Wulf Almsson, city guardsman, serves the king, even as the people he loves incite rebellion. All Wulf can do is try to protect them and the folk who suffer under the oppressive thumb of the tyrant…until the day that he discovers that the king is no man, but a serpent cloaked in flesh. Quick, unkillable, and insatiably hungry. And the serpent knows that Wulf has found him out. Blackmailed by his manipulative captain, Wulf has no choice but to go along with schemes to overthrow the serpent king. If he wants to save the city that he loves, he must be prepared to make sacrifices…even if it means giving up part of himself.
***
Last time, Wulf and Dyani were taken through the burned Western Quater and down to the cavern, where they were given supplies by the foreman, Arren.
When they stepped out of the building into the cavern, Wulf paused, giving himself a moment to take in the space around them. Several guards in armor, weapons propped beside them, sat on crates by the loading dock, tossing dice onto the ground. He could see a few other soldiers near the giant mound in the center of the cavern, while on the mound itself, around half a dozen scavengers scrambled across the rubble.
No...not rubble. It wasn’t quite the same color as the yellowish rock around them, and the torchlight winked off it in certain areas.
“That’s gold,” he said quietly.
Dyani swore softly.
The entire mound—nearly as tall as the thirty-foot-tall ceiling—was gold, fused together with a cement-like, crusty substance that reminded him of chicken dung.
“Well...let’s hope the thing Royse wants isn’t buried in the middle of that,” he said.
“Arren said that others have brought things in from the tunnels,” Dyani reminded him. “So this isn’t all of the dragon hoard.” But Wulf still heard the same overwhelmed despair in her voice that was beginning to wind its way around his heart. Royse had set them a near-impossible task.
“Better hope we have better luck than those poor saps stuck chipping it apart,” he muttered. “Where do we go from here?”
Dyani motioned, and they made their way around the buildings to the eastern edge of the cavern.
Wulf had no doubt the hoard really did contain a magic weapon—especially if the hoard was as old as Royse had made it sound. But what if it was buried in the center of the mound? Despite having worked on it for two years, it didn’t look like they’d made much progress on it—it could be years before they tore that pile down to nothing.
Several passageways gaped along the eastern edge of the cavern. Dyani pulled her map from her pocket, glancing over it. Wulf found his attention dragged to one of the smaller tunnels pockmarked into the wall—it was small, just barely tall enough that he’d be able to walk upright. The hair along his neck and the back of his arms prickled, and before he realized what he was doing, he’d stepped forward, a hand going to his side where a sword should have rested. A soft breeze wafted across his face, stirring his hair away from his forehead. A breeze where there should have been no breeze—and it carried the faint scent of ash and smoke.
“Wulf?” Dyani pressed her hand to his arm.
“Let’s start with that one,” he said, nodding toward the opening.
Dyani frowned. “You sure? That doesn’t look big enough for a dragon to get into.” She dug her map out of her pocket and skimmed it. “It is one of the ones that hasn’t been fully explored…”
“I don’t know.” Wulf lifted his head. He sniffed, and the scent brushed against him again, making him shiver. “There’s something about that tunnel...”
“You don’t want to go down there, friend.”
Wulf spun around, his arm catching around Dyani’s waist and shifting her slightly behind him.
The scavenger walked toward them, one white-caked hand held out in a gesture of peace. He was taller, gaunt, and probably would have been heavily muscled if he’d been able to eat properly.
“That tunnel kills people,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Dyani asked.
“Anyone who goes down there,” he said. “We’ve lost ten people to it so far.”
“You’ve seen the bodies?” Wulf asked.
The man shrugged. “No one’s found a way out yet. And that’s half again as many as we’ve lost to the other tunnels, total.”
Wulf glanced at the opening again, noting the way the lantern hanging over it seemed dimmer than the lanterns hanging over the other passageways. His nose twitched, and that same prickling feeling washed over him again. Something was down there, and he wanted to know what it was.
“That’s the one we want,” he said softly. “I’m sure of it.”
“You take me to the nicest places,” Dyani muttered.
He chuckled, more to hide another cold shudder running down his back.
The scavenger shot them a derisive look, spat on the ground at his feet, and turned, stalking back to the golden mound in the center of the cavern.
The fear and worry and anger that Wulf thought he’d safely tucked to the back of his mind came surging forward, boiling over until his hands clenched into fists and his teeth ground together. He took a step after the man.
“Wulf.” Dyani grabbed his arm, pulled him back. “He didn’t do anything. Don’t start a fight you’re in no condition for.”
She was right—he knew she was right—but the desire to break the scavenger’s teeth still heated his chest. Wulf drew in a deep breath, trying to calm himself, surprised at the way he’d immediately gone to rage. As they walked into the gap, he put a hand to his forehead.
Dyani clasped the back of his neck with one hand, the other gripping his wrist. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
He nodded, moving both of his hands to tangle in her hair, her soft curls twining around his fingers. He leaned down—she raised herself on tiptoe—and her breath ghosted gently across his cheek as their lips met. He tugged her close to his chest, one hand running down her back to wrap around her waist.
“Keep hold of me, Dyani,” he whispered. “Please. Keep me grounded.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“I know.” He pulled in another breath. “I’m sorry.”
The slightest breeze, strangely warm in the chill of the cave, spidered across the back of his neck. Wulf raised his head, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent the breeze carried—smoke and iron, oil and charcoal, like a blacksmith’s shop. He twined his fingers through Dyani’s, gently tugging her after him.
The sounds from the main tunnel faded behind them. After a while, Wulf released Dyani’s hand and edged forward a bit, knees slightly bent, one hand outstretched and pressed against the wall, as if he was stalking prey through the woods. The rough grit of the sandstone walls dragged at his skin. With every step he took, the smell of the forge became stronger—and not just the forge, Wulf realized, but something stronger. More ancient. The smell of old smoke that reminded him of the alchemical fire used to burn the Western Quarter.
And yet—it was different, a muskier scent that spoke of something living, not chemicals and flames feeding off them in strange colors. A scent that carried a presence with it, making him want to fold close to the ground and slink along. Something older than the city, something even older than the ruins around them, something that could pick him up by the scruff and snap his neck with one quick shake.
As he walked, he began to smell old blood as well, though it was only just noticeable under the musk.
Wulf paused and looked back. They’d walked far enough that the entrance to the tunnel had faded, though the light level remained the same. He frowned. There were no torches or lanterns, and nothing in the corridor glowed like some of the forest mosses that Anselm had once showed him when he was a child. His vision wasn’t perfect, but he could still see Dyani’s face clearly as she stopped behind him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Can you see all right?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m used to working at night.”
With the rebellion. Wulf thought about that for a moment. Perhaps working night shifts as a guard had done the same for him. He strode forward again, keeping his hand splayed to the wall.
They came around a corner, and Wulf halted, hand going back to stop Dyani as well.
The tunnel ended abruptly, spreading out into a cavern that was smaller than the main cave, but still larger than Ari’s house. There, at the entrance, Wulf saw several bodies piled together, the ground around them coated in dull, dried-blood black. The presence was heavier here, so thick that Wulf could almost taste it on his tongue.
He turned to Dyani. “Stay here. Watch my back.”
Dyani nodded, slipping to the side and into the shadows. Wulf knew where she’d moved, but only because he watched her—otherwise, he would have been hard-pressed to pick her form out from the rocks. She’d always been good at hiding. He waited until he was sure she’d settled, then crept forward, hugging the wall on the opposite side of the tunnel.
The blood under the bodies was thick enough to create a smooth coating over the rocks. Wulf placed his feet carefully, holding his breath against the stench of long-rotten flesh. Two of the corpses had been there long enough that they were desiccated, their skin stretched tight over their bones.
Light from an unseen source flickered on the uneven cavern walls, creating strange, jumping shadows. Wulf waited for his eyes to adjust from the darkness of the passageway.
Some of the strange shapes resolved—an anvil, a rack of smith’s tools, a bench piled with pieces of scrap. A fire flickered in a forge set against the wall, a rough stone chimney disappearing into the ceiling.
Wulf frowned. What was a forge doing in here?
“Wulf!” Dyani shouted.
A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye.
Wulf spun in time for something heavy to slam into his chest. It latched around him, carried him to the ground, the stone around him cracking as the full weight of the armored claws forced him flat on his back. Scales tore his shirt, digging into his skin, the heat searing into him. Wulf stared up, the air knocked out of him, into burning, slit-pupiled eyes.
Why are you here?
Wulf cried out as the claws pressed tighter, his ribs creaking under the weight of the creature. He grabbed at the talons curled over his shoulders—they felt slick, metallic, and burning hot to the touch—writhing against the pain radiating across his lungs.
Something bright cracked into the side of the dragon’s leg, spinning to fall to the ground just out of Wulf’s reach. One of Dyani’s daggers. Wulf shouted for her, twisting and trying to look along the walls of the cavern.
Foolish girl!
Another set of claws slammed into the ground beside Wulf, trapping Dyani on her side.
“No!” Wulf struggled, reaching out for her.
Breath as hot as banked coals raked through his hair. His heart in his throat, Wulf looked up to see the dragon’s face looming over him. Yellow, chipped fangs hovered in arm’s reach, and a red-scaled nose led up to those burning orange eyes, fixed steadily on him.
Wulf went still, almost unconsciously tipping his head back to show his throat. I surrender. The only motion he allowed himself was the faint tremble of his fingers from his racing pulse.
Better. The dragon cocked its head to the side. Answer me quickly, before I slice you open from navel to gullet. Why are you here? One claw touched lightly against Wulf’s belly, just enough to underscore its threat.
“We were sent to find a weapon,” Wulf said.
A weapon? The dragon made a choking sound that Wulf realized was its version of a laugh. There are no weapons here, little scavenger. All that I possessed, you ants are already crawling all over.
“We were told—”
By whom? That slithering little worm who fancies himself a king? The dragon’s orange eyes flashed like waking embers. Does he think he needs a sword to go with his crown? Hot air blasted across Wulf’s face, cinders scraping across his skin. He coils and plots in his castle, never knowing that his kingdom is dry brush soon to be put to the torch. It’s already smoldering. Foolish little worm—he had no need for knowledge, he preferred to kill and steal, he—
“We mean to kill him,” Wulf blurted out.
The orange eyes snapped to his. What?
“We mean to kill the serpent king.”
The dragon growled low in its throat, and the weight of the claws lessened. Wulf rolled to his feet, grabbed Dyani’s arms, and pulled her up to stand beside him. Her fingers twined through his as they faced the dragon.
The dragon lowered its head to their level, and this time Wulf saw that, while its head and claws were solid enough, the dragon’s body faded away, disappearing entirely into the ceiling of the cavern.
“You’re a spirit,” Dyani whispered. She stepped forward, raising her hand.
The dragon blinked and butted its brow into her hand, like a giant cat. Yes.
“How long have you...”
I have...lost track. The dragon’s tone softened, losing most of its gravely quality and becoming thick, almost choked. I was, I thought, the last of my kind. And now...it has been years.
Wulf was breathless, watching the great creature’s head sink closer to Dyani’s shoulder as she ran her fingers across the scales on its cheek. The woman he loved, and the huge beast almost tamed under her touch.
The dragon shook itself and turned to face Wulf, and he revised his thoughts. Not tame. Not when those burning-ember eyes stared deep inside of him, scouring through him like it knew him better than he knew himself.
You said you were going to kill the worm. The dragon coiled around Wulf, the faintest hot touch of scales scraping against the back of his arms and neck. Wulf flinched away, stomach trembling, remembering the dragon’s crushing grip and the piercing claws. His skin crawled at the thought of it behind him, but he didn’t turn around to watch it. He just waited, the muscles of his neck and shoulder aching.
I thought I saw his mark upon you. The dragon finished its circuit, eyeing the half-healed scars that scored down Wulf’s neck. It directed its gaze to Dyani. Tell me—how do you plan to kill a thing with a hide so tough that no known blade can cut it? Convince me quickly—I like your fighting spirit and would hate to have to kill you and your mate.
Dyani gasped. Her voice trembled only slightly as she first spoke, then grew in strength. “We were told there was an enchanted weapon in your hoard.”
The dragon made that choking-gravel rumble again. Ah. And I suppose you were going to take it and slay the worm.
“That was the plan, yes,” Wulf said.
Well, unfortunately for you—and perhaps unfortunately for us both—there is no magic sword. No relic of an ancient past. The dragon coiled around him again, its scaled muscles pushing harder this time. Wulf stumbled, but the dragon caught him with its side and half-turned him, so that he faced the forge at the back wall of the cavern. It settled its heavy chin on his injured shoulder. Wulf winced. For all that Dyani had seemed to tame it with her touch, this was no gentled beast.
However, there could be an enchanted sword. If you so chose.
“I’m no weaponsmith,” Wulf protested.
That is where I may be able to help you. The forge was once owned by a dear friend of mine. He taught me a few tricks of his trade. And I am, after all, a creature of magic.
“So you’d teach me?”
No. There is hardly time for that.
“Then how—”
“Possession, Wulf,” Dyani said. “It means to possess you and forge a blade that way.”
Wulf glanced over his shoulder. Dyani had retreated—or the dragon had pressed him forward, he didn’t remember—and stood with her arms wrapped around herself, a look of apprehension on her face.
It is the only way, the dragon said. And even then, it may take some time.
“What would this involve?” Wulf asked.
You would become my body. I would give you my mind, and my skill.
“Permanently?”
The dragon hummed as it faced him once more with those eerie orange eyes, and Wulf got the sense that, despite their cordial conversation, he was still nothing more than prey to this beast. Perhaps.
Wulf’s stomach clenched.
“No,” Dyani said, at the same moment that Wulf shook his head.
Pity. But no, then. It would not be permanent.
“And what do you get out of helping us?” Dyani asked.
The dragon spun, weaving around Dyani like it had done to Wulf. I would get revenge on the descendant of the worm that trapped me here. Unfinished business anchors me to this plane, and I long—I ache—to move on, if there is no one who will play host to my spirit. Perhaps, if I help you, I will be allowed to go.
Wulf frowned. “How can we trust you? You said it yourself—you want a host. How do I know you won’t just stay in my body without permission?”
You have not consented. Were I to force you, it would take a great deal of power, and I think it would drain the both of us to uselessness. Regardless, I do not go back on my word. I would not do this without your permission, and I would not overstay my welcome.
Dyani reached out again, grasping the dragon on either side of its massive jaws, and pulled its brow to hers. They stayed still for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Wulf watched them both and the way they both went quiet and still, the mutual respect evident on both of their faces.
“Three days,” Dyani said suddenly, as if there was some continuation to a private discussion they’d been having, as if she only spoke aloud for Wulf’s benefit.
A week would be better, the dragon said softly.
“You would burn him out in a week. You will give him back to me in three days or less.” She glanced at Wulf.
Wulf nodded, his blood pounding in his temples.
This is acceptable.
Dyani’s fingers gripped the scales tighter, her knuckles turning white. “And so help me, you will keep to your word, drake. Three days. Or I will hunt you until the end of mine.”
Thank you for reading this installment of Serpent King’s Castle!
There's definitely no way this could go wrong at alllllllll...