Rozati GoDh's Arc

Chapter 4 of 3

The red beast stopped at the broken doors. The wind pulled at its fur. It did not answer Rozati's question or Weyala's. Instead it pointed one claw at the floor, where the frost basilisk had sunk back into the stone. "You summoned it," the beast said. "That is not the same as ruling it. Summon a thing you cannot command, and it will turn on you." Rozati felt the warning land. The beast was right. When the serpent had risen, it had looked at him last, as if deciding. He had been lucky. Luck would not open the gate. "Then I will command it," Rozati said. He turned back to the spinning ring. Beside it stood a tall silver pedestal. A glowing handprint marked its top. A thin needle waited in a slot below, meant to draw blood and read his line. He had passed the beast's test by chance. This machine would judge him on purpose. "Wait." The beast crossed the hall and planted itself between Rozati and the pedestal. Its green eyes narrowed. "My duty is to the true heir. If you fail here, you are not him, and I owe you nothing. Prove it, or I leave." Its tail lashed. The sharp teeth showed, but it did not reach for its blade. It wanted him to succeed. Rozati pressed his palm to the scanner. The handprint flared blue. He pushed his finger onto the needle. It bit. One red drop slid into the chamber. The pedestal hummed. Then the floor cracked again. The basilisk rose, scales white with frost, horns of gold, eyes like cut diamond. Green mist dripped from its claws and ate the stone. It swung its huge head toward Rozati. This time it did not sink away. It waited for him to break. Rozati did not run. He raised his bloodied hand. "I am the blood that called you," he said. His voice shook, then steadied. "Kneel to your king, or I close the ring and send you back to nothing." The serpent hissed. Its jaws opened wide enough to swallow him. Rozati held his ground and set his palm flat on the pedestal's crown-and-gem crest. The hum rose to a scream. For one breath, nothing moved. Then the basilisk lowered its head. It pressed its horns to the floor at his feet. The mist stopped dripping. The pedestal chimed one clear note, and the moss-draped gate behind it unlocked with a heavy click. Icicles cracked loose and fell. The red beast let out a slow breath. "Now you command it," it said. "Now you are worth following." It dipped its head, the closest thing to a bow it had given him. The gate stood open. Cold air poured through from somewhere deep and old. But the basilisk did not vanish. It coiled at the threshold, blocking the way, waiting to see what its new master would do next.