A Dragon of a Different Color

by Rachel Aaron

  Chapter 17

  Algonquin’s millennia-old hatred of dragons was getting a lot of new ammunition.

  She rode high over her lake, looking down from on high at the smoking city she’d built. The city that should be washed off the map again. But though the DFZ was heavily damaged, it had not yet fallen because of the three dragons in front of her. Two black, one gold.

  And they wouldn’t die.

  She turned her waterspout with a hiss, sucking in new water from the part of her body that the mortals of this time called Lake Erie. The waves rose at her command, shooting up like spears at the dragons above. She hammered down on them at the same time, launching an enormous wave from the top of the spout she’d formed beside her broken tower.

  The attack was bi-directional and nearly a mile wide. It should have been unavoidable, and yet somehow, again, it missed. The dragons moved as though they knew in advance where every drop of water would be, dancing through her waves like eels through a fishing net. As they had every single one of her waves since they’d appeared.

  And yet you keep sending them.

  Algonquin’s water hitched as her attention slid to the shadow behind her. You really think you can win like this? the monster said, his sneering voice slipping over her like the oil that had covered her shores when she’d first risen. That’s the Qilin. The dragons’ living luck. You can’t just beat him down.

  “I don’t have to,” she snarled back. “Dodging doesn’t equal winning. All I have to do is make a wave big enough that luck can’t save him.”

  That would work, the Leviathan agreed. If you could. But you can’t, can you? The shadow’s head turned toward the smoking city. You’ve already spent more water tonight than you did destroying Detroit the first time. Do you even have enough to finish this?

  As if to prove his point, the dragons chose that moment to dive, streaking their fire across the falling water left by her attacks, evaporating it instantly. The golden one’s flame was biggest, but it was the female who burned hottest, atomizing Algonquin’s lake all the way down to the sandy floor.

  “I will feed her head to my fish,” Algonquin whispered, yanking in yet more water from her lake to replace what the dragons had burned off. “I’ll turn their bodies to river mud. I’ll—”

  It’s too late for that.

  One of the Leviathan’s tentacles snaked out in front of her, dipping into the churning water of Lake St. Clair. But though he’d chosen what should have been the deepest point, the appendage barely sank past its blunt tip before hitting the sandy bottom.

  You’re at your limit, Algonquin. Your water is dangerously low. Your fish are dying. You cannot keep fighting.

  “I will,” she snarled, pulling in water from every one of her bodies. “I’ve killed hundreds of dragons. Thousands. These are nothing.”

  They are the step too far, the shadow whispered. You’re not infinite, but I am. The black tentacles rose up, bashing one of the dragons sideways before swinging out to curl around her swirling water. Let me in. Let me finish what you’ve started, and I will—

  “No!” Algonquin roared, throwing another wave at the dragons to keep them busy while she turned to deal with the threat behind her. “I am not dead yet. Until I decide otherwise, you are bound to me, Leviathan. You serve me, obey me, listen to me. That is our deal, and if you don’t stop undermining it, I will revoke your—”

  She stopped, her water going still. Deep below them, the Sea of Magic was ringing like a gong. It was hard to hear over the storm, but the vibration was unmistakable. A human soul had passed through the gate.

  A second soul? the Leviathan said angrily. Impossible. Where did it come from?

  “There is no second soul,” Algonquin said, her water spinning faster. “It has to be a second try.”

  I thought there were no second chances.

  So had she, but the only constant about humanity was change, and she knew so little about the Heart of the World. The first time the Merlin Gate rang through the Sea of Magic today, she’d thought victory was in her grasp. But then the DFZ had erupted, and everything had gone wrong. From there, she’d had no choice but to assume Myron had failed, leaving his Mortal Spirit to run mad.

  But unlike the traitor, Raven, she’d never actually been to the Merlin Gate herself, much less seen inside it. What if there was something she didn’t know? An angle she hadn’t anticipated? What if Myron wasn’t dead?

  What if it’s a trap?

  “How could it be a trap?” she asked, sinking back to her waters to avoid the dragons as they came round again. “The only human soul in the Sea of Magic is the one I put there. It has to be him.”

  Then let him come to you, the Leviathan warned. Your water is dangerously low. If you stop paying attention, the dragons will burn what is left of it out from under you, and then neither of us will have anything to work with.

  “If I’m right, that won’t matter,” Algonquin said excitedly. “I’ll be reborn with the next rain, but this might never happen again.”

  The shadow rumbled, but she wasn’t listening anymore. She wasn’t fighting, either. She was diving, flitting between the pools of water that covered her ruined city until she reached the dark, stagnant lake covering what remained of the Pit.

  The moment she rose, Algonquin knew something had changed. The DFZ’s raging magic was calm now, almost orderly. The quiet sent her hopes soaring. In her experience, gods didn’t stop rampaging until they’d destroyed everything or were defeated. Since her lakes weren’t filled with buildings yet, that left only one option, and Algonquin found him standing on an island of trash at the Pit’s very center.

  He didn’t look well. Algonquin had seen mortals at all stages of death, but Sir Myron Rollins looked as if he’d been through the entire spectrum today. Even so, he was standing, and kneeling at his side was the humanoid reflection of the DFZ.

  Algonquin began to tremble, but excited as she was, she was too old to take anything at face value. She would have to test him, to make sure this really was the miracle it seemed. To that end, she rose from the black water in front of them, shifting her face into a reflection of Myron’s own.

  “Did you do it?”

  “I did,” he said, his voice weak but confident as he reached out to touch the city’s bowed head. “I apologize for the trouble the DFZ caused you. We had a bit of a false start, but I turned it around. My second attempt at the Merlin Gate was a success.” He lifted his chin haughtily. “You’re now in the presence of the First Merlin, Master of the Heart of the World.”

  Algonquin frowned, her mask shifting into the mage’s own skeptical look. He was lying—she could feel it in his pulse. Mortals always lied, though, especially the egotistical ones. The question was: was he lying about the one thing that actually mattered?

  “Did you cap the seal?”

  “I did,” he said firmly. “I can’t do anything about the magic that’s already leaked out, but the flow of new power has been staunched. In a few weeks, everything that was spilled tonight will filter out, and the world will be left high and dry once again.”

  “How dry?” Algonquin demanded. “Did you honor our agreement?”

  Myron looked insulted. “Of course I did. I hate Mortal Spirits as much as you do. I capped the magic back to what it was the night you woke, exactly as requested. And I am Merlin, exactly as I requested, which means our bargain is at an end, Lady of the Lakes.” He smiled. “We won.”

  Algonquin wasn’t listening. She was too busy checking every inch of her domain, sinking down into the deep, cold waters that ran through her vessel at the bottom of the Sea of Magic. But even though she was there, she couldn’t tell for sure if he was speaking the truth. Everything was still too turbulent. Too riled up. There’d be no way to know for certain until the magic calmed down, and yet…

  She returned to her water in the Pit, flowing up onto the island so she could stare directly down into the mage. Into what made him human. But there was no lie here. The
shifts and marks she’d seen in every Merlin since mortals had first started calling themselves such were plain on his soul.

  Her water began to tremble. Whatever else he might be, Sir Myron Rollins was unquestionably a Merlin now. Her Merlin. Her agent, her tool, the weapon she’d given everything to make, saying it was done.

  “I won,” she whispered, the reflected mask dissolving as her water rippled in excitement. “I won.”

  “We won,” Myron corrected, leaning on the cowed city spirit beside him, who had yet to make a sound. “Tonight was a victory for the entire world. You are free from the tyranny of our mad spirits, and humanity is safe from itself. I get the Heart of the World as my own personal laboratory, and you get to stop worrying about the DFZ.”

  He was right. Now that the spirit of the DFZ had done its job, she could finally scrub its filthy city from her shores. She could scrub all the cities and boats and humanity that polluted her waters. First, though, she would take tonight’s leftover magic and finish what she’d started when she’d killed the Three Sisters.

  There was more than enough power left to melt Heartstriker Mountain and all the other clan strongholds to their foundations, especially since the Golden Emperor had already served himself up to her on a platter. Once she’d destroyed their safe havens and gutted their clan leadership, it was only a matter of taking the time to hunt down and exterminate the snakes that remained, and now that the Mortal Spirits were no longer a threat, Algonquin had all the time in the world. An eternity of safety lay stretched out before her, a return to the time before mortals and their gods. A chance to go home again.

  And it was hers.

  Not yet.

  Algonquin turned around. Her mind had been racing so fast, she hadn’t felt the Leviathan’s approach, but that didn’t matter. He was where he always was: right behind her.

  “What basis do you have for saying that?”

  Common sense, he replied, his tentacles spreading out to surround the island where Myron stood. Your mage is a known traitor who went to a place you cannot see. Now he’s come back to tell you he’s done the impossible, which also happens to be exactly what you wanted. You are a fool to believe him so quickly, especially since he has yet to produce any proof.

  “I felt him enter the Heart of the World,” Algonquin said. “That is proof.”

  Proof he served his own interests, the monster whispered, his many eyes skeptical. But his service to you has yet to be verified. Can you not feel the magic?

  She couldn’t feel anything else. But the Sea of Magic had been churning like an ocean in a hurricane even before Myron woke the DFZ, and large systems took time to calm down.

  “It will drain,” she said confidently. “Because if it doesn’t, I will kill the mage and destroy his spirit’s city. For good this time.” She glanced back at Myron. “But you are telling me the truth?”

  “I’ve never told you anything else,” Myron said. “It’s you who’s been lying.”

  He lifted his chin, looking over her water at the dark shadow behind her. “I learned things in the Heart of the World, Algonquin. For example, I now know what your Leviathan really is, and I will not tolerate it.”

  “My actions are not yours to tolerate,” she said coldly. “I am the Lady of the Lakes. You’re just a man.”

  “I am much more than that,” Myron said. “I am the Merlin, champion of humanity. I’m also the one with my hand on the spigot you’re so desperate to control.”

  She went still. “Is that a threat?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, looking at her head on. “Personal ambitions aside, I went along with your plan to banish the Mortal Spirits because I wished to make this world safe for humanity, not so you could gamble all our futures to a darker god. I know the Leviathan is here at your request, and that he’s the one who cracked the Merlins’ seal in the first place. But however he got here, a Nameless End has no place on a healthy plane. Send him away, or I will undo everything I just did.”

  Waves went out in rings across the flooded Pit as Algonquin’s rage began to rise. “You think to threaten me? I am the land you stand on, fool. I will not be dictated to by a dying insect!”

  Myron’s smile grew infuriating. “If that were true, you never would have agreed to work with me in the first place. Looks like you do need us dying insects. You should embrace that, because I’ve won you more today than he’s ever delivered.” He nodded at the Leviathan. “His victory is your defeat. He’s a Nameless End, a force that eats failed planes. There’s nothing in this for him if you succeed. The only way he gets what he wants is if you fail. I, on the other hand, have as much of a stake in this world as you do. I want you to win because we share a future. That makes me infinitely more trustworthy than him.”

  Algonquin scowled. That was true.

  No it’s not, the Leviathan hissed, moving until his huge shadow was right on top of her. We had a deal, Algonquin.

  “We did,” she said, looking up at him. “But that’s why he’s right. Our deal was that you would serve me until I failed. Only then, only if I couldn’t make it, would I let you in to finish the job. I always knew you’d only agree to such an offer if you thought I couldn’t win, but I did. I’ve won, Leviathan.” She looked up into his shadows. “I don’t need you anymore.”

  You will always need me, he boomed, his echoing voice vibrating through every bit of her water. You called me here. You gave me a name. I am your end, Algonquin. I will not be sent away empty when the deal is not yet done.

  “It is done!” she cried, rising up in front of him. “The magic is cut off! In a day, the sea will calm, and this current glut will vanish. In a year, the ambient magic will be back down to what it was that very first night. With so little magic, the Mortal Spirits can’t threaten us, no matter how many humans there are. The world belongs to the land again, as it was always meant to. I am victorious, Leviathan, and your failure to accept that is proof that what the Merlin says is true.”

  Is it, now? The enormous shadow began to spread, filling the dark recesses of the Pit with tentacles that spread and multiplied, shooting across the flooded ground and up the remaining Skyway supports like spilled ink spreading across a picture. Poor Algonquin, you’ve grown so gullible. So desperate. You used to be the wisest spirit, but now any charlatan mage can charm you. All he has to do is say what you want to hear, and you eat it up.

  “And you are wasting my time,” Algonquin said, drawing in her water until she stood taller than him. “You were a good failsafe, but winners don’t need those, do they? I don’t regret our deal. It’s only because of you that I was able to be victorious today, but it’s over. We both gambled, and I won.”

  She lifted her water to point at the smoke-filled sky. “Go, Leviathan. Leave to find new prey, because there’s no more hunting for you here.”

  Algonquin had been waiting a long time to say those words. Six decades, to be precise. They felt every bit as good as she’d imagined, but there was a problem, because Leviathan wasn’t leaving. He didn’t even seem to be listening. He was just hovering there in the dark, making the flooded Pit churn as his tentacles spread in every direction.

  She couldn’t tell if he was searching for something specific or grasping at straws, but either way, Algonquin was losing her patience. But then, just as she opened her mouth to banish him for good, the Leviathan’s tentacles snapped back, snatching something small, surprised, and mortal down from the cracked Skyways and dropping it in the trash at Algonquin’s feet.

  ***

  Marci was biting her nails again, ripping each one down to the quick.

  “Don’t do that,” Amelia snapped, reaching from her perch at the edge of the broken bridge to smack Marci’s hand away. “You just got that body back. Stop ruining it.”

  “Sorry,” Marci said, peering down through the crack at Myron, who was holding out impressively in the face of Algonquin and the eldritch horror behind her. “I just hate waiting. Can you hear what they’re saying?”
>
  “A little,” the dragon spirit said. “Myron’s lying like a champ. Didn’t know he had it in him.”

  “Myron Rollins is a man of many talents,” Emily said from where she was lying on her back, staring up at the smoky night sky while Raven continued working on her piecemeal body. “It’s why we put up with him.”

  “I just hope he picks up the pace,” Raven said around the piece of metal in his beak that he was shoving into General Jackson’s chest cavity. “I know a good con takes time, but if he drags this out much longer, Algonquin’s going to notice that the magic’s getting more potent, not less.”

  Marci had no idea why she hadn’t noticed already. Myron hadn’t been kidding about the crack getting wider. Now that she was sitting still, she could actually feel the ambient magic levels rising like the tide coming in.

  “And we’re sure the seal’s not broken already, right? I mean, no one’s watching it, so—”

  It’s not broken, Ghost said.

  She looked skeptically at the transparent cat in her lap. “How do you know?”

  Because we’re still sitting around talking, he said between licks of his wounds. This is more magic than we’re used to, but it’s not even close to dangerous yet. When the seal actually breaks, that’ll change. Trust me. We won’t be able to miss it.

  “I suppose that’s reassuring,” Marci said, biting her nails again. “Is Julius almost back?”

  “He’s coming in fast,” Amelia said, breaking into a grin. “This is so cool. Now that the magic’s jacked up, I can actually feel each individual dragon’s fire.” Her grin turned into a smirk. “I can’t wait to sneak up behind Chelsie for once.”

  Given Amelia’s total lack of stealth, Marci didn’t see that happening anytime soon. Before she could say as much to Amelia, though, the water beneath the Leviathan began to churn.

  “What’s that?”

  Everyone moved to the Skyway’s crumbling edge. “I think they’re tentacles,” General Jackson said. “He’s sending them out.”