The red dragon came armed. In a foreclaw it held something long and glinting, oddly shaped with uneven contours, of an unusual design. Mereque was certain it bore a razor’s edge.

  Faster than he thought possible, the beast spun it with ease. Cleaved through the neck of one of the Glooms, sending it spiraling headless into the sea, taking all those on to its back along with it.

  Great, he thought, breathing fire wasn’t enough, now it has a sword.

  A giant launched a debris scatter with its pipe club at the crimson-scaled monster. The dragon ignored the shrapnel as it bounced off its steaming hide.

  Blasting the colossus with flames in turn, setting it ablaze, it howled in agony before vanishing under the waves.

  Armed squads of Heavy Bells moved in, unloaded nearly their entire ordnance into the enemy’s body. Not stopping until it went still.

  Sweeping in toward them, the Knights scrambled to counter the creature’s arrival. Drawing up flechettes to throw at it. Arming themselves with larger two-handed weapons, and other peculiar things.

  Priests weaved nets and invisible barriers in the air to impede its advance, to trap it, or to slow it down.

  But it was all for naught.

  Their mystical shields and chains broke like silken thread before the fury of a charging bull. Though the mass of the mighty reptile was easily a thousand times greater than such an animal—making him all but unstoppable.

  Oversized claws crunched into steel as it landed hard on the deck of the Gull.

  The flaming creature swung its makeshift sword in a horizontal arc across the width of the ship, clearing half the enemies arrayed against it in one inhumanly rapid sweep.

  The scale of the carnage the dragon caused was unmatched by anything Mereque had seen. It was true, he and Jenker had witnessed the aftermath of its anger on the shores of the Blanched island. But that wasn’t the same as seeing it firsthand like this.

  What could any of them really do against such ferocity unleashed?

  The impact from that gigantic weapon resulted in immediate visceral chaos. Its body corded with oversized muscles, flexed and whipped that piece of metal at monstrous speed. The edges were already glowing from friction.

  Body parts flew everywhere, all at once.

  It was mayhem. It was madness.

  As potent and dangerous as the Knights had proven to be, they were like lambs facing a wolf.

  Overpowered. Outmatched in every way imaginable.

  With a swing of its tail, the beast sent a dozen knights tumbling into the sea.

  A blast of volcanic flames turned a dozen more into ash stains.

  An arching overhand swing split open one of the giants. Leaving its entrails to spill into the churning waves, as it slowly toppled and sank out of sight. A look of shock frozen on its face.

  Blanched and men cried out in fear and panic.

  The red dragon dominated the battlefield, shrugging away counterattacks, or ignoring them completely. All while systematically dismantling every enemy that challenged it. Be they Blanched or anything else.

  Over the roar of mayhem, Jenker shouted orders into his comms band. Commanding his soldiers to avoid engaging the storming drake, and instead to use the moment to their advantage. Turning their focus on now-distracted foes.

  As the second giant attempted to attack, five thin red tracers from an incoming penta-beam burrowed cleanly through its back, exiting out of the front of its chest and killing it instantly.

  Silent, deadly, the machine passed overhead. No sound from it. No sonic boom. Just like before.

  Mereque could only wonder what technology drove it. He hadn’t seen anything like it since making planetfall. More advanced than anything on Leopold Seven.

  It was both familiar and alien to him.

  The shining contours glistened. Reflected the world around it. Reminding him of the sky-cutters from home.

  But the construct had changed. It’s wedge like profile was more like a sharpened chevron, flattened, made more aerodynamic.

  It's wing protrusions were tight against the fuselage. Hard sharp lines defined it. And it bristled with weapons. Significantly different than his first encounter.

  He wondered if this was another machine.

  His HUD corrected him (flashing green):

  SIGNATURE MATCH: UNIDENTIFIED CONSTRUCT CONFIRMED

  MORPHING CAPABILITY DETECTED

  THREAT LEVEL: UNDETERMINED

  RECOMMENDATION: AVOID

  No, it was the same. Somehow it had reconfigured its shape. As he thought this, it did just that.

  Lowering a piece of undercarriage, large sections extended out revealing another pair of weapon platforms.

  Was it a war machine?

  After passing, it made a sharp turn. Already heading back. Covering the distances at an unprecedented rate.

  The machine came in behind the dragon, extending itself further, folding outwards like a flower in bloom.

  Mereque saw an opportunity and signaled his friend with a nod of his head while all eyes were distracted. The two made a break for the water.

  Rushing one of the Knights in the circle the spaceman knocked him, and two more behind that one aside. Leading the race toward the edge of the deck.

  Leaping into the ocean with Jenker grabbing hold of his back, the large spaceman began sinking as soon as his feet hit the water.

  What he thought he saw before going under—he could barely believe.

  The machine—its undercarriage pulled further downward, separated into two more segments, then split again, until there was a fanning cage of arms. Between them a web of energy swirled, a cobalt vortex.

  The Blanched recoiled at the sight of this.

  A free-form magnetic field? It was astonishing. For what purpose, and what was powering it? The questions swirled in his head. He had to file them away.

  As he lost sight of it, he was certain pale pale lights flashed rhythmically along its exterior.

  He remembered the morse patterns he decoded before. Thinking this might be the same he set his microchip to analysis.

  Mereque was looking for anything to grab onto to stop his descent. Jenker had smartly let go. He could see him above. The distance growing between them.

  That was the right thing to do. No point sinking together, he thought.

  No way the Havenite had strength to swim hard enough for both of them. They knew that.

  Then something grabbed him under the arms. Looking back, relief flooded him.

  He had been intercepted by a Heavy Bell deep-sea diver.

  As they rose slowly, Mereque got a better look and saw the man behind the faceplate.

  Fishburn. Again. Impeccable timing.

  Approaching the surface, Mereque saw structures everywhere below—a vast array of interconnecting passageways and mooring stations linking every ship in a complex web that fully integrated with the outer wall rings of the Harbour. The infrastructure beneath the surface was even more robust than what had appeared above.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Ongoing battles raged throughout this submerged half of the city. From beneath the Gull to as far as his eye could see.

  He hadn’t realized how many Marms were involved. Now he judged the number in the thousands. He was heartened to see that the Havenites appeared to be faring better under the water than how things had been going up there.

  Jenker was already treading water near the ship. Several divers had joined him, rushing to assist their leader.

  Many were armed with torches producing short flames. Likely normal engineering tools repurposed for battle.

  A Sunken Marm raced through the currents toward them. Fishburn lit his own torch and scorched it, forcing it to flee.

  They broke the surface beside the Gull. With some help, he managed to get his boots magnetized to the hull. From there it was a short crawl back onto the deck, where he was reunited with the captain.

  He spotted his Pelter nearby—dumb luck—retrieved it.

  The two men froze, staring upward.

  A large draconic face loomed over them with great menace.

  The Red Dragon.

  Growling, its hot breath hit them like a wall.

  With a snort, it turned—as if satisfied—and raised itself fully. Leaning onto it's back legs.

  Holding its weapon in one hand, it scraped it across the hull, producing a terrible screeching sound of steel on steel.

  Mereque gripped the rail.

  Jenker was shaking beside him.

  He empathized. It was terrifying!

  As unbelievable as it seemed, the Zaxvoyan couldn’t deny what his eyes were telling him. The beast was now standing between them and the remaining Blanched (few that they were). Protecting them.

  Equally astonishing, the enemy leader was standing his ground against that monster. Eyes calmly locked with the dragon.

  Mereque swore an aura surrounded the man—as if something larger was there, even if it couldn't be seen. It seemed crazy.

  His instincts weren’t far off.

  For all intents and purposes, the dragon and the enemy leader were in a standoff. Whatever the reason, the fire-spitting drake had not batted this adversary aside, as he had all the others. There was something unsettling about that.

  That one was made of something stronger. He couldn’t understand why the other enemy warriors had been driven away, but this one remained. It didn’t make sense to him.

  The machine hovered above the Gull’s deck. Slowly moving closer. Its weapons trained on the enemy leader.

  Stepping cautiously—with axe still in hand—Mereque came up alongside the captain.

  Jenker appeared to be in shock. He hadn’t registered his presence. His eyes were glued on the frightful beings before them.

  With a great intake of breath, the dragon roared ferociously, its ire directed at the lone Blanched standing before it.

  Who, much to Mereque’s disquiet, moved not one inch in the face of that.

  The Blanched leader spoke again with that dreadfully vile voice—once the sound of the beast quieted.

  Though this time Mereque thought there was something familiar about it.

  “You oath-breakers have no business here. Our treaty is over, ended by your transgression!”

  The red dragon’s eyes narrowed. Steam curled from its snout. Its mouth twitched at the corners.

  Mereque could swear it was frowning.

  It pulled its head back. Chest expanded. Then—its jaws spread open. A column of rolling flame blasted forth, washing over the standing figure that was the Blanched leader.

  The pale man was enveloped in the swirling furnace. Disappearing behind the hungry fires. His fate sealed.

  Well, that’s one way to break a siege, Mereque thought.

  But as the flames abated, it became clear that was not the case. For still standing within it, was the same figure, unsullied and unfazed.

  HUD Overlay (pulsing amber):

  MYSTICAL ANOMALY DETECTED

  ENERGY BARRIER: IMPENETRABLE

  IMMUNITY TO THERMAL ATTACK

  COUNTERMEASURES: NONE AVAILABLE

  There was a bubble that had surrounded him. A pocked of space where the fire could not reach. It was an incredible display of defiance and power.

  Mereque could only guess what kind of phenomena might explain the forces he was witnessing here. It was beyond him.

  These creatures. This world. They broke all the rules of the universe as he had come to understand them.

  “You cannot harm me. I am god’s vessel. Blessed. Do you think you are the only one who dreams? Who sees what is to be?”

  The Blanched leader sneered.

  His words stopped the Red Dragon in its tracks, who blinked down in irritation. It's jaws closed as steam poured from the corners of its mouth.

  The rumbling coming from it signaled it’s growing fury. And yet, it did not step closer. As if the beautiful man was a physical match for the beast, giving the dragon pause.

  Was this psychological or was it something deeper? Something hidden from him. He couldn’t say.

  The low growl from the fire-breathing drake was full of menace. An unspoken promise of violence yet to be unleashed.

  Then it occurred to Mereque—as he watched transfixed—that this man had the voice of the Blanched Knight who had pursued them.

  The one he had liberated Jenker from. Twice. Only some quick thinking and a whole lot of luck had saved them.

  Beneath the nightmarish tone, he heard it.

  Real-time comparison with the digital recording retrieved through his microchip-brain interface confirmed it.

  “Tarmour”

  The Blanched Knight—as he was now—was much changed since their first encounter. No longer recognizable as he had been.

  It wasn’t just the face. He was larger. His armor far more intricate. The ostentatious designs masterfully carved.

  While the Blanched coloration he well knew remained predominant, streaks of shining red ran across contours, giving it a sheen that reminded him of wet blood.

  Gross. Mereque was really starting to hate these monsters.

  Tarmour paused at the word. Recognition flared, and his eyes shone with naked malice.

  “Foreigner.”

  “What happened to you?”

  The question just came out. He hadn’t even thought it through. But he couldn’t help but feel a touch of sympathy for the knight.

  If what he had learned about the nature of the Blanched Lands were true, only tragedy defined the things that existed there. He felt—sad for them.

  Tarmour’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. For a fleeting second his face softened.

  He whispered, the weight of regret and grief came out heavy.

  “Please… help me… end—me.”

  He froze. What did he just hear?

  Mereque couldn’t believe it. It was a plea. Did he want to die?

  His thoughts were a storm. His response was instinctive. Confusion.

  “What—are you asking me…?”

  A loud snort from the dragon seemed to snap them both out of it. The beast held its weirdly shaped sword threateningly, demanding the Blanched Lord’s attention.

  Was he losing his mind? Had the beast understood them? Was it intelligent?

  It wielded a weapon masterfully, traveled with a machine of unquestionable sophistication. Was it really that wild of an idea? No—he didn’t think so.

  Tarmour had a moment of private struggle. Then it passed. Malevolence returned to his eyes.

  When he spoke next, it was just as dreadfully vile as before, sending a shiver down the spaceman’s spine.

  “Suffering fool, you will deny us no more!”

  He spat at the dragon, before looking back at Mereque. Wanting to die was off the table.

  “So be it. If I can’t have him now, I will have him later.”

  With that, he began to float away.

  Drawing the few survivors—troops, priests, Knights. Whatever was left, along with him.

  As they withdrew, the machine approached. Silent and smooth. Not a sound.

  HUD Overlay (flashing green pulse):

  SIGNATURE: UNIDENTIFIED CONSTRUCT

  TECHNOLOGY LEVEL: UNDETERMINED

  MORPHING CAPABILITY: ADVANCED

  THREAT LEVEL: NON-HOSTILE (STANDBY)

  ANALYZE: PRIORITY HIGH

  Mereque watched it with awe. His people considered themselves advanced. By all reasonable metric that statement was true. Yet looking at the machine, he wondered about what they didn’t know. Could this thing be a product of the ancestors of ancient Earth?

  An opening appearing on its underside.

  He thought he heard soft foot falls within.

  Then—the unexpected.

  The red-headed face of the Leprechaun’s Daughter appeared. Freckled. Her hand waving at him. He couldn’t believe it.

  “Mereque!”

  “Grace? Grace!”

  Mereque yelled back. A slight smile breaking through upon seeing the diminutive woman who had once helped him.

  The machine’s undercarriage dropped further, lowering until she could hop down.

  Tarmour’s retreat slowed.

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed.

  On the deck, Jenker gave him a worried look.

  “A fairy? Here, in the Harbour? Slop cups.”

  Mereque could feel his friend’s mounting concern.

  “She’s the one I told you about. She’s a friend.”

  Jenker looked at him, thought for a moment. Came to a decision, and gave him a slight nod.

  An unspoken promise—no action for now.

  “Mereque, listen to me! Masters Hexabulous and RX are here to help!”

  Grace blurted out as she raced to him.

  “Who? Do you mean those two—the dragon and the ship? They have names?”

  He glanced at the monstrous pair. Warry of what they might do next. She bobbed her head.

  “Ay! We had the wrong impression—they meant no harm! It’s all a misunderstanding! You can trust them. They’ve been helping me since we parted.”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. Her conviction endearing. The look in her eyes earnest.

  He looked over at the two beings who had terrified him early in his journey. Dragon. Machine.

  Doubt flooded him. They had hunted him, chased him underground, through swamp and salty sea water. And yet, Grace was standing in front of him. Unharmed.

  Could it be true?

  “Why did you come?”

  He had to squat down to speak at her level. He didn’t quite make it. But it was close enough.

  She giggled. Smiled.

  “I had to be sure you were okay, dummy. I’m glad I did—otherwise Master Hex wouldn’t have helped you back on that beach!”

  He had to laugh. It was so ridiculous. She seemed like such a naive little thing for claiming to be two hundred years old.

  “Oh! That was you! Thank you.”

  He touched the top of her head affectionately. Genuinely grateful for that intervention, now that he knew the truth.

  It was obvious the dragon had been there. He had seen the silhouette. Walked through the ruin that it had left behind.

  He had hidden beneath the waves with Jenker until they had gone. Thinking that if he’d just come up earlier, he would have seen her with them back then. It made him smile.

  “Mine.”

  The voice of the enemy. The voice of Tarmour.

  Mereque swiveled and looked around. Nothing. He turned back.

  Grace was gone.

  There with him one moment. The next—no longer.

  Pulled away by an unseen power. Snatched away by an invisible hand.

  “No!”, Mereque shouted. He looked up and saw her in the clutches of the enemy. He felt a sinking sensation in his gut.

  Grace was in Tarmour’s hand. His fingers wrapped around her leg. She hung there—upside down above them.

  HUD Overlay (solid pulsing red):

  ALLY CAPTURED: GRACE

  CAUSE: SUSPECTED TELEKINESIS

  STATUS: EMOTIONAL SPIKE DETECTED

  PRIMARY OBJECTIVE SET: RESCUE

  The roar of outrage from the Red Dragon shook his footing. Jenker fell over. The beast was incensed.

  “It’s a fair trade. You have what you want. I will use this creature for my own ends.”, the enemy cried out at it. Was he mocking the monster?

  “Let her go!”, Mereque shouted.

  “In due time. Once she has been baptized and the secrets of her realm revealed to me. Then I will let her go. Or come and save her if you dare. The Shimmering City welcomes you. Our gates never close!”

  Tarmour was taunting him. Then in an instant—he escaped through a portal, vanishing with Grace.

  “Rakes! Dammit!”, Mereque cursed.

  He didn’t curse often. Diplomatic training curbed such blunt expressions. Most of the time.

  Turning to the monster and machine she had arrived with, he marched straight for them, until they were nose to nose (figuratively speaking).

  Face cemented in unbending determination, Mereque glared at the pair.

  “She said I could trust you! Help me save her! Help me save Grace—I’ll give you whatever the hell it is you want from me!”

  Mereque stood resolute. Human. Fay. It didn’t matter.

  He would not abandon a friend. He would not be denied.

  He waited for their answer.