City of the Lost

16 Dawn of Fire and Thunder

The great blue dragon hung over the city like a monstrous bird of prey, his wings outstretched to catch the rising heat from the fires that burned beneath. Lightning cracked from his jaws and struck a warehouse in the Port District, adding another fire to the growing inferno. The sound of thunder rolled over the streets and buildings. The dawn was calm with no wind yet from the sea, so the smoke from the fires rose in columns and slowly spread out in an ever-increasing canopy, blotting out the stars and casting a pall over the light of the coming sun.

“He’s going to bum the entire city!” one of the caretakers cried.

“I don’t think so,” Linsha said, staring spellbound at the city below. “What good is a scorched ruin? Look! He’s started fires in each district. I think he’s trying to distract the city’s defenders.”

They watched, appalled, while Thunder circled over the Missing City. Light from the fires glowed on his belly and under his wings, illuminating his shape in golden hues. He seemed satisfied with his handiwork, for he contented himself with spreading the paralyzing dragonfear among the people below and using his lightning breath weapon only to destroy the few brave attempts the militia made to stand up to him.

Linsha shook herself free of her dread and shock. She bolted into the house and grabbed her boots and the dagger. She would have to get a sword somewhere and some armor or a shield. Running outside again, she shouted, “Do you have horses here?”

The Legionnaires barely looked at her, so mortified were they by the burning fires in the city. “Lanther said to keep you here until he called for you.”

Linsha drew herself up to her full height and snarled, “Listen. You are members of his Order. I am not. I am a Knight of the Rose, and my place is down there.”

One of the Legionnaires silently pointed to a small barn beyond the garden.

Linsha followed his gesture to the stone outbuilding and found a small desert-bred horse within. The gelding tossed his head nervously when Linsha entered and would not hold still to be bridled. Linsha knew he sensed the dragon, but she did not have time to cajole him. She clamped his upper lip in a vise-like grip and shoved the bit between his teeth. She decided not to bother with a saddle. Springing bareback onto the horse, she kicked it out of the barn and down the road toward the city.

In the dimness the road was unfamiliar and treacherous. People were out in the streets, in front of their homes, or standing on the flat rooftops to see what was happening. Others already knew and frantically grabbed for any transportation they could find to flee the dragon and the fires. Someone ran in front of Linsha’s horse and tried to snatch at the bridle. Linsha rammed her heels into the terrified horse’s sides and forced the animal past the man and his flailing arms.

Shouts and screams filled the night, dogs barked, and a few fire bells rang frantically in the distance for help that could not come.

When she passed the city wall and entered the Garden Gate, she saw the guards trying desperately to push the people back from the gates. Someone had managed to get it unbolted, and a mob of panicked citizens pushed frantically to get out. Linsha worked her way to a small messenger’s gate where a militia soldier recognized her and let her in. She kicked her horse into a canter again and pressed on toward the center of the city.

The closer Linsha drew to the more inhabited districts the worse the chaos became. People crowded the roads, some trying to escape, some trying to reach the fires to help put them out before they spread out of control; some simply ran in a blind panic. Smoke settled among the houses and buildings, intensifying the darkness. The acrid air became difficult to breathe. It stung her lungs and nose, and its thick fumes brought tears to her eyes. She slowed her horse to a trot while she scanned the buildings, houses, and streets for some landmark that looked familiar in the lurid glow of the distant fires.

Linsha was well among the larger homes in the Garden District before she realized where she was and how to find her way to the Legion headquarters. Turning her mount east on a wide, open avenue she was about to urge it into a canter again, when she heard the recognizable sound of wind rushing over large and leathery wings. At the same instant a massive, paralyzing fear swept over her that was so horrendous, she threw her hands up to her head and screamed.

The horse went mad. It swerved to escape the hideous creature, and Linsha lost her balance. Her body slid off the horse’s slick back and fell hard on the stone-paved road. Pain lanced through her back and the half-healed injuries in her head. She curled into a ball and vomited on the paving. The dragon slid overhead, his massive body a half-seen nightmare in the clouds of smoke. He weaved his horned head from side to side while he stared down at the city beneath him. His malevolent eyes glowed red with his pleasure. He flapped his wings once and swept over Linsha’s place without seeing the Rose Knight curled on the ground. A heartbeat later, he had moved over another part of the city, and the worst of the dragonfear faded behind him.

Linsha lay still and panted. The aftertaste of sickness tainted her tongue. Her head pounded. Her back and shoulders protested the slightest move.

People ran by her. A few ran over her. She hurt so much she could not move. She could only breathe and lie still and hope no one tripped and fell on her. After a while she felt strong enough to draw her energy within her heart to ease her pain and convince her muscles to move. Her concentration gradually increased and the warm, healing power flowed through her. She accepted the fact long ago that she did not and never would have the skill for or the love of sorcery like her father and her brother, but thank the absent gods she had inherited enough of her father’s talent to bolster her own few skills. Under the gentle ministrations of her healing magic, the pain eased and her back muscles loosened and relaxed.

In time, she was able to sit up without the world spinning. She took several calming breaths and climbed to her feet. Her body felt sluggish, and her head was still heavy with pain, but the ground stayed where it was supposed to, and her stomach made no more nasty heaves. All she could do was ignore the discomfort and move on. She had to find Falaius and the Legion. They would not be hiding in a castle. They would be doing what needed to be done. She gritted her teeth and began to walk in the direction of the Port District.

The sun had lifted above the horizon and changed the deep night beneath the roof of smoke and dust to a sickly pallor, adding a yellowish patina to the city. With the dawn came the freshening wind from the sea. The rising breeze stirred the smoke and sent it swirling through the streets. It tattered the canopy of fumes, carrying shreds inland toward the plains. It also stirred the fires in the burning buildings.

Missing City was built mostly of stone, but there were enough trees, wooden rafters, furniture, thatch roofing, hay barns, shutters, and other burnable things that a fire could make good headway through the homes, shops, and warehouses of the city. Once it took hold, a fire was very difficult to control. Would Thunder value the city enough to stop one of his fires if it blew out of control?

Linsha tore a strip from her linen shirt and tied it over her nose and mouth. She forced her feet to move forward one after the other, and she found that the more she moved, the easier the movement became. Her bruised muscles and battered joints warmed to the effort. She headed toward the Mayor’s Hall in the center of the city with the plan to go on to Mirage and the Legion Headquarters if she could find no one there. More people crowded past her, their panic making them blind and thoughtless to everything but escape. She had to shove and beat her way through several mobs that streamed around her, threatening to carry her with them like floodwaters.

She grabbed one man who bled from several minor wounds to his head and shouted at him for information. From his uniform and weapons she took him for a soldier of the city watch, but he shook her off, threw his sword to the ground, and fled. Linsha picked up the sword. Short bladed and evenly balanced, it sat in her hand comfortably and gave her a small feeling of relief to be holding a weapon again. She pressed on deeper into the city.

Not far from the row of guild houses marking the edge of the Port District, Linsha was forced to stop to catch her breath. She leaned against a stone wall, the linen strip clamped over her mouth, and tried to catch some clean air from a gust that swept in from the sea. She knew where she was now, and it seemed to be the right way, but she sensed a large fire somewhere ahead of her. When the sea gust died, the smoke poured back over the streets, thick and hot and suffocating. She could hear a babble of voices strident with fear and anger and determination.

Then she heard something else—the clatter of hooves. They came from behind her, sharp and staccato, and something about them sounded familiar. She stood upright in time to see a centaur materialize out of the pall of smoke.

“Leonidas!” she yelled, leaping in his path.

The young stallion’s hooves slid on the slick paving stones in his effort to stop. He yanked his javelin out of her way and barely managed to keep his footing without banging into the stone wall.

“Lady Linsha!” he bellowed, swinging around to face her. “Do not do that to me!” And in the next breath, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” she countered. “Shouldn’t you be at the city defenses?” The centaur, she noticed, was sweating profusely and grimy with smoke and dirt.

He gave his equine body a shake, sending a cloud of dust and hair into the smoky air. “I was. But I have to find the Legion. Caphiathus sent me to tell Falaius. There are armed warriors marching on the city. From the west.” He spoke rapidly, in short bursts between gasps of air.

Linsha’s eyes closed, borne down by despair. A menacing fleet in the harbor, a dragon overhead, and now warriors approaching the city. There was not much point in hoping the massed troops were the forces of some ally coming to the rescue them. The city had no allies anywhere near.

“Can you tell whose troops they are?” she asked.

The centaur jigged sideways impatiently and said, “They carry blue flags with gold lightning bolts emblazoned on the centers. My uncle says they are the army of the dragonlord Thunder.” He cast a nervous eye skyward. “Lady, if you are in a hurry to go somewhere, don’t let me keep you.”

“Leonidas, I am going the same place you are, and I would really appreciate a ride,” Linsha replied.

A gust of wind sent a cloud of smoke billowing over them.

“He’s coming around again!” Leonidas cried.

“Down!” Linsha bellowed. “Get down!” To force her point, she grabbed Leonidas’s mane and threw all her weight backward to haul him off balance.

Taken by surprise by her unorthodox movement, he staggered sideways. Normally surefooted, he could have easily scrambled back to his feet, but the form of the dragon darkened the sky overhead and the dragon-induced terror spread before his shadow like a palpable wave. Leonidas collapsed to the ground, his human torso wrapped around Linsha’s, his horse body sprawled on the earth.

The ungainly position saved his life. Had he been upright and moving when the blue soared overhead, he would have been a target too tempting for the dragon to resist. Flattened on the ground, Thunder did not see him or Linsha through the swirls of smoke and ash. With a lazy flap of his massive wings, the dragon passed on to find other victims.

The dragonfear faded, leaving a sick taste in Linsha’s mouth. She raised her head and felt the pain come thundering back into her skull. Her head was taking a serious beating these days. Groaning, she lay back and waited for the centaur to move.

Leonidas heard her groan and, mortified, unwound his arms from her body and scrambled upright. “Lady!” he gasped, his brown eyes wide with embarrassment and shame. “Forgive me. I hurt you. The dragonfear… I didn’t…” His voice faltered to a stop.

She offered him a feeble grin from her place in the dirt. “It wasn’t you. Without you, I might have been caught moving in the open. There is no one, not even my inestimable brother the dragonmage, who is immune to dragonfear.”

Leonidas helped her up and, because he liked and respected her, allowed his fear and his bruised dignity to be soothed. He carefully helped her onto his back and moved out in a gentle trot toward the city center.

“The last we heard, Falaius set up a temporary headquarters at the city hall where he could stay in touch with the watch, the militia, and the Legion,” he told Linsha. “Uncle said to look for him there.”

Linsha sat quietly on his back for a few minutes then smiled. “Leonidas, it’s all right. Just because my head hurts, it won’t crack. You can go faster.”

The centaur cast a worried look back at her, but he took her at her word and shifted his trot into a fast canter.

In less time than Linsha had taken to reach the edge of the Garden District, Leonidas carried her through the streets to the town square where most of the city offices and guild halls were located. They found the buildings and the square itself untouched by the dragon. In the shade of an ancient yew on the green, they found Falaius surrounded by a circle of heavily armed Legionnaires while he issued orders. The spot around the Legion commander was the only quiet place in the square. The rest of the open space was a scene of disorder and uproar as people ran heedlessly by, teams of horses pulled wagons loaded with families and belongings or merchants’ wares along streets already overcrowded with pedestrians and pack animals. Soldiers tried to form ranks to march out, while members of the beleaguered city watch tried to keep some sort of order.

“Lord Falaius!” Leonidas shouted over the raised voices of other messengers who were also trying to reach the new city commander to pass on messages of the utmost importance. He pushed through the crowd right up to the ring of armed Legionnaires and shouted again. “I bring word from Caphiathus!”

His words reached Falaius, and with a gesture to his bodyguards, the commander waved the centaur into the circle.

Linsha stayed where she was on the centaur’s warm back, and as they approached the big Plainsman, she wondered for the first time what her reception would be. She was an exiled Knight accused of murder, a representative of an order that was doing precious little to help. As far as she knew, only Lanther knew the details of her trial and escape, and Lanther was not there. She hadn’t had time to talk to Falaius.

But she needn’t have worried. The Legion commander greeted her with a weary grin and welcomed both of them into the circle of officers.

“Lady Linsha, you are not unexpected,” the Plainsman said. “Although you may wish you had stayed in the Citadel’s dungeon. You would probably be safer there.”

She grimaced at the memory of the framework she had seen in the starlight. “No, sir, I’d probably be swinging on the gibbet by now. Lord Remmik wouldn’t let a small thing like a dragon distract him from his duty.”

“Then where is he now?” one of the militia officers snapped. “Where are the Knights of Solamnia? Why won’t they come forth and help us?”

“Lord Remmik probably feels he is doing his duty by staying in the castle.” Falaius replied. “He is keeping his beloved garrison safe.”

An astute observation, Linsha thought, from a man who would find Sir Remmik’s way of thinking totally foreign. Falaius had been commander of the Legion cell in the Missing City since its founding, and while he worked hard to keep his members safe, not once had he considered sequestering them “safely” in a fortress. That was not the way of the Legion.

She felt Leonidas shift from hoof to hoof and realized she had distracted the commander long enough. “Don’t be polite,” she told the centaur. “Tell him.”

Falaius turned to the centaur. “Forgive me. What is the news from Caphiathus?”

The young stallion stiffened to attention. “Several large troops have been seen approaching the city from the west. They are flying the colors of the blue dragon.”

A sharp outburst of curses and exclamations broke from the officers around the commander, but while Falaius remained quiet, his weathered face sagged and seemed to grow more haggard.

Then there was time for nothing more.

The blue dragon Thunder appeared suddenly out of the smoke and ash and settled his great bulk in the space of the square. Screaming in terror, people tried to get out of his way but there was not much warning and not much space between the buildings. Several dozen men, women, and children were crushed beneath his great weight, and many more were brought down by the sweeping of his massive tail. Without warning he belched a great gout of lightning that burst like a fireball in the top of the ancient yew tree.

The tree exploded, sending deadly splinters into the nearby warriors. What was left of the grand tree burst into flame.

The blast blew Linsha off the centaur and sent the buckskin staggering backward. Something slammed into her, and once again Linsha found herself on her back, aching and breathless. She felt her heart drumming with the terror of the dragon, but stronger still was a frantic concern for Leonidas and Falaius. She forced open her eyes and saw the burning tree. Voices screamed and wailed around her.

“People of the Missing City!” Thunder bellowed in his granite voice. “Surrender to me now, or I will unleash the fury of my armies!”

A heavy weight pinned Linsha to the ground. She managed to raise her head in spite of the pain it cost her and saw a body in the uniform of the city watch facedown across her stomach and hips, effectively weighing her down. The head was turned away from her, so she could not see who it was, and something warm and wet seemed to be soaking into her clothes. She stirred to try to get him off her, but his body had the heavy, collapsed feel of a corpse. Tilting her head further, she looked at the dragon crouched over the bloody square, his hideous horned head weaving back and forth. She felt his gaze sweep the green, and she remembered the look in his eyes when he saw her for the first time on Iyesta’s back. She had an urgent desire not be seen by the monster. Her head dropped back to the grass, and she tried to press her body down into the earth beneath the dead man.

“In the name of our Dragonlord Iyesta,” she heard Falaius shout, “we will never surrender this city to her murderer!”

The commander’s voice rang rich and deep as a bell across the sounds of terror in the square. The dragon lifted his head. His wings rose and spread like a blue shroud.

“You heard him, General,” Thunder said. “You may release your men.”

Surprised, Linsha looked up again. She saw someone she hadn’t noticed before—a figure seated on the dragon’s back between the wings. A man, perhaps. His skin was blue and a mask of gold hid his features. He carried only a great round shield and a huge ram’s horn. A man. Thunder allowed a man to ride him. Linsha could hardly take in the significance.

At the dragon’s words, the warrior lifted the horn to his lips and blew a great blast of sound that soared over the city. Twice he blew the horn, and at the end of the second blast Linsha heard a reply echoing from the bay.

Thunder’s wings swept down and the dragon sprang into the smoke-poisoned air, carrying his passenger with him. He paid no more attention to the ruin in the square. Rising above the buildings, he angled eastward and flew over the harbor.

“We’re in for it now,” Linsha muttered to the dead man on her hips.