into me, focusing my mind.
The new dragon stretched her long neck over the edge of the plateau and roared. I covered my ears, and still my head felt as if it might rupture from the ferocity of it. If I’d been able to stand in that moment, I could’ve touched her, could have driven Gram into her neck, but I had no strength in my legs. The smell of her was horrible, like fetid carrion, and she glowed a vibrant green like the flames that splashed down onto the road.
She was the dragon from my dreams—all those months ago—before I killed Jean-Paul. I crawled to where I could peer over the edge of the plateau again. Justin danced among a scattering of dead bodies. A dozen cultists stood behind him, against the mountain, but they were an afterthought.
The green dragon rose on her hind legs once more and beat her great wings, driving rock and dirt down the mountain in a wave of grime. I turned my head to protect my eyes and watched as those who were standing downwind covered their face against the grit, many stumbling farther afield.
This beast had a wingspan greater than Jean-Paul’s. He’d been big—forty feet from nose to tail, with a wingspan twice as wide. This monster made Jean-Paul look like a Chihuahua. I’d guess a wingspan of a hundred and twenty feet or more. I wasn’t sure how something that huge didn’t collapse under its own weight.
She screamed and jumped from the mountain, falling like a 747. The field was lost. Both Black Briar and the cultists were scattered on the buffeting beat of those great wings.
I took a stuttering breath, despite the stench of her passing, and ran onto the plateau. The male dragon appeared from the blackness that surrounded the plateau and buzzed the cultists, sending them scrambling.
Why two dragons? Life just sucked sometimes.
The plateau was huge—a couple hundred yards deep and twice that wide—a semicircle pushed up against the mountain. Altars and braziers burned in a wide semicircle facing the valley below. Three huge bonfires rose high into the sky, casting enough light to see but creating deep recesses of shadow. This light warred with the green from the dome, giving the living the pallid complexion of the dead.
Justin’s maniacal laugh echoed off the mountainside, but I could not pick him out any longer. Cultists milled around in several groups, and many individuals ran pell-mell through the pools of light.
The male dragon flew toward the mountain. I followed his path and saw a large scaffolding jutting out from the side of the mountain. A body dangled below it, eighty feet or more above the base of the plateau.
As the dragon smashed into the scaffolding, grabbing the hanging body in one of his great talons, a dozen cultists suddenly flared with pulsing magic. They raised their hands, channeling a dozen threads of golden light. In a blink, they formed the threads into a net of energy, slamming the dragon against the mountainside, wrapping his wings in the twisted bands of light.
“He’s taken the bait,” Justin shrieked, pumping his fists into the air. The dragon roared, pinned against the side of the mountain, as the cultists chanted in unison.
Gram thrilled at the captured dragon, urging me to kill it while it was trapped. But if the cultists wanted to capture that dragon, I knew I needed to help it. Psycho, huh?
I sprinted out onto the plateau, dodging several burning braziers, and set Gram back into the sheath over my shoulder. Then, I shifted the hammer from my right hand to my left. When I was about thirty feet from the cultists, I let fly.
“Eat this,” I barked.
The hammer arced up, then came down with a muffled thud against the back of one of the twelve, who flew forward against one of his compatriots. Two of the beams flickered and failed. The dragon roared, struggling against the rest.
Justin yelled from somewhere to my right. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled Gram from her sheath once more and slashed the closest cultist. Apparently, keeping the dragon pinned required their full attention.
A blast of energy exploded at my feet, sending me careening over a pile of broken bodies. Justin ran toward me, glowing with anger, the rage on his face a lovely sight. Bastard.
I didn’t even get to my feet, just rolled to the side, swinging Gram at the nearest target. I slashed one of them across his knee, a serious enough wound to divert his attention. And another thread in the net vanished.
“Kill her,” Justin called, and knife wielders rushed toward me. I staggered upright and ran at those holding the net. I bowled over two others, and the net dissolved altogether. The “oh, shit” factor was off the charts. I was deep into enemy territory with nine really pissed-off casters concentrating their attention on me. Ten, if you counted Justin. Plus a whole slew of others who wanted to stab me a lot.
Luckily, the male dragon had plans of his own. He fell forward, catching his bulk on his wings, and strafed the plateau, sending most of the cultists scattering. One of the casters was too slow, and the dragon grabbed him in his free claw. He had managed to keep the body from the scaffolding.
The dragon banked west over open territory and flung the screaming cultist into the mob below. The enemy on the ground had fallen back to the mountain, avoiding the rage of the green dragon, who held court below.
I put some distance between me and the cultists, running to the western edge of the plateau, above the switchback trail, following the male dragon’s path. I saw him land far to the west, near the original Black Briar encampment, and gently deposit the figure he’d taken from the scaffolding. He was really close to our guys. They must’ve fired on him because he buffeted them with his wings, driving them back, and he launched himself skyward once more.
Had he just delivered the body to us? Who was it? I wondered.
As the first dragon crossed the road again, heading toward the plateau, Justin screamed out. “He is here, my sweet. Your vengeance is nigh.”
The green dragon roared an answering call, shedding broken cultists like lice. She unfurled her humongous wings and pushed her bulk skyward.
The male dragon strafed the plateau once again, spewing a column of dragon fire against a clump of cultists and knocking several others aside in his wake. The remaining eight channelers had changed tactics and were drawing thick columns of green power from the dome. They funneled the trapped spirits toward Justin, who seemed to grow as the power surged into him. This couldn’t be good.
I cheered as the male dragon swept around again, snatched a fleeing cultist in his enormous claws, and tossed the broken body against the mountainside as he banked back south. He was so focused on the channelers that he didn’t notice the other dragon until it was too late. The green dragon smashed into him, her talons the size of long swords.
Her momentum carried them upward, where they crashed into the side of the mountain, sending a shower of rubble down onto the plateau. Twice the male bounced against the rocks before he got his wings under him once again. The two drakes tore at one another with flashing talons and snapping jaws. Blood rained down, black and green in the glow of the fires. Justin stood in the downpour, arms stretched skyward as the acidic rain vaporized against his glowing skin.
“Kill him, lover,” he cried to the green dragon. “I will cut out his heart and we shall eat it together.”
I stumbled to my knees, struck suddenly with the truth. The runes along my scalp burned as I dragged my bloodied hand across them. I needed clarity. The fog of battle was confusing me, making me jump to conclusions. The green dragon rolled in the sky, falling earthward with the male in her talons. In that split second, I saw the ring. It was huge against the thickness of her claw, and everything fell into place.
There was the Valkyrie ring. That had been the lie. The Valkyrie statue had misled us. This was dwarven magic—Fafnir’s ring.
“No!” I shouted, running toward the cultists,
cutting one of them down, breaking the surge of energy. Justin stumbled, and the remaining cultists turned on me, knives flashing. I suffered cut after cut, but I felt none of them, allowing the beserker to consume me. I knew the green dragon. She was one of us.
The ring had come down from legend, its story intertwined with that of the sword in my fist. Gram had been forged to destroy the dragon Fafnir, who was also a dwarf. The ring allowed this dwarf to shape-shift—gave him the means to terrify a kingdom. Only he was really a she. Had to be. Black Briar had figured out it was magic tuned to women. Her tragic tale was directly linked to the misbehavior of Loki and the injustices he had meted out on Fafnir’s clan. And our Trisha had taken that ring with Justin’s help and somehow unleashed its power.
I don’t know how many of them I killed, five, seven? But more seemed to appear from the mountain itself. There were too many. A blow struck the back of my head, and I fell forward onto my knees. The world swam, but I kept Gram clutched in my fist. I gulped in air—my heart thudding against my chest. My head throbbed and my eyes stung with sweat.
“So, you have come to me, finally,” Justin said. He floated across the ground, his feet six inches above the rock. The green energy held him aloft.
“I’d hoped to use your blood in this evening’s rituals,” he said, raising his hands to his chest. “Instead, I had to take many others.” He flung his arms out, encompassing the dozen or so bodies scattered around the nearest altar. “Such a waste.”
His boot caught me in the head, flipping me over onto my back.
“That,” he barked, spittle flying from his enraged face, “is for taking my fucking motorcycle.”
He raised a long blade and lunged at me. It was a bleeder like the one he’d used to kill Mary Campbell’s horse, Blue Thunder. Nice for sacrificing, I supposed. None of that messy clotting to slow down the flow of magic.
I rolled, tucking Gram to my chest. On the third revolution, I swung my knees under me, surged to my feet, and ran toward the mountainside. Several of the cultists grabbed for me, two caught me with blades, slicing in my left arm and my right hip. Hurt like hell, but I was out of Justin’s reach when I turned.
