Free A Reign of Steel by Morgan Rice

thousands arose behind the city walls, helpless civilians slaughtered by the
dragons’ breath, burned alive, trying to run, with nowhere to go. He watched through
the iron gates as knights raised their swords uselessly, their weapons melting
in their hands, down to their wrists, their very armor melting on them,
screaming as they, too, were burned alive.
    No
one was safe from the dragons’ wrath. The great walls, meant to keep invaders
out, instead kept the waves of dragon fire in, creating a fishbowl effect. Even
one dragon could have laid waste to the city. Dozens of them rained down an
apocalypse.
    Romulus breathed deeply and took great satisfaction in the
hell before him. He beamed, riding slowly on his horse, as he felt the heat
from the waves of fire. Fire scorched the city walls, flames licking higher and
higher, pouring out through the windows, like a huge blazing cauldron that
could not be quenched.
    Romulus ’s men stopped at the edge of the moat, unable to go
any closer because of the intense heat. They waited and waited, until finally Romulus raised his hand, and the dragons fell back, returning, circling again over his head.
    The
flames finally subsided, and as they did, Romulus’s men rushed forward and
lowered a long wooden makeshift bridge over the moat. The first battalion raced
over it, holding a long iron pole, and they rammed the iron portcullis, still
in flames. Sparks flew everywhere, as they rammed it again and again; finally,
it caved in, amidst a great cloud of flame and sparks, revealing a wall of
flame behind it.
    They
all stood there waiting, as Romulus directed his horse slowly toward the front
line. Behind him, seated on his horse, was his prize, his new plaything—Luanda—her wrists and hands bound, her mouth gagged, her ankles tied to the saddle. She had
been forced to ride with him. He could have killed her, of course, but he much
preferred to prolong her hell, to make her witness what he was about to do to
her homeland. There was something about her, something defiant and evil, he was
starting to like, and he wondered if she might even be an appropriate mate for
him.
    Romulus stopped as he reached the edge of the moat, then gave
a terse nod. Hundreds of his men, awaiting his command, burst into the city
with a great shout and a sound of horns, and soon the city was filled with his
men. He watched with pride as the banner of the Empire was hoisted above its
gates.
    Savaria,
he knew, was one of the great cities of the Ring. And now, every person within,
in a matter of minutes, every knight and soldier and commoner and lord, lay
dead. And he had not lost a single soldier. It had been the same for his entire
march from the Canyon, Romulus slowly and meticulously wiping out every town
and village that he encountered, wanting his destruction of the Ring to be
absolute.
    Of
course, King’s Court was still free, but he wanted to take his time before arriving
there. He wanted everything destroyed first, not a blade of grass left, as
vengeance for his prior defeat. He would reach Gwendolyn in good time, and her
King’s Court. He would unleash his dragons, and he would make her pay. But not
before he had first destroyed every town in her precious Ring.
    Romulus threw back his head and roared with triumph. For
however long the spell lasted, he was invincible. And as long as he lived,
nothing, and no one, in the world would stop him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
     
    Gwendolyn
rode on the back of Ralibar, hanging on for dear life, wondering how she got
here. Ralibar flew erratically, unlike he ever had before, weaving up and down,
racing through the clouds, as if wanting her off.
    “Ralibar,
please, slow!” she cried out.
    But
Ralibar would not listen. He was like a different beast, a dragon she did not
know. He roared—a terrifying noise—and dove straight down through the clouds—right,
Gwen saw, for King’s Court.
    “I
can’t hang on!” Gwen yelled, slipping.
    But
Ralibar flew faster, steeper,