Dragon Heartstring(39)
My heart beat wildly, imagining such a fate for my Shakara—her delicate fingers and wings singed black, her green eyes lifeless and staring. I clenched my fists tight, fury pumping through me. There’s no way in hell this weapon could stay on the market. I’d never sleep another night, worrying that my love would become another victim of such a cruel death.
“These are the results of the Volt gun upon a Morgon. It cannot be used for the sport of hunting as the voltage would taint the game from one shot and render it inedible. It is a weapon designed for one goal only. Murder.”
The room buzzed feverishly. A man shouted above the rest from the audience, “But we need to protect ourselves from those animals!”
Tennison rapped his gavel three times hard. “Remove that man from this chamber at once.”
The human guard at the door immediately went to the row to escort the man out who grumbled and sneered at Tennison.
“I will have no one interrupt these proceedings. No. One. Am I understood?” When he glared at the audience, the voices died down. “Ms. Icewing, you may continue.”
She bowed her head slightly then said, “I would like to call my niece, Shakara Icewing, to continue with the presentation of evidence.”
“So be it,” said Tennison with a wave of his hand before scribbling notes.
My heart hammered in my chest as Shakara stood, tucked her wings in tightly to her back, and strode across the room. Her aunt gave her a smile as Shakara passed and then took a seat.
Shakara glanced at the sheet of notes her aunt must have left on the podium before facing the council. “What some humans know and some do not is that the Icewing clan is born with a specific ability, given to us by our dragon ancestry. We have the ability to heal. So it is no coincidence that it is the Icewing clan of all the Morgon clans who presents this proposal. Our entire clan holds the healing gene. It is not just a gift. It is our calling. It is who we are.”
She paused and scanned the audience. Her gaze landed on me. I smiled with a reassuring nod. Inhaling a deep breath, she turned back to the council, her back a little straighter than before. “I run a clinic in the Warwick district on ground level.”
Soft murmurings whispered through the room. Everyone knew that ground-level businesses and shops were meant for both Morgons and humans, especially in the Warwick district.
“While this may come as a surprise to many, I have both Morgon and human patients. I want to help people in need of medical care. All people. And in my time as a healer, I have seen firsthand the devastation of an injury from a Volt gun. As my aunt has explained, it is always fatal to a Morgon. There is no healing power that I or my clansmen have that can bring one back from the electric fire a Volt gun inflicts within the Morgon body. However—”
She paused and glanced toward Jessen sitting on the front row.
“While a Volt gun can inflict excruciating pain and harm to a human, humans can be healed. Let me clarify. The Volt gun in its very essence is a weapon of discrimination. The inventor’s sole purpose was to commit murder against a race. Other weapons are used by law enforcement for arresting criminals. Citizens use weapons for self-defense of their homes and for the sport of hunting. But the Volt gun is a weapon that could annihilate a race.”
She sucked in a quivering breath, lifting a piece of paper on the podium to read closely. My heart was in my throat for her.
“By the Dixon Desegregation Act, it is declared of the Gladium Province that ‘no citizen, human or Morgon, shall be excluded or barred from public buildings and private businesses, that no merchandise shall be produced to exact discrimination against either race, and that all peoples of Gladium shall be decreed the right to life and liberty.’”
She stopped reading and moved her gaze from the council to the audience of officials. Not a murmur or a whisper could be heard.
“All peoples shall be decreed the right to life and liberty. How can we uphold our own law, enacted by Governor Dixon through his determination to instill a society of equals, if we allow such a weapon that was specifically designed as a form of discrimination, one that targets the lives of Morgons?” She gathered her papers and directed her last words to the council. “That is all. Thank you, council members.”
I loosened the clenching hold I had on my knees. I inhaled a deep breath, the tension tightening my shoulders and back.
“We call a representative of Grayson Weaponry and Manufacturing for a rebuttal to the proposal.”
All eyes swiveled to the front bench where Aron Grayson and his attorneys sat. Expecting one of the latter to stand, another rumble disrupted the quiet when Aron himself stood and hobbled to the podium, clunking his cane against the marble floor with each heavy step.
He did not have notes of any kind, and he spoke facing the audience, not the council.
“I am Aron Grayson, son of Byron Grayson, the owner and inventor of the Hydra G-66. It is true, our former governor enacted the Desegregation Act to build a society where both Morgons and humans could live cordially amongst one another. But have you ever wondered why we, the citizens of Gladium, are the only province who is not segregated? Have you wondered why the rest of the world understands something that we do not? Because we weren’t meant to live together.” He leaned his cane behind the podium and began to unbutton his shirt. Not a soul moved. “Because of the very reasons the Icewings say they are different is the reason we should not coexist together. One of their gifts is the power to produce flame and to use it at will. I’ll show you what comes of a confrontation between a Morgon and a defenseless human.”