Blasphet looked back. Kanst still hadn’t noticed him. His attention was focused on a battle at the front of the platform, and he certainly couldn’t have heard the struggle over the deafening cries of anguish that rolled through the air like unending thunder. The roar now washed out even Albekizan’s mad laughter.
Spotting Pertalon’s sword, Blasphet considered running his brother through from behind. But if his brother survived the blow, he’d fight much harder than Pertalon or Tanthia. The time had come to return to the tower for more poison. With luck, he would be back before Albekizan even noticed he was gone.
He had gone mad. He must be mad. Why couldn’t he go mad? Pet screamed and could barely hear his own voice over the crowd’s panicked shouts. The tears that blurred his vision rolled down his cheeks, across the sharp-nailed claws clamped upon them. Albekizan laughed wildly.
He would go mad. He had to go mad. But he couldn’t. Pet could only watch through the teary mist as men, women, and children died before him by the uncounted hundreds, some at the hands of dragons, many more beneath the trampling feet of their fellow stampeding men.
“Stop it!” he shouted. “Oh please, stop it!”
“Your cries are music, Bitterwood,” Albekizan shouted. “You wanted to save them! You killed in their name! Look what you’ve done! Look what you’ve done!”
Pet looked for he had no choice. However, he stilled his voice in his throat. He would not beg. Albekizan wouldn’t have that satisfaction, at least. Albekizan released his eyelids as he had every minute, perhaps to make sure he wouldn’t go blind. Pet clamped his eyes shut but to no avail. The king’s claws upon his cheeks and brow quickly pried them open again. His vision fresh once more, Pet looked upon the violence before him. He noticed some intense fighting immediately before the platform, where a group of men had wrested weapons from the Black Silences and now defended themselves fiercely.
Tears robbed his sight of clarity before he could be sure of what he had seen. Could the men truly have been winning?
Jandra burst from the stables astride a dappled mare, knocking aside the earth-dragon stable hand. She dug her heels into the horse’s flank and raced toward the open gate. Even from this great distance she could hear the cries from the Free City. What was happening? Was she already too late to save Pet?
Then she saw the glow towering above the walls of the Free City.
“Sire,” Kanst said, placing his claws on the king’s shoulder. “We must go!”
Albekizan turned his head, fixing a gaze like daggers upon Kanst.
“What?” asked the king.
“Sire, the guards around this platform can’t hold out. The sheer weight of the humans is crushing them. For every ten we slay, a hundred take their place. I warned you that-”
“Kanst,” Albekizan said, “it is not your duty to warn me. It’s your duty to see that your soldiers fight on. Join the fray if you must, but do not interrupt me again!”
“Sire, Queen Tanthia is dead,” Kanst said, revealing what he had discovered only seconds ago.
“What?” Albekizan released Pet, spinning around. His jaw dropped open at the sight of his beloved queen, lying still, as if asleep. “How?”
“I don’t know,” Kanst said. “Both she and Pertalon are dead without a wound on them. Zanzeroth is missing, as is Blasphet. I fear betrayal.”
Albekizan looked dazed. Then he looked up, his eyes wide. Kanst followed his gaze into the glowing sky.
Zanzeroth couldn’t resist. He might never find Bitterwood among the crowd, but there was no way he could lose the man with the axe. All his life Zanzeroth had craved hunting the most dangerous prey he could locate. Never had he seen a challenge such as this. Single-handedly, the human had broken an entire regiment, leaving a street cluttered with the bodies of a hundred dragons over which the humans now fled, spilling from the square like water surging through a hole in a dam. A few dragons fled before them, one mounted on an ox-dog-no, that wasn’t a dragon in the saddle but a child. And was that a pig in her lap? No matter. The axe-man chased down one of the remaining earth-dragons who tried to flee by climbing to the roof of a building. The man now stood on the rooftop as the soldier cowered before him, pleading for mercy. As the man raised his axe to kill his panicked victim, Zanzeroth made his decision. Here was the true test of his prowess.
He braced his spear in his hind claws and folded back his wings, angling into a dive. He noted the light brightening behind him, like the sun coming from behind a cloud. His shadow touched the black-robed man who turned his head in time to see Zanzeroth, his spear tip now inches away.
The glow around Vendevorex shifted, swirled, and coalesced as he mentally positioned the floating particles in the edges of the field. All below looked up, both men and dragons. Vendevorex activated the white plastic disk he’d removed from Hezekiah’s torso. Stamped on the outer edge of the plastic were the words, “Voice of GodTM.”
“I am Vendevorex!” he announced. His amplified words boomed like a clap of thunder and the din of voices beneath him lessened. He swooped within the sphere of light that surrounded him, careful to maintain the motionless illusion that he had created. Vendevorex had grown to a hundred feet in height, his eyes bright with flame, lightning playing about his outstretched wings. He decided on a last second improvement to the illusion, and suddenly his claws became the blue-gray of hardened-steel as they grew as long as swords. “HEED ME, O DRAGONS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, OR FACE MY WRATH! THIS BATTLE IS OVER!”
“The hell it is,” Pet heard a nearby man shout, and a dozen men joined him in a battle cry. The sound of blade against blade rung all around the platform.
“Sire,” Kanst said behind him.
“I’ve considered your advice, Kanst,” Albekizan said, his voice trembling. “I’ll return to the castle. Make sure your soldiers continue to fight. And kill that damned wizard! Do it personally!”
“Of course, Sire,” Kanst said.
The entire platform shuddered as Albekizan and Kanst leapt into the sky like sparrows before a cat. Alone on the platform, Pet struggled to free himself to no avail.
Alive, thought zanzeroth as he heard the wizard’s voice. It was too late to turn back now. His spear struck the black-robed man squarely in the chest. Zanzeroth tilted his wings so that his great speed would cause him to swoop skyward, carrying the impaled human with him. Alas, the human proved too heavy for the maneuver; he was more like a mound of stone than flesh. The spear shaft snapped. The human was thrown to his back by the force of the blow but Zanzeroth’s momentum shifted as well. Instead of returning to the sky, he hit the rooftop hard. He slid across the wooden roof, splinters tearing away his bandages, until he collided with the brick chimney. His breath exploded from him in a pained cry.
“DRAGONS!” Vendevorex shouted.“RETURN TO YOUR BARRACKS AT ONCE! FEAR MY VENGEANCE!”
Alas, the dragons didn’t seem to fear his vengeance as much as he’d hoped. Below him, the fighting resumed once more, though the dragons now fought more defensively as the humans surged against their ranks. To stop fighting was to risk death. But perhaps there was another way to stop the battle. Albekizan had taken flight, as had Kanst who flew straight toward the illusion. If he could slay them here, in full sight of the troops, the war would be won.
Kanst reached the edge of the illusion and struck with his spear, then spun off balance when the blow connected only with air. Vendevorex knew he’d never have a better chance. He shifted his concentration to his hind-talons, allowing the illusion around him to crumble as he formed a boiling ball of the Vengeance of the Ancestors. He hurled the flaming orb toward his target.
Kanst recovered from the missed blow much faster than Vendevorex would have guessed. The general turned, steadying himself on outstretched wings, just in time to face the flame that raced toward him. He then did the worst thing possible from Vendevorex’s view. He thrust his chest forward, straight into the path of the flame, allowing the deadly plasma to splash against his iron breastplate.