Dragon's Son, page 8
Amarea, already well out of the way, shrank further against the doorframe in an instinctual attempt to clear the path.
Dragon slayers rushed about the courtyard and the walls above. For the first time in her life, Amarea saw the two ballistas in use. A dragon slayer stood beside each of them, aiming their respective machines as they waited for the right moment. They had brought down one dragon. Amarea had seen it drop. Throughout the city, other ballista shooters would be active, as well.
Yet the sky was full of dragons. Amarea could not see past the walls, but merely by looking upward, she counted sometimes eight at a time.
“Princess!” Lord Fabius had spied her.
Amarea started, realizing at last how stupid she was being.
Lord Fabius barked orders. A dragon slayer came running at her.
Amarea braced herself to be bundled away.
“Look out!” someone screamed.
A stream of fire bathed the courtyard.
The princess shrieked and fell onto the marble floor, covering her face as heat radiated through the doorway. She heard an explosion. The palace quaked. Looking out into the courtyard again, she saw a shower of broken stone raining down on the men.
Midway up the steps, the dragon slayer who had run to escort her buckled beneath the wreckage.
Amarea yelped and ran for him, dust filling her eyes and nose. Frantic, she pulled at the rubble.
A dragon slayer seized her by the waist.
“Look out!” another shout rang.
A dragon appeared overhead, spiraling as it flew. It was massive, probably a hundred feet in total length. Amarea had heard the slayers describe the little ones as children. This beast was surely an adult.
Its tail struck the front of the palace, causing another barrage of crumbling rock.
The slayer flung Amarea ruthlessly up the marble steps. Ramming her shoulder and knee, she nevertheless landed inches clear of the deluge.
Wails of pain filled the courtyard.
Amarea crawled further into the palace, hand weakly shielding her eyes from the new cloud of dust.
A moan sounded from behind.
“Slayer!” Amarea cried. Still on all fours, she went back, patting the steps, her conscience arguing whether it was better to get out of the way or rescue the second man who had tried to save her. The dust had yet to recede. Amarea touched what felt like dragon scale armor. “Slayer!”
The man gulped and endeavored to speak, but managed no words.
Amarea ran her hands over him, hunting for the bricks that pinned him down. The dust began lifting, and she could vaguely see him. He was on his back, pinned from the waist down by debris, as was his left arm.
Amarea dug, insides shaking.
A hand hooked under her arm and pulled her up.
“Get inside!” Lord Fabius ordered.
“No, the slayer!” Amarea screeched, flailing.
A blast of wind knocked them both off their feet. Amarea choked, rubbing her eyes. She heard a loud laugh.
The next thing she saw was the large dragon smashing the ballistas.
What had occurred to distract the operators, Amarea had not witnessed. Someone must have tried to shoot, for one machine was being reloaded when the dragon’s tail came swinging down. The other machine was similarly crushed.
“Take cover!” Fabius shouted at his men. “Princess, get inside, now!”
The dragon plunged toward the courtyard.
Amarea felt its gaze fasten upon her.
Fire spewed from its roaring mouth.
Screaming, the princess threw her arms over her head, pitching forward.
She thought initially she was dreaming when she found herself caught in Alexis’s arms. In the next instant, she was on her back. A shadow fell over her as her husband vanished. A second adult dragon stood above her. Its deeper roar rippled through the air and through her bones.
The shadow lifted as the new dragon launched into the sky.
Fire exploded. The new dragon smashed into the first and sent it somersaulting backward. Shrieking, the first dragon swooped low and then up again, breathing fire.
The new dragon slammed into it again, biting its wings.
The first dragon whipped the second with its tail.
Amarea stared at the battle, still off her feet.
Lord Fabius gaped beside her.
The first dragon squawked and flapped backward before twisting upright and retreating. The new dragon pursued, roaring and climbing steadily higher.
Fabius ran to ascend the wall.
Amarea followed.
The first dragon was already a vague shape on the horizon. Amarea pressed a hand to her stomach when she saw the vast flock of little dragons following their leader. Dozens. Unimar had been battling dozens. Amidst the streets burned countless fires.
Alighting upon a tower, Alexis coiled his tail around the length and let out a final, victorious roar.
Alexis
Alexis clung to the tower and let his voice carry far through the Beotian air. His insides burned as his heart pumped searing blood. He roared, and Villian and the others vanished like birds on the horizon.
When they were gone, Alexis vaulted backward, catching the wind with a stroke of his wings, and soared toward the palace.
Landing in the courtyard, he shivered and shrank.
The effects of transformation caught him off guard. He swayed like a drunk and plopped down on his backside. He stayed there for a moment, letting his senses recover, and then got to his feet and remembered he did not have a sword.
Amarea was absent. The slayers did not advance, but some had leveled their crossbows at him. They were masked, but their eyes blazed with incredulity and horror.
Alexis’s gaze slid over the armed men. The slayers kept frozen, not looking even at one another. Alexis—his vision was so keen now!—detected they were trembling, and that their hands gripped their weapons.
The gates opened.
To the prince’s shock, the king staggered in, surrounded by more dragon slayers. Most already had their weapons drawn and were looking around for the dragon they had seen descend. King Pereas fastened his eyes on his son. Dread filled his face.
One of the king’s dragon slayers aimed his crossbow at the prince and growled, “At your command, my king.”
“Stand down!” Pereas wheezed. He took a shaky step forward and met Alexis’s gaze, silently begging him to deny his fear.
Alexis stared solemnly.
Pereas’s knees buckled.
A few slayers sprang to catch him.
Sprinting to his side, Alexis held him up, his sudden approach frightening the others off.
The king reached feebly for Alexis’s face, then grimaced and looked at his own torso. The dragon scale armor was unbroken, but unlike steel plate, the flexible corselets did not prevent broken bones. Alexis knew that as well as or better than anyone.
Pereas fainted clean away.
“Blind fools!” Alexis snarled. “Do you not see he is wounded?”
Sebastian materialized from the growing crowd of sweaty soldiers and grabbed the king from the other side.
“Get him to the infirmary!” Alexis hissed.
“Your Highness,” Sebastian panted with a nod. He beckoned. Alexis’s place was taken by a dragon slayer.
“Scour the city,” Alexis ordered the nearest captain. “Find the wounded, bury the dead. Put out fires and repair damage.”
“Your Highness.” The captain yanked off his dragon skin mask and shouted at his company to follow him.
“The rest of you,” Alexis snapped, “stop gaping and make yourself useful to that man. We’ve a war on our hands.”
Amarea
The doors of the council room opened, and Alexis strode inside.
Amarea did not occupy her usual seat. Today, she had discovered a sorry flaw in its placement. Up against the wall, she could not examine all the lords’ faces. Amarea would miss nothing today. She needed to see them all, every expression, every hint of hidden sentiment.
She stood behind the king’s empty throne and silently defied anyone to object. She had washed the dust from her face and arms and shaken it from her hair, but her raiment was torn and dirty. Her mantle, she had given away to be ripped into bandages.
She knew Alexis noted her by the surprise in his eyes. His eyes seemed different now that he was a dragon, but why that should be, Amarea could not detect. He glanced at her twice.
Amarea felt herself bursting with desperate questions.
Sebastian entered last and quietly took his seat with the lords.
Alexis remained unseated, standing in the midst of the circle.
“My lords,” he began, “I am a dragon.”
No one argued.
“I did not deceive you, for I was not a dragon before. A change has taken me. My brother, Prince Villian, who few could surely forget, has returned to exact vengeance for the humiliation he received at our hands seven years ago. I revealed him to our father and stopped him from murdering our father. He then fled. He was a dragon long before that.”
“We are not sure what is to be done with you, my lord prince, if I may speak boldly.” Lord Scipio was the man who spoke, the winter-headed man with the dragon slayer son. His voice held no malice, but his words were plain. “You are a dragon. Would Beotia’s prince care to suggest what he himself would do if a dragon was found amongst us?”
“That is a dangerous simplification,” Sebastian growled. “The dragon we have found is the crown prince. And without him, the city would still be burning.”
“I will not subject myself to trial or execution,” Alexis stated flatly. “You need no more proof of my loyalty than what you witnessed today. I may be a dragon, but I am still Beotia’s servant. Defy me, and Beotia will fall. You have seen firsthand what has plagued the north for weeks. Villian has an army—an unheard-of coalition of black dragons. You beheld today the destruction such a union can wreak. We must unite, and lords of Beotia, I will lead you.”
“The army will follow you,” Sebastian announced. He sat erect in his chair and scanned a narrow gaze over the lords. “They will fight to the death for their prince. They will serve no other leader.”
Amarea stepped forward, unable to stop herself. “The people know who their hero is,” she declared. “They, too, will follow no other. You are our prince, Alexis, by decree of the king!”
“Let all who disagree speak their names,” Alexis suggested.
“I will not stand for it!” Lord Honorius exclaimed, rising. He shot expectant looks at his fellow lords.
A few glances were exchanged, but his fellows stayed seated.
Alexis turned. “Treason?”
“Defy the king?” Sebastian challenged.
“Say it again,” Amarea dared.
Alexis jerked his chin. “Arrest him.”
Sebastian and a few others stood.
“This is not the time for squabbles,” Alexis said. “Beotia has a war to fight.”
Part Four
Alexis
Alexis sat quietly on the edge of the bed as Amarea read the journal. His gaze flitted over her face now and then, trying to measure her reaction. It was a little embarrassing, letting her read it, though in his heart he’d always desired her to do so. He rather wished he had not addressed it to her; it seemed a trifle mawkish, now.
Amarea closed the book and lowered it into her lap. She sat in the desk chair. They had spent a long day deflecting explanations and redirecting attention toward the king’s condition and the city’s repairs and had escaped at last to the solitude of Alexis’s chamber.
Tomorrow, such delays would be futile. The council would demand answers.
Amarea stared at the green binding and said nothing.
“I should have told you earlier, I suppose,” Alexis faltered, “but it isn’t the sort of thing one tells people, and I didn’t know you, after all.”
“And I didn’t know you,” Amarea said. She looked up at him. “I’m glad to be putting an end to that. People always whispered that your mother was a dragon. Your father seemed too wise to be beguiled by one. I thought it was a jealous rumor.”
“Hardly that. My brother did a fair job hiding what he was, but in the end, dragons are dragons.”
“But you’re not like the rest of them.”
“Not yet,” Alexis conceded, “but I’m not sure how long I have before I am.”
Amarea opened her mouth to protest, but Alexis held up a hand and shook his head. He should not have mentioned that and did not wish Amarea to think or speak of it.
Amarea gave a small sigh and looked down at the journal again. “You write well.”
“Better than I talk, I’m afraid.”
“You wanted to secure my loyalty. I understand. It hurts, though. I was just a tool to you; one of many parts in your plan for power.”
“I’ve always wanted you to be more than that.” Alexis flushed at his unexpected confession but decided he did not regret it. He kept his gaze on her, trying to determine how unhappy she was.
“Did you? I hope so. I think I discovered I’d forgiven you when the doctor discovered you had dragon blood. I realized then…perhaps it is odd of me, but it helped to know that I was not the only one you had deceived. You had secrets that were deeper than the false affection you wrote to me.”
Alexis grinned. “And that made you forgive me? Strange girl.”
She was so beautiful. She was smiling at him with open fondness and curiosity.
Alexis leaned forward to kiss her.
He froze, lips barely touching hers.
“Go to bed, Amarea,” Alexis whispered.
Amarea frowned at him, confused.
Alexis drew back and turned away. “Go to bed. I will see you when day comes.”
Understanding flooded the princess’s face. Her expression hardened. “I will not be parted from you, Alexis. I will not leave you!”
Alexis rose and crossed the floor, opening the door that connected his bedroom to hers. “Leave now.”
Choking, Amarea stared at him. Then she stood and obeyed, shoulders slumped, head bowed.
Alexis shut the door.
Before he could dissuade himself, he fetched the key and locked Amarea out.
Amarea
My beloved husband,
I feel as though I am writing to you for the first time. Unlike yourself, I meant every word of the letters I sent you before, but it is different now that I’ve met you. You are nothing like you portrayed yourself to be. One might question the prudence of teaching one’s wife to love a man other than oneself, but perhaps the gods are at work again, because I miss you.
Is that not curious? It is not your false persona I miss, but you yourself. You seemed rather unreal to me when you first arrived, but after reading your journal, it is stranger to have you gone than it is to have you home. I find myself reinterpreting everything. I suppose I do forgive easily, but having since reflected on your behavior, as well as what you’ve written about yourself in the journal, I suspect easy forgiveness will serve me well in our future.
I do not wish to be grateful for the crisis that has taken you from my side. For one day, I felt we had finally seen one another honestly, and now you have departed for the north once again. Yet without Villian’s appearance and your transformation into a dragon, how long would reconciliation have been delayed?
You must allow me to be sentimental, for I am bursting. When I think back on your speech to the people, my heart swells. For a man as reticent as yourself, you can talk like none other when you choose to. You described how it happened, how, as you lay dying with Villian’s taunts burning in your ears, you were taken with a rush of patriotic fury and shed your cherished humanity and became the monster you never wished to be. You are no monster to me, Alexis, and you are no monster to the people. They love you. I love you, and we all wept. But then, you gave us hope. You promised us that, as surely as your patriotism transformed you into a dragon, it would transform you back into a man when Villian was dead. I have never heard such applause as thundered out then, and the city’s joy has not ceased. Twice, I have gone into the streets, and both times, my litter was thronged and escorted with the shout, “Glory to the prince!”
I see the wisdom in going to extremes to set the lords at their ease, but was it truly necessary not to kiss me goodbye? You said farewell with a bow, a word, and a look. You promised the lords that so long as dragon blood burns in your veins, you would not so much as touch my hand. I should not have tolerated such a parting. I should have thrown my arms around you and kissed you goodbye myself! I am too much of a child, trained to obey. I gave no oath to the lords. I am your wife, and you are as much mine as I am yours.
Write to me, Alexis. Let me hear from your heart. Tell me your true feelings, not lies. Tell me what you are doing. Tell me anything, but let me hear from you.
—Amarea, who waits for you in Unimar
Alexis
It was the second time in a month that Alexis had traveled to the north, but his duties had never taken him higher than the foot of the mountains. Thus, he had never visited Fort Gaius, but he knew what to expect.
The mountain fort had been built almost three centuries ago and was the embodiment of Beotian development. Nestled brazenly in dragon territory, it was the home of the northern dragon slayers; designed for survival and equipped to kill. Its layout was similar to any Beotian fort, but interspersed among the streets were tall towers, each topped with a powerful ballista. The walls, too, were lined with ballistas, and manned day and night. The walls and street towers were fifty feet high, but no wall, no matter how high, could keep out a dragon, and this had never been the builders’ hope. The height of the walls and towers had been carefully calculated. A dragon could not breathe fire over an infinite distance. To reach the men on the ground, a dragon would have to descend within range of the wall and tower shooters, and any dragon who’d ever done so had been shot, skinned, and turned into useful things such as dragon scale armor or heat-resistant gloves. Even at night, a dragon could not evade the shooters, for the mountain stars shone brightly; and if the clouds were heavy, the slayers would light several of their own towers as beacons. Also, there was what the Beotians called the Bed of Fire. Upon every rooftop—from headquarters to the smallest storage shack—were braziers. When a dragon attacked on a cloudy night, these braziers were lit, and any dragon descending past the towers became sharply outlined—an easy target for the shooters watching from above.
