Dragonseed_ A Novel Of Dragon Age Part 3

Vulpine motioned with his head, inviting Balikan to follow his gaze. Dragon Forge wasn't a large town. The fortress was diamond-shaped, encompa.s.sing roughly one square mile of earth. Save for a few broad avenues, the interior of the fortress was cramped with buildings built on top of buildings, so that one dragon's floor was another dragon's roof. Three smokestacks dominated the skyline of Dragon Forge, belching plumes of ash high into the sky.

Outside of the walls there were hundreds of heaps of rusting metal dotting the low red hills, the raw material of the foundries. Amid these heaps were hovels where gleaners lived, among the poorest humans in the kingdom.

Threading through these heaps were four major roads. All were busy with traffic. In the absence of dragons, humans throughout the kingdom rushed to Dragon Forge. Some of this traffic, though, wasn't here for the rebellion. Mule trains hauling wagon loads of coal wound along the western road. They cared little who brought their wares, be it human or dragon.

Along the southern side of Dragon Forge there was a river; a ca.n.a.l had been dug long ago to divert water into the city, where a water wheel powered the bellows that fanned the foundries. The water also served to flush the gutters and sewers of the town-crude but effective sanitation. In addition to this water, Vulpine could see a large well at the center of town. The rebels wouldn't perish from thirst. "With the right eyes, you can see the city as a heart. The roads and rivers serve as arteries and veins, carrying in the lifeblood, carting off the waste. Choke off the roads and the city dies."

"But by now the rebels will have been stocking up on supplies. They could hold out for weeks, or months."

"And is the world suddenly in short supply of weeks and months?" asked Vulpine.

Balikan clamped his mouth shut, looking properly chastised.

"In any case, I don't think they will hold out for months," said Vulpine. "Humans lack the capacity for long term planning we sky-dragons possess. Presented with a blockade, with food and resources dwindling, they will likely turn on themselves in short order, especially once plague breaks out."

"If plague breaks out," said Balikan. "I must admit, it looks as if they are doing a fair job of keeping the town clean." plague breaks out," said Balikan. "I must admit, it looks as if they are doing a fair job of keeping the town clean."

"This need not be something left to chance," said Vulpine. "Let's pay a visit to the Nest. It's only thirty miles away and a few dozen valkyries can easily blockade the western road and cut off the coal supply. The valkyrie engineers can also block off the ca.n.a.l feeding water into the town. After that, we'll follow the Forge Road back to the Palace to confer with Chapelion and get the authority to gather all the elements I need to truly solve this problem."

"We are slavecatchers, not soldiers."

"After I tell him his books are in the fort," said Vulpine, "he'll give me every last soldier in the kingdom."

CHAPTER FOUR:.

PHANTOMS.

SHAY TOOK A sip of the steaming sa.s.safras tea. The licorice bite of it opened up his sinuses, clearing his ears so he could better hear Burke as he whispered to Anza. It wasn't Shay's intention to eavesdrop, but over the years he'd grown sensitive to hushed conversations. All the politics and intrigues that swirled around a dragon of Chapelion's station unfolded in whispers and nods. Thus, though he sat on a wooden stool by the fireplace across the loft from Burke and his daughter, he heard Burke's words as clearly as if he was standing between them. sip of the steaming sa.s.safras tea. The licorice bite of it opened up his sinuses, clearing his ears so he could better hear Burke as he whispered to Anza. It wasn't Shay's intention to eavesdrop, but over the years he'd grown sensitive to hushed conversations. All the politics and intrigues that swirled around a dragon of Chapelion's station unfolded in whispers and nods. Thus, though he sat on a wooden stool by the fireplace across the loft from Burke and his daughter, he heard Burke's words as clearly as if he was standing between them.

"We had several groups of refugees report that the earth-dragons are raiding human villages." Burke slipped her a sheet of folded parchment. "It's only a matter of time before they strike the tavern. Take this to Th.o.r.n.y. There are tools in the hidden room I need, and my notebooks would also be useful. Have him bring them to me."

Anza scowled and made a hand gesture that Shay didn't understand.

Burke gave a weary shrug. "Th.o.r.n.y will just have to sober up. I need you to stay with Jandra and Shay. If anything happens to either of them, make sure their guns don't fall into the possession of dragons."

Anza's scowl faded.

"Th.o.r.n.y won't be coming alone. Tell the villagers it's time to join me here in Dragon Forge."

Anza nodded, looking serious. Shay found himself intrigued by the tall, dark-skinned woman dressed in black buckskins. He'd yet to hear Anza say a word. Ordinarily, he would have a.s.sumed she was deaf, or perhaps an imbecile. Yet she followed Burke's whispers easily enough, and she carried herself with an air that hinted of great intelligence.

Jandra sat cross-legged by the fire with Lizard in her lap. Lizard had numerous cuts and sc.r.a.pes. She spoke to him in a soothing patter as she cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Shay knew Jandra by reputation-she was the human girl who'd been raised by the sky-dragon wizard Vendevorex. He a.s.sumed she'd been the dragon's pet. In general, slaves and pets despised one another. Both were legally the property of dragons, but slaves were regarded as little more than domestic animals, useful for certain labors, while pets were pampered and treated as children.

Having grown up as the pet of a wizard, it was said that Jandra had acquired supernatural powers. He'd heard she could turn invisible, and set things on fire by staring at them. Shay wondered if it was true. Chapelion had been a strict rationalist, dismissive of supernatural forces. Shay, however, had seen proof that magic had once been a powerful force in ages past. He was certain that Chapelion was too quick to ignore evidence of things beyond his understanding.

Jandra was currently eluding his understanding. She looked human enough, yet there was something unmistakably alien about her. Perhaps it was her voice; her words had an odd inflection, an accent that made her sound more dragon than human. There was also a strange quality to her posture, the way she carried herself. Most humans tended to keep their gazes toward the ground and walked with their shoulders slouched. Jandra had the unnerving habit of looking straight at people like Burke and Ragnar when she spoke, even though they were obviously her superiors. Finally, her fussing over the dragon child struck him as wrong on some fundamental level, that a human should be displaying such motherly behavior toward a creature covered with scales.

Jandra cradled Lizard in her arms and scratched him beneath his chin. The little dragon's eyes rolled up in his head and he made a soft humming noise.

"He doesn't need all that attention, you know," said Shay.

Jandra looked up. "What?"

"It's a waste to give him so much affection," Shay repeated. "Earth-dragon children are never coddled or cared for. They're regarded as little more than parasites by adult earth-dragons. They live like rats after they hatch, hiding in walls, eating sc.r.a.ps and bugs and their smaller siblings. They absorb the dragon language by spying. Earth-dragons raise themselves until they're old enough to hold a tool or a weapon, at which point they're put to work and treated like any other member of the horde. They don't get any mothering in their natural upbringing. They aren't even clear on what the concept of a mother is."

Jandra looked annoyed by his argument. "He's not a rat," she said. "He's an intelligent being who can talk."

"It's probably nothing more than imitation," said Shay. "I'd guess he's as smart as a parrot."

"If a parrot were injured, I'd treat his wounds too," said Jandra.

"Good boss," cooed Lizard, reaching up and stroking Jandra's cheek.

Shay turned away, shaking his head. He discovered their fourth companion climbing up through the trap door. This was Vance, a young man roughly his own age, with a wispy blond beard and close-cropped hair that looked as if it had been trimmed with a dull razor. Vance was dressed in the modest clothes of a farm boy; a simple brown wool coat and patched-up cotton britches tucked into boots badly in need of new soles. The only thing new in his possession was his bow-one of the now famous sky-wall bows, forged from steel, strung with wire, the tension tamed by a set of cams at each tip of the bow. Vance was short, barely five feet tall. A series of small white scars on his brow and around his lips, plus calluses covering his knuckles, gave Shay the impression that Vance was someone who'd survived many a tussle.

"Howdy, Shay," Vance said, with a nod in his direction. They'd met earlier at the eastern gate. Vance had been the guard who'd allowed Shay's pa.s.sage into Dragon Forge.

Shay raised his hand in greeting. "I've heard that you're going to be our bodyguard. They say you're good with that bow."

"I'm not anybody's bodyguard if Anza's around," Vance said with a soft grin. He stepped close to Shay, and glanced nervously back toward Burke. He cleared his throat, and said, in a whisper, "I heard tell you came here with books. They say you wanted to teach people to read."

"Ragnar didn't approve of this plan, I'm afraid."

"Well, um..." Vance said, his voice growing even softer as he leaned in closer. "I've got a good head on my shoulders, but I don't have no formal learnin'. I did my part up on that wall fighting the dragons, but the battle was really won by Burke and his foremen. Them fellows are all the time looking over blueprints and books and sending notes back and forth. That's the kind of person I want to be. Can you teach me to read?"

Shay smiled broadly. "I'd be honored."

Before they could discuss the matter further, Biscuit came up through the trap door and announced, "The horses are ready at the north gate. I've got men I trust standing guard. They'll get you out without Frost and his friends bothering anyone."

Burke nodded. "There's no point in tarrying. I told Ragnar you'd be gone by nightfall. I'm not sure I have the energy to face him down again."

Anza leaned over to hug Burke. She gave him a silent nod as she grabbed her pack and headed for the elevator. Shay noticed the s.h.i.+ny steel tomahawks strapped to the pack. Anza was a walking a.r.s.enal, sporting swords, knives, darts, and a sky-wall bow identical to the one Vance carried. Shay picked up his own pack, and the shotgun with which he'd barely had an hour to train. He was impressed with the weapon, but if guns were as deadly as Burke claimed, why didn't his own daughter carry one?

He joined Anza and the others on the elevator. As it began to lower, he caught the grim, worried look in Burke's eyes. He had a feeling that there was some secret Burke was keeping from them.

Jandra waved and said, "Thanks, Burke."

Lizard waved as well, and said, "Strong boss."

Anza didn't wave. She stared ahead, her face unreadable, as the elevator carried them down.

BURKE SAGGED AS the elevator lowered Anza and her companions from his sight. He'd been in pain ever since his thigh had been broken, but the stress of his confrontation with Ragnar had pushed him to a new level of agony. It had taken all he had to hide his suffering from Anza. He'd always taught Anza to bear her wounds stoically and never surrender to pain. He was glad he hadn't broken. the elevator lowered Anza and her companions from his sight. He'd been in pain ever since his thigh had been broken, but the stress of his confrontation with Ragnar had pushed him to a new level of agony. It had taken all he had to hide his suffering from Anza. He'd always taught Anza to bear her wounds stoically and never surrender to pain. He was glad he hadn't broken.

Biscuit stood by the window, watching as the four adventurers left the foundry and marched toward the North Gate.

"They're on their way," he announced. "Let's get you started on the whisky."

Burke flung back the heavy wool blanket that covered his lap. His right leg was thrust straight out before him, naked save for bandages securing it to a splint. The entire limb was blue-gray with bruises. Large chunks of his foot were now black, the flesh dead and stinking. Vicious red streaks ran up his hip into his torso. His fever had been rising every day. If he didn't act now, the infection would spread into his entire body.

"The whole leg has to go," Burke said flatly, as if he were discussing a broken wagon wheel.

"I sharpened the saw," Biscuit said, handing Burke a brown ceramic jug. Burke uncorked it. The fumes made his eyes water. "Drink until the bottle falls out of your hands. It won't take me ten minutes once you're down."

Burke tilted back the jug. Even though it was ice-cold, it burned his throat going down. He wiped his lips after the swig, not looking forward to how many more times he'd need to do that before he pa.s.sed out.

"This might take a while," he said, then hiccupped. "There's some paper on the desk there. I have something important I need you to take down."

"Sure," said Biscuit, grabbing a quill jutting from an ink bottle. The quill was fiery red and almost 18 inches long, not a true feather but a feather-like scale from the wing of a sun-dragon. In the recent battle, the sky-wall archers had killed dozens of the great beasts as they'd attacked Dragon Forge. An unantic.i.p.ated consequence of victory was that Burke always had a pen nearby when he needed one.

"You got some new orders for the boys on the floor?" Biscuit asked.

"No," Burke said, taking another swig. He belched in the aftermath. "I might not survive this."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence in my surgical skills," Biscuit said, a wry grin wrinkling the leathery skin around his eyes.

"There's something I know that shouldn't vanish from human memory. I don't want Ragnar to learn the secret-it's my only real leverage over him. But I also don't want this secret to die with me, or with Jandra should she not survive. So listen closely. I'm going to tell you how to make gunpowder."

THE FORGE ROAD ran through a landscape of rolling hills and farms, one hundred eighty miles to the Dragon Palace. In normal times, it was considered a safe road, heavily trafficked by the king's armies. Human villages were abundant along the Forge Road. The one nearest Dragon Forge was Mullton, a hamlet of two hundred souls, only ten miles distant. Jandra was in the lead as she and her companions approached the town. In the weeks before Hex had stolen her genie, her senses had been fine-tuned by the device, so she still had excellent night vision. A cloudy sky without a hint of stars hung over them. They'd ridden slowly for the last few hours; it was too dark to ride a horse at a gallop. ran through a landscape of rolling hills and farms, one hundred eighty miles to the Dragon Palace. In normal times, it was considered a safe road, heavily trafficked by the king's armies. Human villages were abundant along the Forge Road. The one nearest Dragon Forge was Mullton, a hamlet of two hundred souls, only ten miles distant. Jandra was in the lead as she and her companions approached the town. In the weeks before Hex had stolen her genie, her senses had been fine-tuned by the device, so she still had excellent night vision. A cloudy sky without a hint of stars hung over them. They'd ridden slowly for the last few hours; it was too dark to ride a horse at a gallop.

They traveled in silence. Outside the walls of Dragon Forge they'd encountered the worst of the aftermath of the battle; week-old decaying corpses of sun-dragons, the stench of rot thick even though the cold snap of recent days had frozen the bodies. Lizard had clung to her tightly as they'd pa.s.sed through the killing fields, trembling, from the cold or from fear she couldn't guess.

She'd half expected to find the town of Mullton razed by the retreating dragon armies. Thousands of earth-dragons and dozens of sun-dragons had fled in the aftermath of defeat. Burke had said there would be reprisals, earth-dragons attacking undefended human villages for revenge or banditry now that law and order had broken down. Yet, as they crested the top of the hill, she was relieved to see the village a few hundred yards away. Little stone cottages were interspersed with log cabins in a model of rustic serenity.

She felt a tension she hadn't been fully aware of until now pa.s.s from her body. She breathed a little easier to find this vision of peace so close to Dragon Forge. Except, as she took that easy, deep breath, she couldn't help but taste rotting meat in the air, the same battlefield stench she thought they'd left behind. She noticed that there wasn't a single light in the village. No candle, lantern, torch, or fireplace burned anywhere that she could spot. As they rode past the silent farm houses, no dogs barked as they caught the scent of strangers pa.s.sing by.

Anza quickened the pace of her horse and caught up to Jandra. She held the reins in one hand, in her other she held a drawn sword.

Jandra asked, "Do you think-?"

Anza brought her fingers to her lips and guided her horse into the lead. She sat tensely in the saddle, her head turning back and forth as she watched the shadows. They rode toward the center of town, toward a stone well. Behind the well was some sort of monument, like a small pyramid of piled round stones. As they drew closer, Jandra realized they weren't stones.

One by one the four riders drew up in a line, halting before the well. All eyes were fixed on what lay beyond-a neatly stacked pyramid of heads, mostly human, a few dogs. The eyes were all hollow-the ground was littered with the black feathers of buzzards.

Vance was the first to speak. "I've been to Mullton once or twice. My village used to trade with them." He paused, swallowing hard. "It's... it's only half a day's ride from here."

Jandra noted that the heads were mostly women and children. All the adult men, no doubt, had been pressed into service by Ragnar for the invasion of Dragon Forge. His army had roamed the countryside, raiding villages, offering all men a choice: Join or die.

"There was a girl here named Eula," Vance said, softly. "She smiled at my brother Vinton last spring and he spent all summer thinking about her. I kept telling him he should ride up here and court her if he was that crazy about her."

"Guess he missed his chance," said Shay.

Jandra thought this was a particularly callous sentiment, but Vance didn't seem to take offense. "Vinton died the night we took Dragon Forge. In the end, I guess it don't matter if he'd talked to her or not." He shook his head. "Looking at this, it's hard to know. Did we do the right thing? Was taking Dragon Forge worth this price?"

Shay said, "I was taken from my family when I was four. Chapelion selected me because he thought the color of my hair went well with the decor. I've been whipped a hundred times, for little things, like getting ink smudges on a sheet of parchment. I can't pull my shoulders all the way straight because of the scars."

He looked at Vance. "I'm one of the men your brother died to free. If I ever have children, they'll be free because of him. I promise every one of them will understand the price that was paid."

Vance responded with a brave, thin smile.

Anza raised her hand toward her cheek, as if to wipe away a tear, but turned her face away before Jandra could focus on it.

Jandra looked back at the mound of skulls. She felt the pressure of all their empty stares, accusing. Bitterwood had tried to tell her that peace with dragons wasn't possible. Even Pet, before he died, had preached that war was the only answer. Burke, the smartest man she'd ever met, didn't believe that dragons and men could ever share the earth.

So why was she cradling a dragon as if it were her own blood? Why, with the world so obviously split by this enormous rift between men and dragons, was she still straddling the chasm?

The world was broken. This pyramid of death bore plain testament to that. And yet, some tiny, small voice inside whispered that if she could only get her powers back, it wasn't too late to fix the world, to patch back together all the broken pieces and spare both man and dragon from the dark days coming.

"Let's ride on," said Jandra. "I'm not tired at all."

BURKE WOKE TO feverish heat and darkness. He felt as if his brain had swollen to three times its normal size and was threatening to split his skull. He was awash in sweat. Invisible ants were crawling over his whole body, from scalp to toes. feverish heat and darkness. He felt as if his brain had swollen to three times its normal size and was threatening to split his skull. He was awash in sweat. Invisible ants were crawling over his whole body, from scalp to toes.

Toes.

Since Charkon had broken his right leg, he'd not felt the toes of that foot, or anything much below his hip. Now, his leg felt restored-not good, for it was subject to the same fevered agony that plagued the rest of his body-but at least it felt like part of his body once more, not simply dead meat hanging from his hip.

Why hadn't Biscuit performed the amputation? He ran his hands beneath the heavy wool blankets down his right hip. The steel splint he'd fas.h.i.+oned was gone. His fingers traveled further, and found bandages.

His leg ended only six inches below his hip.

While his mind felt ghostly toes wiggling, his fingers revealed the truth. Biscuit had done what needed to be done. Burke let out a long, slow, shuddering breath. He felt a pang of loss as sharp and clear as if he were at his own funeral. He swallowed hard, feeling tears rising. He hadn't cried since he was six. His brothers had long ago pummeled this weakness out of him. He sniffed and clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to surrender to the grief. He closed his eyes tightly, grateful that he was alone in his bedroom. He was certain that if anyone had been here with him, he would have burst into tears. This feeling turned out to be wrong.

"It's been a long time, Kanati," a raspy voice said by his bedside.

Burke sucked in a sharp gasp of air; his heart jumped around in his chest like a startled rabbit. He sat straight up, his eyes wide, searching the darkness for his mysterious visitor. By his bed sat a figure in a dark cloak, his face hidden by a hood. Burke was a rational man; until this moment he'd had no fear of some anthropomorphic manifestation of death coming to carry him away. His throat, wet with unshed tears only seconds before, went as dry as the parched fields around Conyers in the decade of drought.

"Who are you?" he tried to say. His lips moved, but only the barest sound came out.

The figure pulled back his hood, revealing an old man, his hair thin and gray, his skin wrinkled and leathery. "Have I changed so much?"

Burke stared at the visitor. There was something familiar about his eyes. "Bant?" he asked, his voice cracking. He swallowed and tried again. "Bant Bitterwood?"