THE DRAGON'S RETURN

Poison in the Roots

Smoke tasted like copper and cold iron as it rolled under the heavy oak door.

Thorn crouched beside the main support pillar in the deep basement below the high archives. Above his head, the floorboards groaned under the weight of hundreds of running boots.

"The main ward stone is right behind that wall," Lyra whispered, her pale ghost shape drifting through the thick air. "If you touch it, every array in the city wall will feel it."

"I do not need to touch it," Thorn said, pulling the red scroll from inside his dark guard coat. "I only need to break the root."

He unrolled the map on the damp stone floor. The ink lines showed three glowing points hidden inside the city foundation. The central point sat right beneath the room he was standing in.

"Hey! You down there!" a sharp voice yelled from the top of the stone stairs.

Thorn rolled the map back up and shoved it into his pocket. He stood up slowly, keeping his left arm wrapped tight under his cloak.

A young guard with a bright silver badge on his shoulder ran down the steps, holding an iron lantern high in the air. His face was covered in black soot from the fires burning in the dungeon above.

"What are you doing down here, soldier?" the young guard demanded, stepping into the dim light. "The prison level is overrun! General Marcus broke out the old vanguard!"

"I was sent to secure the foundation," Thorn said, lowering his head so the shadow of his hood covered his face.

"Secure the foundation?" the guard asked, frowning as he walked closer. "By whose order? Captain Julian is still unconscious in the healer's tower!"

"By my own order," Thorn said softly.

The guard stopped three paces away, his hand dropping to the hilt of his short sword. "Wait a minute. You are not on the night watch roster. Lift your head."

"Look at the wall behind you first," Thorn said.

The guard turned his head for a second to glance at the dark stone wall. That single second was all Thorn needed.

Thorn lunged forward, closing the distance instantly. He grabbed the young guard by the throat with his right hand, slamming him hard against the stone pillar. The iron lantern dropped to the floor, the glass shattering with a sharp crash as the small flame died.

"Who are you?" the guard choked out, his hands clawing uselessly at Thorn's tight grip.

"A ghost from six years ago," Thorn replied.

Thorn did not draw a blade. He pulled his left hand out from beneath his cloak, exposing the cold, stone-gray skin and dark veins running up to his elbow. He pressed his petrified palm flat against the center of the young guard's chest plate.

"Unmake," Thorn thought.

The thick iron plate beneath his palm turned into dark gray dust, spilling onto the stone floor like dry sand. The chaos power pushed deeper, passing through the guard's silk tunic straight into his chest.

The young guard gasped once, his eyes rolling back as his breathing stopped completely. His body went limp in Thorn's grip.

"Quickly!" Lyra hissed, her ghost form flickering nervously near the dark ceiling. "Someone else is coming down the stairs! Drop the body!"

Thorn dragged the dead guard across the floor toward the back of the room, where a massive iron furnace roared with blue fire. The furnace fed heating pipes that ran through the upper palace floors.

Thorn pulled open the heavy furnace door with his right hand, the intense heat blasting against his face. He shoved the dead guard headfirst into the roaring blue flames.

"What are you doing?" Lyra asked, horrified. "That will make the smoke double!"

"The uniform will burn," Thorn said flatly. "The evidence disappears."

As the body slid into the coals, the dark chaos energy lingering in the guard's blood hit the magical blue fire. The flames reacted instantly, turning a deep, sickly purple.

A strange, humming sound echoed through the iron pipes. The furnace began to shake violently, its metal sides expanding and contracting like a pair of chest lungs.

"The magic in your blood is poisoning the fuel," Lyra gasped, backing away from the heat. "The fire feeds the central array stone!"

Thorn looked at the heavy stone wall behind the furnace. A jagged crack split down the middle of the masonry, glowing with a dangerous purple light. Deep inside the wall, a low groan echoed as the main ward stone began to break apart.

"That works even better," Thorn said, wrapping his gray arm back inside his dark cloak.

"It works too well!" Lyra yelled over the roaring heat. "Look at the air vents!"

Thorn looked up at the ceiling iron grates. The purple smoke was pouring upward through the pipes, rising straight toward the upper towers of the palace.

A loud, screeching bell began to sound from the roof above, its heavy tone echoing across the entire city. It was not the fire alarm. It was the dark alarm, sounded only when forbidden magic touched the palace grounds.

"The array is corrupted!" a voice screamed from the top of the stairs. "The central stone is bleeding purple!"

Four fully armored palace guards rushed down the stone steps, their long iron spears raised and glowing with white light.

"There he is!" the lead guard shouted, pointing his spear at Thorn. "Beside the furnace! Corner him!"

"You are too late," Thorn said, taking two steps back toward the shadowed wall.

"Surrender your weapon!" the lead guard barked, stepping over the shattered glass of the lantern. "The city gates are locked! You have nowhere to run!"

"I do not need to run," Thorn said, a cold, dark smile touching his lips. "The roof is about to fall."

Thorn reached out with his stone hand and slammed his palm against the main support pillar behind him. He did not target the wood or the stone. He targeted the structural balance keeping the ceiling raised.

"Unmake," Thorn barked.

The thick stone pillar dissolved into fine gray dust in a fraction of a second.

The ceiling above gave a terrifying crack. Tons of stone, wood, and iron pipes collapsed inward, raining down on the four guards and blocking the staircase in a massive cloud of blinding dust and purple fire.

Thorn ducked into a small drainage chute in the back wall, sliding down into the dark water pipes below as the basement completely caved in behind him.

"Where does this pipe lead?" Lyra shrieked as they shot through the dark water.

"To the upper gardens," Thorn called out over the rushing sound of the drain. "Right outside the palace grand hall."

The water flushed him out of the pipe, dumping him onto a soft bed of red flowers in a rain-soaked garden.

Thorn stood up, wiping cold mud from his face. Above him, the grand palace towers were glowing with dark purple smoke, and the sky was filled with screaming imperial guards.

In the distance, across the grand garden courtyard, a massive glass hall was lit up with golden lamps. Music and laughter echoed faintly from inside, completely ignorant of the chaos below.

"The Gala of Lions," Lyra whispered, floating out from his collar to look at the bright windows. "The sect elders are inside."

Thorn gripped his short sword hilt with his stone-gray hand. "Then let us go join the party."