offer you freedom, should you accept my challenge.”
“Challenge?”
The king drew close to Blasphet, much closer than Metron thought wise, chains or no. Metron grew more alarmed for the safety of the king when he drew his face mere inches from Blasphet and said in a low, even voice, “Look at what you’ve done with your poisons. You’ve ended the lives of a few random dragons, some humans, a rat or two. Does it satisfy you? Or do you long for a greater task? Imagine not the death of an individual. Imagine the death of an entire species. Are even you capable of such a thing? Could even you slay every last human in my kingdom?”
Blasphet raised a manacled talon to scratch his chin. His lips drew back to reveal his yellow-gray teeth. “All humans? There are millions. The resources required would be enormous.”
“Everything I have would be at your disposal,” Albekizan said, his voice quieter, almost a seductive whisper. “My treasure, my armies are yours to command. In the matter of the elimination of the humans, you will possess all the powers of a king.”
“What do I care for the powers of a king?” Blasphet asked. “I was a god, once. Yet even for a god, the task is a daunting challenge.” Blasphet’s eyes ran along the map of the world as if sizing up its scale. “The humans would flee before a direct onslaught. The survivors would take up arms against us if we failed to kill all in one sweep. I’ve worked intimately with humans in the past. They can be most tenacious. The war could last for centuries.”
“I know this,” said Albekizan. “Which is why I’m consulting with you rather than Kanst.”
Kanst’s eyes narrowed at the slight.
“The key would be subtlety.” Blasphet’s voice fell to the same conspiratorial tone as the king’s. “Somehow draw them into a trap, kill them before they ever suspect danger…”
“Ah,” said Albekizan. “I see it in your eyes. This task interests you. Should you refuse me now, this will taunt you, torment you as you rot away in that cell.”
“Is this offer honest?” Blasphet asked. “You never were one for clever schemes, but I can’t believe you would trust me. What was that I was yelling at my trial? ‘I’ll kill you? I’ll kill you all?’ You remember that don’t you?”
“I don’t trust you, but I do understand you. If you desired, you could kill me right now. You’ve no doubt hidden several poisons on your body. Something you could spit, perhaps? Or some paste beneath a claw that could kill with the merest scratch?”
“Of course,” said Blasphet. “It may be that I’ve poisoned you already and it’s only a matter of time before you begin to bleed from every bodily orifice. That would be most satisfying. You, weeping tears of blood.”
“You haven’t poisoned me,” the king said with a confidence Metron didn’t feel was justified. “You’ll be no threat to me or my court because you dare not risk this opportunity. You’ll be free to murder on a grand scale without fear of punishment, indeed, with the guarantee of praise and respect. You were worshipped as a god, once. Now, you have the opportunity to enter history as the architect of the greatest single feat of the dragons. Your freedom to act will be your shackles.”
“Perhaps,” Blasphet said. “This does hold… promise. You know me better than I thought, it seems. Well played. I accept.”
“I knew you would,” Albekizan said, stepping back. “When we were growing up there was no dare you would not accept. Your will was thought to be even greater than my own. That’s why it surprised everyone when I bested you in the hunt.”
“Indeed, brother,” Blasphet replied. “Indeed.”
ZANZEROTH TOUCHED DOWN on a stony island in the middle of the mud-brown river. It had been too long since he’d spent time here; almost a century ago this spare, stony wasteland had been his only home. He’d not been born to the comfort of a king’s court. Or perhaps he
“Challenge?”
The king drew close to Blasphet, much closer than Metron thought wise, chains or no. Metron grew more alarmed for the safety of the king when he drew his face mere inches from Blasphet and said in a low, even voice, “Look at what you’ve done with your poisons. You’ve ended the lives of a few random dragons, some humans, a rat or two. Does it satisfy you? Or do you long for a greater task? Imagine not the death of an individual. Imagine the death of an entire species. Are even you capable of such a thing? Could even you slay every last human in my kingdom?”
Blasphet raised a manacled talon to scratch his chin. His lips drew back to reveal his yellow-gray teeth. “All humans? There are millions. The resources required would be enormous.”
“Everything I have would be at your disposal,” Albekizan said, his voice quieter, almost a seductive whisper. “My treasure, my armies are yours to command. In the matter of the elimination of the humans, you will possess all the powers of a king.”
“What do I care for the powers of a king?” Blasphet asked. “I was a god, once. Yet even for a god, the task is a daunting challenge.” Blasphet’s eyes ran along the map of the world as if sizing up its scale. “The humans would flee before a direct onslaught. The survivors would take up arms against us if we failed to kill all in one sweep. I’ve worked intimately with humans in the past. They can be most tenacious. The war could last for centuries.”
“I know this,” said Albekizan. “Which is why I’m consulting with you rather than Kanst.”
Kanst’s eyes narrowed at the slight.
“The key would be subtlety.” Blasphet’s voice fell to the same conspiratorial tone as the king’s. “Somehow draw them into a trap, kill them before they ever suspect danger…”
“Ah,” said Albekizan. “I see it in your eyes. This task interests you. Should you refuse me now, this will taunt you, torment you as you rot away in that cell.”
“Is this offer honest?” Blasphet asked. “You never were one for clever schemes, but I can’t believe you would trust me. What was that I was yelling at my trial? ‘I’ll kill you? I’ll kill you all?’ You remember that don’t you?”
“I don’t trust you, but I do understand you. If you desired, you could kill me right now. You’ve no doubt hidden several poisons on your body. Something you could spit, perhaps? Or some paste beneath a claw that could kill with the merest scratch?”
“Of course,” said Blasphet. “It may be that I’ve poisoned you already and it’s only a matter of time before you begin to bleed from every bodily orifice. That would be most satisfying. You, weeping tears of blood.”
“You haven’t poisoned me,” the king said with a confidence Metron didn’t feel was justified. “You’ll be no threat to me or my court because you dare not risk this opportunity. You’ll be free to murder on a grand scale without fear of punishment, indeed, with the guarantee of praise and respect. You were worshipped as a god, once. Now, you have the opportunity to enter history as the architect of the greatest single feat of the dragons. Your freedom to act will be your shackles.”
“Perhaps,” Blasphet said. “This does hold… promise. You know me better than I thought, it seems. Well played. I accept.”
“I knew you would,” Albekizan said, stepping back. “When we were growing up there was no dare you would not accept. Your will was thought to be even greater than my own. That’s why it surprised everyone when I bested you in the hunt.”
“Indeed, brother,” Blasphet replied. “Indeed.”
ZANZEROTH TOUCHED DOWN on a stony island in the middle of the mud-brown river. It had been too long since he’d spent time here; almost a century ago this spare, stony wasteland had been his only home. He’d not been born to the comfort of a king’s court. Or perhaps he
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