She pounded her fist on the floor. “Dragons!” she yelled. “Curse those dragons! May they all die in their own fire!”
As she continued weeping, a gentle voice drifted by her ear. “You have learned much, haven’t you Mara?”
Mara leaped to her feet and spun around. A dark silhouette loomed, casting its shadow over most of the chamber. Morgan!
Makaidos poured a torrent of fire into the spinning column of flames, beating his wings to fan the cyclone as he wheeled around it in a tight orbit. Shutting off his fiery jets for a moment, he glanced back at a smaller, trailing dragon. “Aim lower, Roxil! The fire feeds upward on its own!”
Roxil blasted a volley of flames at a gap in the twisting inferno, igniting a pair of soldiers with arrows fixed on bows. Another soldier, standing on a staircase above the other two, threw a spear. With a quick reach, Roxil snatched the spear right out of the air with her claws and slung it back at its owner.
“My daughter, the warrior!” Makaidos yelled. A glimmer near the base of the tower caught his eye, and a sense of danger pulsed through his body. Feeling weaker, he pulled away from the doomed tower. It had already sunk to about two-thirds of its original height, and since the base had resettled at an angle, the whole structure leaned awkwardly. “Come, Roxil!” he shouted. “We are done here!”
Roxil’s wings faltered, and she began sinking toward the ground. Makaidos banked hard and dove toward her. As he neared the tower’s foundation, he noticed a man raising something shiny in his hand. Danger once again inflamed his senses. Feeling weaker by the second, he flew under Roxil and pushed up against her body, matching the beating of his wings with hers as he barked out a stroke rhythm. “Up! Down! Up! Down!”
Flying more steadily, but still descending, the two dragons glided away from the tower toward an open farm. Crash-landing in a vineyard, they tumbled and slid to a halt, plowing a deep furrow and squishing hundreds of ripe grapes. Makaidos scrambled upright and helped Roxil to her haunches. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Roxil’s head wagged back and forth. “I am dizzy. Something made me ill.”
“I felt it, too.” He gazed back at the tower. As the flames tightened around the huge ziggurat, the remaining dragons continued fanning it toward the direction it leaned. Finally, the entire structure toppled with a thunderous crash, sending a tremor that shook the ground under their claws.
Roxil heaved a tired sigh. “We did it!”
“Yes, we did.” Makaidos kept his eyes on the sky. A dragon had broken off from the troop and was heading their way. “Do you recognize him?” he asked.
Roxil angled her head toward the gliding figure. “No, and I sense something odd about him. Is it danger?”
“It is similar to danger. I am not sure what it is.”
The dragon landed with a soft touch, following the dredged path the other two dragons had plowed. His powerful red wings fanned a brisk wind in their faces, forcing Makaidos to blink. When his vision cleared, he gazed at the familiar face. He backed away a step, unwilling to believe what his eyes were telling him. He sputtered a drizzle of fire as he spoke. “Fa . . . Father?”
The dragon dipped his head. “I am glad you recognize me, Makaidos. It has been many years since the day Hilidan and I fought the Watchers and the fountains of the deep erupted and swept us all away.” He raised his head again and stared at Makaidos, his eyes flashing red. “But your father, Arramos, lives.”
Makaidos took another step back. “How can you know about Hilidan? I have not mentioned his name to anyone since the day of the flood.”
“Because I was there . . . Son.”
“How did you survive? And why have you waited so long to show yourself?”
“It is a long story, but for now, we must be reacquainted.” Arramos bowed toward Roxil. “I want to get to know my descendants.”
Roxil bowed in return. “I am glad to meet you, Father Arramos.”
Makaidos shook his head. “This cannot be. The Maker told Master Noah that every creature not aboard the ark was killed. The Maker is never wrong.”
“Of course the Maker is never wrong, but Master Noah has made his share of mistakes. I am sure you have heard the gossip that Ham spread about his drunken exposure.”