"That's because he's making a stand," said Vance. "We're all tired of living under the shadow of dragons. We'll cheer any man who fights them. Ragnar has been willing to get out in front of us. You haven't. You've worked behind the scenes, a plotter, a planner, but never a leader."
Burke grit his teeth as the long-wyrm splashed across a narrow ford in the stream. Vance was right. He was a planner at heart. He'd never thought of this as a character flaw. Nor had he thought that wanting to remain in control of events was a negative trait. This was why he liked machines. He could control all the variables. If one part of the machine failed, he could toss out that part and design a replacement. But the mob Ragnar had gathered… how could he control such a motley collection of variables? They were people with unknown abilities fighting and acting with unknown motivations.
With a shiver, he sat bolt upright in his saddle. This is why he'd raised Anza in such a mechanistic fashion. He'd programmed her to behave the way he thought a rational being should behave. She was his ultimate exercise in controlling all the variables in a human life.
He'd taught her that maintaining control by tracking down and recovering the stolen shotgun was more important than her own safety.
Even Bitterwood was a better father.
Shay rode the wind high above Dragon Forge. Far below, the fortress was a small gray diamond set in a broad circle of red clay. He was so far up that he could hold out his hand and cover the whole town. It was midday, with a clear blue sky above him; the air was clean enough that he could see Talon Lake and the Nest thirty miles to the west. The distant waters gleamed like a mirror.
The blue sky filled him with despair. All three of the smokestacks in Dragon Forge were lifeless. The fires of the revolution had gone out.
Shay shivered and pulled his collar higher. The air up here was frightfully cold. He wasn't sure how high he was flying. He was certain it was over a mile, perhaps even two miles. The few guards moving along the walls of Dragon Forge were nothing more than specks. He doubted anyone below could see him. He suspected the wings would fly even higher, though his lungs kept him from testing the notion. Beyond this height, he grew lightheaded due to the thinness of the air.
Sky-dragons circled far below, patrolling in a rough circle around Dragon Forge. Shay could also see dragon troops encamped along the roads leading to the city. It looked like a blockade, a fairly obvious tactic for dealing with an entrenched enemy. Surprisingly, none of the sky-dragons appeared to have seen him. He was high enough that they were the size of flies. No doubt he was only a speck to them as well. Or perhaps dragons simply didn't bother with looking up. They had no predators in the sky; all their threats were on the ground.
Shay wasn't happy about the events that had caused him to be the world's only winged human. He'd rather have Jandra than the wings. But perhaps there was some good that would come from his sorrow. With his wings, he could fly higher, faster, and further than any dragon. He was still firmly committed to the cause of human liberty, despite Ragnar's rather chilly reception. Burke would definitely understand the tactical importance of humans having control of their own wings. He hoped Jandra was right about the technological origins of the wings; if they were nothing but machines, then perhaps Burke could reproduce them. If they were magic, then they would be beyond even the Machinist's understanding.
Getting down into the fort was no easy task, given that the sky-wall archers were likely to fill the sky with arrows the second he approached. The dragons might not be looking up, but the humans almost certainly were. Could he dive fast enough to avoid the arrows, and then pull from the dive quickly enough to survive the drop? If only there was some way of doing this… invisibly.
He looked at Jandra's bracelet on his wrist. When she'd used it before, she'd simply struck it hard against the stone. She said a strong jolt would activate the tiny machines that could produce invisibility.
Shay pulled the angel's blade from beneath his coat. He'd learned that he could control the heat of the weapon with but a thought. Right now, the blade was merely warm. The broad side of the sword provided a flat, hard surface. He banged Jandra's bracelet against it and the light around him dimmed.
Hex's nostrils twitched as he caught the distinctive smell of a long-wyrm. As quickly as he'd detected it, the odor vanished. He circled back, searching for the tendril of breeze that had carried the aroma. Long-wyrm scents were an intriguing mix-snake mixed with sulfur mixed with crushed beetles. Ten minutes of searching the air proved fruitless. Had it only been his imagination? He hadn't eaten anything in over a day-his tongue was sore and swollen. Even sipping water was painful. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
Fortunately, Hex was almost at his destination. Off in the distance was the Dragon Palace. His eyes were instantly drawn to the black jagged spire that had once been the Grand Library, now gutted by fire. His heart ached as he thought of all the history and wisdom within its walls, forever lost. Yet, perhaps it was for the best. The books within that tower told of a history of conquest and oppression. It was an age he was happy to see at its end. The era of kings was truly past.
As he studied the burnt tower, he noticed the wooden fortress a few miles beyond. This was the Free City-a clever death-trap designed by his uncle Blasphet and built using the wealth and armies of his father, Albekizan. When last he'd visited the structure, it had been abandoned. Now, it was bustling. Thousands of tents dotted the fields around the city. Within the walls, countless bodies swarmed over the dozens of large buildings under construction.
His mouth went dry. He'd chosen the Free City to hide the genie because he was certain no one would search there. He hadn't expected it to grow overnight into one of the largest human cities he'd ever seen. Or was it a human city? He strained to make sense of the moving figures. There were definitely earth-dragons side-by-side with the men. Here and there, the bright blue form of a sky-dragon flitted from one side of the city to the other.
He squinted harder. Always in the past, when he'd seen the various races gathered like this at construction sites, the division of labor had been clear. Sky-dragons were architects, earth-dragons were bosses, and humans did the actual work. Here, everyone was working. None of the earth-dragons wore armor or carried weapons. Most were dressed in simple white tunics, as were the humans. There were no glowering slavecatchers watching over the scene. What was going on?
His nose once more picked up a few stray molecules of long-wyrm stink. He flared his nostrils, seeking the trail, his head snaking from side to side as he tested the relative strength of the aroma.
It was unmistakable now. He dropped lower in the sky, his eyes darting across the landscape, seeking the flash of copper that would reveal a long-wyrm's presence. There! The bright scales of a long-wyrm shimmered through the leafless thickets by the river. The beast raced along with sinuous grace, seeming to fly as its many limbs worked in perfect harmony. Hex tilted in the sky, the cool wind soothing his aching muscles as he fixed his wings to glide on an intercepting pass.
The long-wyrm was absolutely studded with riders. At the rear-most saddle sat a young girl with flowing blonde hair-Zeeky, no doubt, though at this distance, with her back to him, he supposed there was a tiny chance he could be wrong, and that this could be some other girl riding a long-wyrm with a pig seated in front of her.
In front of the pig were three men Hex had never seen before, and, in the forward saddle sat a man in a familiar cloak. Bitterwood! He carried someone in his lap, a sleeping girl with similar blond hair. Or was it a girl? More logically, this was Zeeky's brother, Jeremiah.