moment.
“I think that everything is going to be alright,” he said.
Katya seemed to accept this and they fell once more into companionable silence.
Though the night was cold, Silus thought that he saw a heat haze shimmering from the sands ahead. Kerberos loomed low in the sky, the bottom edge of the great disk almost touching the horizon. He couldn’t help but feel caught by the gaze of the god. As he stared into the depth of those azure clouds, he saw something silhouetted against them, moving swiftly. Silus turned to Katya, wondering whether she had seen the same thing, but she was looking at the ground, lost in her own thoughts. There was a sound like the screech of an owl, an answering call, and then something else was moving between them and the god. This time, he saw the outline of a vast wing, the tip of a snout. What was that, some kind of bird? He noticed that there were three shapes now and they were flying directly towards them.
“Katya, what do you think those are?”
“What? Oh.”
“What they are,” Kelos said, coming up behind them, “is our way home.”
“Kelos, I’m not sure about this.”
But it was too late. The massive creatures were already wheeling above them, spiralling slowly down.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As the shadows of the dragons moved across the sand towards them, some drew their swords and others began to back away, ready to make good their escape. Kelos, realising that the expedition was in danger of breaking up before he’d even had the chance to weave his spell, raised his arms.
“Everybody! Do not be afraid, for these creatures are our liberation. They mean you no harm.”
The azure dragon landed first, sinew and muscle creaking as it slowly folded its massive wings. The hairs on the back of Kelos’s arms began to prickle as the creature’s power washed over him. The two other dragons swooped low over the group, causing some of them to stumble and fall, before landing. They sat back on their haunches and watched the azure dragon expectantly.
“Emuel?” Katya said, when she saw the pale figure sliding from the black dragon’s back.
The eunuch raced towards her — ignoring the pointed glare of Ignacio — and threw himself into her arms.
“It’s so good to see you all,” he said.
Silus nodded to the pale young man, seeing how Emuel’s tattoos writhed across his flesh. He could feel the build-up of magic himself, coming from the great winged lizards. He had to hand it to Kelos, he really hadn’t expected this. But there was still that thread of fear; the doubt that the mage really knew what he was doing.
“Are those…?” Katya said.
“Dragons, yes,” Emuel said. “But don’t worry, they rescued me. Kelos thinks that he can use their power to send us all home.”
“I just hope he’s right.” Silus drew his sword.
The grey dragon, Piotr, went sniffing amongst the group of humans, making querying sounds in the back of its throat, occasionally looking back at its larger blue-skinned companion. Calabash sat back on its haunches and looked towards Emuel, its head cocked as though listening out for something.
“Silus,” Illiun said. “What are these things?”
“It’s okay. We’ve had a slight change of plan, that’s all. This way will be better, right Kelos?”
“Oh, yes. Yes indeed.”
The mage turned to the azure dragon, emptying his mind as he reached for the threads. But just as he was about to channel the power of the creature and intone the first words of the spell, it attacked.
From its jaws poured not flames, but tendrils of light.
They flowed slowly, twining around and through each other as they fanned out. Though Kelos was standing in their path, they curled around him, instead seeking others in the group. The light was as fine as gossamer and beautiful, but what happened to those it touched was not.
The man the first tendril alighted on did not appear to be afraid, but that was perhaps because he didn’t fully realise what was happening. It was only as he began to unravel that fear gripped him. There was no blood, no rending of flesh: he simply came apart like a badly woven tapestry, his brief cry quickly snatched away as he spiralled into oblivion. His son, who had watched his father’s appalling dissolution, cried out and charged the azure dragon, his fists clenched and tears streaming from his eyes. However, as he raged against the creature, it simply turned to him, breathed, and he was gone.
Now there was full-blown panic, but Piotr roared and advanced on those attempting escape. Calabash jerked to its feet, but made no further move, instead making an alarmed keening sound as more succumbed to the azure dragon’s wrath. Emuel watched, appalled, as two women dissolved with barely a whisper, forced into the azure light by Piotr. The silver-eyed men tried to protect their masters, swinging crackling staffs. But their weapons were of no use, and they came apart just as easily as the rest.
“Silus, do something!” Illiun shouted.
But Silus was doing precisely what his god had asked of him. The azure dragon was the creature of which Kerberos had spoken. Were he to do nothing more than watch, he would be fulfilling his god’s will. He saw Hannah crying, clutching Rosalind’s hand as the two of them cowered behind Shalim. Silus looked to his own son, and saw the fear and confusion there. He realised what he had to do. This was murder, pure and simple. It didn’t matter that his god has asked it of him, it would end now.
He turned to Katya and Emuel. “Take Zac and run. Don’t stop. Go as far as you can. I will find you.”
Katya clutched Zac to her breast as she and Emuel hurried away, but the press of panicking bodies was growing ever tighter as the dragons hemmed them in, like cattle being driven through the gates of a slaughterhouse. The light of the azure dragon was everywhere, unmaking those it touched. Emuel waited for death to reach them, but then he heard Calabash’s call. Pushing his way through the press of bodies, the stench of fear all around him, he led Katya and Zac to the dragon.
“Emuel, what are you doing?” Katya shouted. “That thing will kill us!”
Calabash brought its head in low and opened its jaws. For a moment, Emuel thought Katya would be proved right, but then the dragon nudged them behind it, shielding them from the slaughter as it stood protectively before them.
Piotr roared as it moved against Shalim, who stood with his fists raised for want of a better weapon. Seeing his friend in danger, Silus ducked under the dragon’s right flank as it swung around, the great sail of its wing soaring over his head and slamming into Shalim’s chest. The man dropped, badly winded, as, behind him, the threads of light sought out his wife and child.
Silus tumbled between Piotr’s hind legs and found himself on his back, looking up at the pale belly of the beast. He drove his sword up, but the blade bowed against the tough flesh, barely making an impression. He was about to try again when the dragon shifted and turned to face him. Now out of the creature’s shadow, Silus saw that Shalim had taken the opportunity to hurry his family away from the site of the massacre, and he urged them to keep going.
Piotr growled, and as it did so Silus saw two great fleshy sacks inflating on either side of its throat; the dragon’s belly might have been armoured by thick hide, but these looked very vulnerable indeed.
Silus feinted to the left; the dragon snapped at empty air and growled in frustration, its neck pouches distending further. Silus came in close and swung his sword, the skin of the pouch above him slowly peeling back as his blade cut deep. A thickly-veined membrane rolled slowly away from the incision, hanging like a goitre. He lashed out again and Piotr cried out as the membrane finally ruptured.
Silus didn’t know what he had expected dragon’s blood to look like, but it wasn’t this pale, almost translucent tide that now washed over him. The substance covered him from head to toe — it was in his eyes, his hair, he could even taste the acrid tang of it at the back of his throat. Whatever this was, he realised, it wasn’t blood. It smelled something like the pitch they used to tar the hulls of ships in Nurn, or the naphtha employed in the immolation of heretics outside Scholten Cathedral.
