Song of the Dragon

before anyone realizes. . where’s Braun?”

“He was behind me,” Drakis said as he turned. “He should be. .”

Drakis’ eyes fixed on the Standard of the Timuran Centurai. The staff lay abandoned on the ground at the foot of the dwarven throne.

“He’s gone!” Thuri yelled as he picked up the staff.

“Gone?” ChuKang shouted. “Where could he go?”

Drakis frantically scanned the battle around the foot of the stairs but could not see the Proxi anywhere among them.

“Here!” Thuri shouted, thrusting the Standard into Drakis’ free hand. “You do it! You get us out of here!”

“I can’t. .”

“You’re hoo-mani. . just like Braun!”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Drakis spat his words in anger and frustration. “You have to be trained for it. . linked to the Tribune through the House Altar. .”

“How long before the Tribune can get another Proxi to us?” ChuKang asked quickly.

“He’ll know the link was broken,” Drakis answered. “He’d have to negotiate use from another Tribune. .”

ChuKang turned to look down from the platform. “We don’t have that long.”

The battle was quickly winding down, the Centurai of other Houses were breaking free of the failing dwarves, moving up the stairs toward them.

Toward the crown.

The Imperial Army of Conquest was made up of units donated to the campaign by various Houses of the Empire. Some of the larger Houses had been known in the past to donate an entire Legion-an extravagance of maintaining over four thousand slave warriors. That was not true of the current campaign. The largest single House commitment-from House Plincian of the Paktan Guild Order-was five Cohorts of two thousand, eight hundred warriors. Several other Houses contributed full Cohorts of their own, but the majority of the Imperial Army of Conquest was made up of Legions and Cohorts that were cobbled together from donations of between one and three Centurai from many individual Houses.

Cohorts from the larger Houses were regrouping, struggling to reestablish order in their commands for their own organized assault on the crown. But the Centurai from the smaller Houses knew that their only chance at the prize was to seize it now. For the majority of the warriors in the vast throne room, the military order of Legions and Cohorts evaporated at the sight of the prized crown.

The warriors from the different smaller Houses, battle fever still raging in their blood, started up the stairs toward ChuKang and the remnants of his Octian. As one Octian pushed forward, the others grabbed at them, dragging them backward. A blade strike. A scream. Then suddenly all of the Impress Warriors of the Rhonas Empire-each vying for the glory and recognition of their own House-turned on each other. Combat erupted among the warriors of the competing Houses, each of them desperate to reach the top of the steps and claim the crown for their own.

“What do we do?” Thuri said, his large, blank eyes blinking furiously. “How do we get out of here?”

“Without the Proxi?” KriChan barked. “We have no way out!”

“But what about Jerakh? Tribune Se’Djinka. .”

“Look around us! The Tribune can’t open a fold here any better than the rest of the Tribunes!” Ethis snapped. “We were supposed to rescue Jerakh, remember! If he gets here, it would only be through a fold opening on the outside of this mob. . then there’ll be our own army between us and him. What good would that do?”

Karag drew in a sharp breath. “We’re on our own?”

“Unfortunately,” Ethis replied, raising his four swords once more as he gazed down the stairs. “Not for long. We are about to have far too much company.”

The scrambling warriors from the other Houses were coming closer. As the cone of stairs got narrower in circumference with each step, the fighting among the manticores, chimera, gnomes, and a few humans became more constricted. They stepped over the bodies of their former comrades, slew anyone who got in their way, only to be felled by those behind them intent on one thing.

They each wanted the crown for the glory of their own House. They had killed the dwarves for this prize. All that was left for them was to kill each other.

An ancient manticore, scarred and missing one eye, was the first to reach them. ChuKang met him with both blades, but the seasoned warrior traded him blow for blow. Two more manticores swiftly moved to join the combat. KriChan and Karag rushed forward to help. Ethis stepped backward toward Drakis, his narrow head swiveling about, looking for approaching enemies on all sides. Belag rose up against a chimerian from House Sutharan, cutting him down just as a human lunged toward him.

Drakis held the crown in his hand.

The dwarves have no doors. . the dwarves are no more. .

A goblin lunged at ChuKang from behind. The Centurai commander howled in pain, falling forward into the blades of the Tajeran manticores. KriChan sliced downward, nearly cutting the goblin in two just as one of the Tajeran manticores thrust from the side, running his blade upward. KriChan took a single gasp before collapsing. Karag stepped forward, impaling the Tajeran manticore on his own blade, but the blow left him open to the third manticore on his right.

Belag roared at his brother, rushing toward him. Karag did not see the danger. The blade cut into his leg behind the knee. The manticore howled, turning just as the blade swung again, this time downward into his chest.

“What do we do?” Thuri yelled at Drakis.

For the love of her. . for the loss of her. .

The song was raging once more in his head. The melody sounding over and over.

“Drakis! By the House gods!” Thuri yelled again. “What do we do?”

For the love of her. . for the loss of her. .

Drakis’ eyes suddenly focused.

He looked at the crown. He could have bought a life of his own with it-but if he kept it, he would never live to claim it; none of them would.

Drakis leaped up to stand on the arms of the throne, holding the crown high over his head. He felt more than saw more than a thousand pairs of eyes fixed on him.

He searched at the far edge of the army. He could see the larger Cohorts, now organized, making a determined run toward the thrones.

He caught a glimpse of the glowing headpiece of a Proxi staff beyond the edge of the pressing mob. There was the face of a manticore next to it. Was it Jerakh? Had Tribune Se’Djinka sent them help at last?

For the love of her. . for the loss of her. .

With all his remaining strength, he hurled the crown toward the distant manticore next to the familiar looking staff at the far edge of the mob.

It sailed out high over the heads of the Impress Warriors, tumbling in the air above hundreds of greedy, outstretched hands. The warriors who were on the stairs groaned but turned almost as one, charging back toward where the crown was falling.

“Madness,” Ethis said, shaking his head as he watched Rhonas Warriors converge on where the crown had landed in its flight, killing their brothers-in-arms to claim it for their own.

Drakis just looked down into his empty hands.

CHAPTER 6

Spoils