by Dante King
There was an earth-rocking crash as the headless Opal Dragon came down and flattened about fifty hapless kobolds and one of the enormous bonfires, in an explosion of dust and rock and swirling embers.
Then Noctis and I were rising, rising, rising.
Looking down, through vision that was becoming less and less blurry, thanks to my dragon-enhanced powers of recovery, I saw Imperial soldiers standing on the top of the wall. Many were still fighting, cutting down kobolds that were suddenly bereft of the will that had been pushing them. Some though, were pointing up at me with their swords and spears, waving and flinging their helmets into the air. As the ringing in my ears subsided, and my hearing returned to normal, I heard what the survivors were chanting.
“Noctis! Noctis! Noctis! Noctis! Noctis!”
In a vaguely stupefied fashion, I leaned down and slapped the Onyx Dragon’s haunch.
“You hear that, my friend, they’re cheering for you,” I said.
Noctis angled his nose slightly. I got the notion that the sly bastard was going to treat the forces on the wall to a fighter jet-style flyby.
“No, Mike,” my blood-bonded companion said, “they’re cheering us!”
Chapter 25
By the time we returned to the Galipolas Mountain outpost, news and reports of what had transpired down in the Subterranean Realms had already arrived through a relay of messenger-drakes.
Once the three wild dragons had fallen, the kobolds took little encouragement to tuck tail and run. They saw the Opal Dragon come down like the Hindenburg, crushing dozens of their fellows, and was more than enough for them. They fled, trampling one another in their haste to get the hell out of the ginormous cavern. Many shook clawed hands up at the magical rain clouds that must have seemed to them doubly as ominous by the time that battle was done. Those few on the wall that were not cut down or skewered by the bitter blades of the Imperial troopers threw themselves from the battlements.
Saya had also gone on ahead on Scopula, bearing the dragondust that had been left behind by the four dragons who had died in the battle. A small flour sack of the stuff was tied to her belt. Being Saya, she had not wanted to leave the rest of us, but I had insisted that she get the stuff safely back to the Dodge City camp as quickly as possible.
“Go!” I urged her. “We don’t know if the kobolds will be back or if any more of these damned wild dragons are going to come out of the woodwork. That dragondust is vital. We must keep it safe. We have to ensure that Antou and Hulong didn’t fight and fall for nothing.”
Saya had bitten back the retort that I just knew she wished to throw at me, mounted Scopula, and taken off.
For such massive beasts, the dragons, both wild and allied, had left only a small amount of the potent aphrodisiac powder behind them. With the magical rain that had continued to fall for at least an hour after the last kobold was dispatched, some of the powder had been lost. Although, for the victory that we had snatched from the jaws of defeat—quite literally in my case—I reckoned that was a fair trade.
It took us a lot longer to make our way back through the tunnels than it had to traverse them. Ashrin and Jazmyn were exhausted from the time they had spent making use of their Titan Slots. It was clear that, as helpful as being able to utilize the very body of your dragon was, it wrung a dragonmancer out. I saw then that it was one thing to learn how to activate the magic of the Titan Slot, but it required substantially expanded mana reserves.
I was also feeling dog-tired. It was a weariness that was incomparable to anything I’d experienced in my life since then. It was an exhaustion of the morning after a weekend-long bender, the soreness that follows a good fight, and the deep-down bone-weariness that comes after spending an entire night running from the LAPD.
My dragons were similarly fatigued. Noctis told me that it had to do with the way they had all transferred their mana to Garth just before I tapped it to use the Forcewave that had killed the Opal Dragon. Apparently, such a feat of mana transference and leeching took its toll on every member of the party involved. Even Noctis, who I guessed must have a mana reserve that surpassed the rest of my dragons put together seemed a little enervated.
Noctis also said that, when the dragons had recovered, they were likely to have all gained access to new Slots.
Happily, we were now in no rush. No one needed saving. There were no resources that desperately needed to be located. All we had to do was get home in one piece, and there were still plenty of surviving Imperial soldiers who could help us make sure we did just that.
Will, the wisp and Diggens Azee also accompanied us on our way home. Where they had come from I had no clue, or when. It was nice though, to have the little spectral floating light along with us. He reminded me of a dog, a little Jack Russel or something. Diggens simply tipped his hat at me and said, “G’day, fella. Looks like you’ve been digging around the dumps. Find anything worthwhile?”
“Just my wife,” I replied as I nodded back at Elenari.
He took one look at Elenari and grinned. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t kick her out of bed for farting.”
We emerged out into the sunshine of mid-morning after spending the night in the tunnels. I was feeling a little more myself when I strode out from under the carved archway that fronted the mine entrance. I couldn’t help but view the dragons who had been chiseled into the beams with more understanding as to why they had been etched there in the first place.
More respect too.
I took a deep, refreshing lungful of mountain air when we were over the threshold. The sky had that lovely, insubstantial blue caste to it, like it had been washed with watercolors. Equal parts white and blue. The sun was veiled behind wispy, almost phantasmic clouds. The smell of resinous pines hit my nasal passages like a balm after the dry dusty nothingness of the Subterranean Realms. It was the scent of growth and life and hope.
“Good to be back, huh?” Elenari said from beside me.
I looked sideways and saw the red-headed elf warrior standing erect and proud. Her eyes were closed, and she was inhaling deep breaths. I had almost forgotten that she went by a title in her native land. She was the Hunter of the Wyrmwood. Seeing her drinking deeply of the smells of the pine forests, basking in the freshness of the alpine air, with her long red hair whipping about her face, I could well believe it.
“Yeah,” I said. “Good to be back above ground. Good to have you next to me.”
We walked down through the army encampment. The dragonmancers strode proudly at the forefront of the ranks of men and women who had survived the battle. It was no plan of mine to make our return into some sort of parade, but the further we marched into Dodge City, the more carnival-like the atmosphere became. Insidious rumor had obviously been doing its work, and it sounded and looked like almost everyone had some idea of what had happened down in the Subterranean Realms.
I grinned to myself and glanced around for Old Sleazy. I could smell his culinary handiwork on the soft breeze that stirred the air, but of the gnoll himself there was no sign. I would have staked a bucketful of scales on the fact that the business savvy bastard had something to do with the turnout though. The amount of onlookers and well-wishers who were clutching one of his famous vortex donuts or cured and spiced salamander sliders were clue enough that he at least was profiting from this general outpouring of goodwill.
The whole column of survivors was cheered and applauded as they made their way through the clapboard streets. Whores and gigolos, who are a key part of any large military caravan or gathering, rushed out into the streets to throw their arms around favorite customers. Cups of ale, fresh baked bread, and delicate sweet treats were pushed on the victorious soldiers. Uniformed and armored soldiers hung out of the windows of the occasional two or even three-story structures, waving flags of particular regiments and bellowing their approval of a job well done.
Not all was sweetness and light, however. Ox-drawn wains rumbled up parallel streets to the one that our tattered and exhausted tr
oopers marched down. These wagon caravans were accompanied by legions of fresh soldiers and other dragonmancers. You didn’t have to be the sharpest knife in the drawer to guess that their job was to head down into the Subterranean Realms and recover the many bodies of the fallen.
Before we turned the final corner to the tents and quarters of the higher-ranking military officers and the dragonmancers, Penelope and Renji addressed the guard captains who followed close behind us dragonmancers at the front of the procession. They instructed them that the soldiers from the Stand of the Broken Fortress—as it was already being referred to—could be dismissed. They were to go and drink to their compatriots who had paid the ultimate price in the defense of the Mystocean Empire.
Once the captains had marshaled the rest of the soldiers and spread the word that they could go and enjoy some downtime, me and the rest of the dragonmancers assembled outside General Shiloh’s tent.
One of the aides stationed outside went inside to summon her, while us seven dragonmancers and Will, who would not listen to my instructions that he should flicker off for a few minutes, waited outside. Diggens Azee had already disappeared, tinny in hand while he muttered about the terrible rates of precious minerals these days.
For a full minute we stood in silence, awaiting the leader of this branch of the Mystocean Empire’s exploratory army. For my part, I turned my brain down to a simmer and listened to the soft sighing of the wind in the fir trees. It sounded, to my still slightly frazzled brain, like the world breathing.
Eventually, General Shiloh emerged. Her short auburn hair was mussed and rumpled and gave the impression that she had been running her fingers through it ever since we’d left. There were deep purple bags under her eyes, and she had the glassy, bloodshot stare of someone who had been partaking a little more liberally from the bottle than was probably prudent—which was saying something when you considered the metabolic rate of dragonmancers. In short, she looked like something that had been eaten by a wolf and then shat off a cliff.
“Well!” she barked, and I was glad to hear the same tough note of command in her voice that there had been when I left. “Here you are.”
She ran her tired but relentless eyes over me. I returned the stare, trying to hide my own fatigue. Then, General Shiloh’s eyes swept down the line; Tamsin, Penelope, Ashrin, Renji, Jazmyn, Elenari, and Saya, who had been waiting for us when we showed up.
“You know,” the General said, “it’s too often said that Rank One dragonmancers come to us with the sort of lack of sense that sees them not knowing whether to check their ass or scratch their watch. I’m very pleased to see that you all are not liable to be tarred with that brush.”
As all good soldiers do, when their commanding officer is waxing philosophical, the seven of us kept our traps shut.
“You two,” General Shiloh said curtly, switching her attention to Jazmyn and Ashrin, “you look tuckered out.”
“Had to make use of our Titan slots, General,” Jazmyn said. She touched at where she had taken the cut on her cheek, though the mark had healed and faded the day before thanks to her enhanced healing capabilities. As she did, I saw the Dream Dragon brand: a cloud with a dragon’s wing in front of it. I hadn’t yet learned what exactly such markings did, but I hoped I would eventually get to.
“Extensively,” Ashrin added.
The two members of the Twelve looked a little bit how I felt; like one more good night’s sleep would have them back to one hundred percent.
The General grunted in a way that suggested she too well understood what the word ‘extensively’ meant.
“All right,” she said, jerking her thumb to the side, “go and get a little R&R.”
Jazmyn and Ashrin bowed and departed. They disappeared into a circle of gathering soldiers who were being held back by stern words and looks from a ring of captains. It seemed that the victory that me and the other dragonmancers had helped win down in the bowel of Galipolas Mountain was making the regular infantrymen and women risk the wrath of their COs just to get a glimpse of us.
General Shiloh looked around at the mustering soldiery starting to ring us in. She came to stand right in front of me, with her beefy arms behind her back and her paw-like hands clasped.
I looked up into her no-nonsense face, and the General shot me a wink that was so fast and fleeting I was only eighty percent sure that I had seen it at all.
“Dragonmancer Noctis,” she said in her most officious voice, a voice that perfectly straddled the line between friend and commanding officer-cum-high ruler, “I think I speak for all of us when I give you our thanks. What you and your companion dragonmancers achieved over the past few days is nothing short of miraculous.”
A slow cheer built and rose like a wave over the command post. It sounded like a jumbo jet revving its engines.
“That being said,” General Shiloh continued, “if you ever countermand a direct order and go off like that on your own again, risking everything that the Mystocean Empire holds dear, then it will be my duty to make sure that our illustrious Lorekeepers get a hold of you and milk every drop of that revered potent seed of yours from you.”
It was a clever, well-judged speech. It struck an exemplary balance between the military top-dog who had bosses of her own to answer to, and a fellow soldier who held what another soldier had done in very high regard. The General, in only a couple of sentences, had cemented herself as one of her troops, while making sure that any spies of the Lorekeepers would have nothing derogatory to report back to their masters.
In response to this congratulatory admonishment, I bowed my head and said, “Thank you for your understanding, General.”
There was a sudden musical roar from high above us, and everyone’s heads craned abruptly upward, as if they had all been attached to a multi-stringed leash.
There was a dragon, about twenty-five feet long, five feet wide, and covered in bone-white fur. The giant creature was circling down out of the heavens on wings that glowed gold due to the sun shining through them from behind. The spectacular dragon’s long neck tapered into a pointed face, very much like that of an arctic fox. It had huge paws, rather than the usual reptilian clawed feet, though the tips of impressively lethal-looking claws glittered in the sunlight. A pair of long, ebony teeth protruded from its upper jaw and overlapped its lower lip.
It was Sonos, the Luck Dragon.
On his back was none other than the Seer of the Drako Academy, Claire.
Chapter 26
Sonos came down to land outside of the massed ring of soldiers so that both he and Claire were obscured from my vision for a few moments. The excited cheering and chattering of the crowd had died at the approach of the Seer. Now, a reverential hushed babbling broke out. The crowd of soldiers parted like the Red Sea, and Claire walked serenely though the midst of adoring, almost worshipful, troops. She smiled at those who met her mismatched blue and red eyes, causing many to blush and bow all the lower.
“Seer,” many of them murmured as she passed them.
“Seer.”
“Seer.”
Claire seemed completely and utterly unmoved by the acolyte-like respect the soldiers all showed her. It looked like she was used to it, and that any awkwardness that she might ever have felt at being treated so differently had long since passed.
The Seer strode lightly up to where me and the other five dragonmancers were standing in front of General Shiloh, her long, flawless lace dress trailing behind her.
I had still been unable to work out exactly where Claire was on the totem pole of the Imperial hierarchy, but seeing how everyone, even General Shiloh, seemed to venerate her, I figured that she was somewhat of a big deal.
“Seer,” General Shiloh greeted Claire, bowing as low as her square frame permitted.
“Hello, General Shiloh,” Claire said in her serene, tinkling voice.
Her silver hair was braided as usual but had been bound at the back of her head for her flight. Her odd-colored almond-shaped eyes re
garded all of us, as though x-raying the line of dragonmancers standing in front of her.
“Dragonmancer Noctis,” she said, addressing me formally, “you look like you have been in the wars again.”
I grinned at that.
“You know, I’m beginning to think that I’ve always got one foot in some scrape or other,” I replied. “You on the other hand, Claire, are looking absolutely amazing.”
A murmur of astonishment greeted my words. Glancing around, I discovered respectful awe in many of the faces in the crowd of soldiers. I realized, too late, that it probably was not the done thing to tell the Seer that she was looking particularly hot.
Claire’s laugh rang out, as clear and merry as a wedding bell.
“You are proving to be quite the source of inspiration for many,” she said to me.
“I don’t know about that,” I said with a shrug. “I just do things.”
“Ah, but it is action that defines us. It is action that fires the imaginations and enthusiasm of our fellows.”
“If you say so, Claire,” I said, smiling. “I’m just glad that we were able to help at least some of our girls and boys make it home.”
Claire’s flawless face was furrowed by a frown. “Yes,” she said sadly, “it could have been a lot worse.”
“Would you care for a rundown of what happened?” I asked the Seer.
A ghost of a smile played around Claire’s mouth. It was almost like I had said something amusing.
“If you like,” she said.
“Right,” I said. “Well, I guess it all started when we were accosted by some of these damned ratfolk. We were on the search for… Well, you know what. We battled these ratfolk, and then this—“
“Wild dragon appeared, yes,” Claire said smoothly.
“Exactly,” I said. “And then, while searching their abandoned settlement, we came across a—”
“Bearmancer?” Claire said.
I frowned suspiciously at the Seer. “Right. A bearmancer. A bearmancer, who was in possession of these—”
