Dragon with a Deadly Weapon

by Michael Angel

Then he moved his fingers so that the bottom half of the fold dropped into place. Again, a single line, using the exact same letters. Only they’d been written in a different sequence.

  I AM A DRAGON SIRRAHON

  Galen let out a grunt, as if he’d been hit in the midsection. He looked to me with an apprehensive expression.

  “I am pained to say this, but it makes all too much sense. No other creature could have shaken off the collapse of a warehouse’s worth of debris so easily.”

  “Or multiple gunshot wounds,” I agreed. “Because he can’t be easily hurt by conventional weapons, correct?”

  “I shall come to that,” Archer said patiently. “When I first brought Sirrahon here, he picked up human ways easily enough. Eventually, when he felt that he could pass, he joined my company and pretended to be my second-in-command. Soon be became bold enough to return to Andeluvia and leave me upon his magical leash.

  “He first found the rock-bound demon you knew as the Old Man of the Mountain. In my time, that terrible creature could only wreak evil on those who journeyed to hear its ‘prophecies’. Once Sirrahon broke some of the enchanted bonds, the ‘Old Man’ murdered the old Protector of the Forest. Then the demon ensnared a disaffected fayleene princeling and brought him in to become one of Sirrahon’s lieutenants.”

  That explained where Wyeth had gone when he’d left the Sacred Grove. It explained how he’d returned with an enchanted crystalline antler. And where he’d fled back to when the Hoohan had shattered it.

  “That princeling claimed the fayleene were leaderless, defenseless. So Sirrahon made his first trial of strength in the open. But you got the dragon to back off. And yet his strength continued to grow, day by day. He found that it was even easier to return to Andeluvia in his new human form, to wake or corrupt others to do his bidding.”

  “He returned in human form all right,” I said darkly. “As the shadowy ‘him’ that I heard about with Hollyhock and Raisah.”

  “Sirrahon found unhappy elements within the owls and griffins to sow the seeds of dissent. Your Wizard correctly surmised that he next woke the Quondam Seraphine and Bonecarver of the Ultari. He had some of the Ultari host wyverns to attack King Fitzwilliam. Others to host humans in the LAPD. And as you saw yourself, he slaughtered the Hakseeka in their sleep.”

  Archer paused. He clutched his chest as if pained. His voice came out raw, hoarse. “I was a fool seeking power. I ended up enslaved to one who murdered with abandon to remake the world as he saw fit. Resisting the geas caused me such horrible pain, I hardly struggled after a time. Until you arrived in Andeluvia, Dayna.”

  I blinked. “Me?”

  “You overthrew Magnus, and then stopped Sirrahon’s attempt to destroy the fayleene. He managed to eliminate the griffins as an effective force, but you wrecked his real plan, which was to make them allies of the Dark.”

  “That cost me more than you could ever know,” I gritted. “One of the griffins you corrupted had been my friend. Or would have been, had Sirrahon not gotten his claws into her.”

  Archer hung his head. “I do know. Hollyhock was more tormented than she appeared, for she resisted the need to kill you. Sirrahon worked with her brothers instead. One tried and failed to kill you in your sleep. The other faked unconsciousness to allow a drake in the throes of bloodlust to get close enough to kill you.”

  That last part rang true, I realized. It finally explained why Holly had been so angry with Blackthorn after the match with Thundercrack of the Valkir Pride.

  “Your actions then kept the Hoohan from returning to Sirrahon’s side, where they belonged. Raisah was willing to return to the Darkness, but she couldn’t be persuaded that you were the true danger. She had scores to settle with the Albess. And the Albess’ successor.”

  Her successor. I felt a pang as I thought of poor little Perrin. Insane, isolated, poisoned, and finally killed before he ever had a chance to truly taste life.

  “But what really drove Sirrahon mad was the fact that he couldn’t kill you himself. I take it that you are aware of what being a vertice means?”

  “It’s been explained to me,” I said. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that I’ve been ‘marked’ as a…proxy, I guess. For a different line of events to take place.”

  Archer’s expression was inscrutable, but I detected a hint of a smile. “Things planted a long time ago can take years or decades to flower. But Sirrahon didn’t have that kind of time. So we decided to get closer to you. To discourage or dissuade you from acting against his will again. This time, I found the weak link. The deputy police chief, Robert McClatchy. You know the rest of that story.”

  “Yes,” I said, with a nod. “If I had to guess, you set up the machine gun that killed Lucas Sims. Just before that, Sirrahon threw Jorge Cielo – the enforcer for the Gallitos gang – out the window and to his death.”

  “It was messy, but the plan worked. Once we were on the inside, I got McClatchy to turn your ‘case’ over to me.” Archer looked at me from beneath furrowed, tired brows. “Bob was genuinely insane, you know. That, I can’t blame Sirrahon for.”

  I cringed a bit at that one. If anything, Bob’s insanity had been Destry’s fault. My fault too, for letting things get that far.

  “The dragon next woke the Quondam Seraphine, brought her to this world, and introduced her to the overwhelming power of concentrated petroleum. She signed on eagerly and returned to kindle hundreds of her kin into flame.”

  “Yet we only ever encountered two of the phoenix,” Galen objected. “And the Quondam had been murdered. Murdered in such a way that she could not rise again.”

  Archer smiled thinly. “By now, Sirrahon thought I’d been completely cowed into submission. But I had begun working my way free of the geas. Sirrahon sent me to speak with the Quondam before she raised her people. I did as told except that, when I arrived, I shot her with some special bullets I had crafted to combat her kind.”

  “Of course,” I murmured. I’d determined that the Quondam Seraphine had been shot with bullets loaded with fire-suppressing powder. I made another connection. “That means you were the one who left that forged message. The one that sent Korr to summon me for help.”

  “It was a risk, but I knew that you’d soon figure out that the phoenix were not your friends.” Archer quirked a grin at me. “It’s why I planted a ruby shard by the machine gun that killed Lucas Sims…and even more shards at that recycling plant.”

  “Thus enabling us to combat Korr without hurting others,” Galen concluded. “That was very well played, sir.”

  “Sirrahon didn’t know about my betrayal. He was enraged that you’d somehow snuffed out all the phoenix. When he returned to their Vale, he found a pile of broken rock and snow. So he sought out the last of the stones imprisoning the Ultari demons and brought them to Keshali. He woke Bonecarver from his sleep, had him host a centaur lord, and instructed him to wake the others. Then to host the Hakseeka slumbering beneath the city.”

  “We’re all too aware of how that turned out,” I said, as it was Galen’s turn to look away. The Battle of the Oxine would forever be a sad day for him to remember.

  “But none of his plans came to fruition. The invasion failed. The assassination attempt failed. Even Sirrahon’s attempts to get you to back off failed. He spotted the man you sent up to spy on us. He murdered that man and ate everything but what he left at your house.

  “In his desperation, he brought the last of the Ultari to this world and used them in two ways. First, to host officers on the LAPD. You eliminated that threat. Second, to host any member of Crossbow Consulting that was a professional killer.”

  “That’s why you killed those particular employees,” I said. I tapped my hand on the redwood boards in emphasis. “They’d become nothing more than weapons for Sirrahon to use.”

  “And now Sirrahon has hit on a new plan. A way to counter your status as a vertice. He hasn’t told me what it is.”

  My ever-helpful brain fil
led in the most obvious answer.

  Maybe Sirrahon figures he can get around the vertice problem by having someone else end me. Like the thing that sleeps inside the Scarlet Crypt.

  I stood up and took a few steps before reminding myself that I was not going to pace. Instead, I forced myself to sit back down before I spoke.

  “All right, I’ve got a lot of questions. But there are two I really need to know right now. First, why did Sirrahon back off from his attack on the fayleene? Even if he wasn’t at full strength, he could easily–”

  “You don’t know?” Archer asked, surprised. “It’s because fey magic is uniquely disruptive to demonic magic. It can knock down magical shields, or even nullify its powers. Since Sirrahon is at least half demon by now, it could be crippling for him.”

  “Interesting,” Galen remarked. “Liam, the fayleene Protector of the Forest and I had worked this out before.”

  “Then you need to tell this ‘Liam’ about Sirrahon’s countermeasures,” Archer warned. “He’s perfected a spell laced with death magic to kill a fayleene instantly, and he can cast it multiple times.”

  “We’ll be doing that,” I assured him. “But my second question takes priority. How did you finally break the geas?”

  “It was thanks to you…and your friend Hollyhock.”

  Archer reached into his shirt and pulled out a silver chain. The pendant dangling on the end was the same one that I’d given to him at the First Samaritan mental hospital. The same one that Hollyhock had pressed into my palm in her death throes.

  “This pendant contained a single-use spell to disable griffins. Once it was activated, there was no magic left to trace.” The sun caught the seashell shape and made it sparkle. Archer looked over to me. “I never expected you to offer this as a bargaining chip, back when I had your friend in the mental hospital. But I immediately recognized the maker’s mark.”

  “I was wondering why you were so eager to trade for it,” I replied. “But isn’t it your wizard’s mark?”

  He shook his head. “It’s Sirrahon’s mark. And now that I had it in my hand…”

  Once again, something waved a red flag in my brain. Before I could figure it out, Galen spoke up.

  “I understand,” the Wizard put in. “Dayna, a wizard’s mark is analogous to a key for a lock. It can be used as a weapon against him if it falls into the wrong hands. And it can be used to break a magical chain. To shatter a geas.”

  “It took time, but I kept sawing at my bonds while the jailor’s back was turned,” Archer said. “I even tried to copy your Wizard’s dragon-killing weapon with my Demon. But Sirrahon got wind of that one. He killed two of my friends to get hold of it.”

  “Alas, I saw some of the aftermath,” Galen intoned. “It was not a welcome sight.”

  “And you were there,” Archer said to me, “when I found where Sirrahon had hidden both the Heart and my Demon. But I was only able to knock him down long enough to learn that he’d already had my weapon destroyed. He knew that if the shield provided by his demonic magic could be overcome, then that weapon could hurt or kill him.”

  “My weapon is but a prototype compared to yours,” Galen said. “It correctly discharged perhaps half the time, and the accuracy was terrible. But perhaps we can improve mine. Or re-make yours. Now I understand why you placed Sirrahon’s wizard mark on the cartridge casings. To make the ammunition more potent against him.”

  There went the red flag in my brain. Finally, I spoke up about it.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “If the seashell shape is Sirrahon’s mark, then why did you include it as one of the four runes in your message? Why use it to encourage us to go through your magical bridge?”

  Archer turned ash-white with shock.

  “That can’t be right,” he whispered. “I only used three runes for my message. If Sirrahon’s mark was added, that means he’s been listening the whole–”

  We each jumped to our feet as a pair of deep BOOMS came from underneath Grayson Archer’s house. The pitcher of iced tea bounced as the deck vibrated and fell off, shattering on the ground.

  A third BOOM. That was followed by the nails-on-chalkboard sound of something shattering concrete and cracking through heavy posts of wood.

  The sound of something truly horrible emerging into this world.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Another rumble came from below ground. Then a slither. Followed by the sounds of shattering glass, cracking plaster, and sundering beams of timber. The metallic roof of Archer’s house bulged as a ridge of ten-foot high spinal scales poked through it.

  “Both of you!” Archer cried. “Behind me, now!”

  We moved even as a metallic spaaang tore at my ears as the galvanized steel gave way. Folded leathery wings were followed by a massive body covered in scales the color of drying blood. Finally, the dragon’s head swung skyward, a hook-snouted, spiked skull perched atop a long neck. Eyes the glittering, baleful yellow of xenon headlamps glared down at us.

  The former Dragon Knight raised both arms above his head.

  “Summum non modo turpi, bestia!” he cried.

  Twin bolts of bluish lightning leapt from each of Archer’s hands. The bolts lanced the air between us and the dragon, hitting home with a massive thunderclap. Sirrahon disappeared into the cloud of dust kicked up as the rest of the house collapsed like so much kindling.

  “Ventus a facie aquilonis,” Archer murmured, as he brought his hands down to his sides.

  A stiff breeze kicked up at those words, keeping the cloud from enveloping us. Still, I found myself taking a few cautious steps back. Galen saw my movement and stayed close at my side.

  Something moved inside the dust cloud. At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, as the shape was smaller than the dragon’s. Much smaller. A creak came from the remaining redwood boards as someone stepped onto the deck.

  Damon Riaga Harrison strode out from the dust, dressed in his perfectly tailored sharkskin-gray business suit. Only this time, his human form didn’t fool my eyes anymore. The cold, reptilian cast to the man’s skin. His lack of real hair. Even his preternaturally light eyes all made too much sense now.

  You should be complimented, my brain babbled. It’s not every person that gets a dragon’s personal business card to add to their collection.

  Archer moved into a stance I’d seen Galen assume before. Facing the enemy slightly to one side, with one hand facing downward and cupped. The cupped palm held a spinning sphere of energy. I took that as the cue to arm myself. In an instant, my gun was out and held at the ready.

  Harrison looked over to me first.

  “I used to despise your stubborn nature,” Harrison said, in the raspy voice he’d used from the start. “But I knew that eventually I could turn it in my favor. I couldn’t trace my associate’s bridge back to the source – he’d hidden it too well. But I knew that eventually, your stubbornness would puzzle out his message. And I could follow you, so long as you used my wizard’s mark.”

  The fact that I’d led this thing, this terrible being of scale and fire and cruelty here tore at me. I firmed up my voice in response. I had nothing to lose by trying to reach out one more time.

  “Archer told me what you want,” I said reasonably. “And we don’t have to do…this. What is more important? Keeping this three-thousand-year-old war going? Or bringing more sentient dragons into the world?”

  A hiss. “You do not know what you speak of.”

  Archer’s eyes flicked between us. “Dayna, what are you doing? It is madness to try and negotiate with a–”

  I ignored him and kept on talking. At worst, I figured that it would buy us a few more seconds to live. At best, maybe I could cut some sort of deal with Harrison/Sirrahon. Yes, it was a desperate move, but what else could I do? My nine-millimeter peashooter wasn’t going to do more than muss his human form’s clothes.

  “You’d be surprised. I know why Teyana is valuable to you. It’s more than just some long-dead holy plac
e to you. There are eggs there.”

  The Harrison-thing paused for a moment.

  Galen spoke next. “Dayna speaks the truth, dragon! If you had not been so eager to try and murder Queen Nagura, by now she could have determined whether the eggs were of Hakseeka or Dragonkind.”

  Harrison made a perfectly human sounding sigh. A sigh of resigned disgust.

  “Did you learn nothing from your so-called ‘wise’ wyvern? She was on the side of the Light. The side of the weak. The side of those who thought power came from rules. Since she did not teach you, I will: power comes from power alone.” His jaw worked as he spoke, gnashing his words. “The strong rule. The weak bend, or the weak break. Those of the Dark do not bargain. They take what is theirs, when they wish, and they kill those in their way.”

  My mind grasped at the most obvious straw. “But you can’t kill me! I am the vertice, remember?”

  A mirthless smile was all I got back.

  “Do not fool yourself, Dayna Chrissie. Fate has marked you, but your friends and allies…are so much chaff to be scattered.” Harrison focused on Archer before speaking again. “I always knew you would turn, Sir Slate. It was only a matter of when. Did you think I would stand idly by when that happened?”

  “I never turned,” the former Dragon Knight spat, “because I never joined you willingly. I know all too well your ambitions. They are entwined with your cruelty.”

  Harrison cocked his head in a way that mimicked his movement in dragon form. “Then you have served your purpose. You awoke the instrument of destiny in me. But you are a disloyal tool, and you must be discarded. This is the last time we shall speak like this, for as you die you shall only behold my true form.”

  With that, he stepped back as the dust cloud re-enveloped him. The man-thing known as Harrison vanished. An indefinite rushing, writhing sound made my skin crawl. The last of a man-shaped shadow melted and expanded, growing and lengthening into monstrous proportions.

  The ground shook anew as Sirrahon emerged. His mastodon-thick legs knocked down the last standing wall. Then they smashed chunks of the wooden deck to reddish splinters with each step.