Dragonforge by James Maxey

as he, too, approached the column, his eyes alert for any movement.
    Rounding the column at a respectful distance, Pet found the final assassin sitting with her back to the marble, her legs splayed before her, her arms hanging limply by her side. She was shivering, and her skin had taken on a bluish cast. She held the black dagger loosely in her right hand.
    “Drop the knife,” Jandra said.
    “She’s dying,” Pet said.
    “I see that,” Jandra said, sounding annoyed. Then, to the girl once more, “I can save your life. Just put down the knife.”
    The girl cocked her head toward Jandra, fixing her vacant, dying gaze upon her. A smile played briefly upon her lips. Her mouth moved as if she was saying something, but no sound came out, only a gush of fresh blood. With a final burst of strength, the girl raised her blade, grasped it with both hands, and plunged it into her left breast, burying it to the hilt.
    Her head drooped as her arms fell to her side, a final sigh bubbling from her lips.
    “These were servants of the Murder God!” Androkom shouted from his perch. “Suicide assassins! There could be a whole army of them!”
    “Let’s hope there’s just the four,” Jandra said, running to Shandrazel. “How long since he was stabbed?”
    “Only a few minutes,” said Pet. “Four assassins? I counted three.”
    “I killed one upstairs,” she said as she ran her hands over Shandrazel’s hide. “Where was he stabbed? I need to touch his blood.”
    “He was struck in the jaw,” Androkom called out.
    Jandra ran her hands along the line of his long, crocodilian jaw. “Found it!” she shouted as her fingers wriggled into the stab wound. “He’s still alive,” she said, seconds later. “I’ll need a moment to find all the poison.”
    Pet stood over her, looking at himself reflected in her silver helmet. “This is a new look for you,” he said. “I liked the tiara more. But the skirt does show off your calves.”
    “Can we discuss my wardrobe another time?”
    Pet shrugged, then went back to check on the other two assassins. The girl who’d been hit by the flower pot was obviously dead, the top of her skull dented in. He moved to the second one, kneeling beside her. Blood no longer spurted from her wrist. He placed his fingers on her throat, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. She’d lost too much blood.
    “Too bad we didn’t take one alive,” said Pet. “We could have found out what they’re here for.”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” Androkom said. “They’re here to free the Murder God! Damn Shandrazel! I told him to kill that monster.”
    Shandrazel mumbled, his jaws barely moving, “I will… consider your counsel.”
    There was a commotion in the hall, the heavy slapping sound of earth-dragons running at full speed, their weapons and armor clattering. Two of them burst into the courtyard, shouting, “Sire! Sire!”
    Shandrazel raised his head slowly, an effort that seemed to require all his strength. Jandra, her fingers still in his wound, looked almost as if she moved his head like some oversized puppet.
    “Hold still,” she grumbled.
    “Sire,” the first guard said, skidding to a halt in front of Shandrazel. “Blasphet is no longer in his cell!”
    “I knew it!” Androkom said, vindicated.
    “We found these,” the second guard said as he reached Shandrazel. He held out his arm and opened his claw. In the palm sat several pale lumps of torn flesh. Pet stepped closer, then recoiled when his eyes finally solved the puzzle of what he was seeing. The dragon was holding severed human tongues.
    “They cut out their own tongues so they couldn’t talk if they were captured,” Androkom said.
    Pet looked back at pale pink lumps in morbid fascination. Many tongues had been in his mouth over the years. He doubted he could ever kiss anyone again without thinking of this. Then he realized that the silent tongues had one more bit of information to confess, as he counted them. “There’s one more