Dragonforge by James Maxey Page A

dragons, Jandra had spent most of her childhood assuming that the existing world order was essentially fair. Perhaps the world would be better if the dragons continued to rule.
    As she thought this, they passed over a high hill and on the far side found what looked to be a city of tents. Smoke from a hundred smoldering campfires scented the air. In addition to the hundreds of small and tattered tents, there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of humans who were slumbering on the bare ground, with not even a blanket to cover them.
    “Who are these people?” Hex asked.
    Jandra wasn’t sure. “I suppose they’re refugees,” she answered. “People from the Free City who don’t know how to find their way home.”
    “This is why Shandrazel’s vision of a new world order is doomed,” Hex sighed.
    “Why?”
    “Humans will care nothing for Shandrazel’s proposed reforms after what my father has done,” said Hex. “They may even take up arms to avenge my father’s misdeeds. And what then? Shandrazel will use the armies he now commands to force the humans to respect his new laws. He’ll become as much a tyrant as my father was no matter how good his intentions.”
    “You’re something of a pessimist, I take it.”
    “On the contrary,” he said. “I believe there is every chance a new and better world is only a few years away. Perhaps Shandrazel will lose control of his armies. The various domains that make up the kingdom will revert to local control. No longer ruled by a higher authority, the inhabitants of the land may learn to work together for the good of all. Simple self interest will lead dragons and humans to peace, once the claw of tyranny is lifted.”
    Jandra now found Hex’s world view overly optimistic. Then she remembered the sound of the executioner’s axe falling and taking the lives of her friends. She remembered the cries from the courtyard as Albekizan had all the humans in the palace slaughtered. Maybe Hex was right—perhaps all authority in this world did derive from violence.
    She grew quiet, lost in thought, as the refugee camp vanished in the distance behind them. Hex said, “Perhaps I should have asked this an hour ago, but where are we going?”
    “Oh,” said Jandra. “Excellent question. I wish I knew. You were heading west, and I know that’s right, at least. Zeeky said her village was called Big Lick. Supposedly, it’s in the mountains near Chakthalla’s castle.”
    Hex stiffened at the word “mountains.” Jandra had always been mystified that dragons were afraid of the western mountains. Vendevorex had told her that dragons lived in lands beyond, but for some reason dragons avoided journeying to those distant lands.
    “I don’t think it’s far into the mountains,” she said, hoping to reassure him.
    “It won’t matter if it is,” Hex said, sounding defiant. “I’ve never placed much weight in the legends of the cursed mountains, though others do. Dacorn, the most rational dragon I’ve ever known, told me that it was certain death for a dragon to risk traveling over them. I’ve faced things in life worse than death; a cursed mountain isn’t all that worrisome.”
    “There’s still the matter of finding it. I know we follow the river, but as it heads west more and more tributaries join it and I’m not sure which one Vendevorex followed when he took me there. Perhaps we should turn back. There are atlases at the palace.”
    As she said this, she saw in her mind’s eye the giant pedestal that sat in the main library, and the atlas upon it, containing all the maps of the kingdom. She could still feel the weight of the parchment in her hand as she looked through the tome—a book scaled for sun-dragons had pages nearly as tall as she was.
    As she thought about the atlas, it loomed in the air before her, luminous yet convincingly solid. She reached out to the floating book and opened its cover. Her head tingled as the helmet reached into a thousand folds of her brain