“If you’re certain. We can go up the wall here,” he said. The alley they were in ran along the outer wall of the city.
“Let me get ready,” Jandra said, reaching into her pouch. “We’ll still be able to see each other, but we need to stay close if you don’t want others to see you.”
Bitterwood nodded, then turned the rain barrel over and placed it against the wall. He hopped on and extended his hand to help Jandra up. Jandra activated the invisibility as she stood next to him. But now what? The wall stood twenty feet high, made of logs driven into the ground.
Bitterwood didn’t share her hesitation. He placed his hands and feet between the gaps in the logs and scaled the wall as quickly as if he were walking across flat ground.
“Wait!” she said. “You’re out of range!”
Bitterwood didn’t stop. He placed his hand on the top of the wall and pulled himself up. He straddled the wall and turned around, looking down at her. He cocked his head.
“You really are invisible,” he muttered.
“Yes,” she said. “But you’re not. Someone will see you.”
“Then we should make haste,” Bitterwood said, tossing one end of the rope toward the sound of her voice. “Don’t even try to climb. I’ll lift you.”
Jandra wrapped the rope around her hand and arm and Bitterwood began to pull her up. She helped him by using her feet to climb the wider cracks when possible.
“I see you now,” he said as she neared the top of the wall.
He reached down and took her hand and lifted her the rest of the way. Jandra looked around for guards and noticed a nearby guard tower, but the guards within weren’t looking in their direction. Instead, the guards watched the sky. Jandra looked up and gasped. Sun-dragons!
“I see them,” Bitterwood said. “I don’t think they’ve seen us.”
Jandra soon realized this was true. She’d gotten him into the invisibility field just in time. The dragons weren’t headed directly toward them. They weren’t even looking in this direction. They seemed to be heading toward the center of the Free City, to the square.
Albekizan himself led the way. It had been months since Jandra had seen him. The king was breathtaking in flight, with broad, crimson wings driven by a deep, well-muscled breast. He flew with powerful, precise movements, showing his mastery of the air. Tanthia followed. The queen was smaller than the king, sleeker, and her wings trailed yellow silk ribbons that flashed in the sunlight. If anything, she looked even more graceful in the air than Albekizan. In contrast to the elegant royal couple, Kanst followed behind in his slow, jerky motion. Weighed down by his heavy armor, the great bull dragon beat the air mightily, raising himself higher one flap at a time before holding his wings stiff and gliding down, losing the height he’d gained. He didn’t so much fly as climb and fall through the sky. Zanzeroth lagged even further behind, the stiff movements of his wings betraying his half-healed wounds. Another dragon would have stayed in bed with such injuries, Jandra suspected, but the tough old hunter was too proud ever to admit to weakness. A single sky-dragon completed the procession, Pertalon. Despite his youth and strength, Pertalon trailed behind Zanzeroth, for he carried a burden, a cocoon of white cloth wrapped around what looked to be the body of a man.
Could it be Pet? Could it not be? She should have freed Pet when she had the chance. Now that Vendevorex was going to fight the king, there was no need for Pet to sacrifice himself. As much as she hated Vendevorex she respected his abilities, and knew that if he was intent on overthrowing the king, he would. The white bundle struggled as the dragons banked. She felt heartened that Pet was still alive. Jandra would help Bitterwood for now. When she found the information he needed, she would make him return the favor and rescue Pet.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: MYTH
Metron watched Albekizan’s party fly from the grand hall toward the Free City. He’d received an invitation to join the king but had politely declined, stating that he was feeling under the weather. Metron had suspected the king wouldn’t take no for an answer, and had been anticipating the appearance of a few guards. Knowing the king proceeded without him was humbling. Apparently, he wasn’t essential to the running of the kingdom.
Despite learning that he wasn’t as vital to the king’s court as he sometimes fancied, he was also relieved. Whatever the king had planned, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The note passed to Metron moments before he’d been summoned made it vital he stay; Androkom, the biologian who boasted of knowing the secret of life, had arrived. The scholar and his equipment were waiting below in Metron’s personal study.
Metron hurried through the stone corridors and stairwells that led to the maze of books below. When he arrived at his study he found the door ajar. It locked with a secret key that only another initiated biologian would possess.
“Androkom?” he said, peering into the dark chamber.
“I’m here,” his fellow biologian said. In the darkness, there was a creak as the shutter of an oil lamp was opened. The light revealed Androkom sitting at the table in the center of the room, his pale blue form half-hidden behind a stack of books. A well-worn leather satchel rested on the table before him. Androkom clutched the strap of the satchel tightly in his ink-stained fore-talons as he nodded in silent greeting. Metron stepped into the room, pushing the door shut behind him. He gasped as the closing door revealed that they were not alone. The rich scarlet scales of a sun-dragon’s breast filled his vision. A familiar face loomed over him.
“Shandrazel!” he cried.
“Please,” Shandrazel said in a loud whisper. “Lower your voice.”
“Sneaking back into the castle with a dragon of Shandrazel’s stature wasn’t easy,” Androkom said. “You’ll understand that we’d rather not be discovered.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Metron asked, pointing his walking staff toward Androkom. “Are you assisting the prince? This is treason! He’s duty-bound to kill the king!”
“Nonsense,” Shandrazel said. “I never felt any obligations to the old ways. I feel even less now that I know how artificial the so-called ‘ancient traditions’ truly are. Androkom has told me much about the ways of the biologians.”
“Tell me this is a lie, Androkom,” Metron said. “You cannot have told him the initiated secrets.”
Androkom nodded. “I did; at least, what I had time to tell. I respect you, High Biologian. But I no longer respect our ways. The higher I have risen in the ranks, the more I have learned that has troubled me. Shandrazel and I share an abiding faith in the redemptive power of truth.” Androkom toyed with the shutter of the lantern as he spoke, opening it fully to cast as much light as possible over the chamber. The younger biologian glanced around at the dusty tomes and shadowed niches of Metron’s private study. “The Book of Theranzathax speaks of using light to carve the world from darkness,” he said. “We think it’s time for the obscuring haze of lies to be burned away by the lantern of honest inquiry.”
“Androkom,” Metron said, stepping to the table, placing his fore-talons on the heavy oak for balance as he leaned closer. “You must reconsider this reckless path you’ve chosen. I’ve known you for years. I’ve watched you rise through the ranks at a nearly unequaled pace. Why destroy the very title you’ve worked so hard to earn?”
Androkom met Metron’s condemning gaze without blinking. He said, “I entered the ranks of the biologians seeking knowledge. It disturbs me that my role has become one of concealing truths, rather than revealing them. Too much of what’s taken as common fact by most dragons is merely carefully constructed fiction.”
“Yes!” Metron hissed. “Carefully constructed! Designed by the most brilliant minds who ever lived to give dragons a grand destiny! You cannot brashly destroy the work of centuries!”
“Metron,” said Shandrazel, “I will grant that you have only the best interests of dragons at heart. No doubt the most central myths of the dragons were crafted solely for the benefit of our kind. But we are not alone on this world… We share it. Would my father now be waging war against the humans if he knew the truth? The petrified skeletons that adorn our halls… these are not the remains of our ancestors. Our species is barely a millennium old. We owe our existence to humanity.”