Dragonforge

'Everyone expected me to win,' said Hex. 'But the slave I hunted drowned while swimming the river. It took three days for his body to be discovered. The human my brother hunted broke his leg falling from a tree within sight of the palace. His howls of anguish made him easy to find. Dacorn tried to console me with talk of destiny. He said that fate required someone else to wear the crown.'

'Perhaps there's truth to it,' said Jandra. 'No one expected Shandrazel to become king. And now, he may be the king that brings an end to kings.'

'Destiny played no part in this,' Hex said. Now that his limbs were awake once more, he crouched down near the fire, his legs beneath him, his wings folded against his body. In this posture, with his long serpentine neck, he resembled a giant, scaly, blood-red swan. 'Life is essentially random. Shandrazel is king by chance alone. Bitterwood killed Bodiel, then my father. No guiding power put him on the throne.'

'These things aren't random,' said Jandra. 'Bitterwood wanted revenge against your father because your father took his family. Things happen for reasons. Our lives are entangled with the lives of those around us.'

'Just because our lives are tied together doesn't make us puppets. We're free to cut our strings.'

'There's a poet inside you,' Jandra said.

'Nonsense,' said Hex. 'Poets seldom have any meat on them. I'd have to be starving to eat one. '

Jandra smiled. 'I don't think I've ever heard a sun-dragon make a joke before. Most always seem so serious.'

'Why do you assume I'm not serious?' Hex said. Then, he winked at her. 'I decided long ago that life's absurd. If you don't develop a sense of humor, it will drive you mad. Especially in this part of the world.'

'What's special about this part of the world?'

'Why, the noise, of course.'

'Noise?' said Jandra.

'The song of the mountains,' said Hex. 'Though we are some miles distant, I can already hear whispers of the infernal melody. They may have caused my unpleasant dreams.'

'I don't hear a thing,' said Jandra.

'Humans have always been deaf to the noise. It's a low-pitched dirge that drives some dragons to insanity. Fortunately, it's still faint. If the windows of this room were intact, I doubt I would hear it at all.'

'Hmm,' Jandra said. 'I want to try something. Can I touch your ear?'

'If you wish,' said Hex, snaking his head closer to her. The ears of sun-dragons were saucer-sized disks just behind the jaws. The sheer size of the ear meant they could hear certain sounds that eluded humans. She gently traced the edges of the smooth disk. With the increased sensitivity of her fingertips, she could feel a faint vibration. Hex wasn't imagining things. The noise was real, and coming from the direction of the fog-draped mountains. What caused it?

'I might be able to help you,' she said. 'Vendevorex taught me that sounds travel through air like waves across water. You can neutralize sounds with a counterwave, just as you can disrupt ripples from a rock thrown into a pond by throwing in a second rock.'

She dipped her fingers into the pouch that hung from her belt, grabbing a fist full of the silver dust. These tiny machines were the key to her control over matter. Right now, however, she needed a bigger machine. The silver in her hand changed from dust to long metallic threads. The shimmering strings coiled into the shape of a concave disk the size of her palm. It pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat. The remaining threads braided through the air, forming a long silver chain that draped down to the floor. A moment later she was done. The firelight danced upon a silver amulet. The necklace that held it was no thicker than a human hair.

'Put this on,' she said. 'Let's see if it works.'

'What is it?' Hex asked, extending his fore-talon.

'It's an amulet that emits a frequency that neutralizes the sound you're hearing. Most of the things I make with the dust only exist a second or two, and draw power from ambient heat. This should be a stable construct, but it will need to be warmed by your body to keep working.'

Hex slipped the chain on. The amulet rested against his breastbone, just beneath his throat. He cocked his head, tilting his ear toward the broken windows above.

'I don't hear the mountains anymore,' he said. 'Let's hope your magic dust doesn't run out.'

'It won't,' said Jandra. 'It's self-replicating and self-assembling. I drop raw materials in the pouch from time to time-iron nails, sand, the occasional bit of gold. I charge them with sunlight, and the machines draw everything else they need to function out of the air. With a little care, it will last forever.'

'With so much power, why are you a servant of Shandrazel?' Hex asked.

'I didn't think I was,' said Jandra.

'Since Vendevorex served my father, I assumed you would serve my brother,' Hex said.

'When I was younger, I dreamed I would grow up and be Bodiel's personal wizard. He was so clever and elegant; I would gladly have devoted my life to him. I like Shandrazel. I think he means to make life better for humans. Still, it's difficult to overlook the fact that most dragons accepted Albekizan's dreams of genocide. It would be difficult to swear my loyalty to a dragon, even one as visionary as Shandrazel.'

'So you'll serve humans instead? Perhaps this young Bitterwood should he become the human king?'

'I most especially won't be serving young Bitterwood,' Jandra said. 'I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I haven't had much time to consider the matter. It wasn't so long ago that Vendevorex made all my decisions for me. I studied what he told me to study, and we traveled where he decided to travel. It's still sinking in that I'm the only one in charge of my life now.'

'We sun-dragons believe that no son is truly grown until his father is dead. I, too, lived my life by my father's choices rather my own.'

'Then you know how I feel. What are you going to do with your life?' she asked.

Hex fixed his eyes on the fireplace that warmed them. He studied the dancing flame with a long and thoughtful gaze before answering. 'Somehow, I would like to change the world.'

Jandra thought this sounded like a noble, if broad, goal.

'Hopefully for the better,' Hex continued, 'but I'll take what I can get.'

Zeeky placed one hand on Poocher's shoulder, holding her other hand in front of her as they crept toward the entrance, guided by Poocher's infallible sense of smell. Even blind, he knew where they had walked. When they got back to the entrance, she would grab every lantern she could carry, and this time she'd make sure they were full. She'd even let Poocher carry one.

The mine was full of odd noises. Water trickling down some unseen stream. A distant moaning, like wind passing through a tunnel. The echoes of Poocher's hooves as he shuffled along. Her own stomach grumbling.

Then, ahead of her, the sound of something she couldn't identify, a scraping, scratching, clicking noise. She stopped. It sounded like claws upon the stone, drawing closer. Poocher tensed, suddenly frightened.

'Is someone there?' she asked.

The scraping noise stopped. Now she could hear the deep, slow breathing of the beast ahead of her.

'H-hello?' she asked.

'Hello,' said a voice. It sounded like a man, but not someone from her village. The accent was one she'd never heard before.

'Who are you?' she asked.

'My name is Adam,' the man answered. 'You must be Zeeky.'

'How do you know my name?'

'The goddess planted you,' Adam answered. 'I've come to harvest you.'

Zeeky was confused by the man's response, but her focus shifted to the beast that accompanied the man. It was drawing closer. Its hot breath washed over her like humid wind, carrying the odor of dead things. Then, the wind shifted direction as the creature took a long sniff. The beast was only inches from her. Something damp gently flickered across her cheeks. She scrunched up her face, recognizing the wet thing as the creature's tongue exploring her features, tasting her. She reached out and stroked the beast's nose. It was hard and smooth and cool, covered with individual scales the size of her palm-it felt like the same sort of dragon that Bitterwood had slain. The beast flicked its forked tongue across her fingers. She could tell the creature meant her no harm-it was merely curious. From the location of the man's voice, she assumed he was riding it, which meant it was tame.

'Pleased to meet you,' she said, addressing the dragon. 'I'm glad you found me. Can you see in the dark?'

'The long-wyrms can see shades of heat with an organ in their snout,' Adam said. 'It helps them maneuver in