The Last Slayer (29 page)

Toshi held out both foreclaws and a dressing room appeared. I nodded and went inside with the armor. It was impossibly light, hardly weighing more than a t-shirt. The wyvern heads converged where my skin touched the cool metal and inhaled my scent. Their breath tickled me, but I was careful not to make any sudden movements. The last thing I wanted was to startle them. Getting bitten by my own armor would suck.

I took off my clothes and slipped into the armor, which was more like a body canister with built-in socks. The legs were entirely too wide. Actually, everything was too big and awkward. But the moment I put it on it began to shrink and mold to my body. Soon it fit perfectly, light as silk against my skin. When I swung my arms and kicked my legs it stretched and provided extra tension, giving the movements a smooth power they wouldn’t have had otherwise.

It was truly alive and fused with me. Totally cool. No more need for Under Armour when I had the real deal.

“If you’re finished, milady…” Toshi said from the outside.

I smiled. It reminded me of shopping with Valerie, except she was never as deferential as Toshi. I came out of the room to show off my new “outfit.”

Dorian made a few grunting noises and fussed over the armor here and there. His fingers pinched, tweaked and tugged at my sleeves, around my waist and my toes. He climbed up on a stool to adjust the neck and shoulders.

“How much protection does this provide against dragonlord swords?” I said.

“It’ll keep your ladyship alive, ’less she receives a direct ’it to a vital organ,” Dorian said.

“It will also regulate your body temperature,” Toshi added helpfully.

Dorian straightened and looked up at me. “That’s got it. Not ’alf bad, if I do say so meself.”

“You look quite dashing, milady.” Toshi beamed toothily. “I believe Lord Ramiel and his generals are ready for you.”

I thanked Dorian and left with Toshi, who made my old clothes vanish with a wave of his claws.

It wasn’t until I reached Ramiel’s antechamber that it hit me. Toshi didn’t mean Ramiel wanted to introduce me to his troops. He meant we were going to get briefed for battle.

Normally the suddenness wouldn’t have bothered me. I’m fine with fast and violent. But shouldn’t there have been some training? Demigod Killing 101 or something?

Ramiel and his generals were seated around a large table. The generals looked like handsome men, except that each of them was of a single vivid color from head to toe. Their skin, teeth and fingernails—all were of the same hue. They looked almost cartoonish…like coloring book figures when a child was down to just a few crayons. Most of them were some variation of red or silver—although no two were precisely the same shade—and green was also well represented. I could smell their dragon breath. It wasn’t foul, but it was different—deep and slow, as if they were sleeping, with a hint of sulfur. Each of them had an armor motif to designate its real form: wyvern, wyrm or drake. Not all dragons can change form, and even those that can generally don’t like to transform into mortal shape. But if they had remained at full size, no one would have been able to see the table.

Ramiel raised an eyebrow slightly when I entered the chamber. “Armor becomes you.”

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat. Ramiel’s stoic expression made me seventy-five percent annoyed, twenty percent confused and five percent nervous. His face might be blank, but his eyes seethed. Did he feel anything when he looked at me other than lust? Or was he keeping me off-balance with those cool incubus-demigod powers of his? “You look nice in yours too.”

I sat in the only empty chair. The table held refreshments—dainty sandwiches, tea and some wine—compliments of Toshi, no doubt. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought it was a social call. I picked up a tall glass of iced tea and glanced around.

“Where is Eastvale?” I said.

“Perhaps not coincidentally, not far from where you used to live,” Ramiel said. A map appeared, hovering in the air over the table, and he pointed at a spot in Fair Lakes, of all places. “This tract of land.”

Disappointment hit me hard. I did my best to hide it, but it was difficult. I thought I was getting something as pretty as the Lunar Garden or as impressive as Besade. The plot on which Ramiel’s finger rested was wooded, and I had always thought it was owned by the county or the state because it had never been developed. I was going to risk my life—and everyone else’s—for
that?

I wanted my condo back.

Ramiel must have sensed what I was thinking. “Once you get there you may find it more to your liking.”

Huh. Easy for him to say. What was I going to do with an undeveloped patch of land? Go camping?

The wyvern on my right bowed. He was the color of a boiled lobster. “Tiamo at your service, milady. If I may speak…?”

I nodded.

“All dragonholds have barriers that serve as camouflage to hide them from mortals and to keep intruders out. Eastvale is a beautiful dragonhold, one that you will be proud to call your own.”

The others around the table grunted in agreement. Tiamo was either the leader or the diplomatic one. Maybe both.

The doors to the chamber opened, and a warrior in red and black armor entered. His straight black hair and the broad planes of his face reminded me of a shogun I’d seen in a Japanese drama. This was strengthened by the design of his armor—flaring shoulder guards and a horned helm. Drakes on his vambraces blinked at us.

“I see everyone is here.” He drew himself up and made a bow that snapped to an exact forty-five degrees and back. “I apologize for my tardiness.”

Ramiel rose from his seat. The rest of us followed suit. “Please join us.” He gestured at me. “I present to you the Lady Ashera, soon to be of Eastvale.”

The newcomer bowed again. “An honor.”

“This is Lord Kenji of Higashiro.”

I bowed in return, probably getting the depth wrong. The social graces just aren’t my forte.

Another chair appeared, and we all sat down.

“Will Lord Hideki be joining us?” Ramiel said.

Kenji’s bronzed skin took on an undertone of red. “He is nowhere to be found. I don’t know if he is even aware of the battle to come. I apologize for his inability to lend you his assistance.”

“I’m sure yours will be enough,” Ramiel said smoothly. “I don’t have sufficient troops to face Madainsair in a full-fledged battle, but we may have enough to punch through their lines at certain points.”

“So we will be quickly surrounded.” Kenji’s black eyes glittered. “Excellent. An enemy to kill no matter where one swings his sword.”

From Toshi’s description I’d expected a spoiled demigod who squabbled with his sibling for dominance. But now I was getting a different impression. He didn’t look like the petty type. And his twin must have been yielding, because Kenji didn’t strike me as a compromiser.

Something pinged by the entrance. Ramiel glanced over and raised a finger. The door opened and a small translucent shape blurred into the room. I tensed, ready to draw my sword, but everyone else around me looked relaxed. Whatever it was came to a halt in front of Ramiel and became distinct: a fairy dragon with two sets of wings.

He—she? it?—saluted. As the tiny thing moved, its scales changed color to blend in with the environment. If I hadn’t been paying close attention, I would have lost it against the background.

“My lords.” The voice was lilting and feminine. “Our troops are in position. Madainsair has deployed fifty thousand wyrms, five thousand drakes and four thousand wyverns. Nathanael of Windgar and Semangelaf of Frost Moor will attend the battle, but Apollyon of Hell Cave will not.”

“Are you sure?” I couldn’t imagine Apollyon missing this confrontation for anything.

Ramiel raised a languid eyebrow. “Shahamera is our finest scout. She’s also the leader of the scout unit, and if she says Apollyon’s not coming, then he is not.”

“Why not? I thought he would relish an opportunity to carve me into bits.” I still remembered his gleefully sadistic smile at TriMedica.

“He is undoubtedly plotting something. The question is what.”

There were glances around the table. Even Kenji looked vaguely disquieted. It couldn’t be a good thing.

Ramiel turned back to Shahamera. “Is there more?”

“Hell Cave troops haven’t mobilized either. Their banner is nowhere to be seen.”

“They have been lying low for almost three decades,” Kenji said. “If my calculations are correct, the Hell Cave dragons had their breeding season three years ago, and new parents tend to be uninterested in battle. Their absence may not mean anything.”

“You’re probably right.” Ramiel dismissed Shahamera and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “We only have three-quarters of their number.” He glanced at Kenji and the generals. His lips curved as he leaned forward. “But I believe we have the advantage.”

Kenji’s answering smile was as hard as cold-forged iron. “We should strike at once, before Nathanael can plan anything devious.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. Nathanael had been the strategic brain behind the Twilight of Slayers campaign, and it was his military brilliance that had tipped the scales in the dragonlords’ favor. Nobody wanted to see what he’d come up with, given enough time.

“I agree,” Tiamo said. “We’ve been waiting for weeks now, and many of our troops are becoming restless.”

For weeks?

Ramiel turned to me as if he’d heard my thought. “We’ve been anticipating this battle and had spies in strategic areas for quite some time.” He glanced at Kenji. “Unfortunately I couldn’t involve you earlier. I wanted Madainsair to wonder where your loyalties lay. I apologize.”

Not an eyelash flickered on Kenji’s face, but his entire torso inclined forward in a seated bow. “You were clever to do so.”

After the dragonlords had engaged in a bit of mutual admiration, Tiamo stood and started to go over strategy for the upcoming battle. They apparently didn’t expect me to contribute to the discussion, which was just as well. I had no idea what they were talking about, and having studied Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War
at the Academy wasn’t enough to make me an expert. Besides, I always hunted solo. I wasn’t used to thinking about large groups.

A terrain map had appeared over the table, more real than any hologram, and they pored over it. I couldn’t follow, because I couldn’t read the elaborate script on it and didn’t know the names of all the valleys, gorges and rivers everyone was talking about. But I wasn’t completely clueless. I managed to gather that about a tenth of Lapslora’s ground units would initiate a straightforward assault. The rest would penetrate the enemy line underground and come out from below while Madainsair’s ground units were occupied by the attack. Besade’s wyrms were already making tunnels big enough to let the drakes through. A careful campaign of disinformation had it that we planned to attack at one point, when the real assault would be brought to bear on another.

I raised my hand. Tiamo said, “Milady?”

“Why don’t we just use the wyrms to tunnel all the way to Eastvale?”

“It would defend itself against the intrusion. Since you haven’t been officially recognized yet, it won’t allow you passage that way.”

So much for my brilliant idea.

The rest of the group continued to discuss strategy. While the wyrms and drakes engaged the enemy on the ground, the rest of us—meaning the wyverns—would attack from the sky. When they noticed me, Nathanael and Semangelaf would undoubtedly focus their attention on me. Depending on the situation on the ground, Kenji and Ramiel would lead the wyverns and possibly intercept one of Madainsair’s dragonlords.

Finally I couldn’t stand it any more. “So what’s my role in all this?”

Tiamo bowed. “Milady, we’ve prepared a regiment of elite wyverns for your protection.”

Uh-huh. I hoped he wasn’t going to tell me to stand back and twiddle my thumbs while they fought on my behalf. I wanted to do something.

He continued. “We cannot directly engage a dragonlord, as it would mean our decimation.”

Oh yeah.
Draco perditio.
“So…”

“You, Kenji and I will fight Nathanael and Semangelaf,” Ramiel said. “And the generals will lead the troops.”

Fight Nathanael again. Or maybe this time it would be Semangelaf.

Nah. Nathanael really wanted me dead, and since our encounter in the Mystic Forest, I was betting he would relish finishing me off himself.

Besides, the glass was half-full. It’d be three versus two, even though I only had one heartstone. Put that way, it wasn’t so bad. Seven heartstones versus six. And Apollyon supposedly wasn’t coming, although not really knowing for sure made me slightly nervous. I’d bet on his cunning over any fairy dragon’s, no matter how good she was supposed to be. God only knew what he was plotting behind everyone’s backs.

“If we can injure them, their troops will retreat,” Kenji said. “Of course, killing one’s enemy is always better.”

With the unspoken implication being if one of us got injured or killed, our troops would pay dearly for it.

I remembered the mastery with which Nathanael had wielded his sword. Maybe I could just focus on staying alive while Ramiel skewered him for me, and Kenji took care of Semangelaf. I shook myself mentally. What was I thinking? Attitudes like that would get me killed. Had to think positively. Aggressively. Doubt can be fatal in a fight.

Kenji left to talk to his troops. Besade’s generals marched out in single file, Tiamo leading the way. Ramiel came to me.

“Here.” He handed me an elaborate white helmet that matched my armor and covered my head entirely, including my face. An inch-wide gap ran up the middle, then split horizontally, making a design that was somewhere between a T and a Y.

Our fingers brushed as I took it from him. The heat from his skin was scorching, but nothing on his face betrayed his thoughts. Other than one small compliment on my armor—which was probably nothing more than him being polite—he had focused on business all morning. He might as well have been a chunk of rock for all the vibes—or lack thereof—I was getting.