Dragonforge by James Maxey Page B

its warmth. He looked at his blood-soaked claws. For a moment, the gore made it seem as if they had reverted to their natural red coloring. However, as he licked the blood away, he found his scales had once more grown in clear, leaving the black hide beneath showing through. Once he had speculated that it was lack of sunlight that leached the color from his scales. Now, he wondered if it wasn’t some long-term side effect of the poisons he’d ingested over the years. He was pleased with the look of his new scales—they were bristly, even spiky. It made his skin look angry.
    The Sisters of the Serpent stared at him in awe. The fresh blood inside him burned like liquid fire in his belly. Murder God, they had called him. It had been too long since he’d heard the words from human lips.
    “Your gift pleases me,” he said. Then, he randomly pointed to five of the sisters. “You will come with me. We shall go to my temple. I assume you’ve built a temple?”
    “Of course, my lord,” said Colobi.
    “You five,” he said, eying the others. “You won’t be coming home. I’ve hidden poisoned knives throughout the castle. I will tell you where to find them. Then, I want you to charge forth and kill as many creatures as you can, in celebration of my return. Dragons of all species, humans, horses, ox-dogs, rats… if it breathes, make it stop. Kill with no regard for your own safety. Kill until something kills you. If you kill everyone in the castle, kill each other. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Yes, O Murder God,” the five said in unison, their eyes fixed upon him as if he were the most precious thing in the universe.

Chapter Four:
    Laughter Spitting Blood

    “Ven!” Jandra shouted, spinning to face her mentor. “You’re alive!”
    “No,” Vendevorex said. “I’m almost certainly dead.”
    Jandra paused, confused. Vendevorex had died in her arms, it was true, but she couldn’t ignore the plain evidence of her eyes. Vendevorex was alive. His sky-blue chest expanded and contracted with each breath. His scales nearly shimmered. From the strong, sharp lines of his shoulders to the well-formed legs that held him with such balance and poise, Vendevorex was the picture of health.
    She ran forward to embrace him, throwing her arms around him, then through him. His body fluttered like smoke.
    She jumped back, her voice catching in her throat; some primitive part of her mind felt certain she was in the presence of a ghost. Quickly, the more rational part of her brain deduced the truth.
    “You’re an illusion,” she said.
    “Correct,” Vendevorex answered. “An interactive recording stored within the skull cap. I don’t know the circumstances of my demise, Jandra, but you are the only one with the proper training to have triggered my helmet when you donned it. The fact you’re seeing me shows that the helmet is functioning. As the device continues to adapt itself to your brain, you will discover it to be a much more powerful tool than your tiara. Unfortunately, this increased power comes with increased risks.”
    Jandra raised her hands and ran her finger along the rim of the helmet where it rested against her forehead. More powerful? She’d always assumed that Ven’s skull cap and her tiara were equally functional. Were different capacities the reason Vendevorex’s abilities had seemed so advanced?
    “Just as the helmet will adjust itself to better interface with your brain, it will adjust your brain to better interface with it. In the coming days, the helm will expand the range and sensitivity of your senses. You may find this disorienting. In time, you will adapt.”
    Jandra held her breath, trying to discover if she could hear anything new or different. It didn’t seem so.
    “The helmet provides an interface between your mind and the outer world, but your true abilities lie in the training and knowledge within you. The helmet will gently restructure your neural pathways to make them more efficient, allow