James Maxey: Dragonforge

"Shandrazel hasn't sent you here to do something dumb, has he? You're not here to kill Ragnar, are you?"

Jandra froze. Pet couldn't see her face though he was less than an arm's length away. Was there something in her tone that tipped him off? Or had war simply left him with a greater degree of caution than he'd once possessed?

"I told you I'm here to talk," she said.

"Good. Because you'd be dead in a heartbeat if you tried anything."

Jandra was incredulous. Pet couldn't possibly be threatening her, could he? "Why?" she asked, scornfully. "His God would strike me down?"

"No." Pet's open hand darted out. He clumsily struck her shoulder, rapidly ran his fingers down her arm to grab her bicep, and growled, "I would."

"Unhand me," she hissed. His grip was solid; his rough and jagged nails were piercing the sheer fabric that covered her arms. "Or I'll unhand you. You've seen what my powers can do to human flesh."

He relaxed his grip, but still held her. They stood, unmoving, for several long moments. Pet stared at where he knew her eyes must be. She turned her gaze away. At last, he released her.

"As long as we have an understanding," he said. "You can follow me."

Jandra dropped her invisibility as Pet led her into the house at the end of the street. She hoped Pet would take it as a sign of goodwill. Plus, it could prove useful not to have anyone else in the room know she could turn invisible.

The wooden house was modest and plain. The place felt claustrophobic compared to the abodes of sun-dragons or sky-dragons. They entered in a kitchen dominated by a large table built of roughly-finished pine, with stripes of black grime caked into its oily surface. A bushel basket of onions sat on the table and, from the smell, a fair number of the onions were rotting. Pet opened the kitchen door into a room with a fireplace. The heat washed over her in a wave.

Ragnar sat on a wooden chair by the fire. There was a woman sitting on his lap, her clothes in a state of disarray. The woman looked toward the door; her eyes were hard and indignant at the intrusion. A serpentine tattoo was faintly visible under the short dark hair that covered her scalp. A Sister of the Serpent? Jandra tensed. Shandrazel had said Pet was working with Blasphet.

Ragnar sneered as he caught sight of Jandra, his eyes wandering in disdain over her fine clothes and careful grooming. They had never been formally introduced. The last time he had seen her, in the Free City, she'd been disguised as a peasant.

"Who's this?" Ragnar demanded of Pet. "Why do you disturb my counsel with Shanna?"

"Sorry," said Pet. "This seems important. Apparently Shandrazel wants to talk."

"I'm Jandra Dragonsdaughter," Jandra said, with a respectful bow. "I'm here to speak for Shandrazel."

Ragnar's face slackened. He stared at Jandra as if she were a ghost. It wasn't the reaction Jandra expected. After an awkward moment of silence, she decided to proceed. "Shandrazel intends to take back Dragon Forge. Your most valuable weapon in the recent battle, your improved bows, will no longer have the element of surprise. The illness that swept his forces was a chance occurrence. You faced an army unfit to fight. When the dragons attempt to take this city again, you'll face certain death."

Ragnar didn't say anything in response to her words. He continued to stare, his expression unfathomable.

Mildly rattled by the possibility that Ragnar was, in fact, a madman, Jandra tried once more to appeal to reason. "There's still a chance that bloodshed can be avoided. I was at the Free City. I'm sympathetic to the cause of human liberty. Shandrazel, too, is a proponent of greater human freedom. Tell me your demands for the surrender of this city, and I'll carry them back to Shandrazel."

Ragnar's face took on a gray pallor as he looked down at the floor. He said, quietly, "I almost killed you as an infant, you know."

Jandra cocked her head, perplexed. Was this just insane babble?

"What?"

"When you were a baby. A sky-dragon killed all my family save one, my infant sister. Later, he attempted to return her to me. But I knew she'd already been corrupted. I tried to kill you. To this day, I'm not certain what saved you. One moment I held a rock, preparing to smash your skull. Then I was struck unconscious by an unseen enemy. When I woke, you were gone. I was never certain of your fate."

Jandra's forehead wrinkled in confusion as she stared at the nude man. His body was crisscrossed by a hundred scrapes and cuts, his hair hung around his face in tangles. There were clumps of horrible things in his beard that she didn't want identified. This was the leader of the rebels? He was so obviously insane, she couldn't believe anyone had ever listened to him.

"Wait a minute," Pet said. "Are you saying Jandra is your sister?"

"Once," said Ragnar. "Before the dragons stole her and infected her spirit. I've heard rumors over the years of a girl named Jandra being raised in the palace. She had the same name as my sister-I had blurted out her name to the dragon who'd stolen her. The powers attributed to the king's wizard, Vendevorex, were the same as those the sky-dragon displayed that night-command of fire and ice, and the power of invisibility. These are powers of the devil."

Jandra felt the hair rising on the back of her neck, at least where it wasn't clamped down by her genie. "My powers have nothing to do with the devil," she said defensively.

"Perhaps you believe this," Ragnar sighed. "I regret that I couldn't spare you such corruption, sister. The fact that you come here as a representative of dragons rather than standing for your own race is proof that you're beyond redemption."

Jandra felt like the room was spinning. Vendevorex had never told her of a brother-but, he'd never told her anything about her origins until she'd discovered it by chance. And the goddess had said an older brother had survived.

"She does kind of look like you," Shanna said, looking back and forth between the two. "Same color eyes. The lips are similar. The hair color's pretty close."

Jandra shuddered. She didn't look anything like Ragnar. Yes, they had a few superficial similarities, but it was impossible that she could be related to this brutish lunatic.

"If this is some kind of trick," she said, "it's not a very good one. Pet, what did you tell him about me?"

"I never mentioned you," said Pet.

"Can you prove this?" Jandra asked Ragnar. "Do you have any evidence that I'm your sister?"

"None," said Ragnar. "I lost everything that night. When I returned to the site of the fire, everything was burned, even the stones of the walls."

Jandra nodded. Vengeance of the Ancestors burned stone. How could he know this if he wasn't telling the truth?

"That night I made a vow to the Lord," said Ragnar. "I would never again cut my hair or wear clothes as long as dragons had the freedom to kill humans without consequence. I gave myself over as an instrument of God, allowing Him to guide me to this great day. Go and tell your master there will be no surrender. Tell them we will slaughter any dragon who comes near this place."

Jandra knew what Shandrazel would want if she went back with these terms. He would want Ragnar dead.

But what if Ragnar really was her brother?

She needed to get back outside, into the cool air. She needed time to think.

"I'll tell him," she said. "I should go."

"Wait," said Pet, grabbing her by the arm. "I want to come with you. I need to talk to Shandrazel."

"What?" she said. "Why? Shandrazel thinks you're a traitor. He'll kill you on sight."

"We both know you could protect me," he said.

"What can you possibly hope to accomplish?"

"I spent weeks listening to Shandrazel talk about his dreams for peace. I know what he wants more than anyone in this room. Make no mistake: I'm willing to die to keep Dragon Forge in the hands of humans. I'm not going there to compromise. But I think I know what I can say to him that will change his mind about retaking the city. If he believes half the words he's said, he'll listen to me."