James Maxey: Dragonforge

Nadala swallowed hard. "I so vow," she said softly.

Arifiel gave some unseen signal to her fellows, and with a single movement they all leapt into the air. They spiraled upward, a flurry of dragons, then turned as one and soared toward the Nest.

Graxen stood quietly, watching the sky as Nadala buckled on her armor. Graxen slung the satchel over his shoulder, the limb swaying as the weight shifted. He dug his fore-talon in beneath the blanket and found the oily parchment wrapping the dried fish. There was something under the parchment that had an odd texture. He pulled the fish from his bag, then dug his claws back in as he realized what it was that he'd felt.

"I… When I went to the coast, I found this," he said, pulling the beaded belt from his satchel. He held it toward her. She took it and unrolled it, looking confused.

"It's a belt," he said. "It's probably not the best time to give it to you, I fear."

"It's lovely," she said.

"It reminded me of you," he said.

She fastened the belt around her waist. It fit as if it had been made for her. She sniffled again and said, "Now that we have supplies, it does make sense for us to journey together. It sounds as if there's only a single blanket to share."

"I could give you the bag," he said.

"Keep the bag. Just share your kindness."

Graxen nodded. He held out the dried fish toward her.

"I'm not hungry at the moment," she said. She raised her fore-talon to the gray teardrop scale on her cheek and wiped away the moisture that lingered there. "We have miles to journey before we reach our new world."

The branch shuddered as Nadala leapt.

"Try to keep up," she called back, rising into the pristine winter blue.

The matriarch closed the door behind her. A soft talon reached out to touch her shoulder. She turned, and allowed herself to fall into Metron's embrace. It was as comforting as she remembered.

"I did what you asked me to do," she whispered. "I never could deny you."

"You made the right choice," Metron answered. "The books of our lives have reached their final chapter. But the story of Graxen and Nadala is just beginning, Sarelia."

The matriarch sighed. "It's been many years since I've been called by my true name. It's been so long since anyone has known me as anything other than my title. They've forgotten the dragon underneath; perhaps I've forgotten as well."

Metron slid his cheek along hers. She trembled at its smoothness.

"I'll always be with you to help you remember," Metron whispered. "I know you, Sarelia. You're still the wise and wonderful dragon I met those long years ago; I love you still."

The matriarch nodded as her cane slipped from her talon. As long as Metron held her, she had all the strength she needed to stand.

Jandra pulled Pet's tattered cloak more tightly around her as she approached the gates of Dragon Forge. The ring of invisibility sat on her wrist like a bracelet. She'd not used it on her journey. She'd walked from Shandrazel's tent boldly, never looking back, and no guard had challenged her. She'd been at the edge of the encampment before she'd heard the shouts behind her as the bodies were discovered. She'd made it to the shelter of the forest shadows soon after.

Only as she'd reached the gleaner mounds had she'd glanced over her shoulder. She was certain she could hear the distant beating of wings. The sun-dragons were abandoning the camp in droves, dark shapes in a dark sky. Jandra didn't know what the dawn would bring when the earth-dragons found their sun-dragon masters absent. Nor, for that matter, did she know the fate of the human slaves. Hex would have his victory, it seemed. An age of anarchy was upon them.

Or, perhaps, the age of a new order.

She reached the gates and looked up, shouting, "Let me in!"

A young man looked over the wall at her.

"That's Pet's cloak," he said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jandra," she said. "Pet's dead. Shandrazel killed him. But Pet killed Shandrazel as well."

"Oh my gosh!" the boy said. "Pet's dead? Oh my gosh!"

"What's your name," Jandra called out.

"Vance, ma'am," he answered.

"Will you open the gate?"

"No, ma'am," he said. He threw down a rope ladder. "You'll have to climb up."

As Jandra climbed, Vance said, "I've heard your voice before. You're the girl who called out to Pet earlier. He seemed mighty excited you were here."

Jandra reached the top of the wall. She looked around the tortured landscape.

"I still can't believe you beat back the dragons," she said.

"I'm kinda surprised myself," said Vance. Jandra noticed how short Vance was; he was barely up to her chin. He was also slightly older than his voice let on, judging from his wispy mustache. "Pet really kept us together up here on the walls. He was a good man, ma'am. I'm sorry to hear he's dead."

She nodded. "I have to speak to Burke," she said. "Pet said he was the brains of the rebellion."

"Yes, ma'am," said Vance. "He made our bows, and he built that giant."

"Good," said Jandra. "Then I may have some information that will interest him."

Vance ordered a man nearly twice his age and girth to watch his post. He led Jandra down into the fortress. She coughed as the full force of the sooty smoke hit her. Now that her nanites were no longer protecting her lungs, she felt especially vulnerable. She wished she could at least seal up the open back of her gown. Even beneath the cloak, her spine felt cold and exposed.

Vance led her through filthy streets toward the central foundry. The doors of the great factory were wide open. The sound of hammers on anvils rang through the air. Jandra raised her hands to shield her eyes as a cauldron of white-hot molten metal was poured into a form.

Vance led Jandra to a small office. He pointed toward a chair and said, "Wait here."

Jandra remained standing as Vance tapped on the door beyond the office. He looked back apologetically as several long moments passed. Finally, the door creaked open. The woman who'd been dressed in buckskins earlier was now dressed in a cotton nightgown and carrying an unsheathed sword. Jandra's eyes were still highly tuned; apparently some of the physical changes the helmet had made were permanent. She noted the razor edge of the blade. It was the sharpest thing she'd ever seen.

The raven-haired woman glared at Vance. Then she cast her gaze at Jandra. Her expression softened as she saw the blood staining Pet's cloak.

She gave Jandra a slight nod, and waved her inside.

The room beyond was pitch black. Jandra stood still inside the door as the woman struck a match. Seconds later, a lantern fluttered to life. Burke the Machinist lay in his bed, looking still as death.

The woman sheathed her sword and touched Burke on the shoulder. Burke's eyes slowly opened. He stared up at his daughter, and then turned his head toward Jandra. He, too, nodded slowly as he saw Pet's bloodstained cloak.

"Shandrazel gave his answer, then," he whispered.

"Shandrazel is dead," said Jandra. "Pet killed him, as he killed Pet."

Burke rested his head back on the pillow. "That doesn't end this. But it buys us time. We might win this thing yet."

He turned back to Jandra. "We could win it tomorrow if you'd share your so-called magic."

"It's gone," said Jandra. "Stolen by a dragon."

"Oh," said Burke, sounding weary. "Well, we're screwed, I guess."

"No," said Jandra. "The dragon won't be able to use the technology. Only I can use it. Pet said you were the brains behind this rebellion. I need your help to get my tools back."

Burke sat up, intrigued. "I've always had an appreciation for tools. If we get them back, will you share your secrets? Will you help me bring an end to the Dragon Age?"

"I'll help even before we get it back," she said. She took a deep breath, searching her soul, trying to decide if she should speak the words that had echoed in her mind on her journey here. Whatever remained of the goddess within her grumbled at the thought of revealing the secret. And, the part of her that was the daughter of a dragon also rebelled, knowing that her words might bring death to all dragons.