Page 33 of The Last Slayer
The appearance of two ruby drakes on patrol saved me from having to answer. They bowed to Ramiel. “Welcome home, my lord,” they said in a dialect close enough to Standard that I could make out the meaning.
Ramiel nodded at them. Their long bodies, larger than wyrms’, had thick scales. Drakes have four legs and can breathe out a poisonous fire akin to napalm. They use their forelegs as arms sometimes, although they lack opposable thumbs. They bowed again, this time to me, their massive heads traveling up and down on long necks like brontosaurs. “Welcome, Lady Ashera.”
News sure traveled fast, and it was all a bit overwhelming. How should I respond to their greeting? My only interactions with dragons up to that point had been decidedly hostile, and my hand itched to grab a sword. But I was a guest here and it wouldn’t do to be rude. “Thank you for your kind welcome.”
Puffs of hot air escaped nostrils large enough to serve as basketball hoops. They resumed their patrol.
“Toshi, prepare spiced melon wine and snacks. We’ll be in my antechamber,” Ramiel said.
“Yes, milord.” The little dragon darted off, quick as a hummingbird.
Ramiel led me down a long corridor with a high cathedral ceiling. Glass and crystal embedded in the ceiling broke the light into intricate multicolored patterns. The scale of everything was enormous. With all the dragons inside, the place had to be as large as Mount Everest. But despite its size I found myself fighting against claustrophobia. The dark stone walls seemed to press down, and it seemed difficult to breathe. Maybe it was the altitude.
“How do you manage to hide something this large all the time?”
“‘Hide’?” Ramiel seemed amused by the notion.
“We have air traffic, satellites. Someone must’ve noticed Besade, but I’ve never heard anything about it.”
“Ah.” He smiled. “Our dragonholds aren’t in precisely the same dimension as yours. Without an affinity for magic and the right spell, mortals can neither see nor feel them.”
That explained a lot. Several well-heeled groups, not to mention the Pentagon, had spent billions of dollars trying to find the dragonholds and failed completely. “Look, can we talk? I need to go back to work.”
“I advise against it. You don’t believe the second wyrm was an accident, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nathanael never lets one loose without a purpose.”
I recalled the black-clad dragonlord who had been so utterly still. He had almost executed me at TriMedica.
“But why would they try to kill me?”
All expression disappeared from Ramiel’s face. “Very well. Let us talk.”
A pair of thick wooden doors to the right opened, and we stepped inside a room four times the size of my condo. Two large desks carved out of blocks of dark stone stood near a wall of stained glass windows. Their presence might have evoked a medieval church if it hadn’t been for the images that had been etched into them—wyverns soaring into the sky over the ruins of the slayers’ Lair. The dragonhold made me feel twitchy and nervous. I was out of my element in a place with enough magic to pulverize me. It was like being used to lifting stones overhead and suddenly finding a mountain suspended above you.
Two silver goblets of light green liquid sat on a rectangular silver serving tray on one of the desks. Next to them was an assortment of fruits, biscuits, and bread with honey. I noticed a bas-relief wyrm cowering in the corner behind the desk, its stone skin out of place in the tastefully appointed room. It was missing a big chunk of its tail.
Ramiel pointed at the door. “Out.”
The wyrm dropped its head and slithered away, its body clattering along the inlaid-tile floor.
“Okay, what was that?”
“He just lost a battle outside and was attempting to hide in here.” Ramiel tightened his lips. “Besade has no room for cowards.”
So decorations up here not only had to look good, but also demonstrate valor? Jeez.
Ramiel gestured at a large chair facing one of the desks. “Please have a seat.”
I looked at the pristine leather and then my saliva-covered self.
“Toshi will consider it an honor to clean it.”
Well, if he put it that way… I plopped down and crossed my legs. “Talk.”
He sat behind his desk and leaned back. “So diplomatic.” He didn’t smile, but his tone hinted at amusement.
