Book One

  __________________

  SOR

  “If trust was as Ironglass, it would taste much sweeter.”

  —Tsa Arsshun the Wise

  __________________

  Prologue

  The Metal let go.

  The host faded, his life drifting away from the corpse that had once been the Master. How pathetic the Master had been, letting himself die. It had given him power. It had given him an army. All for nothing.

  The Collective cried, and the black nest shifted, filled with screaming and gnashing.

  The time had come to seek a new Master.

  The Metal needed someone strong, domination branded in their mind. An ambitious being. Intelligent and cunning—but also malleable, blinded by their endeavors.

  The Metal shifted. The Collective silenced.

  They felt a presence—a man of great strength.

  A man seeking the power of the Metal, already possessing and using a servant of the Collective. He would do anything for power. Power to gain his vengeance. Power to rule. Power to make all those who had ever hurt him pay.

  The Metal revealed itself, to make his search all the simpler.

  But it would still test him—he would come to it.

  Perfect.

  All that was left was to wait.

  ________________________

  CHAPTER 1

  The Wyrm

  Ironglass filled the air, energizing the young dragon.

  Darkness held the dragon in its claws, beating him with whirlwinds of sand. Glowering clouds pursued him. He pushed into the wind, straining his muscles. Sure, this was nothing different than Rasshun was used to. He had faced these storms many times before, and sand was natural for an Ironglass dragon.

  Not so much for a human.

  Sand crowded his scales, blowing along his back in thick wisps. Behind him, hidden in the dark, he dragged the human with his tail. Short, thin, light skin, and small, but still quite the opponent for him. She remained unconscious for now, not as violent as she had been earlier—hot blood still dripped from his nose where she had sliced him, running into his mouth—but there was no time to waste. At any moment she could wake and attack again.

  Across the gold and black dunes, he trekked. The wind howled like a hunting bugle, ringing through the valley. Many times, he stopped in the middle of the storm and listened, spinning his short ears around. There was no other way to tell if something was there, not even by scent. Sand collected in his nostrils, ashy on his tongue, blocking his senses.

  He lowered his head, his sandy scales rising on end.

  Rasshun got down on his belly and slid down the last dune, pulling the human along, and soon the sand turned to dirt beneath his claws, reminding him that he was near home. The light of the sun faded to dusk, turning the storm black and putting him under a cloak of night. Ahead, Rasshun caught the scent of his lair, just beyond the rocks. A familiar scent of stone and wetness.

  Extending his left foreleg—his raa—he grasped the stone ledge and started his climb, biting down on his tongue to distract from the pressure building in his spine and tail. For such a thin human, she dragged like a boulder…

  Along the crags, he pulled himself higher, his shoulders straining and popping with each raa he placed. They grew hotter, stinging his bones, and the wind provided no mercy. Shrubs grew along the path, perfect footholds to climb with, but Rasshun avoided them. They would snap in half if he pushed on them. Best not to place your claws on unsteady ground, Mother always said.

  The whirling dust and sand grew thicker, collecting in his mouth. He coughed the mist out, turning his head away from the rampaging wind.

  The dark path ahead flattened, brightening as the shadows and thick haze receded, and the rocks spread into an open plate. To his right, the stone grew up into the mountainside, hiding the entrance to his home at its gray base, and to his left, the sun broke the dark.

  He hesitated. The light drew his attention.

  Wind roared up the ledge, running along the crags and cooling Rasshun’s scorched scales. The storm buffeted the mountainside, slamming into him—but he couldn’t help but creep toward the edge. He stood on the longest jagged rock, placing his hind-legs—his ríl—into the stone to keep him from toppling off the edge into the abyss below.

  The Ironglass Wastes glowed out of the mist, a vast ground-sky of gold, shimmering with black particles. The sands were far below, down the slope and past a valley of sharp, hidden crags. The sun crowned the horizon, casting jewel-shine rays across the distant dunes, and creating shadows from the mountains. Up so high, it was as though he flew amongst the clouds.

  High, free, flowing with the wind.

  He turned his nose to the sky, to feel the warmth across his scales and live in it. Nothing would have been greater, truly, than to be one with the winds and clouds. To be up with the wind—that was a dragon’s pride. He risked another step toward the edge, and, if he had wings, he would have spread them.

  But he had no such thing.

  The truth dropped him back to reality and the landscape he was bound to. He sighed.

  Off in the distance, dark masses rose above the sands. Lines of mountains, stretching out ahead of him. He stepped toward them, nearly dropping off the cliffside. Against the sun, they washed away, the light preventing him from seeing them in all their grandeur.

  The wind and sky wait for me.

  Thunder rumbled. Rasshun stumbled back. Gray angular shapes blocked out the sunlight below, running through the Wastes and crushing the dunes, expelling smoke into the copper sky. Their shadows grew, stretching over the plains toward Rasshun.

  Landships. Time to leave.

  Rasshun snorted the grains out of his nostrils, taking the human up onto his back once more. He approached the entrance, a hole just large enough for him to stand in, and stopped, lifting his nose to the entryway.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Allow me in, that I may seek shelter under the Saanrí. I am friend,” he recited. He lowered his head on his way inside, just as Mother had taught him to. The winds settled, unable to follow him into the dark.

  Home.

  Within the tunnel, Rasshun found solace. In the shadows, he had nothing to fear. He was the top predator. All the low rats and high-flying bats made way for him and his fearsome might, cowering in their hideouts and dens. His heart, racing from the climb, settled to a low thump as he made his way through. He trekked down the narrow hall, over protrusions and under small bridges, until he made it to the underbelly of the cave.

  The tunnel opened into a large cavern, smelling of old kills and even older memories. It stretched out, wide and open, large enough for a full-grown dragon to spread his wings. Water dripped from stalactites, echoing through the hollow cave. Rasshun’s tail swayed at the mere sight of the cavern, his mind slipping into memories of when things were simple…

  He shook his head. This wasn’t the time to let his mind drift.

  Rasshun brought the human to the back of the cave, gently placing her down in an alcove. He remembered sleeping in the same alcove as a hatchling when he had been too unpredictable to let run around. There was nothing to secure her with, not even a large rock to keep her down, but he trusted his claws to be enough of a deterrent to keep her there.

  If only Father and Mother were here to see this. Surely, they would be proud of him now, after everything he had gone through. Rasshun held back the urge to thrum in delight.

  When all was secure, Rashun climbed up the mossy wall and set himself down on a stone ledge hidden in the shadows. He found his pile of sand in the corner, a low hump across the floor, waiting for him. Only the occasional drop of water from the ceiling disturbed its peace, turning the pile darker and making the grains stick. Just the way Rasshun liked it.

  He dug into the pile muzzle first, using his taloned raa and ríl to pile the sand on top of him. Damp sand washed over him, trickling cool, chilling water down his scales into his mouth, killing his thirst. He wrapped around himself, settling.

  His stomach growled. He sighed.

  He turned over, unearthing some of the metal trinkets he had collected for times such as these: An old, ornate compass he had found along the crags, a rusty knife without a handle, a faded golden ring, and a dozen coins of all kinds. It was strange the number of things he could find in the Wastes. Didn’t anyone want them?

  He chose two copper coins he had found beyond one of the southern human villages and stuck them in his mouth. Their metallic taste settled on his tongue, coppery and clear. He swallowed, a flutter of energy rippling through his muscles. Exhaustion faded, and his stomach settled—though it still hung low. Further hunger could wait, however. Good dragons, Father said, built patience and endurance simultaneously, the two incredible traits of an Ironglass dragon. How else could they climb the One?

  Satisfied, he turned to his companion: a collection of metal trinkets he had laid out across the stone in the likeness of a dragon like him. Two fangs made of knives stuck out the underside of its sharp mouth. A pair of long horns crested its head, arching up and curving toward each other, made of sickles. Sandy scales made of old copper and rusted silver coins. Rings of topaz for eyes, with two pointy, rusted tilling blades resting above them, acting as a ridge. Its metallic smell soothed him.

  “Soon,” he whispered, as if it would listen. “I will head north, to the mountains. From there…”

  The lifeless Dragon stared at him. Rasshun turned away.

  “I will get to it. I will be enough,” he said, “Soon.”

  Silence. Rasshun sighed. Always silence.

  He set down his head to sleep, keeping one eye open. Any sane dragon would always look out for danger, no matter how quiet it was. And Rasshun didn’t need a reason to believe that. He knew the truth quite well.

  A groan pierced the silence. Rasshun froze.

  The human groaned again, rousing awake. Her eyes glowed a faint blue in the dark, reflecting the last light of the day. She leaned against the wall and shivered, then got to her feet. Her breath slowed, growing calm and orderly, as if she understood where she was. Rasshun growled softly and his muscles tensed.

  The human dug into her pocket and drew out two coin-sized cubes, then mumbled to herself and tossed them to the ground. They tumbled together, bouncing twice and turning up dust before coming to a stop. She swooped them up, nodded, and climbed out of the alcove.

  Silent and collected, the human crossed the threshold between her and Rasshun. A glint broke through the dark, produced from her cloak.

  A knife.

  Rasshun crept to the ledge. A fury rose in his chest, bubbling.

  The human stood beneath him, holding the knife out, carefully advancing. Rasshun craned his neck over the shelf and leaned toward her. His raa lowered, ready to spring…

  The human leapt back. Rasshun toppled to the floor, his shoulder jarred against the sharp stone and a pain shot through his head. His mind spun and dulled, his vision darkening to a peephole. The human came for him, a blur in the haze, the glint of her knife sending a stab of fear through him. He rolled away, the blade sliding across his chest.

  “Back—stay back!” the human barked. She stepped around toward the tunnel, careful with her footing and keeping her knife ready.

  Rasshun leapt to his feet, crouching close to the ground. The human held her knife tight, her eyes ablaze with a fury Rasshun knew too well. A fury that brought horrible memories back…

  The human backed away into the tunnel, and Rasshun followed at a distance, scanning for a weakness that he could exploit, as Father taught him to do. He saw none. She held herself firm, carefully, aware of her disadvantages in size and speed. Her knife glinted, ready for the chance to make him bleed again.

  Perhaps Mother’s gift would be useful here?

  Rasshun raised his head and concealed his teeth, then curled his claws back, keeping them hidden. His eyes dilated, growing wider and less threatening, and he stood straight, stretching his head to her height.

  “Don’t go,” he said, not in his own tongue of Drykk but in common human speech. “Danger awaits outside.”

  The human loosened her stance at the sound of Rasshun’s words. “Danger? You were the one who dragged me here,” she said, “Stay back, and we can both live. Find someone else to eat.”

  Rasshun snorted. “I am not going to eat you,” he said, “I need you for something else.”

  The human bared her teeth. The sharp, white pieces interlocked, gleaming like steel. The scent of amusement tingled Rasshun’s nostrils, and he tensed. Perhaps she was going to attack first?

  “Sorry, wyrm, but I’m not interested,” she said, “Better if I just leave you here for your own sake. Let the Fire Wheel help you instead, eh?”

  Rasshun leapt at the human, snarling in fury. She drew the knife and fell back. They tumbled in a mass.

  A sharp pain stabbed through Rasshun’s left side, the knife gleaming with crimson. He cried out and recoiled from the stab as they hit the floor, the human on top of him. A dull ache ran through his head, and the world spun, turning red.

  The human pulled back the knife for another strike. Rasshun slipped around her thrust. Blood poured from his wound, leaving a trail across the floor, soaking Rasshun’s scales. In the roll, he lost sight of where they were, his sense of direction drifting away—but a howling wind filled the tunnel, and the light drew closer…

  They were getting close to the entrance.

  Rasshun plunged his raa into the ground when the human was beneath him, and they halted abruptly, his head spinning. Collecting himself, he whipped his tail around, and with a crack, it collided with the knife. The blade landed in a pile of sand, its final glint dying in the golden grains.

  “Stay,” Rasshun growled in the human’s face.

  The human stared back at Rasshun, her sullen face stoic. Her body went limp, her breath grew calm, and her limbs fell to the ground. Rasshun snorted. She acted as though a fight had never happened.

  “Stay,” he hissed, harder this time.

  The human grinned. “You’re making a mistake,” she said, “The Fire Wheel is coming. You’ll be taken to be their slave, to run their ships, and you’ll lose all of this. Let me go and I’ll spare you the trouble.”

  “You are staying.”

  He dragged her into the cave and set her back in the alcove, ignoring her babbling, and made sure to rummage through her bags to make sure there were no other knives or weapons. Eventually, the human quit talking and set her head against the wall to sleep, and Rasshun took the chance to go outside again.

  Limping out into the sand, Rasshun found the knife blade-down in the mound. He dragged the knife out, hissing at the sight of blood left slick on the steel. The pain in his chest burned, but the metal would help it.

  Rasshun gnawed on the blade, breaking it into bits. Every swallow of steel sent a flutter through his bones and chest. Leathery skin grew over the wound, healing with each bite until nothing but a missing patch of scales remained.

  He snorted.

  Rasshun sulked back into the cave until he reached the stone shelf. Sullen, he buried himself in the sand mound again, coming out the other side, right into the face of the Dragon.

  It stared back at him. Reach the mountain, you said? it asked.

  Rasshun shivered and turned away.

  The Fire Wheel.

  The human thought he wouldn’t know the danger, that she could scare him into letting her go, but he was no fool. He knew what the Fire Wheel was. He knew what they were capable of.

  No matter. He was safe here, in the cave.

  But…

  How would he reach the One this way?

  “Father?” he whispered into the dark, “What am I to do?”

  But there was no answer.