The creature lay on its haunches, its metal head resting on giant talons of curved swords. It had no ears, I realized. Its eyes weren’t closed, they were just black almond-shaped holes. Its muzzle was too blocky and exact. It looked dead in a way that I couldn’t describe.
“Heave, stars damn you!” Dagan Mar was lurching at a running limp, snapping his whip over the backs of the nearest slaves. There was a cry of pain and I saw one slave stumble, only for Dagan Mar to redouble his attacks.
“Stop it,” I hissed under my breath, taking a step forward. But before my temper could get the better of me, a hand on my shoulder pulled me back. It was Oleer.
“Oleer?” I whispered, surprised that it would be him to want to help me. Last I had seen, he had been glaring at me along with all the other Daza in our work team. I looked up at his face to find that it was still troubled, his brow scrunched as he frowned back at me.
“No point in getting yourself beaten,” he whispered, before nodding at the scene ahead of us. “That’s bad news. For all of us.”
I nodded. I couldn’t begin to imagine what Inyene had been thinking.
The slave had gotten back to his feet by the time I turned back to look at the strange sight below us, and the dragon had been pulled forward to the main yard, where Dagan Mar had yelled for them to halt. Around it was the circle of my fellow slaves and prisoners, and then the circle of guards behind them. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
Clang-clang-clang! It was the harsh, ringing sound of a bell, but it wasn’t one that I had ever heard before. The overseers and the mine guards routinely used high-pitched, screaming whistles to signal the end of shifts or alert each other to problems.
All eyes looked up to where this sound was coming from – the towers of Inyene’s keep.
“What does it mean?” I heard a whisper on the other side of me. It was Tamin.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head, just as – something – swept over us all.
It felt like an icy blast of winter wind, although no hair on my head was moved. There was nothing to hear apart from the ringing of that deranged bell, but I could feel the ache of something in my ears all the same. And the backs of my teeth. And now, in the pit of my stomach, making me feel nauseous.
“Urgh.” I wasn’t the only one who could feel it apparently, as Oleer on my left suddenly stumbled, one hand clutching his belly.
And then, the metal dragon below us started to move.
I gasped in shock and took an instinctive step backwards at this unnaturalness. There was a grinding, clacking noise as the dragon pushed itself up from its front haunches, the cogwheels at its elbows spinning in a blur. Its head and neck were still bowed, pointing down at the ground – but then blue light flared from its eye cavities, and the thing started to raise its snout.
Blue light like the Earth lights, I recognized. That had to be why Inyene wanted them so badly.
“Stoke the engines! Get her lit, quickly!” a voice shouted – Abioye, down below and running the length of the dragon. The creature was starting to shift and totter on its legs, the blue radiance spilling from its face in an unholy river. Abioye was hurriedly directing the teams of smelting workers to run towards the thing’s belly with long poles, at the end of which appeared to be metal scoops filled with coals, which they were ramming into pre-designed vents in the thing. The sight made me feel sicker even than the eerie non-sound did. These things are machines. I grimaced. Uncaring. Unfeeling. Unthinking machines – just like any of the mine equipment that Inyene was constantly cooking up.
There was a whump as whatever internal fires that the thing had ignited, and thick black smoke started to steam from the creature’s nostril holes, and with it came more life. The metal dragon raised on its rear legs and, with a grating snarl that sounded like metal-on-metal, opened its wings.
Hisses of alarm spread through the crowd of slaves and prisoners below us, as they convulsed backwards. Even the guards appeared terrified by this thing. The creature’s wings spread out in segmented jerks, revealing bat-like fans made of some kind of thickened leather on bronze ribs.
“She’s done it!” A victorious shout cut through the sounds of anguish. It was Dagan Mar, waving his fist in the air back at the keep. His celebration was short-lived however, as the thick clouds of the dragon’s black smoke suddenly increased. There was something wrong and Abioye raced back to the team of smelting workers.
The dragon opened its metal maw, and for a moment I could see rows and rows of steel teeth like swords.
And with a grunt of thunder, a jet of thick coppery flame burst from the thing’s mouth.
“Aiii!” The dragon’s head had been raised, so the jet shot out into the air above the mining camp, but that didn’t stop everyone in front of it – all of us, to tell the truth – from shouting in terror. The Daza started to run, pushing against the guards and each other ahead of this monster. Knots of prisoners – pale in the burning light – elbowed and shoved both Daza and guards out of the way.
Pheet! Pheeet! came the overseers’ whistles, while still another shouted, “Breakout! Contain them!” and the guards started to push back. But they were using their metal clubs, shields, gauntlets, and boots–
“Nari,” it was Oleer, pulling at my elbow, wrenching me from the sight below us as screams rose. “Now is your chance. Go,” he said.
“What?” I looked at him in confusion. “No, our people…”
“Our people are going to get beaten by the guards or eaten by Inyene’s dragon,” Oleer hissed quickly. He was already pulling me through the crowd of our work team, pushing me in front of the mine entrance, towards the far end of the terrace where the boulders were – the same spot I’d scoped out earlier. “Now is your best chance. Get back home. Raise the alarm!” he said as we broke through the back of the team, and I could hear Toadie blowing his whistle again, calling for more guards to come help him. Some of the other slaves were clearly having the same idea I had – a knot of prisoners was already scaling the near slopes beside us. But they won’t get far, I knew. Up there it’s open slopes, no cover. You have to use the old creek bed.
“Tell the others. We’ll travel as a group – I know the mountain trails,” I was saying hurriedly to Oleer, who responded by pushing me, not too lightly, towards the boulders.
“Hey!”
“You’re being stupid. And you don’t get to be stupid. You’re the daughter of the Imanu,” Oleer said. “There’s too many of us here. And now that Inyene’s got the dragon, she’ll only hunt us down. Thirty people will leave tracks, but one person might get through!”
I was stunned at Oleer’s insight. He was using hunting logic. Daza logic. I was ashamed that I hadn’t thought about this before. He was right. This was suddenly much more important than even I had thought before. Inyene had a dragon. If she had already captured or blackmailed half the Daza tribes just with her thuggish guards – imagine what she could do with a dragon?
Someone had to warn the rest of the Plains people what was coming. And I was the Imanu’s daughter. That someone had to be me.