“Good,” Adrissu said, changing his own appearance. He helped Pollux clamber through the bars, then they stood at the far wall, watching the doorway on the opposite end. A high, narrow window was the only source of natural light, a sure sign that the other side of the wall led outdoors, and not just to another room. In the faint light, Adrissu could barely see the metal door on the other side of the room, but he listened intently. As soon as the metal creaked and groaned, the fused parts finally shattering against their onslaught, he summoned as much magic as he could into his fingertips and sent the wall exploding outwards, showering them with rubble and dust.
“What the hell is going on?!” he heard shouting from the other end of the hallway, and in the commotion he pulled Pollux with him away from the wall, throwing them to the ground. “Shit, they’re getting away!”
“Tried to—fight them off,” Pollux coughed as the group of guards approached, squinting through the dust. “Went that way—both of them.” Adrissu nodded, coughing as well to disguise the pleased smile that flashed across his face.
“After them!” one guard shouted; Adrissu recognized his voice as the one who had come running into the station just moments earlier with the news of the explosion. The group made exclamations of agreement and filtered out of the hole in the wall. While their backs were turned, Adrissu and Pollux got to their feet and walked toward the busted-open metal door.
“Wait!” another voice called—Adrissu growled, recognizing it as the guard who had unlocked the door. “If that was Ernest, then who are...?”
“Run,” Adrissu hissed, pushing Pollux toward the door. As they both bolted, the guard cried out,
“Wait, that’s them, they’re using magic!”
They dashed through the door and past the commotion that had gathered in the station, shoving through the crowd of onlookers who were too confused to stop them. Pollux hissed as they emerged on the street, shielding his eyes against the daylight; but Adrissu grabbed his arm and kept running, Pollux stumbling after him.
“We just have to get to the tower,” Adrissu panted, just loud enough for Pollux to hear him. “If we can get down to the lair, we’ll be safe.”
“Stop!” barked a man’s voice behind them, then something hit Adrissu squarely in the back with enough force to make him fall to the ground.
“Adrissu!” Pollux cried, skidding to a stop beside him. He’d been hit with a crossbow, Adrissu realized, gritting his teeth as he reached behind himself to pull the bolt from his back. His vision went white with searing pain as he ripped the bolt out, but Pollux’s hands on his back were gentle as he quickly healed the wound.
“Don’t stop,” he rasped, trying to push Pollux away from him. “Get to the tower!”
But Pollux was already looking past him, snarling at the guard who had fired at him. He reached out with one hand and a stream of fire burst from it, eliciting more screams of fright and pain as people around them fled. Adrissu stumbled to his feet and pulled Pollux with him, despite the crazed look that had come over his eyes once again—if they could justrun, if they could just get to the tower, then maybe it would all turn out alright. But the guards were still swarming after them, and Pollux was wild with desperation to protect him, and it felt like everything was falling apart.
“Pollux, come on,” he urged, but already he could feel the magic that contained him in his elven form slipping away. Swearing, Adrissu stumbled back just as the dragon emerged, lunging forward at the group of guards and ripping them to shreds with his teeth and claws. “Pollux!”
The red dragon swung his head back to look at Adrissu then, yellow eyes flaring. “We’re never going to make it,” he growled, his voice a deep rumble that reverberated through the earth, so intensely Adrissu could feel it in his feet. “We have to fly.”
“Clear the way!” he heard men shouting distantly, coming from the direction of the city wall. “Quickly, aim while we have direct line of sight—”
“Fly!” Adrissu shouted, realizing what was happening. “Head for the tower!”
Pollux’s eyes widened with comprehension of the danger they were in, and without protest, he lifted into the air. Just on the edge of his vision, the view mostly blocked by buildings, Adrissu could barely make out the dark gleam of the weapon that had been mounted on the wall, now moving slowly on a cart through the street—the Dragonslayer Cannon. They must have retrieved it the moment word had spread of a dragon in the city.
Pollux was right; they would never make it to the tower on foot. They had to fly. And if they were expecting only one dragon, a second might terrify them enough that he and Pollux would have a better chance of getting away unscathed.
Adrissu squeezed his eyes shut, silently mourning the conclusion of his centuries of peace in Polimnos. He had known that it would all end someday, but he could never have expected this.
He allowed himself only a moment of despair, then he exhaled sharply and released his hold on his illusory form. The black dragon leapt forth, his long, serpentine body spreading down the length of the cobblestone street, black wings stretching out high above him. He heard Pollux calling to him from above and lifted his head to see the larger red dragon blotting out the sun as he soared overhead. Then the street around him erupted into panic.
“Dragon!” he heard men shouting. “A second dragon!” Then, finally, a shrill female voice laden with fear identifying him:
“Zamnes!”
He turned, snarling, to find Willow pursuing him yet again. Two of the Elafaer family guards followed close, obviously armed with Blackthorn weapons, but a slight shock passed through him when he saw that Willow too pointed a weapon at him with trembling hands.
“Damned half-elf,” he hissed. The woman was relentless; he could offer her no more chances at mercy. He breathed in sharply—fear flashed across her face as she and the two guards fired their weapons at him, sharp pinpricks biting into his neck and torso—and spewed fire at the three of them. They shrieked, their overheating weapons bursting in enormous clouds of steam; but he kept his breath on them until the screams died away, and the three figures collapsed to the ground, skin blackened and sloughing off. Only then did he look back up to the sky, spotting Pollux circling over him, waiting. In the distance, he could hear the mechanical sounds of the cannon being loaded. He was not sure just how far of a reach it had, but he suspected that whoever made it took into account a dragon’s considerable mobility. Trying to fly away now would be pointless.
“Pollux,” he said, lifting in the air enough that Pollux swooped down beside him. “Do you think we could melt the cannon? Was it designed to hold up against a dragon’s breath?”
Pollux hesitated, glancing toward the cannon dubiously. This high, they had a clear view of it now: it was mounted to a large cart with a guard fumbling behind it, another cranking the steam-propulsion mechanism. It would fire at them at any moment now. “Against one, probably. Against two...”
Adrissu grinned. That was exactly what he’d wanted to hear. Pollux nodded in understanding, and they soared down toward the cannon, the guards shouting in panic as they approached.
“Shoot them!” the man at the steam mechanism cried, stumbling away from the cart. “Shoot them!”
The cannon did not seem fully charged, and the man aiming it seemed to waver—the weapon’s opening swung first toward Adrissu, then Pollux, then Adrissu again. “Fire!” he shouted, heaving on the lever, and Adrissu veered hard away from his path as a burst of steam exploded from it. Pain ripped through his shoulder, making his vision blur as he roared in shock—a thick metal bolt stuck out from the joint, pinning his foreleg in place.
