James Maxey: Dragonforge

Then stars exploded throughout the room as the force of the blow knocked her from her feet.

She landed on the carpet, blood filling her mouth, unable to form a coherent thought. Her vision seemed softened by a veil as her head flopped toward a flurry of motion. A giant red blur lanced toward the brown-gray blob that was Pet. The red blur snapped its jaws around the human shape. Pet cried out in unintelligible agony.

Her vision cleared slightly as she tried to rise, but couldn't. Pet had a black blade in his hand, and was lifting it again and again and driving it deep into Shandrazel's snout. Shandrazel whipped his head and Pet went flying through the air, crashing into one of the tent poles with a back-snapping crunch. The light flickered as the lanterns that hung from the tent poles danced wildly.

A large red shape loomed over her, blotting out everything else in the room. Hex. She felt a sense of relief as the warrior-philosopher slipped his fore-talon under her back and lifted her. He rolled her over and pinned her hips to the ground beneath the tremendous weight of his hind-talons.

"What?" she mumbled through bloodied lips, not understanding what was happening.

She felt as if daggers were being driven into her neck as Hex dug his claws beneath the genie that clung there. With a jerk, he snatched the device away with a violence that tore away chunks of her hair and ripped her gown from neck to hip. The pain was unreal. The metal pulled from contact with her spine felt like her soul being ripped from her body.

Then, the weight of Hex's hind-talons lifted.

She rolled over, still groggy, still confused by what was happening. Had Pet actually punched her? She sat up, feeling her teeth loose on the left side of her jaw. It certainly seemed as if it had really happened. She coughed and a stream of blood trickled down her throat. She wiped pink spittle from her chin.

She stared up from the red smear to see Shandrazel collapsed on the scarlet carpets, staring at her with cloudy, pain-filled eyes. Blood poured from stab wounds in his snout. A black dagger still jutted from just behind his nostrils. She crawled toward him and pulled the dagger free. Shandrazel shuddered with pain. The blade still dripped with venom.

She placed her fingers on his snout, intending to heal him. Only… She suddenly felt deaf, blind, and numb. She could see him clearly; she could hear his dying gasps, she could feel his hot blood trickling across her fingers. Still, something was wrong.

She felt the chill air touching her naked spine. She reached to touch the back of her neck and found nothing there but a sore patch from where her hair was missing.

She turned, and saw Hex standing behind her with the genie in his claws. She'd never seen it in this configuration. It looked like a long, thin, silver ribbon with a three-fingered claw at the top that had cradled the back of her skull.

"Hex, what?" she asked.

"If you had this, you would heal him," he said.

"Yes!" she said, standing up. "Yes! Why do you want him to die? He's your brother!"

"I'm not helping him die," said Hex. "I'm helping him reach his destiny. He wished to be the king who brought an end to kings. When he takes his last breath, the age of kings draws to an end."

"But-"

"Listen," said Hex. "His armies will disperse. The sun-dragons will return to their abodes and resume squabbling over local matters. The earth-dragons will be free to pursue their own destinies, no longer mere pawns in the game of kings. It's for the greater good that my brother must die."

"Who gave you the right to decide the greater good?" Jandra shouted. "This isn't like you, Hex."

"Have you failed to take seriously a single word I've said?" Hex asked. "I was willing to slay a goddess because I didn't trust any individual to possess that much power. My brother didn't have the power of a god, but he did possess the power of a king. It had already corrupted him. It's an act of mercy that he passes from this world now, before he ever understands what a brutish dictator he was becoming."

"Give me back the genie, Hex," said Jandra. "It won't do you any good. It's locked. No one can use it but me."

"I don't want to use it. I don't want anyone to use it. If I knew how to destroy it, I would."

"You've fought by my side. You know my heart. You know I haven't abused my power. Give me the genie."

"I know you have a mind that's been altered by the goddess. Perhaps you could resist the temptation of power. But what if she's changed you? What if you're becoming her?"

"Hex, I know my own mind!"

"And I know mine," he said. He pulled the silver ring of invisibility she'd given him from his talon. He tossed it toward her. It landed next to her feet. "Take this. It will let you pass safely from this camp. You've confided in me your inner struggle, Jandra, torn between your role as a human and your role as the daughter of a dragon. Leave here and embrace your destiny as a human. It may not be such a bad thing."

Jandra held the poison dagger. Hex seemed so confident, so powerful.

She glanced at Pet. He was propped against the tent pole, eyes closed. She couldn't tell if he was alive or dead. She might face the same fate if she attacked. The poison wouldn't act quickly enough to kill Hex instantly. But what choice did she have? If she could get even a single finger on the genie, she could end this nonsense.

She lunged toward Hex, gritting her teeth, driving the dagger forward with both hands.

She never reached him. He kicked out with his hind-talon, catching her torso, the force of the blow knocking the dagger from her grasp. She was thrown across the room, landing against the tent wall, the world again an incomprehensible jumble of light and dark.

She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision. When she opened them, Hex was gone. Outside, she heard the beating of his mighty wings as he rose into the night.

She stood on trembling legs. Her ribs felt as if they might be broken. She staggered toward Shandrazel. He was no longer breathing.

She stumbled toward Pet, dropping to her knees before him. His eyes flickered open.

"Why?" she demanded, as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Why did you do this?"

"I lived… as a p-pet," he whispered. "I… w-wanted to d-die… as… as…"

His eyes fluttered shut.

Jandra brought her hands to her mouth, trying to silence the sobs that burst from deep within her.

Graxen shivered as he was pushed onto the balcony railing. His fore-talons were chained together to prevent flight. His hind-talons were hobbled by a short length of chain that reduced his movements to uncomfortable hops. He looked down onto the jagged shores of the Nest and the moonlit waters beyond. The balcony was full of valkyries, all armed with spears. They fixed their hard eyes upon him.

He'd been kept in an unlit cell since the night of Blasphet's invasion. He wasn't certain how many days had passed. He stoically met the judgmental gaze of the valkyries. He'd brought great tragedy to the Nest. He could expect only the harshest of fates.

The valkyries parted as a second prisoner was brought forth. His heart fluttered as he recognized this sky-dragon, though her head was hung low and her shoulders were bent beneath the weight of the chains that bound her.

"Nadala!" he cried out.

She glanced toward him, her eyes full of shame. Her handlers lifted her to the balcony and forced her to stand beside Graxen.

For several long minutes, Graxen and Nadala stood in silence, unable to look at each other.

Finally, the quiet was broken by the clicking of a cane on stone. Graxen looked up to see the familiar form of the matriarch. The withered sky-dragon hobbled forward, glaring at her discolored son.

"Eight hundred seventy-three," said the matriarch. "That is the number of valkyries dead due to your dishonorable lusts."