by James Maxey
Pet laughed. “Killing Albekizan didn’t mellow him?”
“Did you know he eats the tongues of dragons?” Jandra asked. “I mean, he was preaching to me about how I shouldn’t trust sun-dragons because they eat people, and then he cuts out Blasphet’s tongue and eats it for dinner!”
“Wait, Blasphet? He killed Blasphet?”
“Oh, right. There’s a lot to fill you in on. And, just looking at your face, I’m guessing you have a lot to tell me.”
Pet cut her a glance that wasn’t exactly angry, but it let her know she’d crossed a line. He said, “If Ragnar is your brother, at least you can find out your family history. You don’t even know your family name. You might still have cousins out there, aunts and uncles and grandparents. You never know.”
“How about you, Pet?” Jandra asked. “You’ve never mentioned your family.”
He shrugged. “I’m a thoroughbred. I know my lineage. I know who sired me, and the mother I came out of. I know I have five half-brothers, six half-sisters, and two full-blood sisters. But dragon favorites don’t really have family lives. I went to live with Chakthalla when I was five. She thought young humans were cute, in the same way you might think a puppy is cute.”
“Oh,” said Jandra. She’d known this, of course. Many dragons over the years had assumed she was Vendevorex’s pet. She’d never really understood before how Pet and she shared such a common experience of being raised by dragons rather than humans.
“I’m not the most introspective person in the world,” Pet said. “But looking back, when I think about all the women I seduced, I feel really bad. I used my finely bred looks and Chakthalla’s wealth to earn the affection of tavern wenches.”
“From the way you bragged about it, I thought you saw that as sort of a privilege.”
“That was an element of it,” said Pet. “On a deeper level, I was seducing women because it made me feel human. I craved human companionship. Chakthalla would never have allowed me true love, or life-long mating. As long as I was still her faithful pet and could breed with other pets, she didn’t care about my trysts. All my little conquests were a substitute for a love I could never experience.”
Jandra felt an unexpected sympathy well up within her at these words.
“Perhaps you should try introspection more often,” she said. “It suits you.”
“Until now, when I’ve looked inside myself, I’ve found nothing there,” he said. “I was so empty, Jandra. But, fighting at Dragon Forge, I feel as if something has filled me. The human bond I could never find sleeping with the village women—I feel it, at last, with my fellow men. I would gladly give my life to save anyone in that fortress.”
“Even Ragnar?”
“Especially Ragnar,” said Pet. “He’s the will that drives our army. And Burke… Burke is the brains.”
“And what are you?”
“I’m just a soldier,” said Pet. “And it suits me.”
“Well, now you’re an ambassador,” she said. “Let’s hope you’re up to that role as well.”
Pet said nothing as the clouds above continued to roil.
Invisibly, Jandra led Pet toward Shandrazel’s tent. There were angry shouts coming from inside. Was that Hex’s voice?
Jandra pushed aside the tent flap. The interior of the vast room was cold, but still a welcome sanctuary from the winter wind. As she dropped her invisibility, the two sun-dragons at the center of the room looked toward her. Shandrazel looked unhappy.
“Have I interrupted something?” she asked.
“Nothing important,” said Hex.
“It’s nothing important only because my brother believes that nothing is important,” said Shandrazel. “He advocates letting the world spin into chaos. He’s willing to enumerate the faults of the world, but unwilling to do a thing to fix them.”
Hex calmly said, “I’ve long maintained that anyone who thinks they have the right to fix the world is doomed to failure by their own arrogance.”
Shandrazel dismissively waved his fore-talon, as if trying to clear the air of such a preposterous utterance. “This discussion has ended. I see you’ve brought back a fellow human, Jandra. Do you plan to introduce our unexpected guest?”
Pet pulled back the hood of his cloak, revealing his face.
Shandrazel’s eyes widened.
“I need no introduction, sire,” Pet said.
“How… how did you get here?” Shandrazel asked. “Are you fighting for the rebels?”
“I am,” said Pet.
“I knew you weren’t at the talks seeking genuine peace,” Shandrazel said. “All along, you were—”
“No,” Pet interrupted. “No, when I was at the talks, no man in that room had more faith in your promises than I did. I believed your fine words, Shandrazel. I believed your philosophical arguments, and I trusted that you had nothing but the best interests of mankind at heart.”
“I still do!” Shandrazel said. “I will still be the king who brings an end to kings. I will be the dragon who brings an end to human slavery and inequality.”
“You say that while commanding an army where the menial labor is performed by slaves.”
“I would have no need of an army if you humans hadn’t launched a war!” Shandrazel snapped, spittle spraying from his jaws. “The nearby river runs red with the blood of dragons you’ve slaughtered. How can there be peace in the aftermath of such an atrocity? There can be no peace until there is justice. You humans have left me with no choice but to crush your rebellion, and return Dragon Forge to the earth-dragons.”
In contrast to Shandrazel’s temper, Pet sounded very calm. “If the earth-dragons need a new city to build a new foundry, let them have the Free City. It was designed by dragons. It should house dragons.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Shandrazel said, his voice trembling. “Dragon Forge is the historic home of the earth-dragons. They won’t—”
“I’m told that Dragon Forge was built by men long ago,” said Pet. “If it’s history that drives your decisions, then you will support mankind’s claim to the town.”
Shandrazel narrowed his eyes. “You’ve stolen the city by violence.”
“Yes,” said Pet. “And dragons rule this world by force. We can argue endlessly about which act of violence spawned which act of revenge. Back in the palace, however, you said something profound. You told me that history had ended. You declared the dawn of a new age. Do you still believe those words?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you must declare an end to history, a stopping point for old grudges, let it be today. Take your armies home and allow Dragon Forge to remain in human hands. Show us that history has ended, and that you’re willing to open a new age of peace. Show us that your fine words actually mean something.”
Jandra held her breath as she watched Shandrazel’s eyes. She couldn’t begin to fathom the thoughts racing through them. Hex, meanwhile, was standing nearby with his wings folded to his side, with a look of something approaching amusement.
Shandrazel let out his breath slowly. He said, “Pet, you’re a fugitive. With a single shout, I can summon my guards and have you bound in chains once more.”
“This is a fine threat to direct at a man who’s come to talk,” said Hex. “I can tell you learned diplomacy from our father.”
“No,” said Shandrazel. “Father would have already killed this man. Pet, you may freely leave here. Tell your fellow men in the city that there will be no further negotiations. Your position is unacceptable. Dragon Forge must be liberated. Humans took the fort in a single night. I will give you a single night to flee. Come the dawn, we shall retake Dragon Forge and slay everyone we find within its walls. Reinforcements have arrived through the day. You humans no longer enjoy the element of surprise. You shall fall.”
“You’ll let us abandon the fort?” Pet asked. “You wouldn’t hunt us down?”
“No,” said Shandrazel. “Anyone who flees and leaves behind their weapon
s will be spared.”
“But if we take weapons?”
“There’s no corner of my kingdom where you can hide.”
“So, it’s a kingdom again? Not a Commonwealth?”
“I misspoke,” said Shandrazel. “Our old patterns of thought die hard, I fear.”
Pet scratched his beard, as if he was thinking over Shandrazel’s offer.
He looked toward Jandra. His shoulders sagged. His eyes looked mournful as he said, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Pet answered her by swinging his fist toward her. Her enhanced eyes tracked his hand as it approached her face. The knuckles were cracked, and caked with red clay. She recalled the first time he’d stroked her cheek with his soft and gentle fingers, back when they'd first met, at Chakthalla’s castle.
Then stars exploded throughout the room as the force of the blow knocked her from her feet.
She landed on the carpet, blood filling her mouth, unable to form a coherent thought. Her vision seemed softened by a veil as her head flopped toward a flurry of motion. A giant red blur lanced toward the brown-gray blob that was Pet. The red blur snapped its jaws around the human shape. Pet cried out in unintelligible agony.
Her vision cleared slightly as she tried to rise, but couldn’t. Pet had a black blade in his hand, and was lifting it again and again and driving it deep into Shandrazel’s snout. Shandrazel whipped his head and Pet went flying through the air, crashing into one of the tent poles with a back-snapping crunch. The light flickered as the lanterns that hung from the tent poles danced wildly.
A large red shape loomed over her, blotting out everything else in the room. Hex. She felt a sense of relief as the warrior-philosopher slipped his fore-talon under her back and lifted her. He rolled her over and pinned her hips to the ground beneath the tremendous weight of his hind-talons.
“What?” she mumbled through bloodied lips, not understanding what was happening.
She felt as if daggers were being driven into her neck as Hex dug his claws beneath the genie that clung there. With a jerk, he snatched the device away with a violence that tore away chunks of her hair and ripped her gown from neck to hip. The pain was unreal. The metal pulled from contact with her spine felt like her soul being ripped from her body.
Then, the weight of Hex’s hind-talons lifted.
She rolled over, still groggy, still confused by what was happening. Had Pet actually punched her? She sat up, feeling her teeth loose on the left side of her jaw. It certainly seemed as if it had really happened. She coughed and a stream of blood trickled down her throat. She wiped pink spittle from her chin.
She stared up from the red smear to see Shandrazel collapsed on the scarlet carpets, staring at her with cloudy, pain-filled eyes. Blood poured from stab wounds in his snout. A black dagger still jutted from just behind his nostrils. She crawled toward him and pulled the dagger free. Shandrazel shuddered with pain. The blade still dripped with venom.
She placed her fingers on his snout, intending to heal him. Only… She suddenly felt deaf, blind, and numb. She could see him clearly; she could hear his dying gasps, she could feel his hot blood trickling across her fingers. Still, something was wrong.
She felt the chill air touching her naked spine. She reached to touch the back of her neck and found nothing there but a sore patch from where her hair was missing.
She turned, and saw Hex standing behind her with the genie in his claws. She’d never seen it in this configuration. It looked like a long, thin, silver ribbon with a three-fingered claw at the top that had cradled the back of her skull.
“Hex, what?” she asked.
“If you had this, you would heal him,” he said.
“Yes!” she said, standing up. “Yes! Why do you want him to die? He’s your brother!”
“I’m not helping him die,” said Hex. “I’m helping him reach his destiny. He wished to be the king who brought an end to kings. When he takes his last breath, the age of kings draws to an end.”
“But—”
“Listen,” said Hex. “His armies will disperse. The sun-dragons will return to their abodes and resume squabbling over local matters. The earth-dragons will be free to pursue their own destinies, no longer mere pawns in the game of kings. It’s for the greater good that my brother must die.”
“Who gave you the right to decide the greater good?” Jandra shouted. “This isn’t like you, Hex.”
“Have you failed to take seriously a single word I’ve said?” Hex asked. “I was willing to slay a goddess because I didn’t trust any individual to possess that much power. My brother didn’t have the power of a god, but he did possess the power of a king. It had already corrupted him. It’s an act of mercy that he passes from this world now, before he ever understands what a brutish dictator he was becoming.”
“Give me back the genie, Hex,” said Jandra. “It won’t do you any good. It’s locked. No one can use it but me.”
“I don’t want to use it. I don’t want anyone to use it. If I knew how to destroy it, I would.”
“You’ve fought by my side. You know my heart. You know I haven’t abused my power. Give me the genie.”
“I know you have a mind that’s been altered by the goddess. Perhaps you could resist the temptation of power. But what if she’s changed you? What if you’re becoming her?”
“Hex, I know my own mind!”
“And I know mine,” he said. He pulled the silver ring of invisibility she’d given him from his talon. He tossed it toward her. It landed next to her feet. “Take this. It will let you pass safely from this camp. You’ve confided in me your inner struggle, Jandra, torn between your role as a human and your role as the daughter of a dragon. Leave here and embrace your destiny as a human. It may not be such a bad thing.”
Jandra held the poison dagger. Hex seemed so confident, so powerful.
She glanced at Pet. He was propped against the tent pole, eyes closed. She couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. She might face the same fate if she attacked. The poison wouldn't act quickly enough to kill Hex instantly. But what choice did she have? If she could get even a single finger on the genie, she could end this nonsense.
She lunged toward Hex, gritting her teeth, driving the dagger forward with both hands.
She never reached him. He kicked out with his hind-talon, catching her torso, the force of the blow knocking the dagger from her grasp. She was thrown across the room, landing against the tent wall, the world again an incomprehensible jumble of light and dark.
She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision. When she opened them, Hex was gone. Outside, she heard the beating of his mighty wings as he rose into the night.
She stood on trembling legs. Her ribs felt as if they might be broken. She staggered toward Shandrazel. He was no longer breathing.
She stumbled toward Pet, dropping to her knees before him. His eyes flickered open.
“Why?” she demanded, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why did you do this?”
“I lived… as a p-pet,” he whispered. “I… w-wanted to d-die… as… as…”
His eyes fluttered shut.
Jandra brought her hands to her mouth, trying to silence the sobs that burst from deep within her.
Graxen shivered as he was pushed onto the balcony railing. His fore-talons were chained together to prevent flight. His hind-talons were hobbled by a short length of chain that reduced his movements to uncomfortable hops. He looked down onto the jagged shores of the Nest and the moonlit waters beyond. The balcony was full of valkyries, all armed with spears. They fixed their hard eyes upon him.
He’d been kept in an unlit cell since the night of Blasphet’s invasion. He wasn’t certain how many days had passed. He stoically met the judgmental gaze of the valkyries. He’d brought great tragedy to the Nest. He could expect only the harshest of fates.
The valkyries parted as a second prisoner was brought forth. His heart fluttered as he recognized this sky-dragon, though her head w
as hung low and her shoulders were bent beneath the weight of the chains that bound her.
“Nadala!” he cried out.
She glanced toward him, her eyes full of shame. Her handlers lifted her to the balcony and forced her to stand beside Graxen.
For several long minutes, Graxen and Nadala stood in silence, unable to look at each other.
Finally, the quiet was broken by the clicking of a cane on stone. Graxen looked up to see the familiar form of the matriarch. The withered sky-dragon hobbled forward, glaring at her discolored son.
“Eight hundred seventy-three,” said the matriarch. “That is the number of valkyries dead due to your dishonorable lusts.”
Nadala jerked, as if the number were a physical blow.
The matriarch sighed. “You came asking for freedom from the Thread Room. You wanted a different future for sky-dragons. Many of the tapestries were destroyed by fire or smoke. So, you’ll get your wish. Those valkyries whose threadlines have been lost will be released from the breeding guidance of the Nest. Future matriarchs will monitor these unguided pairings; it will take many generations to determine if the choice I’m making is a wise one. It will be the duty of some future matriarch as to how to respond should our race find itself failing. It is, however, my duty to decide your fates.”
Graxen lowered his head. He knew her decision before she spoke it. They would not be the first dragons to plunge to their deaths on the sharp steel spikes below.
“You’re both to be banished,” the matriarch said.
A murmur ran through the valkyries.
Graxen looked up, uncertain he believed the words.
“Traditionally, I would send you forth as tatterwings,” the matriarch continued. “But fate has already distorted your bodies with malformed scales. It’s for the best that your wings remain intact. You must fly west, beyond the cursed mountains, that you may not contaminate our species further. You’ll have two days grace. After this, any dragon you encounter will be duty bound to kill you.”
“But,” Nadala said, her voice hoarse, as if she’d spent many days crying. “But you said in the Thread Room we would be put to death. We’ve caused so much harm. How can you spare us?”
