SAVE POINT 31
Loading 'The Man Who Killed His Brother For His Child'...98%...
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Goran
They have no time, and they don't even know it. This is checkmate.
Not boxing a knight in.
Not penning a queen.
The king—fallen.
Dead.
And it makes me want to smile although I keep my face straight, grim and powerful under the scrutiny of the watchful eyes of the wasteland guards.
This is the best plan I've had yet, and it has to lead me back to you, Rosie. It has to.
"You'll wait for the Commandress's decision," one of the guards barks, his voice echoing in the vast chamber they've been holding me in.
"Look," I hold my hands up in open protest, "I'm not even asking for an update, bud. I'm just sitting here."
'Squatting here' is more correct.
I try to ensure my voice is casual and light. They can't mistake me for someone powerful. I have to appear like a friend—helpful, but not pushy. I'm in their domain after all. This has all worked out perfectly—down to the nitty-gritty details. Am I a genius, or am I a genius? The Gamers were wrong to put all their trust in my brother. He wasn't the brains of the family—I am. ...And, now, they'll all just have to squirm and suffer in the squalor that is the result of their giant miscalculation.
Justice.
Finally.
And Rosabella back.
To me.
Two of the most important things—the most important goals.
Perhaps finally accomplished. Fifteen more minutes and, maybe, we'll see.
I'm squatting in a puddle in the rutted, cave floor. Water has soaked into the toe of my sneakers, creating a wet, rounded line as it seeps into the fabric there. It's probably dripped from a stalactite in the shadows way over my head; even if I crane my neck upwards, into the blackness of the ceiling, it's hard to see.
...Everything about this dragon makes me respect her; the Commandress built her fortress in a cave concealed from the rest of the burned, west side forest. Even the entrance of the place holds walls carved in bronze, copper and wood—vast columns and intricate etchings displaying the sheer size and nobility of the place. I'd even been chained immediately upon arrival—these guards are good...actually effective. Two solid, metal handcuffs, connected by chains, restrict my arms and feet and a third, metal collar is secured around my neck.
These people don't mess around.
I respect it.
This place and its warriors are already proving my hypothesis to me; I'd been right.
The dark dragon is the key.
Her magic and mine combined are unstoppable.
I hope she takes the deal.
I chew on the side of my lip, watching the two, dimwit guards at the door exchange a hushed word. Their faces, plastered in black warpaint, constrict, and they shuffle towards me, the animal skins and leaves plastered to their robes drag heavily on the ground.
"She's ready to see you—"
A deafening roar shatters the air.
Then, claws scratching against wood—splintering it.
The enormous doors the guards had been standing near suddenly engulf in hissing and spitting flames.
And, as the wood blackens and crumbles, jagged talons break through solid form like easily pulling back blackened paper.
And a huge dragon's eye, yellow and bulging, peers through.
And, then, bronze scales of a massive snout.
Smoke clogs my nostrils and heat scours the cheeks of my face.
> I'll speak for myself.
The Commandress hisses.
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> Come here, fake Game Maker. Together we will remake the world.
Everything in me suddenly leaps with jittering exclamation.
I did it!
We did it, Rosie!
I bow my head low, even secured in these metal chains and so close to the still-simmering fire, "Commandress, I am so honored—"
> Shut your mouth, and let's get to work. Humans talk too much.
I incline my head even further in a show of humble respect. The floor shakes as the dragon turns around, waddling back towards the golden, glistening weaving of a red-velvet stitched throne behind her. The guards hurry to detach my chains from the floor. It pops free with a metal, grating sound, and they let them drag heavily on the floor behind me as I take my first tenuous steps as a completely free man...towards the dragon.
Now free of worry.
Or shame.
Or guilt.
Only filled with utter elation at the realization of the miracle I've created for myself.
Oh, how the tables turn, Rosie, when you rig the system...
> I want those doors replaced by nightfall, vermin.
The dragon tirades at the closest guards. Her talons click on the hard, rock floor and, then, soften to pale thuds as they linger on the red carpet near the golden throne.
> I told you, no more wood. This last set has barely lasted a week. Poor craftsmanship.
I bite the inside of my lip to stop any sarcastic comment from slipping out. I have to make sure to play this just right—
> Join me, fake Game Maker.
Her address of me tightens a fist in my heart. And I, suddenly, want to lash out—to throw away everything I've accomplished using this respectful, smooth face by losing it and yelling at the beast.
Fake Game Maker?!
—I'll show her fake Game Maker!
...But I can't 'lose it'. Because I'd only lose you, Rosie. I'd throw away every chance I have of fixing this mess. I have to stay calm. I bite back every retort that's risen to my lips.
"If you'd please, your excellency," I grit my teeth, even in asking, to keep the hardness out of my voice. My hands clench at my sides, "Could you please not call me that."
> Fine.
She huffs, swishing her giant tail to the side in annoyance.
> Join me, man who killed his brother for his child.
I open my mouth to protest it but find the Commandress staring at me with such fire, that I don't dare say anything at all.
She gestures with her enormous head to the throne.
Wait...
She wants me...
She's elevated me to the level to sit on her...throne?
The breath nearly dies in my lungs. My head feels giddily light.
Forgetting about my brief quarrel with her, I trip towards the throne. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes slightly as I grasp both arms, ready to finally take my place on it—
> Dratamore, secure him!
The bronze dragon cries.
And a guard nearly pops out of the wall—I hadn't seen him there—rushing towards me.
And he grabs the end of my chains in his solid grip. And nails it to the leg of the throne.
...She hadn't wanted me to sit.
She'd wanted to restrain me?
I whip around to see the dragon's leering head, snaking high above and over me.
"If we're going to do this, we need to trust each other," I snarl, taking a step forward and feeling the pressure immediately—regretfully—in the metal collar at my neck. The chains rattle as I yank against them.
> Oh, I do trust you.
The Commandress coos, lowering her bronze head so her eyes are level with mine. She blinks slowly.
> I trust you...as far as I can throw you.
> Tell me again.
She begins.
> How do we burn the rest of the world and wipe out any chance of power returning to the humans? How do we do all this and end with one sole ruler of The Game...me? I want to hear it again.
I can see the lust for it in her eyes—her need for power. That's something I understand too clearly.
Because I need something too.
I need you back, Rosabella, or my whole world will crumble.
"If you elevate my black magic," I tell the dragon squarely, repeating what I'd told her earlier, "...If we work together, we can multiply the current army you have, enhancing their skills, and advance on your nearest rivals. My black magic will begin to erode The Game, corrupting food sources, and your creator magic will ensure that you can make enough to eat for your army and yourself. We'll give the surrounding dragons the choice to join us or die. We'll combine forces as we move over the land, growing more and more powerful and collecting the other dragons' creator magic. As I mentioned, the only one who can stop you now is the girl who I want back—the last Game Maker. We will find her, and I will take her out of The Game. You will ensure us our lives and safe passage back to reality in repayment for the combination of our magic and my plan."
I say the word confidently, glossing over the panic rising in my chest.
She has to agree to this.
If she doesn't—
> Okay, man who killed his brother for his child. We fight together.
The dragon's oath.
The words that cement dragon covenants.
Neon words pop into view between us:
***Covenant Sealed***
And I smile this time; I don't hold back the grin.
Because the Commandress is eating out of my hand now, Rosie; I've got her.
And, because I've got her, I've got you back. Finally. I will find you. And I'll break this pathetic world in two as I do so. So many dragons with one stone.
> When shall we start?
Echoes the dragon in my mind, her blazing eyes filling with the wrath and yearning that's been itching under my skin for some time now.
I turn to her, my face glistening with glee. "Right now," I whisper, "We start right now."