Chapter 27: "The Fall of Petraz: Songs of the End"

When dawn came, the birds and small pterosaurs resumed pecking away at the sauropod heads. They had quickly stripped the human skulls to the bone, and some now took to perching and resting in the eye sockets.

Crispinus looked up the ravine towards the royal camp. There had not yet been any response after their display of the heads, now almost three days ago.

The men of Petraz had taken to routine shifts, patrolling both through the maze itself, as well as along its outskirts, ever since eliminating the royal Long-Necks. They had detailed maps of the maze, as well as a messenger pterosaur with them at all times; in the event they were to get lost, the pterosaur would relay their location to the Long-Necks still in the city to create an exit for them.

After making their way through the maze, Crispinus’s unit was now beginning the loop around the perimeter.

“It is unnerving, is it not?” Jefferiah, the Allosaurus, asked. He spoke in the usual Beastly tongue of growls and guttural rumbles, Crispinus acting as the Shaman interpreter for their unit.

“Indeed it is unnerving,” he assented. “They have had ample time to respond, to launch their own offensive. Yet they have not moved at all.”

The members of the unit muttered and mumbled to themselves, discussing their own speculation about what the army was doing.

“Well, there is nothing to be done about it,” Crispinus shrugged. “We shall simply deliver our report to Amir and the elders. If there is any change today, let the next patrol worry about it.”

With that, they began to move on, continuing east to southeast around the rim. Just as they were about to round the rim and pass out of sight of the camp, a shout came from the back of the line. An Ankylosaurus, Martel, had bleated out “Look, to the camp!”

Crispinus pushed through the formation. From here he could see several large dots in the distance, running in a line from the royal camp along the top of the ravine.

“Jefferiah!” he called. “What are they?” The allosaur’s eyesight was keener than any man or Beast currently with them.

“They look like… Duck-Bills…” he responded, a tinge of confusion in his voice. He sniffed the air. “I only see a few, but I smell far more…”

“I agree!” Martel concurred. Ankylosaurs were known for their armored hides and keen noses, more so than their eyesight.

And as if on cue, more spots rose up over the horizon.

One of the men scoffed. “Pffha! What do they intend to do? Rouse us further with a psalm? Serenade us to sleep with a lullaby?”

“And then kill us while we sleep.” Crispinus remarked grimly. “Quickly men, back to the city!”

The group began to quickly head back around the maze, a wordless terror setting in. However, they had only gone a few dozen places, before Jefferiah fell behind. The Beast was hunched, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

“No, Jefferiah! Stay with us!” Crispinus ran back to his comrade's side. He knew it was unwise, but he couldn't leave not just a friend, but a powerful asset, behind.

“Go on men!” he shouted to the rest before hunching over, trying to meet his friend's gaze. “Stay awake Jeff, please-”

When the Allosaurus lifted his head, the friendly gaze so many in Petraz had come to know was gone. A blank, bloodshot stare greeted him instead.

“What-” But the man's words died in his throat as he was suddenly yanked skyward, clasped in a jagged maw. The rest of the unit turned not to any sort of roar from the Beast, but the blood-curdling, wordless screams coming from their commander, as he was shaken like a rat by a dog.

“What in the bloody hell?” one of the men began, but he was cut off by a new round of screaming. Martel had begun thrashing from side to side, braying and roaring wordlessly; the lump of bone that formed the distinctive club at the end of his tail shattered the bones of men like glass. Meanwhile, the messenger pterosaur they had brought, a needle-beaked Rhamphorynchus, began fiercely pecking out the eyes of the fallen.

Crispinus crashed to the ground with a splat. He looked up, past the entrails and intestines that were all he had left below the waist, and into the rage-filled eyes, the eyes of one he thought like a brother. He bled out just as the Allosaurus once called Jefferiah crushed his head underfoot, like an overripe melon.

***

The scouting party had not even heard the sound of their doom coming. Caleus was impressed. He had heard the impressive sounds hadrosaurs could produce in countless parades and religious ceremonies. Their own equivalent to the Long-Neck’s Terra Magicke was their sounds, their natural music; they called it Cantate Animae. It had the ability to alter the mind, thoughts, possibly even the soul of individuals, yet this song that invoked primal rage, surprisingly, made no sound that could be perceived by human ears.

Truly, it was the most terrifying of the Beast’s magickes.

And for that very reason, the Duck-Bill clan had taken on a vow to never use it in war. Until now. For the clan had accrued a debt to the crown, one that had gone unrepaid purely out of Caleus’s generosity.

As the chorus ended, the Duck-Bills gave mournful looks at the sight beneath them. Even if they could not see the fruits of their labor up close, the stains of red were still visible from here, while the roars of the maddened Beasts echoed through the valley. Some of the Duck-Bills began to wail, others hung their heads in shame.

Beside Caleus, standing beneath the shade of a tree on the valley edge, Antu, the Parasaurolophus patriarch of the Duck-Bills, stomped the earth with his hooved forepaw.

“There you have it, your Highness. The point has been made, and my tribe has cleared our debt. Now, please, I prithee-”

Caleus laughed. It was a cold laugh, devoid of any warmth, or even snide anger. “Your tribe’s debt is cleared when the king decrees it so!”

“What? Your Highness, surely you cannot mean to continue? Please, my kin have already sullied their dignity enough-”

“Their dignity will be restored tenfold when this is over. They will be hailed as heroes that helped subdue a violent uprising, and paid more than they could ever hope to earn as performers!” Caleus leaned in close to the large Beast. “If this oath of yours was so important to you, we both know you would have refused.”

The parasaur’s curving head crest turned a brilliant red, along with the rest of his head. He snorted and pawed the ground more, like a bull preparing to charge.

“Oh? And then what? Be treated no differently than those in Petraz?”

Caleus retained his cool demeanor, and in a voice hardly above a whisper, “Perhaps, Antu, you should have thought of these things before you came to me begging to hide your affair with that harlot Corythosaurus.”

Antu was aghast. “My Lord, what has become of you? To use something so petty to defile my entire tribe? To make them suffer for my mistake?”

“Such are the burdens that come with any form of leadership,” the king said, with a dismissive wave. “The people often suffer for the sins, indiscretions and mistakes of their leaders, especially when matters of war are concerned. You should not let such things trouble you.”

Before the argument could progress any further, Bartimeus approached. “Sir, more units have come forth from the city. It looks as if they have mobilized a sizeable response. Many troops, as well as several allosaurs and tyrannosaurs.”

Caleus stepped forward, a wild glint in his eyes. “Ah good,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

Antu sounded defeated. “Your Majesty, please-”

“AGAIN!” The mad king raised his arm, signaling to the assembled Duck-Bills. Some turned their heads in refusal, and were met with spear tips pointing at them. But others complied, and the silent song’s second verse resumed. A chorus of screams and carnage came not long after.

***

“So, they forced you all to sing, at the point of a spear?” Arabella asked.

“Yes, my child.” Psaltria’s voice was deflated. “After it was all over, Antu confessed his wrongdoing, the infidelity he had asked Caleus’s aid in concealing. He renounced his position as Chieftain afterwards as well. Most of the tribe refused the king’s rewards of land and treasure afterwards, though a few did accept the titles to become regents and local rulers.” The Maiasaura shook her head as she looked to the window “Most of the tribe disbanded after that, scattered like chaff in the wind. We could not live with ourselves, nor the betrayal.”

“But Mother,” Arabella began, “what that Zeta woman said, about how my… condition, how it could be your doing…” There was unmistakable angst creeping into her voice. “What did she mean by that?”

Psaltria gave a sigh. “I suppose it’s understandable she would think that, though the true irony of the situation is lost on her.”

“What does that mean?”

“Forcing the Beasts to turn on their human compatriots, and then each other, was not the end of the Fall of Petraz. When the army finally made their way to the city itself, they were met with further resistance.”

“You mean-”

“Yes,” Psaltria continued. “The citizens took up arms. The women, the elderly, children scarcely old enough to walk were given blades and sticks.”

A look of horror washed across Arabella’s face. “Mother, you don’t mean to tell me, you… you didn’t…”

“No, they did not suffer the same fate as the men. Despite his bloodlust, it seemed Caleus was wise enough to recognize how butchering women and children would be, especially after how he dispatched the men.”

“So, what did you do?”

Psaltria gave the closest approximation to a bitter laugh she could, though it sounded more akin to a shrill bark. “Ha! The king said that they could still be productive members of the kingdom, but since their minds had been so polluted with hatred and ideas of separatism, and disloyalty to the crown, their minds and souls would have to be completely purged! They would have to be reborn and raised as proper loyal citizens, starting back at zero!”

“So you… what? Reverted their minds? To a blank slate?”

“Oh yes. A blank slate, no different than an infant. Cries of insurrection and tears wept for loved ones became cries of fear, and tears wept over empty stomachs, soiled undergarments and a lack of maternal affection. All thoughts, all memories of those loved ones they had just lost were washed away, like footprints by the tide.”

“And you believe that Zeta was one of those Petraz women?”

“She has the features common to Petraz natives, and again, there is the fact that Bartimeus never had any child, neither the fruit of his loins or adopted, before the Fall of Petraz. It was an open topic of gossip and speculation among the public.” Another bitter bark, this time with a fit of coughing and hacking of blood.

“It is the kind of tragedy poets would write. Petraz rebelled out of loyalty to the oaths between Men and Beasts. And now the women and children have been retrained to hunt those same Beasts they rebelled for.” Psaltria turned and met eyes with Arabella. “Do you see now why I wished to flee, my child? Bartimeus has seen firsthand how destructive Cantate Animae is, and has deemed us the first to go. And after the Duck-Bills are gone, the rest of the Beasts are sure to follow. Petraz was right. They were right all along.”