Free Dragon Over Washington (The Third War Of The Bir Nibaru Gods) by Bruno Flexer Page A

failing to reach the sailor’s body.
    “ Sin-Shar-Ishkun Adar Hejaat ! I have bound you! Your prize is forbidden!” The metallic syllables somehow kept echoing on after their utterance. The noxious yellow vapor began to condense into a small cloud above the black clad figure.
    The eyes in the cloud narrowed as they turned towards the black iron mask; as the summoned entity concentrated its strength. The eyes in the cloud stared into the iron mask, sulfur jets streaming out as the entity gathered its power.
    “Free my prize ere you feel the wrath of ages!” a voice came out of the cloud, as if blazing embers were given the power of speech.
    “ Sin-Shar-Ishkun Adar Hejaat ! I forbid you your prize!” The words rang from the mask. The eyes in the boiling cloud narrowed to mere slits as the yellow vapor darkened and writhed, claws of scalding sulfur slicing closer and closer to the frozen sailor.
    “A pact, demon, a service paid by the prescribed prize. The mortal standing yonder only upon completion,” the voice coming from the iron mask was sure and confident.
    The cloud writhed and the predatory eyes in the cloud scanned the sailor from head to toe. The sailor’s eyes were closed as tightly as he could close them. From his expression it was clear that he was trying to close his ears as well while holding the iron plaque as if it were a shield. However hard the cloud tried it could not touch the sailor, though his clothes started smoldering.
    The eyes in the cloud widened and the writhing cloud burst into toxic flaming fumes, yellow and blue winds burning inside a brimstone cloud. The sailor quailed, but the black-robed figure did not flinch, even as heat waves washed over it. The eyes floating inside the fuming brimstone focused on the black-robed figure as great sheets of smoke roared out of the cloud, engulfing the black figure and the sailor. The figure remained standing calmly even as its robes caught fire and the wooden planks beneath it began to smolder.
    The black robes were the only dark things fluttering in the fiery yellow and blue inferno. Great snapping noises rose as the deck timbers cracked and were splintered by the yellow toxic cloud. The black figure stood its ground without moving or flinching, leaning forward against the storm, an immovable pillar of rock staring into the heart of the fiery conflagration. A war was being fought inside the yellow sulfurous inferno, a collision of wills, a fight for supremacy, a burning chaotic blaze against the will of the black figure dwarfed by the toxic, insubstantial, sharp limbs flailing from within the heart of the yellow cloud.
    “ Sin-Shar-Ishkun Adar Hejaat ! Submit to thy master! Thy name binds thee!” The words were heard clearly over the raging inferno of brimstone fire.
    The eyes in the cloud widened, then shut in resignation as the strength of the cloud dwindled. An instant later, nothing remained except a feeling of burning anger, a shriek echoing away into the darkness, the iron plaque the sailor holding emitting faint sulfurous plumes of smoke.
    The great light of the toxic, yellow brimstone fumes vanished and the shadowy twilight of the Skyriver lane returned. The figure’s robes settled down around it, unscathed. The sailor finding himself uncooked, looked around in wonder, a wide smile spreading on his face. He did not care about the large wet patch on the front of his pantaloons.
    “Well, it seems the demon’s name was the correct one,” the black figure said smugly, watching the small iron plaque twitch. The sailor promptly closed his eyes again. Seeing as little as possible had seemed to keep him alive. So far.
    The other sailors started to move, trying to put some distance between the deck and themselves. They looked everywhere, expecting to see a monster in every dark corner. They all felt something peculiar, a feeling projected by the planks or lines they touched, a feeling imbedded into every sail of the ship. There now seemed to be