Dragonseed (14 page)

“Don’t be so egotistical, Shay,” Chapelion said. “We didn’t lay this trap for you. Jandra is the true prize.”

Anza was perfectly still beneath her section of the net. Jandra wondered if the impact had knocked her out. Then, with a barely perceptible motion, Anza carefully cut another of the ropes that entwined her with a knife no longer than her thumb. Frayed ends lay down the entire mid-section of her body.

Jandra decided to make sure the dragons were focused on her instead of Anza.

“You know I’m Jandra, daughter of Vendevorex,” she said, mimicking the deep, theatrical voice that her master used to summon. “I command the same mystical forces he possessed. Leave if you value your life! This net cannot hold me.”

“Your claims would be more convincing if you weren’t still in the net,” said Chapelion. Sky-dragons couldn’t smile, but there was a gleam in his eyes that indicated he was pleased with himself. “If you do possess mystical powers, I invite you to demonstrate them. The slaves whisper that you gain your powers from consorting with demons. I have other, more rational theories. Vulpine delivered a device he took from you, a weapon that an uneducated observer might think of as magic wand. I know it was only a trick of chemistry and metalwork—I’ve sent it to Bazanel at the College of Spires for analysis. I do not fear your so-called magic.”

Chapelion glanced toward the guards. “Place manacles on Jandra and Shay. The girl in the buckskins is unimportant. Dispose of her.”

Before the guards could move, Anza leapt to her feet, the sliced ropes falling away from her body. She spun in a graceful circle, her sword extended full length, at throat level for the earth-dragons. She made a noise, the first Jandra had ever heard from Anza’s mouth, as she rapidly clicked her tongue against her teeth while sucking in air,
“tk-tk-tk-tk!”
The noise was as a chilling as a rattlesnake’s warning.

Jandra took inspiration from Anza’s dark skin and pitch black hair and the icy menace of her gaze.

“You should have listened to your slaves, Chapelion. I do consort with demons. This one sloughed off your net as if it were water. She can kill your guards before you can blink. Leave this place at once.”

Chapelion stared through his spectacles at Anza. His eyes narrowed as he analyzed the situation. Anza met his stare with an unblinking gaze.

“I see moisture upon her neck,” he said. “Would a demon sweat?”

“How would you know?” asked Jandra.

Chapelion furrowed his brow, contemplating the matter.

Before he could speak, Jandra heard distant shouts from below. Jandra wasn’t certain, but it sounded like someone was shouting, “Fire!”

Chapelion’s eyes flickered toward the door, as if he, too, heard the cries.

From outside the tower, there was a strange skittering sound. The noise resembled nothing so much as the scratching of a thousand large squirrels climbing the stone walls. A shadow passed across the high windows as something long and serpentine slithered across one, then another, then another, spreading darkness.

Jandra could sense the panic building among the earth-dragons. With no idea whatsoever what was climbing the walls outside, she decided to bluff: “Anza isn’t the only demon I’ve summoned tonight.”

Almost as if her words had made it happen, one of the high windows exploded inward, shards of glass flying through the room. Cold night air swirled into the chamber as a human figure appeared in the window. He was mostly in shadow, his body contours partially concealed by a cape. One thing that was easily visible, however, was the bow he held, and the arrow pointed straight at Chapelion’s heart.

With a voice a cold as the winter wind, the new arrival said, “I’ve set your library on fire, dragon.”

Chapelion chuckled and looked to Jandra. “I can’t help but notice that all your demons look human. This is a rather quaint bluff. I’m more entertained than intimidated, however. Hmm. 'Entertained' isn’t quite what I mean. Amused, I should say.”

The man in the high window released an arrow. It landed not in Chapelion, however, but in the valkyrie who stood beside him. She fell to her back, the green-fletched bolt jutting from the round disk of her right ear.

Before any of the dragons could react, loud voices echoed up the staircase leading to the tower. “Find Chapelion! He must know!” Chapelion turned his head upon hearing his name.

“Your love of books is legendary, Chapelion. I could place an arrow in your brain, but that would rob me of the satisfaction of imagining you standing in the remnants of the Grand Library with all its millions of books nothing more than ash and smoke.”

Chapelion shuddered as his eyes grew wide. An earth-dragon ran up the stairs, stumbling to a halt in the doorway. “The Grand Library!” he shouted.
“Fire!”

Chapelion silenced him by raising his fore-talon.

“Take your guards,” said the archer. “Leave this place. Perhaps a book or two may still be saved. Jandra and the others will remain. They’re mine now.”

“Who are you?” Chapelion growled.

“You know who I am.”

Jandra knew as well: Bant Bitterwood, dragon-hunter, god-slayer, psychopath. His sense of timing, as always, was impeccable.

Chapelion looked as if he were in physical pain as he motioned to his guards. “We can waste no more time. Leave the humans. Go to the library.”

“Hurry,” said Bitterwood. “Old paper burns so quickly.”

Chapelion looked up as the dragons filed past him.

“You’ll never escape this castle!” he snarled, before turning and marching from the room, leaving the humans alone. The door to the tower slammed shut.

“Seal it!” Chapelion barked from the stairs. “Have every member of the aerial guard surround the tower! They must not escape!”

Anza danced across the net. Jandra flinched as Anza’s sword slashed out at her, again and again. Seconds later, the net fell away. Anza turned to free Shay.

Bitterwood dropped from the high window into the room. He looked at Jandra as Lizard climbed back onto her shoulder. “Is that an earth-dragon child? He can’t come with us.”

“He can and he will,” said Jandra.

Bitterwood opened his mouth, but Jandra cut him off. “You always lose these arguments, so let’s skip over the banter and get out of here.”

Bitterwood glowered at her and nodded.

Shay shook free of the cut ropes that draped him as Anza stepped back. His voice was trembling as he walked toward the man who’d just saved them. “Did… did you… did you really set fire to the Grand Library?”

“Of course,” Bitterwood answered in a matter-of-fact tone, as if Shay had asked something trivial.

“Monster!” Shay swung out his lanky right arm in a furious arc, planting his balled up fist directly into the teeth of the dragon-slayer.

Bitterwood’s head snapped sideways, but he wasn’t knocked off balance. He calmly wiped his lips with the back of his hand as he stared at Shay. Shay was trembling with rage, his fists clenched, raising his arms to strike again.

Bitterwood kneed Shay in the groin. Shay doubled over and Bitterwood brought both of his fists down onto the back of Shay’s skull. The former slave slammed down onto the net, completely still.

Bitterwood looked down and spit. His saliva was pink with blood as it splashed onto Shay’s neck. “He looks familiar,” he said. “Did I save his life somewhere?”

“You can ask him after he wakes up,” said Jandra, rushing over to her wardrobe and swinging its doors open. “Since you knocked him out, you’ll be carrying him.”

“Like hell I will,” said Bitterwood. Jandra gave him a stern glance. Bitterwood shook his head in disgust as he leaned down and grabbed Shay’s collar.

CHAPTER NINE:

A TORCH TO VANQUISH THE NIGHT

SHAY COUGHED HIMSELF
awake; smoke scoured his lungs. At least, he felt like he was awake, though the evidence of his eyes argued that he was trapped within a nightmare. He was a hundred feet in the air on the exterior of a stone tower, slung over a white saddle on the back of a fifty foot long, copper-colored serpent. He should be falling—the beast he rode was moving along the vertical wall of the tower, racing across it as easily as if it were flat ground, gripping the walls with dozens of sharp-clawed legs. Fortunately, the saddle felt as if it were coated with glue—his stomach was held firmly against it in defiance of gravity.

Craning his neck and squinting to see through the haze of smoke, he found that the copper serpent was studded with riders both familiar and strange. Jandra sat on the saddle in front of him with Lizard standing on her shoulder, hissing loudly as he shook his small fist at the flock of sky-dragons wheeling toward them. Behind him Anza crouched upon a white saddle, her fingers bristling with throwing knives. He felt a sense of vertigo… given the angle at which she was perched, she should be falling. Behind her, near the tail of the beast, a black and white pig wore a silver visor that hid his eyes. It sat upon the saddle serenely, oblivious to the swaying, lurching gait of the serpent as it undulated across the tower. Beyond the pig sat a little blonde girl, perhaps ten years old, thin even by Shay’s scarecrowish standard. She, too, wore a metal visor that hid her eyes.

At the beast’s head Bitterwood stood in his saddle, his bow drawn, firing arrow after arrow into the swarm of dragons that dove toward them. Shay stared at the legendary dragon-slayer. He was a good deal shorter than Shay, and not particularly heroic in his stance or gestures. He looked like one of the field slaves at middle age, weathered, wizened, and worn out. The deep wrinkles around his eyes twitched as they flickered from target to target. His hands moved with inhuman speed back and forth from quiver to bow. The bowstring sang with a musical rhythm, humming for a few seconds until an arrow was placed against it once more,
zuum, zuum, zuum, zuum.
The arrows, he noted, had the same bright green leaves fletching them as the arrows that had killed the slavecatchers by the river.

Shay tried to rise, if “rise” had any true meaning in this strange sideways world he’d woke in. As he moved, his center of gravity began to spin. He felt the ground below calling to him. He grabbed at the beast’s scales, overlapping thin disks, metallic in their chill. He found himself slipping.

“Don’t struggle,” the blonde girl called out. “The saddle will hold you if you let it.”

Shay struggled. His legs were now dangling straight down.

He was looking toward Anza, who rolled her eyes. She hurled her throwing knives heavenward and a sky-dragon suddenly tilted and fell, its wings limp. Anza pulled her long sword from the scabbard over her back. She raised it over her head, and swung the flat of the blade at Shay.

Thunder cracked somewhere near the base of his skull and the world went dark once more.

SHAY WOKE TO
the slightly sweet stink of manure and hay. He was flat on his back on a large bale of straw, his head pounding with each heart beat. He raised his hand to discover a knot the size of walnut on the back of his scalp. He sat up, trying to remember where and why he’d gotten the injury. He was in a barn, with horses in stalls staring at him lazily. It was distantly familiar; he knew he’d been here before. This barn was attached to an inn on the edge of Richmond. It was where they had left their horses before going to the Dragon Palace.

He rose on trembling legs. There were voices outside, familiar ones. He stumbled toward the barn door. It hurt to walk. He remembered Bitterwood’s ungentlemanly assault. Kicking someone in the balls wasn’t behavior he would have expected from a legendary champion of humanity.

Shay pushed the barn door open and his eyes were instantly drawn toward the horizon. Flames shot into the air in a huge inferno that reached to the stars themselves. The Grand Library, housing a thousand years of history and literature, was now the world’s largest bonfire. He dropped to his knees in the barnyard muck, feeling ill. Not more than ten feet away, sitting on the edge of a rain barrel, Jandra watched the flames as well. Squatting on the ground before her was the old man, Bitterwood.

Jandra was now wearing a calf-length coat that fit as if it had been tailored for her. The fabric was pale blue, the same color as a sky-dragon’s wings. Shay had gotten used to seeing Jandra in the shapeless, drab, earth-dragon coat. She looked smaller now, yet at the same time more powerful, more like a sorceress than a refugee.  She shook her head as she watched the flames. “Bant, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the rescue, but this was a pretty horrible thing to do.”

“It got you out of the palace with minimal danger,” said Bitterwood.

“Since when do you worry about danger? I’m amazed you let Chapelion live. You’re normally not so merciful.”

“Mercy had nothing to do with it,” said Bitterwood. “I came here to save you, not kill Chapelion.”

“You had him in your sights,” she said.

“He wasn’t the biggest threat. You were trapped by a net, surrounded by armed earth-dragons. I’m not positive I could have kept you alive if a battle had broken out.”

“The one thing I’m not clear on is how, exactly, you knew I needed saving?”

“You understand it better than I, no doubt. Zeeky still hears whispers from the crystal ball the goddess gave her. The ghosts inside can see the future. They told Zeeky to save you. I wasn’t in favor of dropping everything to chase you across the countryside, but I don’t fare any better arguing with her than I do with you.”

“Hmm,” said Jandra. “Jazz said that if you were trapped in underspace, you could see the past and future with equal clarity. I know Zeeky’s crystal ball contains a tiny sliver of underspace. Jazz said she kept her best secrets to herself… Underspace was one of those secrets. I have only a rough understanding of the science behind it. Apparently there are more dimensions to the world than the three we normally perceive. Alas, the practical science of traveling through these extra dimensions wasn’t shared with me.” In the distance, there was a horrible rumble. Sparks shot into the air like fireworks as a huge section of the upper tower crumbled and collapsed inward. “Shay’s going to have a fit when he hears about this,” Jandra said.