Dragonseed (58 page)

His left wing felt broken. He flapped his right wing to try to clear the smoky air.

Something moved in the smoke before him.

The pig?

It drew closer.

Jeremiah.

The boy held Vulpine’s knife in his hand.

“We saw where you fell,” he said.

Vulpine rose up, supporting his weight against the beam as he unlooped his whip. He coughed as the smoke choked him.

“That knife’s too dangerous for you to play with, boy,” said Vulpine. He flipped the whip back over his shoulder, intending to bring it forward and strike the knife away. At the far reach of his back stroke, the whip snagged and yanked from his grasp. He looked over his shoulder and saw the giant who’d dived to save the boy standing behind him, the braided leather wrapped in his enormous fist.

He turned back to face the boy.

Only now the dark-haired girl was in front of him. She had twin rows of puncture wounds along both cheeks that painted long stripes of blood down her face.

Unlike her earlier blankness, this time she smiled.

“We’re… on… the… ground,” she whispered. Her right hand closed around the knife still jutting from his breastbone. He trembled as she pulled the blade free.

BURKE WATCHED THE
drama unfold in his spy-owl, frustrated by the smoke that obscured his sight. He let out a slow sigh of relief as Anza limped from the cloud. Jeremiah followed close behind, with Poocher trotting along beside him. The pig was covered in soot and had somehow lost all of the quivers that had been draped over him, along with his visor and the wings.

Finally, Stonewall stumbled out of the cloud. He had a large blue bundle tossed over his shoulder. Burke dialed the spy-owl to its sharpest focus and saw a limp sky-dragon, its jaws bound with what looked like a whip.

Burke stood up, stretching his shoulders. He’d folded up his wings after carrying the spy-owl onto the wall. The wings were so big, he’d been worried he might accidentally knock someone over the battlements. He grabbed his crutch and turned around.

Ragnar stood behind him. “I’ve killed five men to reach you,” the prophet whispered. The big man wasn’t carrying any weapons, but his chest was matted with blood. His hands shot out and grabbed Burke by the throat.

Burke’s eyes bulged as the hairy man squeezed.

“Dragon Forge is mine!” the prophet hissed.

Behind Ragnar came the sound of rushing footsteps. The prophet turned his head just in time to see a large leather satchel swung at him. There was an explosion of paper as the bag caught the prophet across his face and ripped at the seams. Books flew everywhere. The prophet’s fingers slipped from Burke’s throat and the hairy man tumbled over the edge of the wall.

Burke looked down, wincing at the noise Ragnar’s body made as it hit the ground.

Thorny knelt where the prophet had stood seconds before. He picked up remains of a very large book.

“
The Oxford English Dictionary
,” said Thorny. Loose pages fluttered out of the ancient binding. “Shay’s going to have a fit when he sees what I’ve done to it.”

Burke put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’ll understand,” said Burke. “He brought these books here because he thought that knowledge in the hands of mankind could strike a blow for freedom. You’ve simply taken the concept to a higher level.”

THE WEEKS PASSED
in relative quiet. With the blockade broken, it didn’t take long for supplies to trickle back into the fort along with the news. The Dragon Palace remained empty after Chapelion had abandoned it and returned to the College of Spires, taking the remnants of the aerial guard with him. Albekizan’s kingdom split apart at the seams as the patchwork quilt of fiefdoms he’d stitched together through decades of war came unraveled.

Among the news, there was one thread that remained constant: the story of a golden dragon who flew from castle to castle announcing himself the anti-king. He demanded no taxes or soldiers; he declared no law save for one: any dragon who dared to declare himself king beyond the border of his own small world could count on the golden dragon as a mortal enemy.

It was a warm spring day when the rifles began to bark out along the walls. Burke stood up on his newly-fashioned spring driven leg and walked to the window. Floating toward the center of town, landing near the rebuilt well, was a golden beast the size and shape of a sun-dragon. Sparks flew from the creature’s hide as rifle balls bounced off its golden shell.

The glass in the window next to Burke shattered into a thousand pieces as a stray ball struck it. He stepped to the freshly opened window and shouted, “Hold your fire!”

Instantly, the order was relayed from man to man, “Hold your fire! Burke says hold your fire!” A moment later, all guns fell silent.

Burke walked to the elevator and rode it down into the foundry. The rumble of work carried on as usual. The machinery in the foundry was so loud that the workers hadn’t heard the commotion on the streets.

Burke stepped out into the bright sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that the flowers in the window boxes on the building across the way were blooming. Now that more women had arrived, Dragon Forge looked less like a fort and more like a town.

He walked toward the dragon, who gazed at him with emerald eyes that shimmered amidst the gold.

“Burke,” said the dragon. “You’re looking fit.”

Burke supposed he was. Some bit of good fortune had spared him from coming down with yellow-mouth, and in the weeks since he’d taken command of the fort he’d been sleeping well. Victory had a pleasant affect upon his constitution.

He shielded his eyes with his hands as he studied the gleaming dragon. “You’re looking particularly robust yourself,” said Burke.

“You recognize me?” asked the dragon.

“Hex,” said Burke. “Bitterwood told me about your new look.”

“Bitterwood has been here?”

“He’s been here almost two weeks. He and Zeeky and Jeremiah took over an abandoned farm about five miles downriver. Once Shay and Jandra set up their school, he wants the children to learn to read and write.”

“It’s difficult to imagine Bitterwood behind a plow,” said Hex.

“He won’t be behind one for long,” said Burke. “He had me design a plow harness for Skitter. With the speed of that beast, I imagine he’ll get his fields done in a few hours.”

Hex nodded slowly, as if savoring the image.

“You aren’t here to catch up on old times,” said Burke.

“True,” said Hex.

“You’ve come back from Atlantis as some sort of superdragon. You’re strong enough to pull down a castle with your bare talons, I hear.”

“The twists of fate have been kind to me.”

“And now you’re here to lay down the law as the new king.”

“I shall never be king,” said Hex.

“You’re laying down rules. You’re enforcing those rules with violence. It strikes me as kingly behavior.”

“I have only one rule, Burke. I have explained it to all the sun-dragons. Now I’ll explain it to you. If you send an army from this fort and attempt to seize neighboring land by force, you will find me opposing you. The age when disputes are settled by armies is at an end. There is nothing else that I care about.”

“You used to care about ending slavery,” said Burke.

“True. I still hope that slavery will end. But I’m keenly aware it would be possible for me to abuse my newfound power. In the end, I decided that enforcing a single law was all I could trust of myself.”

“Even one rule has a way of growing,” said Burke. “One day you’ll realize that the world is too big for you to be everywhere at once. You’ll decide to raise your own army, and you’ll tax all the kingdoms where you keep the peace, because, after all, it’s for our own benefit. Why shouldn’t we bear the cost?”

“Your genius is no match for your cynicism, Burke.”

Burke turned away. He saw Anza and Stonewall on the fortress wall, with the big cannon rotated to target Hex. While he was curious to see what the gun would do against the shell, he was also happy that Hex was doing what he was doing, at least for now. He would never admit it to the big lizard, but maybe what the world needed right now was an all-powerful idealist to let things calm down for a few years.

He waved his fingers back and forth under his chin, signaling Anza not to fire. She frowned, crossing her arms.

Dirt swirled on the streets as Hex’s mighty wings beat down.

He watched as the mighty beast vanished over the eastern wall. He suspected Bitterwood was about to get company.

BITTERWOOD’S FARM WAS
simple enough to spot from the air. Rows of fields plowed in perfect parallel lines radiated out for two or three acres from a simple log cabin. At the back of the cabin, the long-wyrm was curled up, napping.

There was a big gray barn near a stream, though it didn’t look as if it would stay gray for long. Jeremiah and Zeeky stood before it with big broad brushes in their hands and buckets of red paint at their feet. Poocher rooted about at the banks of the stream. He was the first to look up at the bright slivers of light that reflected from Hex’s shell and danced across the water before him.

The pig let out a sharp, short squeal and Zeeky and Jeremiah turned to face Hex. As he drifted to a landing, the figure of a man appeared in the barn door. Hex wondered for half a second who the old man was. His jaw slackened as the farmer stepped out into the light.

Hex had never seen Bitterwood without his cloak or the buckskin pants that clung to him like a second skin. Now, Bitterwood wore a pair of brown cotton overalls flecked with mud and dirt. His hair had been cropped close to his scalp. His skin was still leathery, but there was a subtle change in the man that Hex struggled to pinpoint. Finally, he understood.

Bitterwood was smiling.

“You still have the shell,” said Bitterwood.

“I wouldn’t know how to take it off it I wanted to,” said Hex.

“Vendevorex or Jandra could probably help you with that.”

“Vendevorex is going to stay in Atlantis to help teach the humans there how to survive in the absence of their god,” said Hex. “And who knows how long Jandra and Shay will spend on their honeymoon? There’s so much of the world they wish to see.”

“I hear tell you’ve been seeing a fair bit of the world yourself,” said Bitterwood. “The anti-king. I’m not certain I like the sound of it.”

Hex shrugged. “You aren’t in a position to judge me. You killed my father and brother. If I were a king, I’d demand justice. But I’m no king.”

“You’re a big golden bully, then,” said Bitterwood.

“And you’re the Murder God,” said Hex. “I would like to think, after the adventures we’ve shared, that we could call each other friends.”

Bitterwood’s frown returned. “I’ve never called any dragon friend,” he said.

“I’m your friend,” said Zeeky, coming up and placing her hand on Hex’s wing.

“Me too,” said Jeremiah. The boy had a big splotch of red paint on his cheek. Poocher trotted over and gave a gentle grunt as he set down next to Hex. The pig was a full-blown hog now, easily three hundred pounds.

“It’s three against one, Bant,” said Hex.

Bitterwood shook his head. “My feelings aren’t up for a vote.”

Hex sighed.

Bitterwood lowered his head, looking at the ground before him, weighing his thoughts. Finally, he said, “For what it’s worth, I don’t intend to kill you.”

Hex nodded. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“But if you ever do anything to hurt the folks in Dragon Forge, I won’t hesitate to finish you off,” Bitterwood continued. “I’ve hung up my bow. I didn’t bury it.”

“It might be interesting to see the tree that would grow if you did bury it, yes?”

Bitterwood didn’t grin at the joke. Instead, he had his eyes fixed on Hex’s jaws. “Did you know that the shell doesn’t cover the inside of your mouth?” he asked.

Hex clamped his jaws shut.

“I’ve got a barn to paint,” said Bitterwood.

“I’ve got a villain to bring to justice,” said Hex.

“That’s king talk,” said Bitterwood.

“I’ve always been aware of my fundamental contradictions,” said Hex, leaping into the air.

He glanced back down. It definitely wasn’t a trick of the light. Bitterwood grinned as he watched Hex fly away.

He flew downstream another five miles to the agreed upon meeting place. As he dropped toward the bank, he saw his companions lurking among the trees. They walked out as they saw him. Their blue scales were especially bright beneath the spring sun. All two hundred of the valkyries wore armor. He wondered if they would need it.

JANDRA KNELT ON
both knees as she placed the bouquet of yellow tulips in front of the rough stone pyramid. All along the valley, the rhododendrons bloomed, flecking the steep stony mountains with white. She carved the name “Lizard” into the largest stone with a flaming fingertip. She let the flame fade away and she stared at the word for a long, quiet moment.

“Even though I wasn’t in control, I could still feel the warmth of his scales under my fingers.”

Shay placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

She leaned her cheek against his arm. “I remember everything she did,” whispered Jandra. “Do you want to know what the worst of it was?”

“Tell me,” he said.

“She was so absolutely confident that she was right,” said Jandra. “She thought the world was broken, and only she had the wisdom and courage and power to fix it.”

Shay squeezed her shoulder. She knew he knew the significance of these words. “You’re nothing like her,” he said.

“I know,” said Jandra. “But I’ve been thinking a lot about her journey. She started with good intentions. It’s difficult to pinpoint the moment she went off the path from being a good person to being a monster.”

“Perhaps it was around the time she decided it was okay to kill people to get what she wanted.”

“I’ve killed,” said Jandra. “Long before I’d met her I’d killed both dragons and men.”

“You were acting to defend yourself and others,” said Shay.

“She was acting to save the world,” said Jandra.