Free Twilight of the Dragons by Andy Remic Page B

very core.
    Of course, on the walls of Desekra, he’d seen many a comrade fall. But during those insane days of blood and steel and death, Talon, Beetrax, Sakora, Dake, Lillith, Jonti-Tal, they’d formed an almost unbreakable unit. They’d become brothers and sisters, not just of flesh, but of bone and blood and fucking soul. The sort of bonds that could not break. The sort of bonds which could only be severed by… death.
    And Talon realised his complacency. They’d been hard fuckers, fighters to the core, practically invincible. And Talon, for one, had started to believe their own ego… until they faced down the splice, and been captured by the dwarves. Beaten, fucked up, tortured; Talon’s nerve, his beliefs, had been irretrievably wounded.
    He lifted his bow a little. And he realised there was a tremor to his hand. His lips were dry. Mouth dry. Fear darted like a moth inside his brain. What if they met more dwarves? What if he fired his arrow, and missed? What if the bastards captured him again, captured them all again, and the beatings began, and the torture returned? Talon had been invincible on the walls of Desekra Fortress. But down here, he had come to realise his own mortality, underlined in blood by the savage and untimely death of Jonti-Tal.
    We will all die, he realised, as his morale spiralled downwards.
    We will be destroyed.
    What are we doing? Where are we going? Why are we not trying to escape?
    He stopped at a junction of tunnels, and listened, head tilting to one side. There was a strange sound. A kind of metallic thrumming. Then it stopped. Talon frowned, and realised his palms were sweating. He wiped them on his trews.
    They’d had their chance. After the dragons broke free and tore the roof off the palace, Skalg, in some ways their saviour, had kept to his part of the bargain. Kill Irlax the King, and they would have their freedom. But ironically, they didn’t kill the king, and still got their freedom, but then chose not to accept it. They had decided to do the right thing, as fucking heroes always should.
    He smiled sardonically. And realised, with a bitter taste, that Beetrax had been right.
    What had Lillith said?
    You don’t understand, these great wyrms, these creatures of Wyrmblood – it says in the Scriptures of the Church of Hate that once they ruled the world. All races were slaves beneath them. Men, dwarves and elves.
    Aye? What has that got to do with us?
    They’re free, Trax. They will seek to re-establish their Empire.
    You reckon?
    Oh, I am certain.
    Well, correct me if I’m wrong here, but there’s only three of ’em, yeah? How can you establish an empire if there’s only three of you?
    That’s what we’re going to find out.
    So now they were on a mission to find the dragons, find the city of Wyrmblood, unravel what the hell was going on. And for what? To save men? The people of Vagandrak? The fucking dwarves ?
    Talon gave a little shake of his head, and held up his hand. Behind, the group stopped. Dake came up beside him.
    â€œA problem?”
    â€œI heard something. Something… odd.”
    â€œClink of armour odd? Dwarven voice odd?”
    â€œNo.” Talon frowned. Then looked hard at Dake. “Are you with this? I mean, this mission? To find Wyrmblood?”
    Dake shrugged. “If I’m honest, Tal, I’m beyond giving a fuck. Jonti is gone. My life is over.”
    Talon gave a nod. He knew how Dake felt. Talon felt pretty despondent himself.
    â€œI just wonder…” he said.
    â€œYeah?” Dake looked at him quizzically.
    Talon shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
    They moved on down the tunnel, and several times Talon heard the sound. Each time it seemed to increase in intensity, making him frown harder and harder. He knocked a shaft to his bow, and seeing the action, Beetrax and the others loosened weapons, wondering what it was Talon had detected.
    The tunnel