The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3) Page 23

  Kale went back to work on his sword, tugging it left and right until at last, it came free. He wiped the blood off using the edge of his cloak and then leapt to the ground. Just as he landed, the Bonecrusher fired again. This time, the cannon blew a hole through the façade and struck the dragon squarely in the chest.

  The shell exploded on impact, and the beast staggered backwards across the roof. As the dragon tried to regain its balance, the clay roof tiles shattered and separated under his feet. The entire roof began to slide out from under him. In a daze, the dragon clawed at the tiles as he began to slide off.

  “Ready,” Dane yelled over his shoulder. “When he hits the dirt, kill him!”

  Kale couldn’t help the triumphant smile that came to his face. Dane grinned at him.

  “Well done,” the king said. “I never thought I’d live to see the death of this beast. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Kale’s grin widened. He was about to respond when Dane’s mouth opened in a gasp and the tip of a spear exploded from his chest. Kale leapt forward as Dane took a lurching step in his direction. His eyes were wide with confusion. Blood spilled out over his lips. Kale caught the king as he fell, and lowered Dane to the ground. As his body settled to the earth, Kale glanced up. Through the slanting rays of the setting sun, he saw Burk sneering down at him.

  He thought it was Burk. To say the man had changed would have been an understatement. Burk had always been a large man, but somehow the smith’s body seemed taller and bulkier than before. His muscles bulged with inhuman strength, and his skin had taken on a deathly white pallor. His eyes looked sunken, his forehead somehow broader, almost as if he had reverted to some sort of pre-human hominid. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of tattered breeches.

  Kale reached for his sword, but Dane’s men were already rushing in to attack. As they closed in, Burk turned his attention on the battle. Kale turned to the fallen king. The color had drained from Dane’s face. Blood dribbled down his beard, and his eyes fluttered as if his focus was drifting between two worlds.

  “Aileen…” he said in a choking voice. “Tell my wife…”

  “I know,” Kale said. “Just rest. You need your strength.”

  Dane shook his head and started to speak. His voice breaking off in a fit of coughing. He reached out and grabbed Kale by the front of his shirt. “Don’t lie, boy. I’m dying.”

  Kale’s grim face revealed the inner thoughts he desperately wanted to conceal, but couldn’t. Dane was right. Not even River’s mother Breeze could have healed Dane’s wound. No Tal’mar magic, no herbs or prayers could rebuild that broken body.

  “I swear,” Kale said in a whisper. “I’ll tell your family how much you love them. I’ll tell the world how bravely you fought, and how strong you were. I promise, I will never let them forget.”

  Dane smiled a weak, blood-painted smile. He raised his gaze to the heavens. “I see the next world. I see the gods in their armor of silver and gold. I see my father, and his father before him.”

  The words brought a song to Kale’s mind; a ballad Dane and his men had sung the morning they battled the dragon on the beach. It had been the story of the death of a great warrior, Dane had explained. It was a story of the beliefs of his people. Kale remembered this now, and understood.

  “Go,” he whispered. “Take your rightful seat in the hall of your ancestors, where the ale flows like a mountain stream and the bread tastes like honey on your lips. Day and night, men will sing praises of your valor…”

  Kale didn’t remember all the words, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t get a chance to finish. Dane exhaled a great breath and went limp in his arms. The king’s eyes glazed over, and Kale pulled them shut. Behind him, the din of battle raged on. Kale just sat there for a moment, staring into Dane’s peaceful face, his dizzy mind not quite ready to accept what had just happened.

  It didn’t make sense. It didn’t seem possible. Dane had been so strong, so powerful. So much like Kale’s father… It wasn’t fair that a man like that should die such an unreasonable death. Attacked from behind, without warning. What coward would do such a thing?

  As he considered this, Kale’s anguish turned to rage, and the sound of clanging swords and the mechanical stamp of approaching hooves brought him back to reality. Kale rose to his feet. He turned, taking in the scene, and lifted his sword…

  Chapter 35

  The black dragon had landed at the north end of the courtyard. He was still alive and still fighting, but barely. A group of fighters had backed the creature into a corner, and though it still snapped and snarled at them, the dragon seemed to have lost its ability to breathe fire. The men lunged at it with spears, wearing it down, bringing the beast to submission by means of a thousands cuts rather than any one serious wound.

  Meanwhile, Burk stood in the middle of the courtyard with a large battle-axe in his hands. He was fighting off several of Dane’s men who had surrounded him. Two were lying on the ground, already dead. Dozens of fighters were flooding into the courtyard, and in their lead, three more knights mounted on mechanical horses. Not far away, Socrates hovered at the edge of the fight.

  “Give it up,” Socrates said to Burk. “You’re surrounded. Look at all these men.”

  “Corpses, you mean,” Burk snarled. He spun, parrying a sword blow, and brought his axe around to sweep the leg of an opponent. The sharp blade crushed the plate metal. It ripped through flesh and bone, severing the man’s limb at the knee. He fell to the ground, screaming.

  Socrates lunged, pushing the other men aside. Burk danced out of reach, swinging the massive axe like a child’s toy. As Socrates closed in, Burk brought the axe down overhead, intending to crush the ape’s skull. Socrates threw his arms up and stepped inside the swing. He caught the handle of the axe just below the head, and it froze in midair.

  “This is your last chance,” Socrates said, his voice a low rumbling growl. “Submit, or we will kill you.”

  Burk kicked Socrates in the chest with such force that the axe handle broke. Socrates flew backwards. He landed in the dirt ten feet away. A cloud of dust hovered around him as the ape rolled over and pushed up on all fours. The machinery inside his body made loud clicking noises, like a spring wound too tight.

  Burk discarded the useless weapon. He bent low and broke into a run. Socrates leapt back to his feet just in time to catch a blow to the face. There was a dull metal klang, and his head lurched sideways. He recovered instantly and responded with a powerful counterblow to Burk’s abdomen. Caught off guard, the blacksmith took the full brunt of the attack. Burk blew out a gust of air and stumbled back, trying to stay out of reach as he struggled for breath. One of the other fighters stepped forward, thrusting a spear at him. Burk caught it. In one swift movement, he yanked the weapon out of the man’s hands and spun it around in a blinding strike that crushed the man’s skull. The soldier dropped, dead before he hit the ground. Burk squared off to face Socrates again.

  “How did this happen, Burk?” snarled the ape. “What did you do to yourself?”

  “I got better.”

  “Better?” Socrates said. “Have you seen yourself? You’re not even human anymore!”

  Burk laughed. “I’m better than human.”

  “What did you do? Did you bathe in starfall? Did you drink it?”

  Burk’s expression changed for a split second, and the gorilla’s eyebrows shot up. “Burk, do you know what that did to you? Do you know what it’s doing to you right now?”

  “It’s making me stronger, faster. More powerful than any man alive! Keep sending your men, monkey. I’ll kill them all, one by one. I’ll kill a thousand men today! Ten thousand!”

  Kale had steadily been approaching the two of them during this conversation, with both swords drawn. Burk glanced over at him as he approached. When he recognized him, he shot Kale a sneer.

  “I like the swords,” he said. “Are those new? It was a shame, what happened to the last ones.”

 
“I’m glad you like them, because they’re about to kill you.”

  “Kale, you weren’t like this before. You used to be cheerful. It’s the girl, right? What was her name? River? Or is it the other one?”

  “This is just about you and me, Burk. No one else.”

  Burk looked him up and down. “Two against one doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Are you worried?” said Kale.

  “Not at all. In fact, I’m going to give you the upper hand.”

  Burk tossed the spear aside. As it clattered across the ground, he dropped to his knees and put placed both hands on top of his head.

  “Well, then?” he said. “What now? Will you arrest me? Will you kill me? Do what you will!”

  Socrates gestured for Kale to stay back. The warrior ignored the warning. He leapt forward, swinging the left-hand sword in a broad backhanded arc meant to decapitate the blacksmith. Burk leaned back, dodging the blow. Kale followed up with a thrust to Burk’s midsection. Burk twisted away, and the tip of Kale’s sword just grazed his abdomen.

  In a flash, Burk was back on his feet with the spear in hand. He held eye contact with Kale, but whipped the spear out to the side, slashing the throat of a nearby warrior. A slow grin spread across his face as the man fell to the ground, blood spurting from the wound.

  “I’ve got it!” he said with a wild look in his eyes. “This is what I’ll do: every time you try to kill me, I will kill one of them!”

  “You’re insane,” Kale said.

  Burk lunged at him. Kale easily brushed the spear aside and countered with a jab towards the mutant’s throat. Burk parried the attack with his handle and then brought the tip upward in a slashing movement towards Kale’s groin. Kale brought the second sword down, effectively blocking the strike.

  Burk feinted another attack and drew back. As Kale brought his swords into a defensive position, Burk threw the spear. Kale dodged, thinking it was aimed at him. The weapon missed him by several feet. Behind him, another soldier fell with the spear imbedded in his chest.

  A knight rushed Burk from behind, a sword thrust aimed at his ribs. Burk spun. He caught the blade of the sword with both hands and pulled, bringing the man off balance. As his attacker stumbled, Burk released his grip and caught the man’s throat in the crook of his elbow. For a moment, no one moved. He held up one hand showing the sword slice across his palm. Milky red blood, almost purple in color, streamed from the wound.

  “Enough!” Socrates shouted, his hoarse voice almost a growl. “Release him, Burk.”

  Burk smiled. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” he snapped the man’s neck.

  Socrates rushed him. Burk threw the dead man’s body in his path. This slowed the ape, and Kale took advantage of the chance for a second attack. He stepped forward, both blades swinging in a blur. Burk danced back, lunging, twisting, looking for an opening.

  Kale heard a small explosion and a wound appeared in Burk’s shoulder. It was small, no larger than his thumb. It must have been a small caliber firearm. River was back there, he thought. Somewhere behind him, with nothing between her and Burk but Kale.

  Burk didn’t even flinch as the bullet sank into his flesh. His eyebrows went up slightly with surprise, and he glanced over Kale’s shoulder to see River and Micah standing in the background. A wide grin spread across his face.

  “She’s here,” he said in a low voice. “Kale, River’s here!”

  Kale pressed forward in his attack, and Burk took a cautious step back. Kale thrust a sword at Burk’s throat. The smith’s left hand shot out and caught the blade. Kale drove his second blade into Burk’s gut. The sword penetrated his flesh, driving deep into Burk’s midsection. The blacksmith snarled. He released the first sword and closed his grip on Kale’s throat, dragging him closer, driving the blade even deeper into his gut. The stunned warrior didn’t have time to react. Rivulets of warm blood from the cuts on Burk’s hand ran down Kale’s throat, burning his skin and staining his shirt. Kale dropped both swords as Burk’s fist closed around his windpipe. He clamped his hands around Burk’s wrist, trying to force his grip loose, but the creature only smiled.

  Kale reached out, trying to get a grip on his enemy, but his reach was a fraction of an inch short. He closed his hands into fists, swinging blindly, hoping for a lucky shot. He kicked, driving his boots into Burk’s legs and groin. Nothing had any effect. Stars appeared in his vision. He felt a warm tingling numbness spreading through his extremities.

  At the edge of his vision, Kale saw a flash of midnight blue behind Burk, and a metal pipe came crashing down across the back of the mutant’s head. Burk released his grip, dropping Kale to the dirt. The blacksmith stumbled, turning, apparently confused. As he turned, Socrates took another swing at him. Burk caught the pipe, dragging it forward as he kicked Socrates in the chest. The ape flew backwards, tumbling head over heels as he landed. Burk leapt forward, the pipe still in his hand. He lifted it and brought it down repeatedly, striking Socrates on the legs, the chest, the face. Socrates groped blindly, trying to catch the pipe or Burk’s arm, but the crude circuitry that operated his reflexes had been damaged.

  Another shot rang out, and then another. Bullet wounds appeared on Burk’s back. A third struck his head, shredding the skin on his scalp but bouncing off of the mutant’s hardened skull. A group of soldiers had been advancing on him, and Burk suddenly turned on them. They fell back as he advanced on them, but not before Burk tore a battle-axe from the hands of one of the men. He snarled at them and the entire group fell back in disarray.

  Burk returned to Socrates. He lifted the axe overhead, glaring down at the ape. Time seemed to stop. Kale, still shaking and confused, crawled to his feet. River squeezed the trigger again, knowing it wouldn’t have any effect at all, but needing to try something. Micah opened his mouth, emitting an involuntary scream that no one seemed to hear.

  A dark shadow passed over them. Burk hesitated, He turned, staring up at the monstrous creature bearing down on him. For a moment, their gazes locked. In a blur of movement, the dragon snapped at him and caught Burk up in its mighty jaws.

  The blacksmith screamed as the dragon lifted him into the air. It closed its jaws on him, and shook its head wildly from side to side. Burk’s scream went silent as half of his body fell to the ground. The other half vanished as the dragon tossed its head back and swallowed. The creature landed heavily. It turned, gathering up the rest of its prey.

  An eerie silence had fallen over the courtyard, and the sound of crunching bones filled the air. The witnesses stared on, shocked and horrified, frozen in their tracks. Bodies lay scattered about the grounds. Dozens were wounded or dead, and there were many who wouldn’t survive the night. The remaining dragons had fled with the arrival of the black, and now only the corpses remained.

  Kale and the others helped Socrates to his feet. Something inside the ape made a grinding sound as he straightened. He turned, surveying the damage. He blinked, gazing around the courtyard in confusion, and then looked at them.

  “It’s dark,” he said.

  He was right. Sometime during the battle, night had fallen. The dragon’s breath hovered over their heads, a thin mist gliding down the face of Dragonwall, inching ever closer to the city. The black dragon shook its wings and took to the night sky. Its flight was awkward, unbalanced. It seemed to have great difficulty flying straight or achieving any great height, yet in a matter of moments it had vanished beyond the walls of the palace and into the mountains to the south.

  Chapter 36

  The dragons left a city of carnage and ruin in their wake. Rubble filled the streets. Buildings burned, their roofs crushed in, smoke pouring into the sky. Homes and business were destroyed. Hundreds of citizens had been injured, and dozens killed. Beneath the ash and rubble simmered the knowledge that Dane and Fenn were both dead, and for the first time in centuries, the land was without a king.

  Queen Aileen rallied her people, not with a speech full of hope and promises, but by entering th
e streets and helping to clear the debris with her own bare hands. Where she found the injured, she helped them, or sought help for them, and when she found the dead, she helped carry their bodies to the wagons where they could be identified and then removed from the city for burial. Around her, the people of Stormwatch went to work with vacant stares and broken hearts, but inspired by their queen’s strength and bravery. They could not in good conscience leave the work to others.

  It was a grueling night full of misery and tears, and the only small consolation they had was the fact that for the first time ever, the dragon’s breath did not reach the city. Socrates later discovered that the level of starfall in the dragon’s lair had become low enough that the geysers had quit functioning. To the people of Dragonwall, it was a miracle; a parting gift from their great warrior-king as he took his seat in the hall of the gods. Seeing what it meant to them, the crew of the Iron Horse made no effort to convince the people otherwise. It was enough to see hope in their eyes and their burdens lightened, if only by a small amount.

  The following night, Socrates and his team waited for the black dragon’s return. They lined the ballistae-mounted wagons up behind the train, and further up the hill, and parked the Bonecrusher with the cannon loaded and ready. River and Micah sat on the tank, looking down the hill at Socrates and the others while they waited.

  “I still can’t believe the dragon escaped,” Micah said at one point. He was sitting on the front of the tank with his sketchpad laying across his folded knees, a charcoal pencil in one hand and a long-stemmed ivory pipe in the other. “We shot it twice. It had a hole through its wing!”

  “It wasn’t flying very well,” River said.

  “True, but what about the second shot? Socrates said it hit him right in the chest.”

  “Yes, but the shell hit the façade of the palace first. It may have fragmented. It may even have exploded. It’s possible he suffered less damage from this cannon than he did falling off the roof.”