by Dante King
Tamsin was sitting, black hair plastered to her sweating brow, cradling a tiny dragon in her arms.
The creature was the deep dark red of burned brick.
“Do you… have the crystal, Mike?” Tamsin asked.
“Do I have the…?”
“The crystal,” Tamsin said.
“Oh… Yeah.” Out from the pocket in which I had kept the blue Etherstone ever since I had taken it off Hana, I pulled out the crystal. The stone was the same blue as it had been when I had first laid eyes on it and still looked to be filled with tiny forks of flickering lightning.
“Do you think that he’ll be able to use it?” Tamsin asked. “Even so soon after being born?”
“Only one way to find out,” I said.
I rested the crystal on the bare earth floor, away from the blankets Tamsin was lying on. Reaching out, I took the little red dragon from her arms. I gasped as I took him. He was hot to the touch. So hot that I almost couldn’t hold him.
He felt surprisingly insubstantial in my big hands. Almost like I was holding a leathery umbrella, all sharp bones and loose skin. I rubbed a finger down the beast’s spine, and he made a gurgling purring sound.
“What’s his name?” I asked Tamsin as I placed the little crooning dragon on the floor next to the Etherstone.
“Pan,” the hobgoblin said at once. Her eyes were shining with pride, and her red skin was beaded with perspiration. “It means ‘Formidable’ in my native tongue.”
“Well, if he’s anything like his mother,” I said.
The dragonling, Pan, seemed to have no qualms about roasting the Etherstone into liquid with a stream of bright red fire. It reminded me of a laser beam that would have been used to dissect James Bond by one of his villainous foes.
Pan liquified the crystal in a matter of seconds, looked curiously at me and Tamsin, and then got down to slurping it up off the dirt floor. In far less time than it had taken the enervated Wayne, Pan had siphoned up the dissolved Etherstone and curled up to await his transformation.
“Before he gets going, before he metamorphoses,” Tamsin said, “would you mind getting him the hell out of this tent. I’m not eager to have this tent blown away and me left with my ass out for the whole world to see.”
“But it’s such a great ass,” I said.
Tamsin threw a pillow at me and settled back into the furry hides she was reclining on.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I said.
I put Pan in the fringes of the wood that our little dragonmancer camp backed onto and left him to make his great change. While I waited, I went and sat on a fallen log not too far away.
The night was balmy, with a fresh breeze that stirred my hair and ran a cooling finger across my booze-flushed cheek. It was nice, simply sitting there and listening to the sounds of the night and the distant uproar of the festival in the street further off. I realized then, that I had not simply taken some time to be alone with my thoughts for a long time—too long.
A crunching of feet on the underbrush made me turn my head a fraction.
“Do you m-m-mind if I join you, Mike?” Rupert asked.
I patted the log next to me. “Pull up a pew, my man,” I said.
“Thanks very much,” the twitchy medic said. “I find myself in n-n-n-need of a little fresh air.”
“Well, this air is definitely fresher than the stuff available in the main camp,” I said.
We sat in companionable silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Occasionally, Rupert would give a little flurry of twitches or one of his sharper spasms that came when he was doing some serious thinking.
My lips had just parted to ask the highly intelligent medic what sort of dragon he believed Pan might turn into, when the trees around us were lit with a blue light of such fierceness that Rupert tumbled backward off the log with a squawk.
Lightning crackled through the edge of the wood, leaping from branch to branch, setting off a few little spot fires in the underbrush that quickly burned themselves out. A wind whipped up, and there was a sudden rush of cool air as the atmosphere in our immediate vicinity changed. If there had been a barometer present, it would have been going all over the place.
Pan emerged from the trees, moving on wide legs. He was the pure, lovely color of cobalt. As sleek and smooth and shiny as a bullet train. There were a pair of curling ram’s horns protruding from his head, dull silver in color. Two dark blue tusks jutted down from his upper jaw and past his lower one. His wings lightened from dark blue at the joints to sky blue at the tips.
He was, in short, a handsome and totally captivating creature.
I cocked my head to one side and looked up at the sky. Overhead, three black shapes wheeled.
“Go on,” I said aloud to Pan. “Go on and meet your brethren. I’ll explain it to your mother.”
Pan spread his wings, let out a shrieking cry of pure delight, and launched himself into the air. The trees around him bent backward, as the air pressure changed. Lighting crackled once more, forks of electricity running across the ground and leaving scorch marks on tree trunks.
“So, that would b-b-be a Tempest Dragon, then,” Rupert said in a small voice.
“A Tempest Dragon?” I asked.
Rupert nodded. “A dragon that can harness the power of the storm.”
High above, clouds gathered and obscured the proud, bright face of the moon. Within them, thunder rolled, and dragons roared.
* * *
The next day, I was the recipient of one of the world’s all-time great hangovers. Thankfully, the cure arrived with a visit from Old Sleazy, who came bearing a meaty sandwich dripping in melted cheese and with a side of perfectly fried onion rings.
From the quietness and the air of delicateness that pervaded the camp, I was far from alone in this respect. When I finally left my pallet to breathe the fresh air and pour myself a coffee, I saw men and women walking about with the feeble gait of people who felt like their heads were about to fall off.
The day ended up passing quite nicely, once everyone was sure that General Shiloh was not going to ask us to do anything. We stayed wrapped in our blankets, sat around the campfire, and got to know the newest member of our rapidly growing dragon family.
The day was overcast, and there was that heavy, brooding feeling that precedes a humdinger of a storm. I had no idea if Pan was responsible for this temperamental weather or if it was just the mountain’s usual capriciousness.
All the dragons had been released from their crystals by their respective dragonmancers, and they lounged around the campfire, snapping scraps from out of the air, and napping. Toward dusk, the dragons took to the air to go hunting, taking advantage of the downtime to build their strength and hone their killing skills.
I called it a night early. I must have imbibed more than my fair share because it took a lot of grog to take down a dragonmancer. It had been a while since I had been at the mercy of a case of the brown bottle flu of such severity, and I was quietly looking forward to waking up with a normal head on my shoulders the following day.
It felt like I had barely closed my eyes when I was being rudely roused from slumber.
“What the fu—” I grumbled.
“Get up, Dragonmancer Noctis,” General Shiloh barked, heedless of the sleeping forms around me. “Get your shit together and meet me outside, now!”
A hurried minute later I was outside, my pants thankfully on the right way and my fingers knotting my sword belt.
“What’s going on, General?” I asked, trying to shake the sleep from my head and get my wits gathered.
General Shiloh had not struck me as a woman to mince words and she didn’t do so now.
“Elenari’s expedition party, along with the others that she was with, have been surrounded by an extensive force of kobolds, along with three wild dragons,” the General said.
“What?”
The word popped out from between my lips without any thought.
General Shiloh rai
sed one dangerous eyebrow.
“Did I stutter, Dragonmancer Noctis?” she said, her voice taut with suppressed stress.
I looked at the bear-sized woman standing in front of me. Despite her implacable demeanor, I could tell that she was worried.
“This is serious,” I said.
“You bet your ass it’s serious,” the General said. “It’s about as serious as it could be. Those troopers and dragonmancers are well outside our patrol area. They’re in an unmapped, unscouted area of the Subterranean Realms. It’s about as serious as it gets, Dragonmancer Noctis.”
I nodded distractedly as I digested these words.
Then, I set my teeth and locked eyes with the General.
“I’m going to find her,” I said. “I’m going to bring her back. Going to help get those soldiers out of there.”
General Shiloh crossed her massive furred arms across her chest.
“You’re doing nothing of the kind, dragonmancer,” she said. “You’re far too valuable to be going on any sort of rescue mission. If anything, I’ll be sending you in the opposite direction. Back to the Drako Academy.”
I had been looking forward to getting back to Drakereach, returning to my studies, sleeping in my own bed.
It looked like all that was going to have to wait now.
“With all due respect, General,” I said, “fuck that. I’m going. And nothing short of the ending of the world is going to stop me.”
Chapter 20
General Shiloh hadn’t climbed the ranks and made it to the pinnacle of the Mystocean armed forces by being a fool. She was as tough and intelligent and perspicacious an officer as any soldier or officer of rank could be. Not only that though, but she was reasonable too. She had not forgotten what it had been like to be young, full of vim and vigor, with a stubborn heart and a head full of ideals. She was well aware of the end game, of the master plan that the Empress Cyrene clearly had in mind for me, but she was not past remembering what it was like to care for one’s family, friends, and fellow soldiers.
I could only imagine what she might have accomplished, had she been born in another world and been able to pursue a career in American politics.
She surveyed my face for a full minute, while our two wills strove against one another, flashing and clashing in the air like almost visible fencing blades.
Then, with a slow steady sigh through her nose, she said, “Well, what the hell are you still doing standing in front of me, Dragonmancer?”
I straightened up. Something that might have been a smile had the circumstances not been so damn dire, but was more like a grimace, contorted my face.
“Just point me in the right direction, General,” I said.
General Shiloh looked like she was itching for a cup of her Hangman liquor. As it was, she crushed a half-smoldering log that had rolled out of our campfire under her heel.
Behind me, I could hear the rest of the tent rousing itself. Renji, Tamsin, Saya, and Penelope were chatting in low urgent voices. I could make out the sounds of buckles being fastened, clothes, and boots being hurriedly pulled on.
“The last communication from Elenari’s legion, and the legion that was being led by Antou, Bearer of Hulong, came from a messenger-drake only a couple of hours ago.”
“A couple of hours,” I said, “why didn’t anyone come and tell me?”
General Shiloh gave me a slightly cutting look and said tartly, “Because you’re a Rank One dragonmancer, and because the decision to send anyone anywhere resides with me and with me alone. I weighed up what we had to gain and what we had to lose as an Empire and decided that sending in an emergency team of capable dragonmancers was the right course of action.”
General Shiloh slapped at an insect that had landed on one of her beefy forearms.
“It was the second messenger-drake that convinced me that only the speed of a dragonmancer could hope to alleviate the peril that those in the Subterranean Realms find themselves in.”
“A second message came through?” I asked. I heard the tent flap get shoved roughly aside and the booted feet of three people come tramping toward where General Shiloh and I stood conversing.
The General nodded. Her eyes skipped over my shoulder, and something very much like pride shone briefly in them, with the speed of a fish flipping up from the depths of a lake only to vanish out of sight into the gloom once more.
“The first message simply said that Elenari, Antou, and their troopers had passed through the ratfolk township and moved further into the heart of the mountain. There was only one path to follow. They passed down a long passage, so the drake relayed, and found a lightly held fortress—mostly in ruins, but once strong and proud. The report is brief, but it mentions a small garrison of ratfolk and kobolds holding it. The two dragonmancers and their forces took the garrison.”
Renji stepped up from behind me and, without saying a word to interrupt the General, pressed something hard and warm into my palm. Looking down, I saw that it was another ring: a blue stone flecked with light blue veins held in silver.
The stone of Pan, Tempest Dragon, and my third son.
“That doesn’t sound so bad, if they managed to defeat the force holding this ruined fortress,” I said, slipping the ring onto the ring finger of my right hand, next to where Wayne’s stone sat on my pinky finger.
The General snorted; a mirthless sound.
“No, that doesn’t,” she said. “However, shortly after taking the fortress and securing it, Elenari and Antou were attacked by a force issuing from yet another tunnel. A far larger force made up of kobolds, well supplied, well-armed, and well-organized.”
“An ambush?” I breathed.
The General jerked her head, which I took as a nod.
“The second messenger-drake though, is what concerned me most,” she said. “The poor little creature had been pierced with a crossbow bolt and expired shortly after relaying its communication. What it said though was this: ‘Three wild ones’...”
“Three wild ones…” I said. My eyes narrowed and, almost, I grabbed General Shiloh by the shoulder and shook her.
“You don’t mean three fucking wild dragons?” Tamsin blurted from behind me. “General,” she added.
Ignoring the lack of propriety, General Shiloh nodded again.
No one said anything, but there were looks exchanged that conveyed more than words could have done. Mostly, those looks said ‘Fuuuuuuck, did you see the fight that one of those things put up against two members of the Empress’ Twelve in Titan form?’
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, almost in answer to this unspoken question. “It doesn’t matter what is waiting for us. Elenari is down there. Antou, while I haven’t met her, is one of us too. That’s enough for me. Should be enough for all of us.”
Resolve hardened in the assembled dragonmancers standing around me. Jaws took on a stubborn cast. Hands crept to weapons.
I had not even acknowledged or taken notice of what time it was. Only now, as I regarded the brave and steadfast women standing around me, did I realize that the first light of dawn was being reflected in the armor they were hastily strapping on.
The eastern sky was washed with watery pink and mauve. The tips of the teeth of the mountains were beginning to flush with the light of day, but the fir trees covering their knees still stood like black spikes in the night that lingered on the lower slopes. A few early birds, clearly intent on getting to the worm early, were clearing their throats in the hedgerows were sending out a few tentative warblings. I could smell crushed lavender nearby.
Looked and smelled like it was going to be a beautiful day. Incongruously clement, what with the foul news we were all having to digest for breakfast.
“I admire your determination and bulldog spirit, Dragonmancer Noctis,” General Shiloh said approvingly. “It’s the sort of thing that can’t be taught to a dragonmancer, only learned. However, boldness and pertinacity alone cannot carry you all the way against such long odds.”
&n
bsp; “Which is why we’ll be coming with you, Mike,” Ashrin said as she and Jazmyn stepped out of the shadows and into the flickering firelight.
I regarded the two dragonmancers, clad in their all-black armor, as I pulled on my own hauberk and fastened my greaves to my legs. There wasn’t anything I could say.
We were, all of us, dragonmancers, and that alone was enough to merit risking our necks to save those of our comrades.
I smiled a tight, grim smile. “Looks like it’s going to be a nice day, sure you’re happy to waste it going underground?”
Jazmyn shrugged. Her dark eyes were hidden in pools of shadow.
“Meh,” she said, with that brand of casual dryness that was unique to soldiers about to head out into mortal peril. “It’s probably going to rain later, and I’ve got nothing much else on.”
There was a little brittle laughter from the rest of the gathered dragonmancers at this. The kind of laughter that snaps off at the edges and leaves sharp, uncomfortable shards of silence in its wake.
Silently, Penelope handed me my gauntlets, and I fastened them to my forearms.
“Right then,” General Shiloh said, “now that that’s settled. All of you get the hell out of here and bring our girls and their troopers home. There’ll be no time for your squads to follow, so you’ll be on your own. Get in, get out, and stay alive. That’s what the mission objective is today: preserving the life of your compatriots. Might sound easy, what with your capabilities, but it’s just when the easy route opens up that life can prove to be the most vengeful.”
“If it’s survival of the fittest, General, then there are none fitter,” Penelope said, her shy voice quavering more because she was stepping forward to be the center of attention, rather than because she was scared.
General Shiloh grimaced. “I don’t think it’s going to be a case of survival of the fittest today, dragonmancer,” she said in a low and thoughtful voice. “More likely it’s going to be a case of survival of the smartest, and the most heavily armed. Now, go!”
* * *
