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James Maxey: Dragonforge

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James Maxey Dragonforge

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To the right of the line she had drawn, the board was fresh and black. She wrote in neat, balanced letters despite her trembling talon: "World order, post Albekizan."

Without facing Graxen, the matriarch asked, "Is it true the so called wizard is dead?"

"Yes," said Graxen. "His funeral pyre is to be lit tonight."

The matriarch drew a bold white X across Vendevorex's name. "The 'master of the invisible' has been a burr under my scales for fifteen years," she grumbled. "He was bloodless, a beast without history. I never learned where he came from. I'm happy to know he's gone. Ash in an urn is the only appropriate fate for an… aberration."

The way she said "aberration" gave the word mass, making it a solid thing that struck Graxen in the chest.

She did not give him time to dwell upon the blow. "Shandrazel now wears the crown. He fancies himself a scholar. Metron will control him with ease."

"Shandrazel is a free thinker," said Graxen. "He won't be anyone's puppet. He definitely won't be a pawn of Metron."

"Metron was able to control Albekizan," said the matriarch. "The high biologian will be more than a match for his son."

"Your informants have failed you," said Graxen. "Metron is no longer high biologian."

"What?" She jerked her head around to fix her eyes on Graxen for the first time. She quickly turned her gaze away, looking distraught over this news. "Is he dead?"

"Banished," said Graxen. "Metron allied himself with Blasphet. Androkom is the new high biologian."

"No!" The matriarch looked as if the news caused her physical pain. She walked along the tapestries, her fingers tracing from thread to thread. "Androkom is a dreadful choice. His bloodline is one of genius, yes, but also carries a risk of madness. Look here!" She pointed her gnarled talon at a dark red scale on the cheek of a sun-dragon. "Shangon, his second seed removed-"

"Second seed removed?"

"What the less educated might call a grandfather," she grumbled, sounding angry at the interruption. "Shangon was a brilliant scholar. At the age of thirty he earned the right to breed. Unfortunately, as sometimes happens, the experience shattered him. He went insane and tried to return to the Nest. The valkyries were forced to end him. Until five generations have passed, members of Androkom's bloodline must be kept from positions of authority. To make him high biologian is an absurd risk!"

"It's a risk Shandrazel is willing to take," said Graxen. "He appreciates Androkom's boldness of thought, his willingness to value reason over tradition."

The matriarch traced a black threads from the second seed removed to another red scale that represented Androkom. No black lines radiated out from it. Androkom was relatively young, not yet eligible for breeding. The matriarch hooked a needle-sharp talon into the tapestry and tore at the threads that formed the scale, fraying them.

"No further," she said, her voice cold. "I cannot undo his past, but I have just undone his future."

Graxen shuddered as he understood the harshness of her judgment. "Androkom may become the greatest high biologian known to history," he protested. "You would end his bloodline now, in a moment of anger? How can you know what the future holds?"

The matriarch's eyes narrowed. "I do not know the future," she said, coolly. "I create it."

"But-"

"Save your breath, Graxen. You cannot understand the burden I bear, the responsibility of ensuring the strength of our race for eons to come. You haven't the capacity to judge me."

"Why not?" asked Graxen. "Presumably, as your child, I was designed to inherit your intelligence."

He studied the tapestry that bore Androkom's bloodlines. Was the thread of his own life marked somewhere upon this canvas? "What's more, I presume my father must have possessed many desirable traits to have been chosen as your mate."

"You are so transparent, Graxen," the matriarch said. "You will not learn your father's name from me."

"Why?" Graxen asked. "Other sky-dragons know their heritage. Why has the identity of my father been kept secret from me?"

"His bloodline ended with the production of an unfavorable aberration. His identity is no longer of any importance. You are his only offspring. When you pass from this world, the danger he represented will be at an end."

"I could have passed from this world at my birth," said Graxen. "Other aberrations have been drowned in the lake. Why was I allowed to live?"

The matriarch lifted her fore-talon in a dismissive gesture. "What a pointless question. You are alive now; you have a purpose in life, however menial, of messenger to the king. So far, you have shown an appalling lack of competence in carrying out your duties. What was Shandrazel's message?"

"I bring an invitation. Shandrazel is convening a summit in three days. He wishes to invite leaders from throughout the kingdom to discuss the end of the era of kings, and to help design a new era of equality and justice for all races."

The matriarch released a barking noise that Graxen at first took as a cough, but then realized was a laugh. "Equality? There is no equality in this world and never will be. The earth has produced four intelligent species, it is true, but it is self-evidently absurd to think they are equal."

"Shandrazel feels differently. When you hear him speak on the matter, I believe you will find his arguments compelling."

"I hope you find it compelling when humans are marching with dragon heads atop their pikes," the matriarch grumbled. "They are merely tall and talkative monkeys, with baser urges unchecked by reason. Their animalistic breeding practices mean they outnumber us by a thousand to one. Granting them freedom is dangerously irresponsible."

"I've had little experience with humans. If they're truly as primitive as you say, what threat can they pose?"

The matriarch shook her head at Graxen's ignorance. She sighed. "This is only one more crisis to be managed. Fly back to Shandrazel. Tell him I will send an envoy to his summit. There must be someone there to serve as the voice of reason."

"Thank you," said Graxen.

"You've delivered your message," the matriarch said, turning her back to him once more. "Now take your leave.

"I've had a long journey," said Graxen. "Isn't it customary to offer a messenger of the king time to rest, to partake of food and water?"

"You have said Shandrazel doesn't respect custom," said the matriarch. "He could have sent a member of his aerial guard. Why send you, if not as deliberate taunt?"

"Shandrazel has no interest in the bloodlines of sky-dragons. I don't believe he knows I am your son."

"I am to believe it is only coincidence he chose you?"

"No. When Shandrazel was banished by Albekizan, he sought shelter at the College of Spires. Chapelion sent him away. But I felt pity for Shandrazel and followed him. I served as his messenger in exile. Now, I serve him openly. Still, you are correct. My presence here isn't chance. I asked for this mission. It was my one chance to ask… to ask…"

"Don't stammer," she snapped

Graxen felt as if the simplest words were almost impossible to utter. He stared at the frayed threads that had been Androkom, and suddenly grew aware of hundreds of similar threads representing the conclusions of bloodlines. He knew he was one of them.

"I want to mate," said Graxen. "It grieves me to think that your thread ends with me. The color of my hide is only a superficial flaw. In every other way, I believe I am an excellent candidate to carry on your bloodline. I'm strong, I'm studious, I'm-"

"Get out," she said.

"But, if you'll-"

"Valkyries!" she shouted.

The tapestries on the wall bulged outward. A score of valkyries emerged from hidden passageways, spears readied. Graxen's gut twisted as he realized they must have been listening to his every word. Sky-dragons were supposed to be creatures of intellect, devoid of the lusts that fouled lesser beings. His shameful confession of the desire to breed had no doubt been heard by all these warriors.

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