James Maxey: Dragonseed

Jandra looked annoyed by his argument. "He's not a rat," she said. "He's an intelligent being who can talk."

"It's probably nothing more than imitation," said Shay. "I'd guess he's as smart as a parrot."

"If a parrot were injured, I'd treat his wounds too," said Jandra.

"Good boss," cooed Lizard, reaching up and stroking Jandra's cheek.

Shay turned away, shaking his head. He discovered their fourth companion climbing up through the trap door. This was Vance, a young man roughly his own age, with a wispy blond beard and close-cropped hair that looked as if it had been trimmed with a dull razor. Vance was dressed in the modest clothes of a farm boy; a simple brown wool coat and patched-up cotton britches tucked into boots badly in need of new soles. The only thing new in his possession was his bow-one of the now famous sky-wall bows, forged from steel, strung with wire, the tension tamed by a set of cams at each tip of the bow. Vance was short, barely five feet tall. A series of small white scars on his brow and around his lips, plus calluses covering his knuckles, gave Shay the impression that Vance was someone who'd survived many a tussle.

"Howdy, Shay," Vance said, with a nod in his direction. They'd met earlier at the eastern gate. Vance had been the guard who'd allowed Shay's passage into Dragon Forge.

Shay raised his hand in greeting. "I've heard that you're going to be our bodyguard. They say you're good with that bow."

"I'm not anybody's bodyguard if Anza's around," Vance said with a soft grin. He stepped close to Shay, and glanced nervously back toward Burke. He cleared his throat, and said, in a whisper, "I heard tell you came here with books. They say you wanted to teach people to read."

"Ragnar didn't approve of this plan, I'm afraid."

"Well, um…" Vance said, his voice growing even softer as he leaned in closer. "I've got a good head on my shoulders, but I don't have no formal learnin'. I did my part up on that wall fighting the dragons, but the battle was really won by Burke and his foremen. Them fellows are all the time looking over blueprints and books and sending notes back and forth. That's the kind of person I want to be. Can you teach me to read?"

Shay smiled broadly. "I'd be honored."

Before they could discuss the matter further, Biscuit came up through the trap door and announced, "The horses are ready at the north gate. I've got men I trust standing guard. They'll get you out without Frost and his friends bothering anyone."

Burke nodded. "There's no point in tarrying. I told Ragnar you'd be gone by nightfall. I'm not sure I have the energy to face him down again."

Anza leaned over to hug Burke. She gave him a silent nod as she grabbed her pack and headed for the elevator. Shay noticed the shiny steel tomahawks strapped to the pack. Anza was a walking arsenal, sporting swords, knives, darts, and a sky-wall bow identical to the one Vance carried. Shay picked up his own pack, and the shotgun with which he'd barely had an hour to train. He was impressed with the weapon, but if guns were as deadly as Burke claimed, why didn't his own daughter carry one?

He joined Anza and the others on the elevator. As it began to lower, he caught the grim, worried look in Burke's eyes. He had a feeling that there was some secret Burke was keeping from them.

Jandra waved and said, "Thanks, Burke."

Lizard waved as well, and said, "Strong boss."

Anza didn't wave. She stared ahead, her face unreadable, as the elevator carried them down.

BURKE SAGGED AS the elevator lowered Anza and her companions from his sight. He'd been in pain ever since his thigh had been broken, but the stress of his confrontation with Ragnar had pushed him to a new level of agony. It had taken all he had to hide his suffering from Anza. He'd always taught Anza to bear her wounds stoically and never surrender to pain. He was glad he hadn't broken.

Biscuit stood by the window, watching as the four adventurers left the foundry and marched toward the North Gate.

"They're on their way," he announced. "Let's get you started on the whisky."

Burke flung back the heavy wool blanket that covered his lap. His right leg was thrust straight out before him, naked save for bandages securing it to a splint. The entire limb was blue-gray with bruises. Large chunks of his foot were now black, the flesh dead and stinking. Vicious red streaks ran up his hip into his torso. His fever had been rising every day. If he didn't act now, the infection would spread into his entire body.

"The whole leg has to go," Burke said flatly, as if he were discussing a broken wagon wheel.

"I sharpened the saw," Biscuit said, handing Burke a brown ceramic jug. Burke uncorked it. The fumes made his eyes water. "Drink until the bottle falls out of your hands. It won't take me ten minutes once you're down."

Burke tilted back the jug. Even though it was ice-cold, it burned his throat going down. He wiped his lips after the swig, not looking forward to how many more times he'd need to do that before he passed out.

"This might take a while," he said, then hiccupped. "There's some paper on the desk there. I have something important I need you to take down."

"Sure," said Biscuit, grabbing a quill jutting from an ink bottle. The quill was fiery red and almost 18 inches long, not a true feather but a feather-like scale from the wing of a sun-dragon. In the recent battle, the sky-wall archers had killed dozens of the great beasts as they'd attacked Dragon Forge. An unanticipated consequence of victory was that Burke always had a pen nearby when he needed one.

"You got some new orders for the boys on the floor?" Biscuit asked.

"No," Burke said, taking another swig. He belched in the aftermath. "I might not survive this."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence in my surgical skills," Biscuit said, a wry grin wrinkling the leathery skin around his eyes.

"There's something I know that shouldn't vanish from human memory. I don't want Ragnar to learn the secret-it's my only real leverage over him. But I also don't want this secret to die with me, or with Jandra should she not survive. So listen closely. I'm going to tell you how to make gunpowder."

THE FORGE ROAD ran through a landscape of rolling hills and farms, one hundred eighty miles to the Dragon Palace. In normal times, it was considered a safe road, heavily trafficked by the king's armies. Human villages were abundant along the Forge Road. The one nearest Dragon Forge was Mullton, a hamlet of two hundred souls, only ten miles distant. Jandra was in the lead as she and her companions approached the town. In the weeks before Hex had stolen her genie, her senses had been fine-tuned by the device, so she still had excellent night vision. A cloudy sky without a hint of stars hung over them. They'd ridden slowly for the last few hours; it was too dark to ride a horse at a gallop.

They traveled in silence. Outside the walls of Dragon Forge they'd encountered the worst of the aftermath of the battle; week-old decaying corpses of sun-dragons, the stench of rot thick even though the cold snap of recent days had frozen the bodies. Lizard had clung to her tightly as they'd passed through the killing fields, trembling, from the cold or from fear she couldn't guess.

She'd half expected to find the town of Mullton razed by the retreating dragon armies. Thousands of earth-dragons and dozens of sun-dragons had fled in the aftermath of defeat. Burke had said there would be reprisals, earth-dragons attacking undefended human villages for revenge or banditry now that law and order had broken down. Yet, as they crested the top of the hill, she was relieved to see the village a few hundred yards away. Little stone cottages were interspersed with log cabins in a model of rustic serenity.

She felt a tension she hadn't been fully aware of until now pass from her body. She breathed a little easier to find this vision of peace so close to Dragon Forge. Except, as she took that easy, deep breath, she couldn't help but taste rotting meat in the air, the same battlefield stench she thought they'd left behind. She noticed that there wasn't a single light in the village. No candle, lantern, torch, or fireplace burned anywhere that she could spot. As they rode past the silent farm houses, no dogs barked as they caught the scent of strangers passing by.