Siege of Stone

CHAPTER 55

The lens to the underworld had faded to misty green opacity, but rumors spread throughout the camp. General Utros withdrew into his headquarters, lost in thoughts and questions. He felt the weight of history, responsibility, and his iron-hard betrayal.

The ancient army continued its daily routine, maintaining the siege. Scouts worked their way through the hills and forests, mapping the landscape and marking towns to be raided or conquered. They delivered summaries to First Commander Enoch, who kept the information to himself until such time as the general requested it.

Even the sorceresses left Utros to his intense concentration. Ava and Ruva had always given him advice, offered ideas, but now he brooded in his headquarters, so deep in thought he seemed to have become a statue again. He sat with shoulders hunched on the sturdy wooden bench, leaning close to the smoldering brazier. Smoke curled around his scarred face, fumes burned his eyes and nose. Without interrupting his thoughts, the twins added various substances, black mineral powders that stung when he inhaled, but made him light-headed. Utros sat in silence, feeling his heart torn, his mind separated into opposing vows, obligations, and desires.

Loyalty is stronger than love.

But, he loved Majel! He still heard her voice, remembered her touch, though he had seen her face and knew what Iron Fang had done to her, and that was the emperor Utros had sworn to obey! Yet, Majel had broken her sacred vow, too, just as he had. Not only had the general torn his loyalty to shreds, he had also stolen the love of his leader’s wife. What punishment was too great for that?

Utros hunched over the brazier smoke, closed his eyes, and pressed sharp fingernails against his face, feeling the scar from the dragon burn. Maybe he deserved to be flayed alive, too. What if Emperor Kurgan demanded that of him?

Loyalty is stronger than love.

He sat up, reaching a firm decision, a tactical decision. He was General Utros. That was why Iron Fang considered him so important, and that was why he needed to succeed here at Ildakar. It was the only way he could atone for his great betrayal.

The two sorceresses sat in silence on the other side of the room, so close to each other that their pale bodies touched, the matching scars on their thighs close, as when they had been fused as children. Though the twins had been cut apart, their hearts, their thoughts, and their magic still connected them.

When he looked up at the sisters with a decision clear on his face, Ava and Ruva could see that their beloved general had come back to them. His cool and rational military mind had returned.

“Our emperor made his wishes clear,” he said. “You heard him speak from beyond the veil. My charge, our charge, is still to bring down Ildakar. Our entire army is duty-bound to make that happen.” The two women sat motionless, meeting his flinty glare. “Iron Fang commanded me to find a way to summon a dragon. For that, I will need your help.”

General Utros respected magic, treated it as one would handle a poisonous viper, and he let Ava and Ruva do their work. The twins spoke in whispers, sharing ideas, finishing each other’s sentences. Moving in eerie synchronicity, they talked about how to find a dragon.

Even fifteen centuries ago, the majestic and terrifying beasts had been extremely rare. On the march toward Ildakar, he had sought out a silver dragon, because such dragons were the most warlike, the most destructive in battle. Silver dragons were also the most difficult to control. Finally, they had succeeded in capturing one of the creatures, a small one, but still a nightmare of metallic scales and fangs, belching fire and acid. Its huge wings could knock down tents and create a wind strong enough to sweep aside a cavalry charge. After they had chained the monster, Utros realized he could never tame it, not with time, nor magic.

The silver dragon had chewed through its chains and burst out of its confinement. In a vengeful fury, the creature had burned hundreds of his soldiers, scorching them to ash, before ripping up the camp. Utros had tried to challenge the dragon himself and force it back into captivity, and as a result the beast had burned the side of his face with a splash of its acid fire.

Now he reached up and ran his fingers across the healed scar that covered his cheek. Emperor Kurgan had commanded him to capture a dragon again.

Ava and Ruva came to him as he stood outside, contemplating the large milky lens to the underworld and dreading his next conversation with Majel or Kurgan. He turned to acknowledge them. “We found a way, beloved Utros,” Ava said, her voice faltering. “We can summon a dragon.”

Ruva smiled shyly. “It will be painful and dangerous.”

His heart felt blank and empty. “As I expected, but pain and danger are our charge.”

The two women stepped close like lovers awaiting an embrace. Ava reached up to stroke his scarred cheek. “In order to find a dragon, we need a connection to dragons. They are distant and rare. The nearest one may be far, far away.”

Ruva said, “But you are already connected with dragons, beloved Utros. When the dragon fire burned you and left the scar, it also left part of its essence in you. Dragons are bound to the heart of the world itself, intertwined with magic.” She also touched the scar, next to her sister’s fingers. “Part of that lingers here on your face. Your skin bears the faint residue of dragon fire, and dragon fire is connected to dragons themselves.”

Ava added, “We can use that residue to send a summons that no dragon could resist, if any dragons remain in this land.”

Ruva’s eyes sparkled with tears. “We have everything we need, General, if you are willing to endure the sacrifice.”

“Emperor Kurgan commanded me. I will sacrifice whatever is needed.”

The sorceresses placed their delicate fingertips on his waxy flesh. “All we need is your skin, beloved Utros.”

Inside the dark wooden structure, the two women built the brazier fires high. They had sealed the doors and windows so that not even First Commander Enoch could see what was happening, nor would any of the soldiers hear his screams.

With the lingering effects of the stone spell, the sensitive nerves on his face were dulled, but not numb enough. He felt the searing pain when the two sorceresses used a razor-edged knife to slice away the scarred half of his face.

He braced himself, sitting in the sturdy chair built out of logs lashed together, but as he clenched the arms, the thick logs creaked. His wrists had been tied to the chair, his chest also strapped to the back, rendering him immobile. He felt as if he might explode from the bonds.

“Just a few moments more,” Ava said, being as gentle as she could.

“We are so sorry,” Ruva whispered as the sharp dagger tip traced a deep cut under his eye, around his cheekbone, then over to his ear. She peeled down ever so delicately, while Ava tugged on the flap of waxy skin with another knife, pulling his cheek and half of his face away.

Utros groaned deep in his chest and realized that this was what Majel had endured, only her punishment had been far worse. Iron Fang had not only stripped one cheek, but all of her face, then her neck, breasts, back, and thighs, all the skin on her body. Majel had endured that, and she had still been alive when he fed her body to flesh beetles. Utros knew he could tolerate this smaller sacrifice.

Loyalty is stronger than love.

The sorceresses had a shallow basin filled with water next to the brazier. When they finally succeeded in cutting off all the skin that had been marked by dragon fire, they took the uneven scrap of flesh, held it up like part of a mask, and dropped it into the basin, gently washing it, letting the blood infuse the water.

“That is the first step, beloved Utros,” Ava said.

When the skin was clean and the water tinted red, Ruva removed the thin scrap of his cheek and tossed it into the brazier, where it burned. Ava added crystalline powders that made the fires blaze brighter, consuming the scrap of skin. It shriveled and blackened like leather.

Using her gift, Ruva damped the flames so she could remove the charred skin. “Now it is ready,” she said, dropping the remnants back into the basin with the blood water.

The burned skin crumbled, the ashes dissolving, and the two women peered down into the basin, swirling the water with their fingertips. They began to chant. The small chamber was filled with magic, pulsing and sparkling, as they sent out their implacable call to summon a dragon.