Dragonseed (59 page)

She stood up, wiping the grit from her blue silk trousers. Shay already had his wings unfolded. He looked quite heroic in his red coat, with his shoulders pulled back. Vendevorex had repaired his muscles and scars. With the powers she commanded, she could have healed him herself… she could heal anyone and everyone. She could feed the hungry and give shelter to the homeless and strength to the weak.

“When we get back from the moon,” she said, “I’m going to take off my genie.”

Shay raised his eyebrow.

“I’ll still help you train to use yours,” she said.

“But—”

“I don’t know if I have Vendevorex’s level of self-restraint,” she said. “He’s always been sparing in the use of his abilities. He’s far more powerful than he lets on. I never understood why he didn’t do more good. For a while, I thought it was because he was afraid of the Atlanteans discovering he was using their technology. Now, I understand the truth—having been to Atlantis, he saw the effects of limitless altruism. Just because he has the power to fix the world’s problems doesn’t mean that it’s always right to do so.”

“You’re afraid you might do too much good for the world?”

“I still want to make the world better,” said Jandra. “But I want to do it following your vision. I want to help you start your school. We’ll give people the tools they need to solve their own problems. I don’t want people to become dependent on me.”

Shay smiled. “It’s a little late for that. I’m already dependent on you.” He lifted into the air and held his hand toward her. “Without you near, I suspect I’d wither away.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true,” he said. “I think it’s worth trying, by the way.”

“What’s worth trying?”

“When we get back, take off your genie for a year. I’ll take off mine, since I barely can use it anyway. We’ll discover if the world can last a year without our magic.”

She took his hand as her wings chimed out to their full length. She rose into the air until they were the same height.

“With you,” she said, “there will always be magic.”

They tilted toward each other. Their lips met gently in weightless bliss. Shay wrapped his arms around her waist as they drifted in the flower-scented breeze. They floated for what felt like eternity, as her fears and doubts melted away.

When he finally broke from the kiss, she gazed into his eyes.

There was a question she felt embarrassed to ask.

“What?” he whispered.

“After we put up the genies, we’re, um, keeping the wings, right?”

“Of course my angel,” he whispered, stroking her cheek as they climbed into the endless blue.

It was nightfall when Hex reached the Free City. In the weeks since he’d visited the population had swelled, rivaling Richmond in size. He suspected that the people in Richmond were enjoying the economic boom of selling an endless stream of building supplies to their thriving neighbor.

They landed by the barn that served as Blasphet’s abode. A crowd of white-robed citizens gathered around him and the valkyries.

He noted with a certain satisfaction that humans outnumbered earth-dragons here fifty to one, and sky-dragons perhaps three-hundred to one. There were no sun-dragons to be seen. He wondered if this spoke to the differences in gullibility among the various species. Of course, it could also have reflected the degree to which the lives of the various races had been thrown into turmoil by the recent unrest.

The barn doors were open, allowing the warm spring breeze to flow through the place. The barn looked much as he left it, though the gate to Atlantis had been closed. Vendevorex had finally mastered that trick.

A silver mosquito landed on Hex’s gold-plated ear.

It buzzed in a perfect simulacrum of Vendevorex’s voice that only he could hear.

“I’ve been wondering when you would show up,” the mosquito said.

“Are you near?” Hex whispered.

“I’m still in Atlantis,” said Vendevorex. “There are machines here I need in order to do what you wish. But I have drones to serve as my eyes and ears.”

Hex nodded, hoping Vendevorex saw the gesture. He walked into the barn with the valkyries at his heels.

Blasphet was on his canvas-covered podium. He looked pleased by Hex’s arrival.

“You look worthy of worship, nephew,” said Blasphet.

“No, my lord, no,” whispered a robed woman near the black dragon’s feet. She sounded distressed.

“My followers find the thoughts of worshipping any other dragon stressful, I fear,” said Blasphet. “I believe it’s because, despite my most fervent protests, they believe I am a god.”

“You called yourself a god once,” said Hex. “And, as a god, you’re responsible for the deaths of eight-hundred-seventy-three valkyries, victims of your genocidal assault on the Nest.”

“You speak of deeds I performed before I was reborn,” said Blasphet.

“I speak of deeds for which you will be brought to justice. These valkyries are here to arrest you. You’re to be tried for your crimes before a council of learned dragons. Should they decide you are guilty of the assault upon the Nest, you will face execution.”

“I’ve already died for those crimes,” said Blasphet. “My sins were washed away in my own blood.”

“Perhaps this argument will impress your judges.”

The woman at his feet sprung up.

“No!” she shouted. “You cannot take him! He’s the life force of this city! He provides all food. He cures all ills. His wise counsel has united the races!”

“If his counsel is truly wise and you’ve learned from him, perhaps your city will thrive,” said Hex. “I won’t interfere with your development. If you’ve discovered a better path through life, I hope it spreads to all the corners of the earth. Blasphet, however, will be at the Nest.”

The woman clenched her fists. Blasphet placed his fore-talon on her shoulder.

“Colobi, you are dear to me. I know you would die to protect me. I do not ask for your life, however. Listen to my nephew. Follow my example. Spread my teachings. Serve the world.”

The woman looked up with tears in her eyes.

Blasphet sounded as if there were tears in his own voice as he said, “I ask that all of my children leave the room. I would have a moment of alone with our guests.”

The women who lined the walls glared as they filed out of the barn. The valkyrie at the back of the room drew the doors closed.

“Do you intend to come peacefully?”

“Of course,” said Blasphet. He sounded smug. “I cannot guarantee, however, that my followers will allow our safe passage. They can be… zealous.”

“We won’t be leaving through the door,” said Hex. “Vendevorex, it’s time.”

A circular rainbow opened in the air near the wall, yawning ever wider until it was large enough to swallow a sun-dragon.

“The Nest is on the other side,” said Hex.

“I suspected as much,” said the former Murder God. “I’ve been aware of the wizard’s bug for days now. My eyes and ears are much keener than they once were.”

“We know,” said Hex. He pointed at the portal. Half of the valkyries were already passing through the gate. “Follow them,” said Hex.

Blasphet rose. His eyes were creased with a look of satisfaction.

“Did you know that the humans have a myth?” he asked, just before he vanished into the gate.

Hex followed closely behind. They emerged in dim lamplight, in the dank, cool air of the Nest. They were in the thread room, the focal point of Blasphet’s slaughter here.

Blasphet finished his thought. “They speak of a healer who some called a god. When he was alive, he would answer all queries about his divinity with riddles. The authorities of his day killed him. When he rose from the dead, his followers knew without doubt what he truly was. His worship has survived the rise and fall of civilizations.”

“You won’t be rising from the dead, uncle.”

“Won’t I?” said Blasphet. “I helped guide Vendevorex back from death. Not that I think I will die, mind you. When I called myself the Murder God, all I had at my command were a few poisons. Now, I control all matter. The building blocks of the physical world are my playthings. With my knowledge and powers, I expect I will enjoy a very long life. I may even be immortal.”

Hex couldn’t help but notice the smugness in Blasphet’s voice. He said, “The valkyries will no doubt decide the span of your life. I suspect it may not be as long as you appear to think.”

“I have nothing to fear from the valkyries,” said Blasphet. “You won’t let them harm me.”

“Oh?” said Hex.

“Look at you,” Blasphet said. “Gleaming like some temple idol come to life. You’re an idealist, nephew. You want to make the world a better place. You dream you will be responsible for the dawn of a golden age.”

“Perhaps,” said Hex. “I assure you, no part of that dream includes you in it.”

“My disciples have carried my dragonseed far across this kingdom,” said Blasphet. “Twenty thousand and more have swallowed these small parts of my flesh. Some who’ve accepted my dragonseed are men you call friends.”

“What of it?” asked Hex.

The thread room was now cramped with valkyries.

“Should I die, a signal will spread through all the tiny machines that linger in the bodies of those who’ve partaken of my flesh. When my heartbeat stops, so will theirs. You’re a predictable do-gooder, Hex. You won’t sacrifice twenty-thousand to avenge the deaths of a few hundred.”

“You’re correct,” said Hex. “I wouldn’t. However, I suspect the valkyries might.”

One of the nearby valkyries said, “Those who have swallowed the dragonseed share in his guilt.”

“I disagree,” said Hex, thinking of Jeremiah. How could anyone plausibly argue the boy should bear the burden of this monster’s sins? “In any case, his threat is an empty one.”

“You think I’m bluffing?”

“I’m certain that you’re not,” said Hex. “I’m also certain that Vendevorex has far more experience with your machines than you do. He tells me that one of the first things he did upon regaining his awareness was to analyze your dragonseed. He informs me that they work as you say. On your last heartbeat, your genie will send out the death signal.”

“Then it is your duty to see to my safety.”

“Or my duty to take away your genie,” said Hex. “Vendevorex assures me that if it’s not in your possession when you die, the dragonseed can do no harm.”

 “Even with that golden shell, you still need to breathe." Blasphet moved with the swiftness that only those enhanced by nanites could possess as he tossed a talonful of silver dust across the room.

 “Die choking in your own… own… um…” Blasphet's voice trailed off as the silver dust swirled and flew back at him, coalescing into silver chains binding his talons. “Curious,” he said.

“Vendevorex says the genie you wear has never been locked. He can control the dust you command from half a world away.”

“Ah,” said Blasphet. He flicked off a black cap from the longest claw on his left fore-talon. The nail glistened with a tar-like black poison that smelled of almonds. He looked deep into Hex’s eyes as he said, “I always knew, in the end, I’d have to fall back onto my familiar vices. These chains cannot bind me! These valkyries will never harm me. I am the Murder God!”

“I would be much more impressed if your claws had any chance of piercing my shell,” Hex said, careful not to open his mouth too widely.

“You misunderstand,” Blasphet said with a chuckle as dry as the rustle of dead leaves. “We’re back to the ending where my heart stops and everyone dies.”

He plunged the talon against his own neck. His face twisted into an expression of pure malice as the poisoned claw tore deep into his vein. Hex lunged, snatching at the genie that floated above Blasphet’s brow. His talons closed on empty air. The tiara vanished like a popped soap bubble.

“It might be along his spine,” Vendevorex buzzed into his ear. Hex’s heart froze at the word
might.

Blasphet shivered as he fell against Hex’s chest. The Murder God’s eyes glistened with tears as they rolled up into his skull. His last breath came out in a long, shuddering sob.

Hex sank his teeth into the flesh along his uncle’s spine and ripped away the ebony metal he found there. He spat it out. It slid along the floor like a long black serpent.

Had he been fast enough?

Did the evil beast’s heart still beat?

He held his breath. Blood surged out of the open wound as the Murder God’s black heart pushed out one final pulse. He slid down Hex’s golden chest, completely lifeless.

“We should have anticipated the poisoned claw,” said Vendevorex.

“Did we stop him in time?” Hex asked, his throat tight.

“With at least a second to spare,” said Vendevorex. “The genie never sent out a signal.”

“So it’s over. We’ve won. The world is finally free of the Murder God.”

“Good riddance,” said the Vendevorex mosquito as it flitted away. A few feet away it paused, before darting back to Hex’s ear.

“Just to be certain,” it buzzed, “burn the body.”