City of Fire (City Trilogy (Mass Market)) (8 page)

“Now go,” Lady Sudarshane said to her daughter as she kept a wary eye on their enemies.

Scirye swallowed. She would have liked nothing better than to escape this deadly chaos, but she couldn’t desert her mother and sister. “No. You need every defender you can get.”

Prince Etre was bleeding from a cut on his cheek and his gray mustache was now tan with dust. “She’s safer here with us than trying to cross the room by herself now,” he said. From his belt, he pulled out a stiletto and held it out to Scirye. Jewels gleamed on the golden hilt, but the blade looked deadly enough. “I can assure you that this is more than decorative,” he said. “Guard our backs, child.”

Her mother stepped to the side. “Then inside the circle with you,” she said.

Scirye slipped into the center of the tight ring formed by the Pippalanta and other Kushana as well as the museum guards, and her mother resumed her post.

From overhead, they heard hissing, spitting, and cursing as the dragon tried to force the three suviving dragonflies to attack again. It was only when the dragon lashed out with his claws and tail that one of them dove.

Scirye’s stomach did flip-flops as she watched the serpent shriek down toward her, but she gripped the dagger tightly.

The Pippalanta shouted their war cry and the museum guards did their best to imitate them. Spear heads stabbed upward and the dragonfly hung in the air, snapping its jaws in frustration. Strings of saliva dripped from its mouth as its claws struck at the tormenting blades.

A museum guard cried out as the saliva touched his sleeve. The cloth began to smoke as he dropped to his knees.

“Its saliva is poisonous,” Lady Sudarshane warned.

Another guard darted away from the circle. As he ran, he threw his halberd away.

“Get back in formation,” Lady Sudarshane ordered him, for that had left a gap in the circle. Bravely Scirye stepped into the space.

Instantly, the dragonfly dove, talons scything the runaways down like weeds as he swept on toward Scirye. She clutched the stiletto as the dragonfly bore down on her. He was coming so fast! He seemed to be all fangs and claws.

With a scream like a griffin ten times his size, Kles darted straight at him like a furred and feathered lightning bolt. The gray dragonfly’s claws whistled toward the pest, but Kles nimbly slipped under them. The next moment he was staring right at the monster’s snarling face.

The little griffin did not hesitate but raked its enemy’s eyes. Blinded, the giant dragonfly twisted frantically in the air as it tried to hit him. Kles, though, was as agile as a mosquito, dodging the blows as he struck its head with beak and claws. And Scirye felt her heart almost burst with pride and love, for he was her griffin and he was fighting to save her.

Finally, screeching in frustration and unable to see, the dragonfly smashed into the floor, skidding over the tiles and tossing chairs to the side in its wake.

Kles might have been trained for the niceties of court etiquette, but once again his primitive ancestry drowned out all other
thought. His beak opened in the age-old scream that generations of his kind had used and he shot across the room for his opponent’s exposed throat. The big vein pulsed, drawing him like a magnet. He didn’t notice the injured dragonfly’s claws waiting to strike him when he attacked.

Scirye started to run toward him. “Kles, come back! It’s a trap!”

Her mother glanced fearfully after her daughter and then too late up above her when she heard the shrieks. A third dragonfly had seized its chance and was diving toward Scirye’s unprotected back.

Stars and then spears rose into the air but the wounds only increased its rage, and the creature did not slow at all.

“Scirye!” her mother screamed.

The girl turned around in time to see the huge mouth bearing down on her, fangs ready to tear her apart.

Bayang

Bayang had seen the foolhardy Kushan girl leave the protection of the circle to chase after her lap griffin. As the winged attacker dove, the girl raised a stiletto but she was trembling so much that the point wavered. She looked like a sparrow trying to fight off a falcon.

Bayang flung the chain through the air so that it wound around one of the monster’s forelegs. Then, standing with her legs spread, she tugged with all her might. She had no hope of dragging the large attacker to the floor, but it was just enough to break its descent.

It flapped its wings frantically, screeching in anger, as it tried to free itself. The desperate girl thrust upward clumsily, the blade biting into its hind leg. The next moment a tall Pippal whipped a halberd through the air, burying the blade in the beast’s chest. The gray
body crashed against the tile floor, an evil green ichor oozing from the wound as it began to thrash about wildly.

When the flying creature fell, the chain was still wrapped around its foreleg and Bayang was pulled off her feet. As she struggled to rise, she heard the last flier descending toward her for revenge.

So, she thought, this is how everything ends—I’ve failed my people
.

From out of nowhere, her prey appeared next to her with a golden star in his hand. For a moment, she thought he was going to jab its sharp points into her, but he flung it up at the descending attacker. “Take that!” he yelled defiantly. His throw went wild, whizzing a yard away the creature’s head. Even so, it was enough to make the winged beast bank away from the unexpected danger and straight into a hedge of the defenders’ spears.

It shrieked as it twisted about, impaled on a half dozen spear heads.

Bayang straightened up. Dust matted her hair and clothes. “You saved me,” she said in shock. From the legends, she had believed her prey to be a vicious killer, not someone who would risk his own life to rescue a stranger.

“Of course.” He flashed a disarming grin at her. “We’re on the same side.”

She stood in confusion. He wasn’t acting like the evil monster of the legends who killed with such casual cruelty. While she was trying to decide if he was attempting to lull her into a false sense of security, he did something even more shocking: He turned his back on her!

As her prey craned his neck, searching for the next target, it would have been so easy to snap his neck and then rejoin the battle against Badik, but Bayang prided herself on being a warrior first and last. In carrying out her assassinations, she had never struck her targets from behind.

However, even if her assigned prey faced her again, tradition
now demanded the opposite of duty. Her people lived by a complex code of honor but at its core was one basic tenet as old as her race: If someone saved your life, you must repay the debt. And her prey had just placed her under an obligation that was far older and more imperative than the elders’ commands.

She could not kill her prey until she had repaid him. And then what? Once the debt was settled, once the scale of obligations was balanced, was she going to take the life she had just saved? That seemed too absurd.

What was she to do now?

Scirye

Heart thumping, Scirye turned from the woman and the boys to see Kles flying overhead, screaming defiance. His opponent lay dead with a bloody throat. Somehow he must have evaded the trap and carried out his attack. “Stand back-to-back,” Nishke ordered.

Scirye had been staring in horrified fascination at the dying dragonfly, but her sister’s words woke her as if from a nightmare. She turned and pressed her back against her sister’s when there was a gigantic crash.

Even shatterproof glass could not stand up to a dragon’s tail. Everyone was hunching as bits of glass flew from the case that held Lady Tabiti.

As the dragon hovered, it reached a foreleg into the case. “I’ve got
it!” With a cry of triumph, he held up the archer’s ring clutched between his claws. “There’s no stopping me now!”

And then, with a vengeful malice, the dragon brought his tail down upon the Jade Lady herself. Jade rectangles and gold wire flew in all directions as the dragon pounded the fragile body into dust.

“No!” Nishke cried.

While everyone else’s eyes had been upon the dragon, Nishke had been the only one to charge forward. Desperately she raised the halberd over her head to fend off the thief.

With an evil laugh, the dragon swung his tail so that the heavy column of bone and muscle struck her, tossing her backward like a doll.

Still laughing, the dragon flapped his wings so that clouds of dust flew everywhere as he flew toward the domed ceiling.

He struck the shatterproof panes with his huge paws and his mouth bellowed magical spells that made the listener’s hair stand on end. Finally, the glass broke in a rain of crystal shards and the magical wards dissolved.

With a cry of triumph, the dragon’s massive body soared through the hole and into the sky.

Scirye

Kles circled through the dusty air, the battle rage ebbing away, leaving only the taste of pulverized concrete thick in his mouth. The light flickered wildly as primitive fire elementals, their brains no bigger than gnats, darted about in the air from their broken homes. Voices moaned and a man was whimpering.