James Maxey - Dragonforge

"What does Z-zeeky's family have to d-do with this," Jandra said. She felt on the verge of insanity as a thousand years of unearned memories found purchase in her mind. Only the conversation was holding her in the here and now.

"When any normal person passes through underspace, they don't experience it. Artificial beings like Gabriel don't record anything. But if you send a monkey in, it doesn't always come out. Alex Pure had fried his brain with thirty years of substance abuse; something about his damaged cerebral cortex allowed him to perceive the imperceptible and get lost in a place that isn't a place. I've been carefully tweaking Zeeky's family for generations, breeding a new kind of human with a functional form of autism that bridges the higher human thought world and the more primitive monkey mind at its core."

"Y-you've purposefully damaged the m-minds of an entire village?" Jandra asked, as sweat dropping from her face darkened the soil beneath her. "What gave you that right?"

"Rights are a philosophical myth," said Jazz. "I do it because I can."

Jandra wanted to summon the Vengeance of the Ancestors to consume Jazz in flame, but her aching brain couldn't remember how. She wasn't even certain she knew how to stand up again. Her own thoughts seemed to be in the wrong place inside her head, roughly shoved aside by Jazz's memory bomb. How long would it be before she recovered?

"Are… are you going to throw Zeeky into the rainbow?" she asked.

"No. The little girl passed through underspace without getting lost. But her mother and a few others didn't. They're still inside and I don't know how to guide them out. Zeeky, however, somehow can hear them inside. She's my key to retrieving them. Once they return, I'll take their brains apart and discover the secret to getting inside."

Jandra struggled to control her limbs once more. In the fractional gravity she rose, lifting her chin, summoning the most defiant gaze she could manage.

"I w-won't let you hurt Zeeky," she said.

Jazz tilted her head back and laughed. "Nice," she said. "I like this side of you. The resistance. I haven't had a lot of challenges lately. It's been, what, three hundred years since I tracked down the last person who knew how to make gunpowder? Things have been a little dull since. I mean, I keep busy, but I need someone like you from time to time to keep me feeling human."

As Jazz spoke, Jandra mentally reached out to touch the nanite swarm surrounding the thousand-year-old woman. Slowly, the invisible dust settled on Jazz's skin, too faint to arouse her attention. Then, Jandra willed the machines to ignite and engulf Jazz in flame.

Nothing happened.

"Good try," said Jazz, walking over. She lifted her hand to brush the hair from Jandra's face. Jandra wanted to slap her fingers away, but found she once more had no control over her arms.

"That look in your eyes right now," Jazz said, looking deep into Jandra's eyes. Jazz's own eyes were shockingly human; dark blue verging on gray, the faint traces of crow's feet at the corners. There was nothing within her gaze to suggest her age or power. "I love it. Everyone else I've talked to in recent centuries just looks at me with awe, or terror. You've got higher emotions in your eyes. Sure, there's anger and fear. But I see curiosity as well. You want to know what I can teach you. I think you want to be my friend; you just don't know it yet."

Jandra's skin crawled as Jazz ran her fingers along the line of her jaw. She felt sickened by the fragrance Jazz wore: faintly floral, yet corrupted by the scent of tobacco.

"We're going to be best friends, Jandra Dragonsdaughter. You're so pretty, you're like a little doll. I'll dress you like I want to; we'll play games together. You'll always lose, of course. And you know what?"

Jandra couldn't answer. Even her tongue was no longer her own.

"One day," whispered Jazz, bringing her lips to Jandra's ear, her hot, dry breath stinking of ash. "One day love will be the only thing I see in your eyes."

Bitterwood had met the gaze of many dragons over the years. In his hatred of the beasts, he'd come to know them intimately. He could read the finest subtleties of thoughts that crossed the visage of a dragon as it lay dying: the futile hopes, the unrequited angers, the remorse over promises unkept, even the last faint flicker of peace as a beloved memory swept across a fading mind.

At this moment, however, looking into Hex's eyes, he experienced something he'd never felt before: camaraderie. Suddenly, in this strange and terrible paradise, the two blood enemies became the only ally the other could truly trust.

Hex gave a slight nod of his head. Bitterwood nodded back, his hand falling to the sword he'd taken from the long-wyrm rider, still tucked in his belt.

Hex lunged, his reptilian muscles uncoiling with the speed of a rattlesnake striking. With his powerful jaws he clamped down on the marble torso of the goddess, biting her hard enough to send cracks spiderwebbing through her body. He whipped the living statue around, slamming her head straight into the center of Gabriel's chest. The angel was knocked from his feet by the blow, landing on his back on the grass at the bottom of the steps.

Bitterwood leapt, raising the sword overhead with both hands, and then driving it down with his full weight into the angel's belly. To his relief, the sword penetrated the angel's flesh. Bitterwood's momentum drove the sword deep. The blade sank into the earth beneath the angel. Bitterwood sprang away before the angel could recover sufficiently to grab him.

Gabriel didn't look so much hurt by the attack as embarrassed to have been pinned like a bug. He grasped the hilt and started to withdraw the blade, when suddenly Hex struck again with the living marble, driving the ten foot statue down onto Gabriel's head like a hammer. The goddess shattered from the blow. Gabriel was suddenly obscured by dust.

Bitterwood spun around as the false Jandra leapt toward him. He caught her in mid air with an uppercut to her jaw that left his whole arm numb. Jandra was knocked back but seemed unfazed by the blow. Where he'd punched her, the flesh of her chin peeled away, revealing a steel jawbone beneath.

So. This, too, was a machine, just as Hezekiah had been.

He danced backwards as she charged him, swinging her feminine fists in rapid punches that would have killed him if they'd connected. Suddenly, she fell, tripped by something long and serpentine-Hex's tail! The false Jandra looked up as a shadow passed over her. Hex's open jaws shot toward her. Bitterwood cringed as the sun-dragon's jaws snapped and Jandra's body was suddenly headless. Sparks flew from the neck as Hex spit out the feminine head, the hair now wet with saliva and blood. Bitterwood could see that several of Hex's dagger-like teeth had snapped from their sockets. Bitterwood was familiar with the ache of freshly missing teeth, but he had no time to express sympathy for the dragon.

Suddenly, the jungle itself came to life. The tree branches jerked toward Hex, throwing out long lassos of vines. Hex snarled and kicked, leaping from the ground, his powerful wings beating. Bitterwood was nearly knocked over by the force of the wind.

Hex's attempt at flight proved futile. The vines continued to shoot from the trees, wrapping him in a net of green, dragging him down beneath their weight. Bitterwood turned to run, aiming his flight toward Zeeky. Adam and Trisky still stood frozen, no doubt in shock at seeing the goddess shattered to dust. Zeeky was only inches from Trisky's jaws; if Adam recovered, he could make things unpleasant.

Bitterwood reached out to scoop up Zeeky, wrapping his arm around her chest as he ran past. Yet, Zeeky was not to be scooped. She stood her ground and seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Bitterwood was thrown from his feet as his dash came to an abrupt halt. He skidded on the grass, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He rolled to his back as Zeeky came flying down from above, her small foot landing on his midsection with breathtaking force. He doubled over, unable to breathe, feeling as if her blow had pressed his bellybutton against his spine.