City of the Lost

24 It Begins…

Varia flew hard to pass over the militia’s forces toward Iyesta’s palace. Mingled with her sense of urgency and her fear for Linsha and Crucible was a feeling of relief and approval at the remarkable speed and fortitude with which the Legion and its companion forces had answered Linsha’s call. Once Varia and Azurale had convinced Lanther to listen and he recovered from his fury at Linsha’s secret departure, he and Falaius had rounded up every available man and woman, put weapons in their hands, and prepared to set out. Considering how tired and ill-equipped everyone was, Varia was pleased they would respond so well.

Even the Solamnics. The owl chuckled at that memory. When Sir Remmik informed Falaius that the Knights were not going to the rescue of an exiled renegade, she’d thought the plainsman was going to strike the Knight where he stood. Instead he informed the Solamnic commander in no uncertain terms that the Knights were no longer in their snug little castle and if they wished to remain in the Scorpion Wadi, they would do as he told them. Varia chuckled again. Linsha would appreciate that little tale.

A short while ago, she had brought Linsha’s word to Falaius, and now the remnants of the Solamnics, the Legion, the militia, the city watch, and the dragonguards marched the long eight miles from the Wadi toward the ruins of the Artisan’s District to attack Thunder’s forces from the north. If all went as planned, they would draw off enough Brutes and mercenaries to allow Linsha and Thunder to do their task.

While the militia made its move, Varia intended to find Leonidas and Phoulos.

By the position of the sun, two hours came and went without any sign of the militia. The day was growing murderously hot, and there was no wind to stir the heat. Dust and traces of smoke hung above the Missing City like a yellow veil. Crucible grew impatient. As the third hour wound toward its finish, he decided he would risk the attempt with or without Falaius’ forces. He rose from his bed of pine needles and was about to step out of the grove when his sharp ears heard war horns on the wind. They were somewhere to the north of the palace, he estimated, near the slave pens. Good. If Leonidas did his work, the penned slaves were close enough to the fighting to give some added trouble to Thunder’s guards. He heard the horns sound again, and his heart beat strongly. Those were not militia horns. They were the horns of the Brutes. There was nothing for it now. He had to go.

The bronze stretched his legs and folded his wings to his sides. His eyes narrowed, and his horns lay flat on his head. Focus on the rage within, his heart told him. Draw on the anger, the hatred, the frustration he had trapped within for months. Here was an outlet worthy of his fury: Thunder had killed Iyesta, his friend. Thunder had endangered Linsha. He held Iyesta’s eggs captive. The big blue was a menace to everything Iyesta had worked so hard to build.

Crucible felt hate stir the power within him. Like other dragons, he had had trouble creating magic spells the past few years. Only his innate powers like shapeshifting and his breath weapon had remained with him without difficulty. But now he did not have the luxury of experimenting with unpredictable magic. He needed the power and he wanted it quickly, so he fed his hate and anger and resentment into it until the magic seethed like a volcano ready to erupt.

Crucible charged from the trees. He galloped across the magnificent garden ruins to the road, wheeled on the old stone pavings and shot like a bronze arrow for the gateway into the palace courtyard.

No one saw him coming until he was nearly to the gate. Thunder and the warriors camped in the courtyard were standing on or around the walls looking to the north. Not until the bronze’s taloned claws and heavy footfalls pounded on the road by the courtyard did a few guards on the gate turn around and see him coming. They raised their swords and their voices to the garrison and died in a white-hot blast from Crucible’s mouth. Thunder whipped his head around and saw his enemy, his prized desire, coming directly to him.

He moved his heavy bulk toward the palace to head off the bronze, but the smaller Crucible had too much momentum. He jumped over the blue’s heavy tail and charged into the roofless throne room. Swift as light, he raced across the floor where Iyesta used to sleep and whipped down the broad stairs into her treasure room. A lightning blast exploded on the stairs behind him. He ignored it. He was moving too fast for Thunder to take good aim. His original plan had been to destroy the plug of stone and earth Thunder had used to block the entrance to the tunnels. But when he saw the gruesome pile of dragon skulls in the dim light of the treasure chamber, he skidded to a halt and stared at it in horror.

The creation of a dragon skull totem involved killing other dragons—as many as possible. It usually took years to collect enough skulls to activate the power of the pillar, because at least three or four dozen skulls were needed with the brains intact. It was not always easy to slay another dragon in such a manner that preserved the brain within the skull. From the look of Thunder’s totem, Crucible guessed he had been at it for many years, in spite of the edict passed down from Malys forbidding the continued slaying of more dragons. Considering the blue’s unpredictable and solitary nature and the emptiness of his realm, he must have had to work hard to collect as many skulls as he had.

But the skulls were not the worst part of the totem. Thunder had added a new element that Crucible had never imagined—the brass eggs. They lay carefully arranged between the white bones of the bare skulls in the growing pyramid of the totem, still intact and waiting for whatever vile spell Thunder had planned.

Crucible heard a roar of fury behind him that shook the walls of the palace. He hesitated no longer. He shot a beam of his breath weapon at the stone blocking the stairway down and, snatching up an egg in his mouth, he bolted for the hole that opened up before him.

Thunder pounded down the steps of the throne room. He saw Crucible steal the egg and his fury burned to blind rage. Lightning ripped from his jaws and caught the bronze on the back leg.

Crucible squealed with pain, but he did not drop the egg and he did not stop. He shot through the shattered opening and slithered down into the darkness of the labyrinth.

Like a blue avalanche, Thunder went after him. The hole blasted out of the stone plug was large enough for the smaller metallic dragon, but Thunder had to take a few minutes to rip huge chunks of rock out of his way before he could squeeze his larger body down the stairs. He did not wait for his guard to follow, nor did he try to call the Brutes. This was a battle between him and the bronze. He had killed already down in these tunnels, and he planned to kill again.

In the warm pale light of the egg chamber, Linsha paced back and forth in front of the mound where the eggs had once lain. She knew too much time had passed. She and Azurale had found the egg chamber without much difficulty, and after putting the lance out of sight in the shadow of Purestian’s withered corpse, they had settled down to wait. And wait, and wait.

Something had gone wrong. She knew it. The militia had not come, or Crucible was injured, or Thunder had killed the bronze and added his skull to his magic totem. Maybe the blue was already chanting the vile spell that activated the power of the accumulated skulls. She shuddered to think about it.

To take her mind off the anxiety—and the smell of the dead dragon—she picked up three small, rounded stones and tossed them casually into the air one by one. As they came down, she caught them in one hand, tossed them to the other, and flipped them up again, around and around and around until they flew in a continuous circle. She hadn’t done this in a long while, but the motions quickly became familiar again and felt good to her exhausted, overworked body.

Azurale, nervous himself, came to watch her. “Why are you doing that?” he asked.

“It’s an old trick my brother taught me,” she replied. “You have to concentrate to keep the rocks moving. It helps clear my mind.”

The centaur watched for a few more minutes then wandered over to the entrance of the cavern. He looked tiny in the huge opening, and he felt very anxious. He did not like any part of this. Suddenly he tensed, looked at the ground, put a hand to the wall and felt the same slight vibrations he had sensed through his hooves. He pounded back to Linsha.

“Something is coming!” he said in a loud whisper. “Something big!”

Startled, she dropped the rocks on her feet. With a muffled oath, she whirled around to listen. At first she heard nothing, then a sound—a rumble growing closer and a roar like an oncoming storm—echoed down the tunnels. Her eyes widened, her pulse quickened, and she broke into a run.

Azurale wasted no time following her. They sprinted around the high mound and crouched down beside the lance that lay behind the bones of the brass dragon. They were out of sight.

Linsha felt her heart in her throat. From the sounds coming up the tunnel, the two dragons sounded like they were very close together, which was not a good sign. She and Azurale needed time to get her on Crucible’s back and get the lance seated in the pommel before they had to face Thunder. Then there was no more time to think. With the sound of a tornado, Crucible burst into the cavern. He had a large, mottled globe in his mouth, and his eyes burned with an inner fire.

Linsha rose from behind the bones to get his attention. She saw him run to the mound and place the egg carefully on the warm sands, then he came toward her, favoring his back leg. She was horrified to see a long seared gash cut across the back of his hind leg.

He ran into the shadow cast by the dead dragon, and without a word he crouched to help Linsha crawl up his front leg to the saddle on his back.

As Azurale lifted her high to the dragon’s bent knee, the three heard a massive growl and a roar of rage that shook the chamber.

Thunder charged into the cave.