A/N: This chapter is told entirely from Zieg's POV, so I didn't feel the need for the narrator notation, but I'm sorry this chapter is so narration-heavy. I'll readily admit I suck at getting my characters from one place to another in an interesting way. Ha. You'll notice that I'll also be changing my chapter names back to English. The Latin thing just isn't working out ... Anyway, read on!


Chapter Twelve:

Dragonlore

Two days ago, Diaz and I had left Vellweb for what the Humans were now calling Fort Magrad, Diaz insistent that I should meet the young scientist schooled in dragon magic. The minute we'd arrived, Diaz had wasted almost no time, save for the quick acknowledgement of praise and adoration from a group of newly escaped Human slaves, and the next thing I knew, I'd found myself inside a tent resembling a makeshift laboratory, tables filled with beakers, bottles and instruments I had never seen before. Books filled shelves along one wall, and several lay open on a far table, loose papers scattered between them.

I leaned against the far wall, arms folded across my chest as I watched Diaz and his little lab monkey scurry about the test room, studying the orb.

Syuveil felt the need to explain the soundness of Diaz's idea while he worked.

"The premise is really a solid one," he said. "During research in my previous position, I uncovered an enormous amount of evidence that it may actually be possible for Humans to share their bodies with the spiritual remains of other creatures. Dragons, in particular. Quite frightening for the Winglies, so they abandoned the research in favor of less dangerous projects."

I sighed. Of all the things the kid could have been put to use doing, and this is what Diaz chose...

Syuveil rambled on, "Really, Humans and Dragons share remarkable similarities, having come from the Divine Tree in such chronological proximity. The basic building blocks of our very beings are nearly identical to that of every other creature, so it is theoretically possible for a species to share its characteristics with any other species. How, we aren't entirely sure yet, perhaps a remnant of life force from the Divine Tree running in the blood of all living creatures. But that's where you come in, Zieg."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. I can only imagine what it would be like to share the soul of a creature so powerful. In all likelihood, it would be incredibly painful and possibly deadly, so I assume only the bravest and strongest of Humans could ever hope to find themselves a suitable host for a dragon's spirit."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't say."

"I do. And because Diaz seems to think so highly of you as a warrior, it makes perfect sense that a dragon may choose you as the purveyor of its will, and therefore also the bearer of its spirit."

I sensed a bitterness in the kid's voice but chose to ignore it.

"However, it's clear to me why nothing occurred with this dragon," he said, looking up from his work table. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Tell us!" Diaz prodded, excitement oozing from his every gesture.

Syuveil held the orb up between his thumb and forefinger, narrowing his eyes at it. "This sphere is the crystalized remains of a spirit from a thunder-elemental dragon. Thus, it cannot possibly merge successfully with Zieg's soul because his holds command over fire, an obvious incompatibility."

"In a language we can understand, brainiac," I snapped.

Syuveil rolled his eyes. "This thunder," he said, mimicking a caveman. "You fire. Won't work."

"Alright, alright," Diaz said, stepping in. "Come now. So what you're saying is that in order for a dragon to relinquish its soul for kinship, it must be to a stronger being under the same elemental persuasion?"

Syuveil smiled proudly. "Exactly."

"Excellent!" Diaz exclaimed. "Now all we need is to find someone with the thunder sign and find you a fire dragon to sacrifice, Zieg."

I pushed away from the wall. "Let me know when you find both, then," I said, snatching the orb back from Syuveil.

"Hey—"

Storming out of the tent more for dramatic effect than out of anger, I strode to the nearest area of empty unfinished fort wall and took a seat, relishing the heat of the sun. It was the first truly cloudless day I'd seen since our party had first arrived in Vellweb. It was hard to believe we'd already been free for a week; it felt like no more than a couple days. The constant fear of being caught, captured and restrained in our former chains (or worse) continually loomed over our heads, however; it made my current freedom not nearly as enjoyable as I remembered it.

I glanced back toward the lab tent and saw Diaz making his way toward me, his arms flailing as he railed against my childishness. I rolled my eyes and poked at a rock with the toe of my boot.

"What was that about, Zieg?!" Diaz demanded when he was within earshot. "Syuveil wasn't going to take anything, he just wanted to—"

"I know," I said. "And I thought he got the answers you were looking for."

Diaz looked at me blankly for a moment. "Well yes, but he—"

"Then you have no further purpose for my keepsake."

"But you can't use it, Zieg! It's a thunder—"

"I heard him, Diaz!" I snapped, turning to face him, squinting through the sunlight. "If you're so interested in the thing, why aren't you running around the camp looking for some brawny thunder elemental to prove your point? Why are you standing here, wasting your time patronizing me?"

"Because it's more complicated than just looking for the nearest person with the matching sign." Diaz paused, stroking his beard in thought. "There has to be more to it."

We remained silent for a time, with him thinking and me sulking.

"Anyway, I have a job for you, Zieg," Diaz said finally. "I want you to be the director of a scouting party organized to find any nearby dragons for—"

"No."

"What?" Diaz was taken aback, like he hadn't seen my response coming. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I'm not going on some wild goose chase for dragons or anything else."

"Come on, Zieg," Diaz pleaded, the starry-eyed excitement gone and replaced by a look of pure desperation.

"Please."

I rolled my eyes and turned my gaze to the ground, focusing on a large piece of quartz that glimmered as the sunlight hit it. The murmur of faraway voices mingled with frequent shouts of direction from the masons building the fort walls, all of it punctuated by steady rings of metal on metal from the newly established armory.

"Please..."

I wanted to entirely ignore him, walk away and enjoy my freedom. I wanted to tell him to find someone else to pester about this mad idea. I wanted to be able to forget all about the growing rebellion and the war that would surely follow. But ultimately, I knew I would never be able to forget. I would never relinquish my freedom, allowing the Winglies to return me to the chains I'd just shaken. My vengeance, my pride, my sense of duty and honor would never allow Wingly injustice to continue. I suffered from an insatiable, ferocious itch for war, the warrior in me crying out, demanding the blood of his enemies. Diaz knew I would eventually be where I belonged: in the heat of battle with my broadsword in hand.

"Diaz," I said, finally turning back to him, "This idea is crazy. I—"

"What have you got to lose?" Diaz was suddenly serious, his face set determinedly.

"Only my life," I scoffed, growing more irritated that he just wouldn't relent.

"What isn't worth dying for, when you're dying free?"

And as soon as he said it, I knew he'd beaten me. I would go wherever he wanted me to go, dragged forcibly into his scheme of insanity.

"Fine," I sighed, my shoulders slumping in resigned acquiescence.

Diaz neither smiled nor rejoiced. He simply laid a hand on my arm—too short to reach my shoulder—and leaned close, as if what he were about to say was of dire importance.

"You will travel to Mount Mortal Dragon with a scouting party. It is the only known location where dragons consistently nest. I need you to keep an eye out for any dragons that you may be able to defeat, and note the species and possible elemental sign. I'll have Syuveil lend you a field guide for reference."

"And what am I supposed to do if I should find one?" I asked, fighting the urge to roll my eyes again.

"Return here to Magrad. We will send a detachment later to capture and kill the dragon."

Deciding that Diaz's patience with me was probably running thin, I chose not to press him further, though I still didn't think any of this dragon stuff would lead to the Humans defeating Winglies. But now that Diaz has gotten some kind of proof for his theory from that Syuveil kid, there would be no more pretending that the dragon warrior baloney was just a silly fantasy, no stopping him, no denying the madness.

I, Zieg Feld, would hike to Mount Mortal Dragon with a search party, on the hunt for dragons.


It was nearly three days before Diaz was satisfied with the scouting party he'd chosen, though I remained unconvinced of the scouts' skills in battle. Diaz assured me he had picked only the strongest and most resilient of the human escapees at Magrad; I decided he had given me only the ones he could spare from building and protecting the fort. It took another half-day to outfit the entire party with some semblance of armor and weapons, the rest of which I spent drilling the men in simple combat against wild monsters. The following day I was forced to listen to Syuveil describe different dragon breeds in his field guide and point out which he thought would most likely nest on the mountain, so it was mid-afternoon before I was able to meet with the rest of my scouting party and set off.

It wasn't even a mile down the trail that one of the scouts approached me, heeling me at the ankles like a well-trained puppy. He didn't say anything, probably too afraid or intimidated to address me directly.

"What do you want?" I said, probably a little too sharply.

The kid (he was really too young to be called a man, and it annoyed me that Diaz had thrown him in my scouting party) cleared his throat.

"Don't you remember me, Zieg?" he asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at him. He looked vaguely familiar and his voice sounded like one I'd heard before, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Rufus," he said. "From the Advance Guard."

Recognition dawned on me, and the even more powerful emotion of surprise set in.

"You escaped?!" I cried.

He nodded. "Yeah. I made it out shortly after they captured you. I figured it was a good enough diversion for enough of us to escape under the ruse that we were afraid of being blamed. We all thought Frahma did you in. But then I'd heard you turned up in the Coliseum and just kept winning, even against horrible odds. Sticking it to the man, huh?"

"Aren't we all?"

Rufus smiled sardonically.

"I know you fought a dragon in the Coliseum," he said, changing the subject, "but do you think there are a lot of them still left in the wild?"

"Not sure," I grunted.

"My mom told me they're nearly all gone. Said that the Winglies' magic power is more advanced than dragon magic and that the Winglies just wiped most of them out to save themselves from dragon attack…"

Rufus rambled on, but his question sparked my own memories of dragon lore from childhood.

Residents of the village where I'd grown up spoke of frequent dragon sightings, or of hearing the terrible, screeching mating call of a dragon far on the mount, but these always turned out to be little more than rumors. With the mountain nearly two days' journey beyond the Evergreen Forest outside of Mirr, and at least another day's hike beyond my hometown, most people never believed the talk. To those of us who had been in that area our entire lives, dragons were a species nearly extinct, and those still surviving would eventually die off or yield to the Winglies like the rest of earth's creatures. But even still, I can't recall a single child in my village who hadn't been told stories of the Divine Dragon, King of Beasts, flying through the skies on seven wings and observing his kingdom through seven terrible eyes, his great jaw filled with rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth, and mounted on his shoulder was a deadly energy-blasting "cannon," part of Soa's design when the creature fell from the Divine Tree. No one had ever seen the thing, and even if they had, I doubt they would have lived to tell about it; the beast was too bloodthirsty and vicious to allow any morsel of food to evade him.

We left Magrad in the late-afternoon and by sundown, we still hadn't reached the point where Gloriano's mild weather turned bitterly cold and snowy toward the northern regions near Mirr. We built our meager camp and settled in for the night, cooking rabbit stew over an open fire with game and vegetables harvested from the wild outdoors. I was vaguely reminded of my days as a guardsman in Frahma's advance guard, but this was so much different. Now, I had freedom. I possessed the power of choice. Now battling the creatures of the wild meant saving my own ass and defending my comrades, not protecting some Wingly's welfare.

The world was so much bigger now, somehow whole, like I could go anywhere I wanted, any time I wanted. I knew that wasn't entirely true, though; Diaz had me on a mission, but unlike the missions given me by Frahma or Lucius Diehl, this one Diaz had requested of me, not demanded. I'd been given the option to refuse, and though I'd wanted to, I'd taken the mission willingly. It was one I wanted to complete because I believed in Diaz as I had never believed in any Wingly. I believed in him because the Humans had chosen him as their leader and representation; I believed he would use his power wisely and honorably and not become corrupt with greed and the lust for more power. He was simply stepping up, taking the reins to drive the Humans from oppression and slavery, and I believed in him to be a proper leader.

Over breakfast the next morning, I flicked through the field guide, my thoughts and emotions somewhere between annoyance and fascination.

'The Green-Tusked Dragon: Characterized by its appearance, the dragon rather resembles a giant, feathered praying mantis. It possesses eight legs, its front pair shorter than the rest and acting as "pincers" or as defense. It strikes prey with these front legs, often using them to bring food to its mouth. The dragon's head is small and indicative of low intelligence, though its antennae likely provide the dragon with information about the weather and presence of enemies. It appears to have numerous faceted eyes, as a spider, but probably cannot see much farther than a few yards' distance. Females are flightless; males have membranous wings to carry them short distances. The Green-Tusked dragon also possesses two front fangs, or tusks, for which the beast is named; the dragon uses these fangs to pierce the flesh of prey and predators alike, poisoning them. Nesting below ground, in large hollows, burrows or holes, the dragon can spin sticky webbing of considerable strength, and is rarely seen above ground in daylight. Wind-elemental, danger level 2.'

"How does Diaz expect me to remember this shit?" I mumbled to myself.

"What're you reading?" Rufus asked, plopping down beside me and digging into a plate of fried eggs.

"This field guide—" I closed the book and set it in front of me. "—Syuveil lent it to me to help us on this quest."

"The Beasts and Botanicals of Endiness," Rufus read aloud. "Huh. What's it say about dragons?"

"It lists each known breed, their appearance, nesting rituals … that sort of thing."

"Does it talk about the Divine Dragon?" Rufus dropped his fork in the dirt out of excitement.

"I haven't looked," I said, laughing. "Here, you can read it."

Rufus took the book eagerly, flipping through the pages to the section on dragons and poring over it as Syuveil had. He was still reading when we packed up camp, removed traces of our presence from the area and set off again.

"It says here," Rufus read, "that the Black Burst dragon is a rare dragon breed, characterized by its small stature, incredible speed and agility. It's nearly always dark in color, with black, blue, indigo or sometimes purple scales, the likes of which are light but extremely resilient, making the dragon all but invincible. It appears to have no front appendages, but as the dragon is nearly always in flight, an extra set of legs becomes unnecessary…"

Rufus droned on about the dragon's ability to open its chest cavity to conduct a magic spell involving a burst of dark energy from its heart, leaving the dragon's core as its only vulnerable spot.

"... It's the only dragon known to reside exclusively on Mount Mortal Dragon. See? We might see one up there …"

Rufus was silent for a short time, as he read a few more pages. The rest of the men talked about battles they'd been in, trading war and escape stories, feats of brutality and bar brawls. I tuned it all out, trying my best not to focus on where we were headed and what dangers we might face.

"Ooh, listen to this, Zieg!" Rufus cried, suddenly. "The author of this field guide must've gotten a kick out of being so gruesome. Here, he talks about seeing a Red-Eye Dragon for himself once—" The kid cleared his throat and read aloud from the book.

"'I was travelling with a group of merchants on a course to trade metals to some local alchemists in the next city beyond the mountain. About three quarters of the way up, we heard an ear-splitting, gurgling scream. Hesitantly we moved in the direction of the cry and became fascinated by a dark spot in the earth, surrounded by fresh soot. The dark spot turned out to be an opening, hardly twelve feet in diameter, in a solid wall of granite, about seven feet off the ground. One in our party hoisted himself to the edge of the opening, peering inside by the light of a torch, reporting that he could see a pile of blackened rags covered in red slime. Curiously, not a single spider web inside, nor any mice. No creature seemed to find the hole any sort of home. Deciding that there could be something of value in the opening, and that perhaps the rags concealed treasure or the like, our party elected to choose someone to retrieve the rags. The only one fool enough to reach into the hole, I felt around blindly and caught hold of something hard and thin and also some sort of round object.'

'As I pulled the objects out, they fell to pieces onto the ground in front of me. I stumbled backward in surprise, nearly tripping over my companions. A blackened Human skull and rib lay before me, the bones fresh with bits of tendon and flesh still clinging to the ends. The skull oozed a dark liquid something like blood, and a vapor of hot steam rose from the hole in the rock wall. I lifted a lantern and cautiously peered back inside, my hands trembling and my heart nearly ready to explode. The light crept deeper into the hole, throwing eerie shadows about, and suddenly, two enormous orange orbs appeared in the darkness. I felt a wave of fresh steam and the metallic smell of blood assaulted my nostrils as the creature opened its mouth to emit a low rumbling growl. I promptly tumbled to the ground, and our party retreated the way we had come in haste, not bothering to look over our shoulders into the face of certain doom.

'I later learned what we had encountered was none other than the Red-Eye Dragon. The Red-Eye, characterized most by its long, flat head and the bright, flame-colored eyes for which it's named, is a fire-elemental dragon and considerably ferocious. It breathes fire and emits smoke and brimstone from every orifice, and its rigid, sinuous wings provide for soaring, agile flight. The dragon nests primarily near sources of heat, such as—'"

"Give me that!" I cried, snatching the book from Rufus's hands, tired of listening to endless talk of dragons. First Diaz, now this kid…

We traveled for another day and a half before we saw signs of a different climate. A gentle snow was falling, covering the earth in a delicate white blanket. It clung to the fanned branches of pine trees and ferns as we approached the edge of the Evergreen Forest, but while we prepared our camp for the evening, building a fire and unrolling knapsacks, I found myself traveling back in time.

I had been to this place before, or at least a thicket relatively near here, fifteen years ago.

.o.-0.-O-.0-.o.

I was no older than eight at the time, or round about. I remember fighting with Sarai about something stupid that night. Probably something to do with cutting my hair. She handled a lot of that domestic crap because my mom was usually too busy dealing with Jasper, who'd always been a stubborn little brat. Dad was out in the barn, taking care of the animals, as usual for that time of night.

The scream of a flare ended my argument with Sarai, and we both rushed outside, only to be met with a staggering explosion of heat and flame. The percussion of the hit vibrated the air, knocking Sarai and I on our asses. Flames shot up all around us, surrounding our little house and land, sealing it within a blazing wall. Mom came to the doorway, Jasper on her hip, their melded form illuminated by the heated orange glow around us.

I remember the look in her eyes most. It was understanding and fear and bravery, all wrapped into one.

"They've come," she said, breathless. But her wonder didn't last. She immediately turned to Sarai. "Take Zieg and Jasper and run." Her tone was urgent now. She let Jasper down and he ran to meet us, hugging Sarai's leg like a lifeline.

And that was the last I saw of my mother. She ran around the corner of the house, toward the barn where my father was either trapped or lying dead.

"Come on!" Sarai called. She grabbed Jasper's hand and took off toward the garden. I followed.

Everywhere we ran, flames blocked our path and frightening dark shadows passed behind the screen of fire. We heard screams and hushed voices and the rattling of armor and clanging metal of weapons. I yelped a couple times, but Sarai always hushed me with a hand or by jerking me another direction.

Finally, a path opened up for us. Our well was virtually the only thing we owed to the Winglies. Its supply of drinking water came from public sources, and the stones of the well themselves had been spelled with Wingly magic as protection from tamper or drought. The path to the well was wide open, and safety lie beyond. We hurtled toward it, Sarai running full tilt and me stumbling along behind her. She lifted Jasper into her arms to pick up speed. Those shadows crept in on us from every angle.

"Hurry, Zieg!" Sarai called, reaching the fence beyond the well.

I ran up and vaulted myself onto the fence. I hung there a moment until Sarai gave me a boost with her shoulder, and I was up and over. She passed Jasper over the fence, but in that last second, the shadows following us had emerged from the darkness, their amorphous outlines taking shape in the form of Winglies. Sarai screamed and lunged for the fence, but it was too late. The nearest Wingly reached out, grabbed her around the waist and hauled her away, back in the direction of the flames.

I stood there for a moment, terrified for the life of my sister. But my brother's shivering form at my side shook something inside me, and I lifted him onto my hip, taking off the other way, tears streaming down both our cheeks. I ran for what seemed like forever. When my legs finally gave out, we were in some part of the Evergreen Forest. We stopped and pulled together a nest made of pine branches, where Jasper and I curled up together and slept restlessly.

.o.-0.-O-.0-.o.

The forest scarcely looked different, the pines still towering above me, shading the forest floor and littering it with dead and dried needles. The chipmunks and squirrels still chattered from their burrows or holes in the trees, and owls still hooted during the night, with only a rustle of feathers to tell you they were active, hunting their dinner.

The forest carried on as I had following those events, but while the trees still stood silent and stalwart as ever, and the animals lived out their life cycles, I was different, changed. My memories haunted me, never granting me rest from the constant burning vengeance I felt.

They're all gone, I thought miserably, rolling over and drawing my blankets close around my chin.

The thought gave me no comfort, though. They were probably all in Mayfil now, toyed with further by the Winglies and the Devildom. The Winglies didn't stop torturing other races after life; instead, they used Death, harnessing its power and deciding the Fate of each spirit, ruling and controlling everything even in the afterlife.

I did my best to suppress my memories of the past, but my heart ached just the same as we made our way through the forest, stepping over fallen trees and rotting logs and slashing our way through brambles and brush. The men were growing restless, as we had heard or seen nothing bigger than a forest runner, the colorful bird too swift for us to catch it and too smart to pick a fight. It took us another half a day to hack our way through the forest, following well-trodden paths when we could, but being ever careful to erase our tracks and remaining watchful for any Wingly spies or envoys.

The trek up the mountain was uneventful at best, downright boring at its worst. The snowy, forested landscape eventually gave way to barren hillocks, and before we knew it, we were scaling the rocky mountainside. We were on the lookout for dragons the entire time, and the only creatures of any significance we found were pseudo-dragons, tiny mockeries of their viciously bloodthirsty cousins.

We spent almost another half a week on the mountain before we even heard or saw anything significant. One of the men spotted a dark figure swooping over the valley, too large to be a harpy. Its movement was more akin to a hawk, soaring on thermals rising from the volcano and keeping a watchful eye for prey low in the valley, but almost as quickly as we saw it, it disappeared in the clouds beyond the craggy mountainside. That evening, as we settled down for the night, bone-chilling screeches resounded from the top of the mountain, the echoes making me wonder if there really were more of them nesting up there.

Rather than give away our position with smoke from a fire, our party decided to forgo breakfast and snacked on dried beef and fruit instead. We waited with weapons drawn for another glimpse of the dragon, and we weren't disappointed.

Sure enough, around mid-morning, just as the sun was beginning to melt away the night's dew, a dragon screeched, and we watched as the beast rounded the edge of the mountain, drawing its wings to its sides and entering a flawless dive. It snatched a flying bird from mid-air, chomping a few times and swallowing the thing, bones and all. It repeated the same maneuver several times, eating its fill and demonstrating its superiority in the skies; it made birds and other flying creatures appear to be standing still in its wake.

"Oh my god …" I heard Rufus curse from somewhere to my right.

The temperature fell briefly as the dragon soared back overhead, drowning our party in shadow. It gracefully slowed its flight allowed me just enough time to take note of its more distinguishing features. A sleek, aerodynamic body, impenetrable armored scales, the magically-driven attack involving a spirit-draining black hole shot straight from its very core… there could be no doubt.

A Black Burst Dragon, I thought. Darkness elemental … Rose …

.o.-0.-O-.0-.o.

I recalled encountering her briefly in the hallway back at the Thayus mansion. It now seemed like years ago, though it couldn't have been any longer than a couple months. It was shortly after I'd first tried to talk to her, and she kneed me in the groin. Following Max's idiotic advice rather than my own notions of romantic pursuit, I threw at her the lamest pickup line in the book: "So what's your sign?"

But Rose hadn't found it the least bit amusing, as I'm sure Max had expected. She'd whirled around to slap me, but I ducked and took off down the hallway the opposite way, hoping she wouldn't chase me to box my ears. She hadn't.

For the next week and a half, I avoided Rose like the plague, sure I'd ruined any chance I ever had with her. But for whatever reason, whether Fate had intervened or not, we passed in the hallway again, and rather than ignore me, Rose had said, "Hello Zieg."

I'd tripped over my own feet in surprise, managing to mumble my own pathetic hello, but Rose only laughed, tossed her glossy black hair over her shoulder, thrust her chin in the air and in that voice like music, said, "It's darkness, by the way."

.o.-0.-O-.0-.o.

She's no warrior, no master of a dragon, I thought, the dragon's screech wrenching me back to the present. Sure, she can fence with one of those pretty sticks Winglies call swords, but she'd never survive a real battle.

But the memory of how Rose had performed under pressure during Diaz's raid warred with my proud conscience, the sting of how she'd bested me in our duel still too fresh.

"Shit! RUN!" one of the men shouted.

The men scattered and I looked up in time to see the dragon diving toward me, neck outstretched, jaws open and ready to make me a meal.

I threw myself to the ground, shielding my neck with my arms, and the dragon sailed overhead, missing me by mere inches.

"RUN!" I cried, echoing the warning of the first man, and we all picked up what little we could carry and took off down the mountain, the dragon cutting its wings to come back around and circle us again.

One of the men paused to pick up a rock and hurl it at the dragon, but it missed by a wide margin. The dragon howled with what I assumed to be its version of laughter and swept at us again, nearly knocking me off balance with the wind vortex.

"Keep going!" I called. "Just go!"

And we ran, watching in horror as the dragon demonstrated its fearsome black laser attack, missing us but hitting the side of the mountain. The rock burst apart in a spray of dust and rubble where it was struck, showering us with stones and debris. But just as the author of the field guide had avoided looking over his shoulder at his own impending death, we also kept our eyes trained on the road ahead, and while we realized at some point down the road that the dragon had abandoned its hope of dining on our flesh, we kept a quickened pace all the way back to Gloriano.


Twilight had fallen on Magrad when our party dragged itself, exhausted, sweaty and dirty, into the fort. I left the men to their own devices, Rufus the only one still tagging along behind me.

"Zieg!" It was a woman's voice. I paused to turn and look at her.

She was pale and slender, with shoulder-length hair the color of glowing embers, and she wore a loose-fitting tunic and boots, a heavy cloak around her shoulders. She carried a bow, a quiver of arrows at her hip, but my first impression was that she hardly looked strong enough to draw the bow, let alone aim true.

The woman jogged toward me, and I wearily pulled my helm off, tucking it under my arm. I nodded to Rufus, signaling him that he no longer needed to follow; he took the hint and scampered off to wherever ruffians called home in Fort Magrad.

"Zieg, Diaz is expecting you," the woman said, once Rufus had left. "He's waiting in the research tent."

"And who are you?" I asked.

The woman smiled warmly. "I'm Shirley. I've been keeping watch for your return under direction from Diaz. He is looking forward to your report. Follow me."

I wasn't entirely satisfied with the explanation of herself; something told me Diaz wanted Shirley for more than just his watchdog. I wondered if he'd dragged her into his dragon warrior scheme too.

I followed Shirley to the back of the fort, past groups of people building campfires and preparing to cook their evening meals. I suddenly felt like an outsider, an intruder, being escorted to stand before the king of a realm, where my life rested upon his whim. Where I would soon find out whether or not my head would remain attached to my shoulders.

No, I told myself sternly. You are no longer a slave. You answer to no man unless you wish to. You're the one holding the sword.

When Shirley and I reached the research tent, we found two men guarding its entrance, both of them dressed to the teeth in armor and clutching shields and spears. I was reminded of Frahma's guards, and the fear I'd been feeling crept into my throat again. I wondered if Diaz grew paranoid about recapture or assassination.

Shirley bowed to the guards and said, "We wish to speak to Emperor Diaz. It's a matter of importance."

"Like what?" the man on the left grunted.

"The scouting party has returned from Mount Mortal Dragon. We've come to make him aware."

The guards scrutinized me, then nodded once and stepped aside, allowing Shirley and I passage through the tent's entrance.

"Diaz!" she barked, entering and drawing the attention of everyone in the tent. They were gathered around a table in the center of the room, and paused to look at the door as Shirley and I came inside.

"Zieg Feld has returned from Mount Mortal Dragon!" Shirley exclaimed.

"Zieg!" Diaz cried, grinning. "Welcome back!"

He stepped away from the table and came toward me, clasping my hand in a fierce handshake.

"Well?" he asked, clearly doing his best to hide the excitement in his voice. "Did you see anything?"

Diaz, Syuveil, Shirley and the others inside the tent regarded me expectantly.

If I tell them I saw a dragon, Diaz is going to send me right back up there with a war party to take it down, I thought. The madness will never stop… But lying to him would mean lying to a friend. Was Diaz really my friend? Or were we all just pawns to him, expendable and replaceable pieces in his game of war against the Winglies? I wasn't about to be somebody's mercenary, replacing my freedom with bonded service barely above servitude. Even if battling dragons made me feel more alive than I ever had, I refused to be a part of Diaz's game.

"No," I said, sighing heavily, though my heart slammed in my chest with the weight of the lie. "We saw a lot of things up there, but no dragons."

For a moment, I thought Diaz could see through my ruse, but he didn't look disappointed. Instead, his eyes still burned with that same hungry insanity.

"No matter," he said, gleefully clasping his hands. "Syuveil and I have good news for you, then—"

I fought the urge to hurry forward and strangle Diaz for this nonsense, but I managed some small measure of restraint. His version of 'good news' likely spelled certain doom for me and probably others.

"—a band of Human escapees from Aeril and Zyrn, the easternmost Wingly outposts, have reported a dragon near Volcano Villude." Diaz grinned at me.

Damn him.

"It's likely a fire elemental dragon if it's nesting near such a hostile environment," Syuveil added. "Either that, or an earth elemental, but at this point we don't have anything to lose, so it's worth checking out."

"But Villude is at least four hundred leagues from here, if not more!" I cried. "I'll never make it all the way there and back before the Winglies blow this camp to smithereens!"

"Don't worry," Diaz said calmly, "we've already thought of that, and we happen to have just the person to help."

I hated the way he seemed to have an answer for everything, but my failures and attempts to thwart him would never trump his seriousness about this project. Diaz was a man possessed, and we were all aboard his runaway wagon train to hell.