Starfinder

FIRE AND CLAWS

FOR A FULL DAY MORE Merceron carried the children north, following the river. After so long in the air, even Moth was tired of flying. He was sick of the river that seemed to lead nowhere. Lying flat against the saddle, pinned with Fiona between the ever-beating wings, Moth turned his face against the wind and saw the sun starting to go down. Fiona’s hands clutching the straps around Merceron’s neck were white-knuckled. Her red hair blew straight back from her head.

Merceron had promised them Taurnoken, but Moth’s hopes faded with the falling sun. How long could he hold on? How long could Lady Esme fly alongside them? He wanted to talk but couldn’t find the strength. He wanted to reach out and touch Fiona and tell her it would all be okay.

Four days, he realized.

That’s how long they’d been here. Less than a week since Leroux had died. Why did it seem so long ago? Why did it take forever for a dragon to fly back home? Moth closed his eyes, willing something—something good—to happen. That’s what they needed now.

“I see something.” Fiona lifted her face to peer past Merceron’s head. “Merceron, I see something!” she said again. “Is that it?”

Merceron’s giant wings fanned out into a glide. His body slackened with relief.

“Taurnoken,” he sighed.

Lemon-yellow spires reached into the clouds, splashed by the last of the sunlight. Moth saw aeries and balconies, giant stages big enough for airships. There were no streets, nothing at ground level but the river. There were only the towers, all of them dragon-sized, stitched together by gleaming bridges. Jutting platforms clung to their sides, the way thorns climbed up a rose bush. Great, open gaps lay between them for the dragons to soar.

But the sky was empty.

Fiona’s face scrunched. Underneath them, they felt Merceron’s body tighten. His wings beat with urgency again, speeding them faster. Lady Esme quickly fell behind.

“Merceron, wait for Esme!” shouted Moth.

Merceron paid no attention. The river splayed out beneath them, meandering past the towers, pooling in blue lakes. Merceron threaded past the first tower, then wheeled toward the heart of the city.

“Gone!”

His panicked tone made Moth shrivel.

“Merceron, slow down!” Fiona cried. “Esme can’t keep up!”

Merceron glided back toward Esme, gathering her close to his wings as he surveyed the city. Shadows grew over the darkening towers. Lifeless, abandoned homes gaped at them.

“Dreojen,” shuddered Merceron. “Dreojen!”

“Where is she, Merceron?” asked Moth. “Hiding?”

Overcome by the sight of his vacant city, Merceron pointed himself toward an enormous tower near the center of Taurnoken, a broad, silvery spire with bridges spreading out from it like branches, connecting it to all the smaller towers around it. A massive platform protruded from its entrance, overhanging the river a thousand feet below. Merceron nearly tackled the platform in his zeal to get down, spilling across its smooth surface. Lady Esme landed next to him, soft as a butterfly.

By now Fiona had become expert at undoing her buckles and hurried off Merceron’s back. Moth dropped down after her, amazed at the size of the tower. The platform led to a colossal archway, big enough for a dozen dragons to enter side by side. Beyond the archway waited a dim, canyon-sized hallway.

“Merceron, was this your home?” Fiona asked.

“In a way.” Merceron’s eyes widened with emotion. “This is my library.”

The wind whistled as it swam between the towers, but not another voice reached them, not a single blinking eye. The ebbing sunlight touched the arch, spilling into the empty hall.

Merceron didn’t ask the others to follow. He moved in a trance, awash in memories. Moth felt himself growing smaller as they passed under the arch. The bone-white ceiling soared overhead. Blades of sunlight pierced the crystal windows. Moth’s shuffling boots echoed through the emptiness, a hallway that spread out into endless other halls.

“This is the library?” asked Fiona. “Where are all the books?”

Merceron scanned the looming shelves in disbelief. “It’s all gone. Everything I ever learned, all our histories.” He pointed at a vacant bookcase. “Our poetries were there! Our maps, our kin books…”

Lady Esme fluttered up into the bare shelves, looking around with her sharp eyes. She gave a mournful call.

“Dreojen was here. They were all here when I left!” Merceron swept his tail around. “This whole place was alive!”

“The war,” said Fiona. “It must have been.”

“It was over!”

“Maybe it wasn’t over for the Skylords,” said Moth.

Merceron’s nostrils flared. “It’s Taurnoken,” he said. “They always hated Taurnoken. Too tall for them, too beautiful. Too much like their own city.”

“Like Calio,” said Fiona. “That’s what my grandfather says. He told me the Skylords would hate Calio if they ever saw how high it is.”

“It’s jealousy,” fumed Merceron. “Wicked, vile jealousy.”

He slumped, heartbroken. Moth remembered the Starfinder in his pocket. He looked up at Lady Esme, wondering what to do next.

“If they left here we can find them,” he said. “Right, Merceron? We can still find Dreojen and the other dragons.”

“Yes, maybe,” said Merceron. He nodded but wasn’t really listening. “I don’t know.”

He walked off, deeper into the hall. Moth headed after him, but Fiona grabbed his coat.

“No,” she whispered. “Leave him alone.”

The hall grew silent. Moth and Fiona explored the empty shelves. They watched the sun slip down the horizon. They tossed treats in the air for Esme to catch. They worried.

After an hour, they went looking for Merceron. The crystal windows beamed moonlight into shafts, lighting their way. Moth listened for Merceron, but all he could hear was the constant wind around and through the towers. The library yawned, gloomy and haunted. Moth peered back and realized they were lost.

“Where’s the archway?” he asked. “Did we turn?”

Fiona looked about, puzzled by the darkness and look-alike shelves. Esme sat obliviously on her shoulder, waiting for another treat.

“We’ll go back,” she said. “Merceron will find us.” They turned to retrace their steps, then saw movement at the end of the hall. A flash of wings made Moth grin.

“There you are!”

A ray of moonlight struck the figure as it stepped out from the shelves. Small, man-shaped, its black wings fluttered from its shoulders.

“Hello, little ones,” it called, its mouth shining with fangs.

Moth and Fiona backpedaled. Another creature stepped from the shelves.

“Pretty bird!” it hissed. “Delicious bird!”

Fiona snatched Esme into her arms. “Moth, what are they?”

Moth spun her around. “Run!”

A third beast dropped down in front of them. “Don’t go!” it laughed. “Let us see you!”

A dark robe, a silver chain—Moth noticed little else. The one before him hunched down, stalking toward Fiona. “I will take her hair!” it cackled. “Red hair for me!”

“I will have their coats and boots!” said another.

Fiona tossed Esme into the sky. “Esme, fly!” she shouted. Then, with all her lung-filled might she cried, “Merceron!”

The creatures chittered and laughed and made a ring around them. Moth balled up his fists.

“Get away!”

His bluster delighted the creatures. Moth searched for an opening. Black wings spread out to trap them. Moth drew back, hoping for at least one good shot. The closest creature hovered just out of range.

“Child,” it taunted, “soon you will be one of us.”

Moth held his breath, pushed Fiona behind him, then felt a rush of wind. A sudden howl rattled the crystal windows. Teeth bared, mouth aflame, Merceron came like a battering ram down the hall. Fiona cheered, Moth struck the creature hard in the face—and they ran.

Fire and claws raked the hall. Orange light blinded them. A fireball engulfed the creatures, incinerating two of them. The third leaped into the air. A reptilian arm hooked around it, slamming it to the ground. Merceron pinned it, his smoking snout pressing down upon its chest.

“Stop!” the creature pleaded. “Mighty dragon, mercy! Mercy!”

Flames lit the hall. The burnt remains of the creatures smoldered. Moth and Fiona got to their feet, huddling against the pillar. Merceron’s body shook with rage. The scales along his back glowed red. His massive jaws snapped open.

“No!” screamed the creature.

Moth couldn’t watch. Before he turned away, Merceron hissed, “Where are they?”

The winged creature trembled beneath him. “Gone!” it stammered. “Everyone!”

“Why?” demanded Merceron. “The Skylords?”

“No more Taurnoken. My Masters have said so!”

Merceron snorted fire. “Where have they gone?”

“I don’t know! I swear, Mighty One! We came for the children!” The thing twisted its head, looking straight at Moth. “That one has the Starfinder! We feel it!”

Merceron lifted the creature and dashed it hard against the wall. “The children are mine! Tell your masters!”

The thing spun back to its feet, spread wide its monstrous wings, and darted from the hall.

“Tell them!” Merceron roared after it. “Tell your masters Merceron is back!”

Moth looked breathlessly at Merceron. Until now, he’d never feared the dragon. He held Fiona, afraid to let go. Fiona clutched her chest, staring through the smoke and fire.

“Merceron?”

The dragon’s wrathful eyes scowled. “Redeemers,” he said. “They’ve found us.”