by Isaac Hooke
“What do you mean?” Mauritania seemed crestfallen.
“I need you here, with Ziatrice, running my kingdom,” he said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. It could be days, or it could be weeks. However long it takes to track down Goldenthall. You are my Black Swords—my top lieutenants.”
“Hastor did a good job last time,” Mauritania said. That was the black dragon under Nemertes’ command.
Malem shook his head. “Not this time. We only planned to be gone a few days last time, though it turned out to be longer. But Hastor doesn’t really know how to run a kingdom. The treasury was almost depleted by the time we returned. If it wasn’t for the loot we’d gathered from the fallen armies of the Balors, the men would have revolted.” He glanced at Ziatrice. “I promised you once that I’d leave you in charge of my kingdom, if ever I decided to leave for a short time. Well, you’re going to have to share that duty with Mauritania and Abigail, forming a triumvirate of sorts. They will also serve as your checks and balances, to ensure you don’t go invading other realms with the army in my absence.”
“I wouldn’t do anything so untoward, my sweet Emperor,” Ziatrice said, her eyes glinting mischievously.
“I’m serious,” he said.
She sighed. “Fine. I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
“You’re saying that because I almost invaded Redbridge, aren’t you,” he said. “And you’re implying you plan to do just that. Which is why Mauritania and Abigail will be ruling with you.”
“Not me,” Abigail sent. “Choose someone else.”
“And pick someone else for me instead,” Mauritania said. “I go with you.”
“No,” Malem said. “It has to be you two. You’re the only people I know who’ve run kingdoms before.”
Mauritania pointed at Wendolin. “She has run a kingdom.”
“I thought you’d be honored,” Malem told Mauritania and Abigail.
“We are,” Abigail said. “But our place is at your side.”
“Look, I’m not going to be gone for long,” he said. “Two or three days, a week tops. It will be like I never left. And to be completely honest, I think a break would do us all good. Sometimes I find myself a bit overwhelmed, trying to manage all the different relationships between you all.” He ran his gaze across his companions. “I feel like I’ve neglected some of you, while paying too much attention to others.” He gazed at Abigail, Mauritania, and Ziatrice. “You three have mostly received the lion’s share of my attention. It’s time for me to get in some good bonding sessions with everyone else.”
“Sexual sessions, you mean,” Abigail commented darkly.
“No, bonding,” Malem said. “As men and women do when they adventure together, and fight together.”
“Maybe we want to get in some more bonding, too,” Mauritania said.
“And you will,” Malem said. “In future adventures. But for now, your skills are better served here, running my kingdom.”
“I see how it is,” Abigail said. “We get to do the secretarial and administrative duties that come with being an emperor, while you get to go out and have all the fun, using up all the money in your treasury, and expecting us to refill it for you.”
“Actually, I don’t plan to take very much money with me,” Malem said. “Just enough to cover expenses at a few select inns along the way. We’ll be sleeping mostly under the stars, and dining on animals I lure with my skill.”
“I thought you didn’t like using your skill like that,” Gwen said.
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But we have to eat…”
Abigail sighed. “Fine. I agree. I’ll do what you want. I’ll stay. Only because I want to make you happy.”
“Thank you,” Malem said. He glanced at Mauritania.
“I’ll stay too,” she said, looking down at her feet.
“Good,” he said. He glanced at Ziatrice.
“I guess I should put up more of a fight, shouldn’t I?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “I know you want this.”
She grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, I want you, too. But it will be good to rule alone for a while. It’ll be like things used to be, for me.”
“Except you won’t be ruling alone,” Abigail reminded her. “We’ll make sure you don’t do anything the rest of us will regret.”
Ziatrice scowled at her. “You have no power over me, Dragon.”
“No, I don’t,” Abigail said. “Mauritania, you and I have equal power. We’ll keep each other in check.” She glanced at Malem. “And we’ll keep this kingdom running like a well-oiled machine while you’re gone.”
“Thank you,” Malem said. He hesitated, and ran his gaze across her and his companions. “I’ve been planning to do something like this for a while. Getting away from the city I mean. Being Emperor isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Ruling was fun at first, but lately, it’s been getting me down.”
“We know,” Abigail said. “We could tell. All of us. Why do you think I agreed so readily to let you go?”
“That was readily?” Xaxia quipped. “I’d hate to see what hesitant agreement looks like.”
Abigail gave her a dismissive look before returning her attention to Malem. “Go find Goldenthall. Go find yourself.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Malem said.
“Am I to come?” Wendolin said. “It wasn’t clear…”
“Yes,” he told her.
“What about Aurora?” she asked. “I’d like to keep working on her.”
Malem tapped his lips. “Both of your magics could be useful, where we’re going. Assuming I allow her to unlock it.” He paused, then made up his mind. “Yes, we’ll take her with us.”
Wendolin nodded. “A change of scenery will probably be good for her.”
“I do have one concern,” Mauritania said. “The eyewitness claimed Goldenthall was able to disintegrate an entire merchant caravan with the darkness from his eyes. That means he is growing in power. Worse, the amulet that could absorb that dark magic, given to you by the undead king, is gone. So my question to you is: who will protect you from the Darkness?”
“I will,” Grendel said, stepping forward.
Malem nodded, and turned toward Abigail. “If Goldenthall shows up, send word to me.”
“I will,” Abigail told him. “Good luck.”
3
Malem flew on Sylfi’s back. She was a chromium, her iridescent scales glinting with all the colors of the rainbow beneath the sun. She was just as beautiful to look at as in human form. Those great wings rose and fell on either side of him: the saddle was secured between them.
Brita flew alongside to the left, and Weyanna the right. Those were the only other two Metals he’d elected to bring with him. Nemertes also stayed behind. The great blue had done enough the last few battles, and Malem couldn’t justify bringing her along: she deserved a much-needed rest. He also couldn’t justify bringing along any other troops or dragons: the task at hand seemed better suited to a smaller force. They were hunting a man after all. A man possessed by a Balor, true, but a mere man in the end. If Malem felt the need for more scouts, or combatants, he could merely Break more birds or monsters along the way.
Also, he didn’t want too many troops with him, in case Banvil ever asserted control over him again. In fact, it was probably best to get as far away from his army as possible. He could still do damage with his Breaking abilities, but hopefully his companions would stop him before things got too out of hand.
It was probably for the best that he was leaving the army behind to protect the city anyway, because when he had taken away the men and monsters under his command to fight Denfidal and Vorgon, leaving only a skeleton crew of guards behind to watch the city, he had returned to find that crew under attack by the local gobling tribes. The crew had holed up in the treasury building to make their last stand when Malem’s dragons swooped in and chased the goblings away.
Grendel sat behind him, sharing a proper two-person saddle with
him. The dwarves had come up with a new design that would allow for two to fit on the smaller dragons like the Metals, and Malem was eager to try it out. Some of the Blues had been fitted with it, but until now, none of the Metals. So far, it seemed comfortable, though Sylfi and the others complained of the added weight another rider brought to the picture. He assured them that the flight wasn’t going to last very long.
Grendel had a buckle to hold herself in place, and she didn’t touch him in any way. When Sylfi changed directions a little quickly, sometimes she brushed against him, but she always quickly repositioned so that the touch lasted only for a split second. It was curious behavior, but he wasn’t going to comment on it. She still didn’t wear a proper riding dress, and had to hike up her robes in order to sit in the saddle, which afforded him a nice view of her bare legs whenever he decided to furtively glance to the left or right.
Xaxia and the mayor rode atop Brita beside him, while Wendolin and Aurora were on Weyanna. Gwen and Timlir hitched a ride in the claws of Brita and Weyanna respectively. Malem had almost invited Hastor along to carry the dwarf and the half gobling, but decided a black dragon might prove too conspicuous where they were going. He’d have to constantly dismiss the creature when they entered cities, for example, whereas Metals could blend in with everyone else—once they donned clothing.
Malem kept Aurora’s crystal sword strapped to his hip, opposite Balethorn. The translucent blade was surprisingly light, and he barely noticed its weight at all.
Once more he flew well above the canopy below. He kept his beast sense on the lookout for potential threats down there, but found nothing that could take down a dragon, especially not at their current altitude.
He could still sense the other companions he had left behind, though their energy bundles were distant. No matter how far away he traveled from them, he would still have the slots their Breaking granted him; he would, however, soon be too far to influence them in any way, or to communicate. He had already said his farewells, however.
Malem, a voice came in his head. It sounded weak, distant. Abigail.
What is it? he asked, filled with a sudden panic. He was ready to turn back, fearing the worst.
Oh, sorry to startle you, she said, apparently hearing the fear in his voice. Everything is fine here. I just wanted to say goodbye personally. You left so fast, with little more than a parting kiss.
Yes, sorry about that, he said. I would have liked to give each of you a more intimate goodbye, but there didn’t seem time.
No, it’s fine, she said. I will miss you, though. I’ve grown attached to you. We all have. I hope you come back soon, that’s all I can say. I don’t suppose I’ll still feel it through our mental link when you have sex out there?
Not once I pass beyond communications range, Malem said. At least, I don’t think so.
Too bad, Abigail told him. I suppose I’ll always have Ziatrice.
WHAT? he told her in disbelief.
I’m joking, she sent. Take care out there, Breaker. Don’t Break off more than you can chew.
Oh, I intend to do just that, he said. Don’t tell me what I can’t chew.
I know I shouldn’t, she told him. But I had to try. She somehow managed to make a smooching sound in her head, and he tried to emulate it, but couldn’t.
And that was that.
Mauritania and Ziatrice offered similar goodbyes before he was out of range, whereas Solan and Gannet gave more manly equivalents, calling him brother and boss in their respective farewells.
Soon, Redbridge became visible on the horizon ahead. Malem could see the bridge it was famous for rising above the canopy in all its arcing, red glory.
Malem sought the Darkness inside of him as Banvil had once taught him. Doing so would only allow him to send a one-way message to the demon, but that was all he needed at the moment.
I’m coming for you, Banvil. You killed my father. You hunted me my entire life. You’re not going to take me. Instead, I will take you. I’ve Broken you before, and I will Break you again, worse than you’ve ever been. You see, you’re going to end. It’s inevitable. You’re not going to get away from me. And this time, when you die, your death will be permanent.
He didn’t truly plan on killing the demon, as that would mean the loss of his powers, but he wanted to strike fear into the heart of the Balor. When it was afraid, the demon would make a mistake.
At least, that was the theory.
Malem had the chance to kill Banvil before, multiple times in fact, but he hadn’t. One would think that the fact the demon killed his father would be enough of a spur for Malem to take vengeance, but it was not. The thought of losing his powers, and the women he had bound to him with those abilities, was more than enough to hold his hand. No, he could not kill Banvil, even if he wanted to.
And that was the conundrum.
The dragons passed over the island portion of the city, which squatted in the middle of the river, and the namesake bridge. The buildings of the island district were too crowded for a dragon to land, and while there was a chance the rooftops would hold their weight—these buildings were made of expensive travertine, after all—Malem decided it was safer to land in Northern Redbridge, where the squares were big enough to hold three dragons.
In the center of the island, he could see the palaces where the wealthy members of the senate resided. He wasn’t precisely sure how the political system of Redbridge worked, but he did know that senate shared legislative power with the mayor. The main hall wasn’t far from those palaces, a big, sprawling structure in and of itself, which served as the mayor’s ruling center and residence.
Soon, they were crossing the river on the other side of the island, and heading toward Northern Redbridge.
He could already smell the stench of sweat and feces floating up from the throng below.
Man, I forgot how bad this place smelled, Gwen said.
Packed with the stench of humanity, Sylfi said.
In Northern Redbridge, there were wide squares filled with jugglers and musicians and hawkers of all kinds. The residents wore bright clothes, and the buildings here were faced in gypsum rather than travertine. Soon, those types of homes gave way to dwellings made of wood, likely chopped from the surrounding forest, and the bright clothes became ragged and tattered.
Now this is my kind of neighborhood, Wendolin said.
Because of the people? Gwen asked.
No, the wood, Wendolin replied.
While waiting for his army to complete his own palace, Malem had boarded here, on the further edge of Northern Redbridge, in a savory inn called the Rutting Cat Inn and Diner. It was too bad the place had burned down during Vorgon’s urak attack. Anyway, everyone in this city was familiar enough with his dragons by now, as the Metals had departed every morning in dragon form to fetch fresh meals from the farms on the outskirts of the city. So while many people pointed, none were really in awe, or afraid.
They approached a large square that could fit three dragons, and slowly approached the surface, the dragons giving ample time for the hawkers to pack their kiosks, and for everyone else to otherwise move out of the way.
Malem spotted a horse seller down there, set up near the line of buildings on the south side of the square. The man moved frantically from stall to stall, trying to calm down his horses, which were going wild within—bucking and rearing, the terrified animals were trying to get out to escape the dragons.
Malem sent soothing vibes out to those horses, and they calmed somewhat. They still snorted nervously, but they’d stopped rearing, at least.
Brita set down Gwen before landing; Weyanna also released Timlir from her talons so that the dwarf could leap down and move out of the way.
A street musician—an old man wearing only a turban and a loincloth—was playing a flute, oblivious to everything around him, and remained in place while the dragons landed. When he finally looked up to see Sylfi’s large head a few inches from his own, the man’s eyes widened, and he quickl
y gathered up his flute case and fled. He turned to look back only once, his eyes still wide, before he vanished into a side alley.
You didn’t have to scare him, Gwen said.
What? Sylfi said. He had all the time in the world to move his sorry ass.
You made him spill all his coins, Gwen said, pointing at the drachmae that had fallen out of the case when the man picked it up. That was somewhat of a dick move. Are you looking to get a head start on your new hoard or something?
Ha, Sylfi sent. I’d be embarrassed to use these trifling coins in my hoard.
Then get a manicure? Gwen suggested, pointing at Sylfi’s long talons.
You’re lucky the Breaker values your presence so highly, Sylfi said. Or I might give your head a manicure.
Easy, ladies, Malem said.
He opened his buckle and stood. He tried to help Grendel out of the saddle, but when he touched her, she pulled her arm away as if burned.
“Sorry,” he said.
She nodded quickly, not meeting his eyes. He gazed at her bare legs with longing until she pulled herself out of the saddle. When she stood, the robes concealed her exposed skin.
I wonder if the rest of her is so delicious.
He slid down Sylfi’s wing, and onto the cobblestone below. Grendel came behind him, and when she lost her balance at the bottom, he resisted the urge to steady her, knowing she would only yank herself away yet again.
While he waited for the others to dismount, he surveyed the square. The horse seller wasn’t far: the animals were still nervous in their stalls, so Malem sent out more soothing vibes, and further calmed them.
Next to the horses, there was an inn, named the Portly Pig, with a picture of a happy pig licking the foam from the top of a beer flagon.
“That was exhilarating!” Mayor Townshed said as Xaxia helped him off Brita’s wing. “You’ll have to sell me one of these dragons sometime!” He patted Brita’s scaly foot.
Brita slid her foot away from him. “We’re not for sale.”
“Try riding in the claw,” Gwen commented. “You probably won’t find it so exhilarating, then.”
