Chapter 67

  Hitasa turned away from Castreier and pointed at Drakko again. “Astregn means the crushing star!”

  A bright point of light appeared in the sky above the dragon, rapidly descending from high above the clouds towards his head. It twinkled as it fell, growing brighter and larger. The dragon sat patiently on the canyon cliff, not even looking up at the approaching light. Hitasa felt her stomach turn over. Drakko knew something she did not.

  The falling star grew to the size of Hitasa’s fist and then stayed that way. Once it was through the cloud layer, it moved faster than Hitasa could track with her eyes. It missed the dragon’s head and hit him on his back, just below the base of his neck. A few sparks flew from the impact point. A wisp of smoke rose over Drakko’s back. The dragon blinked once but did not look away from Hitasa. Drakko hadn’t even used a barrier to deflect the blow. His armored scales had been enough.

  Hitasa did not know what had happened. Was the spell simply not strong enough? Had too few people seen its definition in the sky? Perhaps her mana was not enough to appropriately manifest what she wanted. Or maybe the spell was simply malformed and ill conceived.

  “An interesting spell,” Drakko said in his human-like voice. “Ambitious. Powerful, if given the right audience. Your efforts are to be commended. This has been a taxing day, in no small part due to you.”

  Someone gasped in the square. Hitasa looked down in time to see Castreier rise to the top of the mayor’s platform where Hitasa still stood, pushing past the elves and beastkin to reach her.

  Hitasa started to shout, “Ragnatura means the wrath—” but he tackled her to the floor of the platform and locked his burned hand over her mouth. She tried to push him off, to no avail. Elves were supposed to be physically stronger than humans in every way, but Castreier’s body was publicized to be even more powerful than an elf’s. Whatever injuries he had sustained, and whatever ordeals he had endured to arrive in the square at this time, he retained enough mana to hold her down.

  “And here is another young one with ambition,” Drakko spoke as Hitasa and Castreier struggled on the platform. “Though despite his efforts, he has not been so successful.”

  A number of the elves nearby inched closer to the pair, but Drakko let out a roar that stopped everyone in their tracks and knocked a few people over. Even though she was laying on the ground, Hitasa’s inner ear briefly made her feel as if she was upside down while the dragon’s voice permeated the air around her. When Drakko finally relented, he simply said, “Leave them be. I wish to see—”

  A pillar of stone shot out of the ground beneath the dragon, smacking him in the snout and cutting him off. On the top of a separate pillar, a lone figure rose to the top of the canyon. Lodge Mother Sarnai charged toward Drakko, the tip of a single solitary spear. She carried a disorganized mountain behind her. More stones, boulders, and bricks rose with her charge, all flung in the dragon’s direction.

  But Drakko was so big, and so far away. It was like watching a child throw a clod of mud at an adult. The dragon took time to scratch under his chin where the first pillar had struck and then looked down to regard the approaching damekin.

  “Lodge Mother Sarnai,” he said, “You—”

  He interrupted himself to sweep a single wing at her, knocking her off her rising pedestal. The impact sent her rocketing down toward the ground, through the pelting maelstrom of her own storm of stones. Sarnai crashed somewhere in the burning rubble of the city. The stones she had thrown clattered ineffectually against the dragon’s scales.

  And Drakko finished his thought, “You, I am most disappointed in. All of that power—even more than what we gave you—and still you have led a life of complacency.” Drakko’s voice became mocking. “If you were going to make a difference, why did you wait until now to do it? I suppose Dalex of the Expedition Seven’s greatest power is making fools out of otherwise smart children.”

  The dragon turned his head left and right, eyes sweeping over the city. “Where is the boy, anyway? I have a basic description, but I don’t see anyone that matches it. I expected he would throw himself at me just like Sarnai down there.”

  The dragon paused as if waiting for Dalex to appear. Of course, nothing happened.

  “No?” Drakko said, voice almost baffled. “Not going to show your face? I suppose most upstarts reach this point. They must either face the consequences of their actions or choose the coward’s path.”

  The dragon settled down onto his stomach and lounged across the top of the canyon, wings folded behind his back. His eyes regarded Hitasa again, studying her lazily.

  “Remove yourself from on top of her, Jean,” he said. “But do not release her.”

  Castreier pulled his weight off of Hitasa and got to his feet, forcing her to stand up with him. He stayed behind her and kept his good hand locked around her wrist. She could speak, but she knew it was pointless. Astregn had failed her, and, if Sarnai could not fight the dragon, no one could.

  Drakko leaned his head in closer. “I have read your work, young she-elf. Not only what you wrote across the sky today, but the manifesto you created with your brother. The prose stirred my old heart. I felt the emotion of it. More, I was impressed by its honesty. You understand the world well. You understand Dragons. But you don’t shy away from your ancestors’ crimes. ‘There is shame in our history.’ That is a dangerous line to begin a call to revolution. I respect you for standing by it.”

  Hitasa stared at the dragon, confused and feeling repulsed. “Are you here to execute me,” she said, “or are we really going to have a discussion about my work?”

  Drakko snorted, and Hitasa felt the hot blast of his breath even on the other side of the city. “That is all dependent on you. I would like to speak more about your manifesto. I so rarely get a chance to talk to creative and bold writers.”

  “I guess those are the consequences you live with when you kill anyone who wants to touch a pen for anything other than propaganda.”

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  Castreier’s grip on Hitasa’s wrist tightened. He dug the stump of his missing hand into the small of her back in warning. That had to hurt him far more than the discomfort it caused her.

  “Watch your tongue, dagger-head,” he hissed.

  “Oh please, Jean,” Drakko said. “The whole reason I asked you unstop her mouth was so she could speak her mind.” The dragon looked thoughtful for a moment and then mused, “Yes, because of me, many brilliant minds have met their ends before they could pen their master works. It is the price we pay for stability. But, when I get the chance, I do like to give those minds a choice.”

  Hitasa narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Interesting children are so hard to find in this era,” the dragon explained. “As you say, it’s my own fault. We dragons don’t encourage that kind of growth. We’re left with the dregs like—”

  He paused, and his eyes shifted ever so slightly to look behind her at Castreier.

  “Well,” the dragon continued, “we are forced to deal with a less capable crop. Which is why I am delighted to find such a one as you. I spent so many years tailoring my toys to do exactly what I wanted. I thought they were the perfect tool for my purposes. But then you break one simple rule and everything is in disarray. Anyone who can make enough noise to draw me off my hoard is worthy of attention.”

  “You talk too much,” Hitasa said, spitting on the ground in front of her. “Just say what you want.”

  The dragon let out a hearty laugh, using his own voice rather than the human voice projected by magic. Each chortle sent a shockwave through the city that pushed Hitasa back like a strong gust of wind.

  “This is exactly what I want. Honesty. Bluntness. It excites me. Makes me angry. No one makes me angry anymore. But, yes, I am prone to being overly verbose.” A grin spread up Drakko’s mouth. “It comes with old age. I am sure, were you allowed to live to your true life expectancy, you would talk too much as well.”

  Hitasa’s lip quivered. She wanted to drop another star on him. She wanted to wrap him in thick branches and squeeze until blood poured out from under his scales. But she knew the star would do nothing, and her branches would never squeeze tightly enough.

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed, becoming serious. “Would you like that?”

  “Like what?” Hitasa asked.

  “To live beyond seventy-five years of age. If I wished it, that could be allowed.”

  Hitasa didn’t even need to think about her answer. “No, of course not.”

  Drakko pulled his head back a few feet in surprise. “Why ever not?”

  “Because I know you want something from me, something I refuse to give you.”

  The dragon shook his head. “I only want what you already are. What you are already doing. I want you to write, honestly, with nothing held back. The other dragons won’t like it, but I can protect you.”

  Hitasa looked at him for a long moment. Finally, she said, “I don’t understand. Are you proposing some kind of alliance with the resistance?”

  “No, no, no,” Drakko said, his voice amused. “Everyone here is dead. This city will be scorched from the face of Gaia Eta. No one on this or any of the lesser worlds will even know there was a resistance.”

  Someone in the square whimpered. Another began to openly weep. A few shouted toward Drakko, begging to be spared.

  Hitasa could only laugh.

  “SILENCE!” Drakko screamed, roaring with his dragon’s voice. The crowd went quiet again, terrified into mute despair. But Hitasa just went on laughing. She barely even registered the all-powerful roar. Castreier dug his stumped hand into her back even harder, and that just made her laugh more.

  As Drakko settled down, he gave her a curious look. “What is so amusing?”

  Hitasa clutched her stomach, taking deep breaths to calm her laughter. “You’re just so stupid!”

  “I beg your pardon?” the dragon said, indignant.

  “First of all,” Hitasa said, barely keeping herself from bubbling over again, “you’re talking to the wrong person. I did nothing. I’d be dead if it weren’t for Dalex. None of my plans would have amounted to sap.”

  “He is not nearly as interesting a subject as—”

  Hitasa interrupted him. “And if you’re going to kill everyone here, who am I even going to write to? Another Gaia Etan city? You’ll just burn it down after they read what I write.”

  “I will read your work,” Drakko said, “and there are many in the draconic assembly that—”

  Hitasa couldn’t help it, she broke out into laughter again that quickly dissolved into the giggles. When she could take a breath, she managed to get out, “Please— please stop.” Another bout of laughter. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Do not speak to me in such a manner,” Drakko chided her.

  When she finally got herself under control again, Hitasa wiped her eyes and said, “And you’re such a hypocrite. I thought honesty is exactly what you wanted?”

  “ENOUGH!” he roared again. “Jean, restrain her once more.”

  In an instant, Hitasa was wrapped in Castreier’s rough embrace again. He didn’t throw her back to the ground, but he still covered her mouth so that she could not speak.

  “I will give you one last chance,” Drakko said. “You can write anything that comes to your mind, and it will be published on the Three Prime Worlds of Gaia. Most of all, you receive a chance to live beyond your assigned years.”

  Hitasa managed to work her teeth around one of Castreier’s gross, burned fingers and bit him. He yelped and pulled his hand back.

  “I am not your prize,” Hitasa bellowed. “My words and the words of my brother do not belong to you, and they do not need my life to spread. They are already in Dalex’s hands, and wherever he is, he knows what to do with them. Now do what you are good for, fiend. Kill me and hear our manifesto in the voices of a thousand more elves tomorrow.”

  Castreier finally managed to cover Hitasa’s mouth again. Drakko rose to his feet, watching her with a mournful expression. The sun was beginning to set behind him. He blocked most of its light, but it still cast a few rays across the square.

  “Very well,” Drakko said. “I am patient. Another will come along, someone better. Your writings were still rough, after all; not the work of a true master.”

  Hitasa sniggered again. He was such a dishonest creature.

  The dragon straightened to his full height on four legs. The sun could no longer shine past him.

  “I thank you, Batulan-bar,” he said. “While it lasted, your service was commendable. I assure you, I will build something even grander on your bones.”

  He raised his head to the sky and roared, “DRAKONFEER!”

  A glow appeared over Batulan-bar, bright blue. More powerful than a clear afternoon sky, the blue light shone through the clouds with a soft warmth. It spread from one end of the canyon to the other, covering the length and breadth of the city.

  “MEANS!” the dragon continued.

  The light shone brighter. Castreier let go of Hitasa. It seemed he realized the truth. He would be killed with everyone else. He stumbled forward to the edge of the platform, staring up at his god in confusion and despair.

  But Hitasa had eyes only for the people around her, common folk caught up in her revolution. Even those who were willing to join her cause had not asked for this.

  How could she have planned this better? How could she have approached it more wisely? Had any of it been under her control? She had just been reacting to Castreier, to the Mountain Guard, and to Dalex.

  Hitasa supposed it didn’t matter anymore. Someone else would have to do better.

  Drakko’s voice dominated every sense of her body. The noise almost drowned out the blinding blue light in the sky.

  “YOU!” Drakko roared.

  Something fell out of the sky and smacked the dragon on the top of his head. His roar abruptly vanished. A sound like a gong being struck swept across the city. A circular puff of air rippled across the sky away from Drakko’s head. A flock of birds hiding in an alcove in the canyon wall took flight, flitting away down river.

  The dragon stood motionless at the top of the canyon, staring straight ahead, a vacant look in his slit-like pupils. The light in the sky dimmed and then disappeared behind the plain, overcast weather.

  A moment later, Drakko slumped forward and slipped over the edge of the cliff, slamming limply into the wreckage of the city below him. His head flopped over on the remains of the Batulan-bar Mutt Hunter’s Lodge and his tail whipped down over the city, destroying a few more buildings before its tip settled in the river.

  A soft rain began to fall over Batulan-bar. The dragon did not move.

  A voice behind Hitasa said, “Whoa that was a close one.”

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