The Dragon Engine (29 page)

Hiathosk did not reply, he saved his breath, and grasping a rung made slippery with sweat, lost his grip. For a moment he felt himself falling and a great panic swept through him like a tidal wave of blood.

Yugorosk reached over, grabbing his jerkin and yanking him forward. Hiathosk's hands clattered against rungs and he pulled himself tight, panting, licking dry lips with a dry tongue. He glanced at Yugorosk.

“Thanks, brother.”

“My pleasure, brother.” He grinned.

“Will you two stop fucking about down there!” snapped Chief Engineer Skathos from above. “Do you fucking know how important this is?” It was not like Skathos to swear, nor to become short-tempered. He was renowned throughout Zvolga for his positive qualities. The Chief Engineer was a consummate professional. He had to be; he dealt constantly with both Cardinal Skalg and the King of the Dwarves. It was not an easy role.

“Coming, Chief Engineer,” said Hiathosk, and glancing at one another, the two dwarves continued to climb.

I
am feeling stronger
with every passing second. My mind is feeling clear, but still I realise most of my memories are missing; along with control. But as the climbing dwarves approach, I realise, I realise that I am feeding off them now, extracting energy from them, the closer they move towards my mind.

And with a shudder, I remember my name.

I am Volak.

I am the Queen of Wyrmblood.

And I need to be free.

C
hief Engineer Skathos
reached the top of the ladder, and slumped onto a flat section of tunnel where the top of the tower arched above him. The floor was smooth and warm, almost organic under his fingers, and Skathos lay panting for a few moments, completely drenched in sweat. His head started to hurt, a pounding that crashed through his skull, obscuring his thoughts. He could taste something metallic in his mouth, and it made him think of insects.

One by one the other engineers came over the top of the iron ladders, and lay in various states of distress. Several had dumped mail vests and weapons during the climb, tossing them unceremoniously down into the vast empty tower beneath them in order to make the horrendous climb just that little bit easier. Now, as they all slowly recovered, Skathos realised that Hiathosk, also, was complaining of a headache.

“Come on,” growled Skathos, for it felt like his self-imposed quest in Wyrmblood was nearing a necessary end.
Never
had he felt so motivated.
Never
had he truly believed in something so much.

Without complaint, the engineers climbed to their feet and followed Skathos. They walked along a flowing, rising pathway that formed the inside of the curved tower summit, and then came to a junction where all three towers met. The great chamber was circular and open to the air. Glancing up, high above, Skathos could make out the distant, dark jagged ceiling of the vast chamber in which Wyrmblood lived.

Skathos focussed. At the centre of the circular area there were three great plinths, fashioned from some smooth, black rock, the surface polished and reflective. Above each plinth there was a small black orb, suspended, without wires or stands or anything to keep them hanging there.

Skathos breathed deeply through his nose as the hammer pounded inside his skull. He walked forward, and staggered a little, the metallic taste in his mouth getting worse. This was it. This was the answer…

“Skathos,” said Hiathosk, suddenly, some intuition warning him.

Skathos turned, but waved his hand, turning back and moving towards the first orb. A cool breeze blew, oozing across the archway towers' summit. Skathos observed the orb, head tilting a little, and then he reached out and took it.

Under his fingers, it crumbled to dust… to
less
than dust, for the powder that fell never reached the surface of the plinth.

“What… what did you just do?” asked Hiathosk.

Quickly, without speaking, Skathos hurried to the second orb, touching this and watching it disintegrate. Then to the third, which vanished, leaving nothing but a cool breeze easing across the summit platform.

Skathos suddenly sat down, and looked at his hands. He looked up at Hiathosk, a question in his eyes, a frown on his face, and then back down at his hands which he turned over, and over, again, and again, and again. At first Hiathosk wondered what Skathos was staring at, and he moved closer by several paces as the breeze increased. Then he saw the veins on the back of Skathos' hands were turning black, black lines running across their surfaces and up his arms.

“What is it?” cried Skathos, suddenly, in panic.

The black veins disappeared beneath the arms of his tunic, and then reappeared at his neck, racing up his throat and across his cheeks, up his face, across his temples where the other shocked engineers could see the pulsing beat, only now highlighted in black.

“What's happening, Chief Engineer?” shouted Hiathosk, stepping back, loath to touch his superior. Now Skathos' skin started to blacken, as if licked by fire, and Skathos screamed, dragging himself to his feet.

“It's burning! Help me, it's burning!”

Now, it seemed his whole body was infected, and his hands clawed at his face, drawing blood with his nails, which wept from the wounds like tar. He staggered towards the other engineers, who backed away in a circle, holding hands before them to ward off the screaming dwarf, as his beard and hair suddenly ignited, going up in flames.

Screaming, Skathos ran, back down the path they had travelled, his clothing now on fire, head engulfed in flames, his screams high-pitched like some kind of tortured animal. He reached the edge of the tower where the tops of iron ladders poked above the rim, and without breaking stride, sailed out over the black abyss, and fell…

Fell.

The other engineers rushed to the edge, dropping to their bellies and peering over. They saw the glowing flames drop, but then extinguish in a sudden uprush of cold air. They waited, but there was no crashing impact, no thud, as of a body hitting hard earth; no sound of Skathos hitting the ground at all.

The engineers looked at one another uneasily. Each face was lined with panic, even terror, and they fought to not meet one another's gaze.

Eventually, Hiathosk said, “What just happened here?” He was clutching his head, which felt like it was being pounded by a rock.

“I don't know,” said Lellander, “but I think we should leave. Right now.”

“That's a hell of a climb back down,” said Kew, eyes wide in trepidation, finger curling nervously through the strands of his beard.

“Well, the only other way is to follow Chief Engineer Skathos. Care to try it?” Yugorosk's lips were curled back in a snarl. Kew shook his head vigorously, and peered over the edge, at the long, long drop into oblivion.

S
kathos fell
, swirling through the cool tower air. The burning stopped, and his eyes closed as he waited for impact and death. Instead, his fingers started to stream away from him, and he watched in horror as it progressed to his hands, and arms, and he realised his feet and legs were flowing off above him, like streamers of black sand…

W
hat have I done
?

You have absorbed us.

Why?

To free us from the towers. They were our prison.

I will die?

Yes.

And then?

Then we will be free.

B
eetrax
, Dake, Jonti, Talon and Sakora had been forced down to their knees, hands now shackled behind them, their faces showing fresh bruises from the fists of Val, Galog and a few others. Lillith had been chained to a fence nearby – her face ashen, long dark hair matted and limp in its thick strands. Jael stood to one side, nervously, but was no longer associated with the Vagandrak group. Krakka had seen to that. But now Krakka was gone. Who would give Jael special treatment now?

Val, holding a thick helve, was walking up and down in front of the group, the helve smacking the palm of his right hand rhythmically.

“This is what's going to happen, you murdering bastards. We're going to load you into a cart and go on a little journey. We're going to pass through some very special gates and arrive at the Dragon Shafts, where our three feeble-minded pet wyrms are imprisoned. The wyrms need feeding, and have a
very good
smell for blood. So I'll cut you a little – that will be one of the fun parts – and then we toss you one by one into the shaft of whichever dragon looks the hungriest, and take bets on how long you survive. The dragons toy with their food sometimes, they only bite off an arm or a leg and chew it for a while. We've seen some stunning spectacles, I can assure you.”

Many of the extra crossbow-toting guards summoned by Krakka had left, retreating to the city now the Vagandrak heroes were under control; there was talk of civil unrest, and how their weapons were needed in the fight against the Army of Purity rebels. Val hadn't been listening. He was too enthralled in his own rhetoric; busy leering at the frightened figure of Lillith, cowering and pale by the fence. He had an erection just thinking about her.

Other friendly faces had emerged from the wardens' barracks to watch the show.

Tallazok Mentir, the tattooed torturer was there, his intricately tattooed arms folded, a broad smile on his slender face. Nak the surgeon had also made an appearance, standing nonchalantly in his surgeon's apron, a roll of tools held casually – but threateningly – in one hand; plus Talon's array of grinning special friends.

Dake and Jonti were staring with open hostility, but it was Beetrax's face when Tallazok moved towards the group that brought a tight smile both from Dake and Talon. “If you could get your hands on that bastard, eh Beetrax?”

“He wouldn't be fucking chuckling,” muttered Beetrax.

“One day soon,” said Dake.

“Yeah, mate. After the dragons have finished eating us, eh lad?”

“Silence!” roared Val, whacking the helve with extra force and stopping his march. He pointed the helve at Beetrax. “I could always knock out all your teeth first. Right now. In fact, it'd probably entertain the crowd…” He gestured, and there came a low ripple of laughter from the watching dwarves, many of whom had personally asked to go three rounds with Beetrax after he'd killed Krakka, who had been a hero to numerous slave overseers.

Tallazok stepped forward then, and grinned down at Beetrax. “Val? I know you are now in charge, in, ah, Krakka's absence, but I thought we might have a little fun? I promised Beetrax the Axeman here that if he stepped out of line, I had a further punishment for him.” Val looked down at the steel box he carried. The
Ball Cracker
. “Now, far be it for me to tell you how to run the slaves, but I've seen this kind of thing many times before. If we do not carry through with our promises, then what are we? Weak? Here to be taken advantage of by fucking
slaves
? So I suggest a little demonstration.”

Suddenly Beetrax screamed, launching himself to his feet and towards Tallazok Mentir. Val tried to intervene, but was shoulder-charged aside as Beetrax headbutted Tallazok in the chest, knocking him back onto his rump, and landing atop him. “Castration, is it?” roared Beetrax, and slammed his head forward, breaking Tallazok's nose in a spray of blood and stunning the slender torturer. “I'll give you a facial castration, you bastard.” His teeth clamped over Tallazok's nose, and the torturer suddenly started screaming, legs kicking, as Val and Galog grabbed Beetrax, ripping him backwards – along with Tallazok's nose, which came away with a
schlup
and strings of skin that stretched, then snapped, to dangle against Beetrax's beard.

Beetrax fell back atop Val and Galog, and everything was a sudden chaos. Beetrax chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, eyes shut, teeth clenched, then rolled off Val and landed on his knees, panting, blood in his beard.

“Where's my nose, where's my nose?” squealed Tallazok, both hands to his face in horror. And then realisation dawned. Beetrax had swallowed it so it could never be sewn back on. His face darkened, and he advanced on Beetrax who knelt there, roaring with laughter, as Val scrambled to his feet and hefted his helve, lifting it up in order to knock Beetrax's teeth from his big, solid skull…

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” came a cold, calculating voice.

Val paused, face contorted in rage, and he turned to stare at…

“Cardinal Skalg? What the
fuck
are you doing down here?” Val blinked, eyes bulging, for the First Cardinal looked
very different
than during his last visit to the mines, where then, he'd been dressed in fancy black and purple church robes. Now, it was as if the hunchback was dressed for battle, ridiculous though that appeared to Val's shocked face and wide eyes.

What's he doing in
my
mine
?

What the hell does the First Cardinal
want?

Val felt something die inside him. This did not look promising.

“Lower your weapons. All of you.” Skalg's voice was low and commanding, his narrowed eyes sweeping over the group of dwarves. On his journey, miraculously, Skalg had managed to find three of his Educators who now stood at his back, in their church garb, bearing Peace Makers in their weighty fists. They were the kind of Educators Skalg really liked – big, meaty dwarves with emotionless eyes like a dead pig and a lack of imagination which made for good killers.

“But… but we have prisoners! They killed Krakka, the Slave Warden! I have stood in his very great boots and taken over, and I have commanded that they be killed! We are going to feed them to the Dragon Engine. After we've knocked out their teeth and pulped their bones, of course.” He gave a half smile, but Skalg was unreadable, a trick he'd picked up after decades of dealing with politicians.

“Hmm. Well,
Val,
that may be a possible outcome, of course, after I have carried out a full investigation–” began Skalg, but was cut off mid-sentence.

“But… I'm in fucking charge now!” howled Val, face red with rage, fists clenching his helve, his knuckles white.

Skalg looked at him, and gave a narrow smile. “Danda?”

“Yeah, First Cardinal Skalg?”

“If this… dwarf… interrupts me again, I would like you to use a Slim and bash his fucking skull. Is that clear, Danda?”

“Is very clear, your Cardinalness,” rumbled Danda.

Skalg gave another tight-lipped smile, and gestured with a hand, his fingers opening like the petals of a flower. He smiled and looked sideways at Val, as if daring the dwarf to see how far the First Cardinal of the Church of Hate could actually be pushed.

Val bowed his head and shut his mouth.

“Good. Thank you. Now, as I was saying before being
rudely interrupted
, I will be carrying out a full investigation. If the crime is serious enough – which I suspect it might be, because Krakka,
my
Slave Warden,” he put a massive amount of emphasis on
my,
“was a most trusted and loyal servant of the Church of Hate, and trusted in our realm – then I will be taking the prisoners into my custody. For, ha ha, re-education.” Many of the dwarves present bowed their heads. They had heard many backstreet rumours, dark gossip, about the re-education meted out by the church.

“Now then. You! Big fella! What's your name?”

“Galog, Cardinal Skalg.” He bowed his head respectfully.

Skalg shifted for a moment, his hump uncomfortable, then continued, “You look like a handy fellow with a hammer. I'd like you to help us accompany the prisoners to a room for interrogation. Er. I think that building over there would do nicely.”

“That's Krakka's personal quarters,” said Val, almost sulkily.

“As I said. It will do nicely. Galog?”

“Yes, First Cardinal.” He bowed and mumbled for a few moments, apparently overcome by the power of the moment.

Skalg gave a little smile. “Galog, I like you. And of course, the church is always looking for honest soldiers to serve the Great Dwarf Lords. Do you understand?” Galog nodded, and blushed at the compliment. “Now then! Prisoners? Can you hear me? Can you get up? Galog here will persuade you with a club, if necessary.”

Beetrax stood first, blood drying in his beard, his eyes hard.
This is where it gets real bad,
he thought, and readied himself for more beatings; certainly more killing. He was ready for it. Ready to die for it. He was sick of this shit, and wanted out, one way or another.

The prisoners were gathered together, and Skalg turned and pointed at Lillith. “What about her? Why is she chained to a fence?”

Val stared at Skalg, his mouth opening and closing a little. “She is, er, mine.”

“She is yours?”

“Yes, she is mine. Er. Cardinal Skalg.”

“In what way is she yours?”

Val squirmed for a few moments. “She, er, is my favourite slave, so to speak.” He lowered his eyes and would not meet Skalg's gaze.

“Hmm,” said Skalg. “You, dwarf, yes, you there with the keys. Unlock her shackles.”

“But!” squeaked Val, and Skalg sighed, and nodded, and Danda stepped up behind the dwarf overseer. The Slim cracked down on the back of his head. Val hit the rocky ground like a sack of hardened horse shit.

“Bring them to Krakka's quarters,” said Skalg, quietly, his eyes gleaming, and with chains and shackles clanking, the Vagandrak heroes, one-time treasure hunters, and now miserable slaves who had fallen on bad times, shuffled their way towards the iron and wood building.

B
eetrax
, Dake, Jonti, Talon, Lillith and Sakora knelt on the wooden floorboards, heads bowed, half-expecting execution by short sword. A swift decapitation. Skalg stared around at the dwarfs present, then said, “Everybody out. Except Danda. Danda, wait here with me.”

The dwarves looked at one another.

“I really do not like issuing orders more than once.” The hunchback smiled a nasty little smile, and raised his eyebrows. “And trust me when I say that they are orders that, for disobeying, carry a death penalty.”

The room quickly cleared, and Cardinal Skalg moved forward, and slowly sat down on a chair which had been placed before the Vagandrak heroes.

“You may look up, now, slaves,” he said. They did so, with a clanking of chains. Beetrax and Dake glared at him. Talon's eyes were filled with despair. Lillith looked cool, relaxed, and Sakora held a neutral expression on her recently scarred face. But her stance said something different. Here was a woman ready to kill.

Danda moved up close behind Skalg, a hulking Educator, his broken nose and scarred features grim and evidence of many a battle. He looked across the slaves, appraising them, eyes lingering on Beetrax.

Beetrax sighed. “All right, lad. Let's get it done. Take off these chains and let's get to it. How many of these shit dwarf fighters are you going to put my way before you realise I'll break open all your melon skulls? Hmm?”

“I have a proposition,” said Skalg, his voice quiet, his eyes bright.

“What do you mean?” Jonti tilted her head. Beetrax opened his mouth, but she tutted him into silence. “What kind of proposition?”

“I know some of your names,” said Cardinal Skalg. “I have my contacts in Vagandrak; in Vagan, Drakerath, Rokroth, Timanta. I know what goes on in the world of men, although I confess, I care little for your feeble politics. Even when the mud-orcs of Orlana rolled over your land, her splice tearing your people apart, I cared little.”

“Get to the point, hunchback, lest I break your spine in another three places,” rumbled Beetrax, eyes showing anger.

“You hate it here. You hate being slaves. You are heroes, free men and women of Vagandrak! Is this not so?”

“We hate it here,” said Lillith, nodding her head. “But it's not like you will let us go, is it, Cardinal Skalg?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“You require your freedom. I am in a position to offer you this. In exchange for one simple act.”

“An act?” said Talon, his eyes coming alive for the first time in weeks. “An act of violence?”

“An act of assassination,” said Skalg, and licked his lips.

“Who's the target?” said Jonti. “I am expecting somebody of power, with efficient guards? Killers?”

“You expect right,” said Skalg, eyes narrowing. “This is the plan. We get the carriage back up to my city. You come to one of my personal armouries – whatever you need. My Educators escort you through the city to the, shall we say, start point of your mission. You go into the Palace of Iron, and you assassinate King Irlax.”

There came a long, stony silence.

“You want us to kill the King of the Harborym Dwarves?” said Dake, face a scowl.

“Yes.”

“And in return we get our freedom?”

“Your freedom, the weapons you carry, and as many diamonds that will fill your pockets.”

Again, a long silence as this proposition was processed.

“I'm game,” said Beetrax, with a cough. “I'm ready to die to get out of this fucking dump. And killing dwarves? Even king dwarves? Well, that's just a fucking bonus in my book.”

“Traps? Guards?” said Jonti.

“We have an unfortunate situation in Zvolga at the moment,” said Skalg, quietly. “We have a situation which is bordering on civil war. There is much community unrest. Much… violence in the streets. Normally, you would have no chance of getting close to the king. But the guards and wardens are… stretched. All that is my problem, however. All you have to do is kill one dwarf.”