Not that Zanzeroth gave a damn about the human race, as a lot. But somewhere among them was the man who stole his eye. With the king’s policy of killing off the whole species, Bitterwood, or the man pretending to be him, might be lost. If the king were to poison the wells of the humans, and his assailant were to die anonymously, just one bloated corpse among millions, Zanzeroth would never find satisfaction. Thus, it was in his best interests to complicate the king’s plans. And if Shandrazel was to be the tool, so be it.
Shandrazel flew through the night and day, past the point of exhaustion. Tradition held that he had twenty-four hours to escape the kingdom. At nightfall, all subjects of the king were duty bound to kill him. His older brothers were all reported to have flown toward the Ghostlands, the cursed, dead cities that littered the northern wastes. There were rumors of powerful magics within the Ghostlands; Shandrazel had himself been tempted by the promise of exploring the unknown. And yet the day found him heading south, deeper into the lands held by Albekizan rather than to the possible safety of the north. He was determined to reach the one place in the kingdom where he knew he would find kindred spirits: the College of Spires.
Evening was evident in the blood-touched tint of the clouds. His target was finally in sight. From the seemingly endless canopy of emerald trees that blanketed this rolling land, the hundred gleaming copper spires of the college emerged. This was a city built long ago by biologians as a place for the finest minds of the kingdom to gather and study the great mysteries of life. And more so than his father’s castle, this was the place Shandrazel truly thought of as home. He’d been educated here, spending years studying the collections of tomes and scrolls and leather-bound journals housed in the libraries. More importantly, he’d been challenged here; the Biologian Chapelion, Master of the University, had taken him under his wing (though, not literally, given that Shandrazel was twice his size) and mentored him. Through endless hours of arguments, he’d taught Shandrazel the art of discerning truth from fiction. Some called Chapelion the ultimate cynic, a skeptic who believed in nothing. But Shandrazel knew, in fact, that Chapelion was the ultimate romantic-so deeply in love with truth he would never be seduced by convenient or comfortable falsehoods.
Shandrazel could credit Chapelion for his own stance against the ancient mythologies that shackled the races of dragons. If there was one place on earth that was certain to provide sanctuary, it was here.
The dense forest canopy gave way to green rolling hills dotted with tall oaks. Sky-dragons on the gravel paths below pointed toward the sky. Some rose to join him, shouting out his name. Soon, he traveled with a score of young sky-dragons. From the nearby spires, bells chimed a welcome.
Shandrazel spotted a good landing site. He angled his wings to slow himself, drifting gently down toward a white fountain that sat in the center of the college. A trio of marble sun-dragons craned their necks toward the sky from the center of the fountain, water bubbling from their open mouths and spilling into a pool below, green with water lilies. Shandrazel came to rest on the edge of the fountain, his talons grasping the familiar stone. The scent here was well remembered; the lively, humid air of the fountain square brought back recollections of debates stretching through long, warm nights. For the first time in two days, he felt safe. The sky-dragons that shadowed him landed as well, joining a growing crowd. In the moment it took Shandrazel to regain his breath after such a prolonged flight, he was surrounded by a sea of blue faces, all eyes fixed upon him. His name was spoken a hundred times in tones ranging from curious and excited to worried as the crowd speculated on the reason for his presence. From the cacophony of voices speaking his name, his ears found a welcome voice.
“Shandrazel!” It was Chapelion. The Master Biologian emerged from the crowd, draped in the green silk scarves that denoted his rank among the scholars. “You’ve come back!”
“An interesting assertion,” said Shandrazel, falling back into the ongoing joke he shared with his former mentor. “I admit there’s anecdotal testimony to support your claim, but do you have any physical evidence?”
In response, Chapelion punched him in the thigh.
“Ow,” said Shandrazel.
“Ow, indeed,” said Chapelion. “Why have you come here? Where is your mind? How can you be so thoughtless?”
“Thoughtless?”
“It’s nearly nightfall,” Chapelion said, looking up at the red sky. “In moments, I, and everyone in this crowd will be bound by law to slay you. This is a dangerous gamble you’re taking, Shandrazel.”
“You, sir, are the dragon who taught me that an unjust law may be disobeyed in good conscious. This is no gamble. I’ve come here to seek sanctuary and your advice.”
“You’ll receive neither,” said Chapelion.
“Please,” said Shandrazel. “If you’ll listen to me, I-”
“No!” snapped Chapelion, his scaly brow furrowing until his eyes were mere slits. “Your presence here dooms us all! We are scholars, not warriors. If Albekizan’s armies come here, there are no walls to protect us, no gates to defend.”
“He need not learn I’m here,” said Shandrazel. “Is there a dragon among this crowd who would betray me? I know I can count on your loyalty. We citizens of the college are bound with a camaraderie that may endure any test.”
“You fool!” said Chapelion. “Did I teach you nothing in your years here? You dare speak of camaraderie when your reckless action could mean the death of every student before you. You speak of loyalty yet apparently give no care that Albekizan may torch these hallowed spires and render to ash the accumulated wisdom of three hundred generations. Leave this place!”
“But, sir…” Shandrazel’s voice trailed off as Chapelion turned from him. From the tower the evening bell tolled, marking the arrival of sunset.
“Kill him,” barked Chapelion as the crowd parted to allow him passage.
The crowd closed once more in his wake. In mass, the sky-dragons crept toward Shandrazel, their eyes showing fear.
“Stay back!” Shandrazel shouted, lowering his head and opening his jaws wide to brandish his perfect, knifelike teeth. “I don’t want to hurt anyone!”
Then from behind, a stone smacked into his shoulder. Shandrazel spun, his talons extended. He was completely encircled. The sky dragons were pulling the larger stones from the gravel walkways. A second stone flew toward him, glancing his wing. He retreated back into the shallow waters of the fountain. More rocks rained down. He was fortunate that the pathways held few stones larger than pebbles. But though the stone missiles caused little physical pain, each blow hammered into Shandrazel’s mind the awful truth. He was alone. There was no shelter here.
A splash in the fountain behind him signaled the rush of one of the bolder students. Shandrazel whipped his tail in an arc, catching his unseen attacker in the neck. There was a louder splash as the dragon fell. Shandrazel growled then charged to the edge of the fountain, snapping his jaws inches from the nearest student. The crowd roiled as dragons stumbled into one another, trying to avoid Shandrazel. He raked his wings across the crowd front, knocking students from their feet and causing shouts of panic to fill the air.
A circle expanded around him. Outnumbered a hundred to one, a sun-dragon was still a frightful force. In their wide, frightened eyes, Shandrazel could see every dragon before him wondering if they would be the one snapped in twain by his powerful jaws. Their fear stirred his soul to anger. Was this how a fellow scholar was to be treated?
Then, like a flood, shame washed away the anger. What was he doing? Was he prepared to fight and kill every last one of these students? If he weren’t, he knew his father would. Chapelion was right, as always. Shandrazel had betrayed these students by coming here.