The Fire Dragon

  “What will you do, beat me?” She was panting for breath. “Your father's son, bain't you?”

  Verrarc let her go, turned away, took two steps and burst into tears. He was aware of sitting down on the floor and sobbing, aware suddenly of her kneeling in front of him.

  “Nah, nah, weep not!” Raena murmured. “Forgive me, my love! I did speak in fear alone.”

  The tears stopped. He wiped his face on his sleeve and looked up to find her leaning over him. He cleared his throat hard until at last he could speak.

  “You did make me a bargain, Rae, and I did keep my half. I did delay the Deciding upon the Gel da'Thae alliance. In return, said you, there would be no more secrets.”

  “So I did.” She winced and refused to look him in the eye. “Patience, my love. Just a few more days—”

  “Here! Be you weaselling out of our bargain?”

  “Not I!” Yet she hesitated a long moment before she finally looked at him. “Oh very well! Come with me to the temple. I shall summon Lord Havoc, and together we shall tell you anything you wish.”

  “What? If Werda—”

  “Curse Werda! Surely she does have more than enough to occupy her mind this day. Come with me, and you shall have the truth.”

  “Good.” Verrarc smiled at her. “That gladdens my heart.”

  As they were leaving the house, Verrarc remembered the dragon. Was it still roosting on the ruins or had it gone elsewhere? Although he thought of warning Raena, in the end he said nothing, just as a bit of revenge for her lapsing back into her secretive ways.

  At the crest of Citadel they left the cobbled street and walked along the dirt path that debouched between a pair of huge boulders. In their shelter Verrarc paused to look downhill. Below them in the trees stood the stone slabs of the temple's broken roof. On the flat the dragon lazed, eyes shut tight against the hot sun. Raena had apparently seen it. She had crammed the palm of one hand into her mouth to stifle a scream. She went dead-pale and began to tremble so hard that Verrarc regretted his spite. When he tried to put an arm around her shoulders, she jerked away from him and stepped back fast into the shelter of the rocks. Tears ran silently down her face.

  “Ah Goddess!” Raena whispered. “Stop, Verro! We dare not take one step farther.”

  “Indeed? They do tell me she be a tame dragon, no threat to any of us here.”

  “Then they lie! Hush! There be a need on us to make a quiet retreat.”

  Raena began edging away, her back to the safety of stone. Verrarc followed, glancing back often, but Arzosah was sleeping soundly, lulled no doubt by the warmth of the day. Once they'd reached the cross street, Raena frankly ran, pounding down the cobbles and gasping for breath. Verrarc followed and caught her just outside the back gate of his compound.

  “Rae, Rae, what be so wrong?”

  “She'll kill me, you dolt! That wyrm! That first day she did fly over our town—remember you not? I did tell you then. She does know me, and she hates me.”

  The world seemed to jerk under his feet. He was aware of feeling cold and clammy all over, and for a moment he wondered if he would vomit. Raena grabbed his arm and steadied him.

  “Let's get inside,” she whispered. “There we can talk.” When they returned to the compound, Verrarc sent Raena off to their bedroom to change into some proper clothes, then went into the kitchen, where as he'd expected he found the servants waiting for him without any pretense of working.

  “It be a long time now since I've given you any leisure,” Verrarc said. “I do know full well how your hearts must ache to be going about the town and talking with your friends and suchlike. Why not spend the rest of the day doing just that? My woman and I can find some cold meats or suchlike for a supper.”

  “My thanks,” Korla said, yet she looked grim rather than happy. “Be you sure you'll fare well here?”

  “Of course!” Verrarc forced a smile. “I be not a little lad.”

  Korla and Harl exchanged a brief glance. Magpie stood up, chewing on a corner of her dirty apron as she watched her grandmother.

  “Ah well,” Korla said at last. “It will be a good thing to walk about a bit. Come along, Maggi. We'll have a bit of sun.”

  “My thanks as well.” Harl ducked his head in Verrarc's direction, then hurried out the back door.

  When Verrarc returned to the bedchamber, he found Raena standing by the window in her underdress. The sun streaming in made the cloth glow around her gaunt body and washed her face with harsh light.

  “You look ill,” Verrarc said. “Be there a need on you to rest?”

  “None.” Raena turned away from the window and stood looking around the chamber. “Tell me somewhat. How long has this dragon infested the town? What did bring it here?”

  “Strange things did happen whilst you were gone, and many a strange traveller did arrive. A party of men that call themselves Westfolk—”

  Raena swore. For a moment Verrarc thought she was going to spit on the floor, but she stopped herself.

  “They did bring Jahdo home,” Verrarc went on. “There be two women with them as well.”

  “Dallandra be one of them?”

  “She is. Here! How do you know these things?”

  Raena flung herself into a chair and scowled at the far wall.

  “Tell me, Rae. You did promise an end to secrets.”

  “Last summer it were, when I were off about Al-shandra's work, I did meet that mincing scum of a woman. And this wyrm as well—blasphemers, all of them! They would deny that my lady be a true goddess. And one more rode in with them, I'll wager. Rhodry Maelwaedd, he who rides the dragon and be the foulest filth of them all.”

  “Who? There be a Rhodry from Aberwyn among them.”

  “He be the same.”

  “He did seem like a well-spoken man to me.”

  “You know him not, then. He too has sworn my death. He does blame me for the death of a friend of his, you see, but it were the will of my goddess, and none of my doing.”

  Verrarc felt himself turn cold.

  “He'll not slay you here in my town,” he growled. “Shall I call the watch and have him put under lock and chain?”

  “You tempt me, my love.” Raena smiled as delicately as if he'd offered her a plate of sweetmeats. “But do that, and the stinking wyrm will ramp and roar through the town.”

  Verrarc rubbed his sweaty face with both hands. Aside from Raena the only thing he loved in life was Cerr Cawnen, and now these strangers had brought danger beyond imagining. What should he do? He started to speak, then paused, considering her. She seemed to be suppressing a smile, and he found himself remembering how often she'd lied to him over the years.

  “This be a grave thing,” Verrarc said. “I'd best lay it before full council.”

  “Nah nah nah!” She rose from the chair. “I—uh—it were best to not have these lies about me told in public.”

  “Indeed?”

  For a moment her gaze held his, then she looked away.

  “The truth of it, Rae!”

  “I did tell you the truth! Both Rhodry and the black dragon wish my death.”

  “Then why will you not let me call the council and decide what we may do to protect you?”

  Raena turned away and walked over to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, which he'd given her for her clothing and suchlike. She rummaged through it for a moment, then brought out a dagger in a worn leather sheath. When she held it up, he recognized the three silver balls on the pommel.

  “Rhodry from Aberwyn does have a dagger like that on his belt,” Verrarc said.

  “Just so.” Raena drew the dagger to show him the blade. “That little wyvern graved there? It be the device of his friend, the one who was slain. It were a man in Alshandra's service who did slay him, not me, I swear it!”

  On this point Verrarc was inclined to believe her. After all, how could a woman of her stature have killed a fighting man? She sheathed the dagger, laid it back in the chest, then closed the l
id.

  “Well, then,” Verrarc said, “why not convene the council and have this matter out in open court? If you be innocent, then this Rhodry had best stop laying false charges against you.”

  “You forget the wyrm.” Raena laid a dramatic hand at her throat. “I dare not let her see me.”

  “It be more than the wyrm. There be somewhat you want hidden, Rae.”

  “Ai! You be a cruel man, my love.”

  “Not cruel. Sick to my gut of your lies.”

  “Oh very well! If we did bring this matter to council, would I not have to tell them where the death did happen?”

  “Ah, I do see now! It were at the siege of the Slavers' city, bain't? And you did go there with the Horsekin.”

  Verrarc was mostly guessing, but she turned dead-white.

  “How did you—” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  “I be not blind, Rae. You'd best remember that from now on.”

  For a long moment she stood silently, staring down at the floor, until her face regained its normal color.

  “Mayhap you'll not believe a word I say,” she said at last. “I'd best have a witness. Let me see if Lord Havoc will answer my call. Do come sit you down, my love.”

  Verrarc took the chair. Raena flung both arms into the air and tipped her head back, her eyes shut tight. For a long moment she held silent; then she began to chant in a high tight voice that seemed to vibrate like a plucked harp string. The chant rose and fell, wailed and sobbed. All at once Verrarc felt rather than saw someone else enter the room. The hair on the back of his neck rose as a cold chill seemed to freeze him to his chair. Out of the sunlight, against the far wall, a different light began to gather, this one silvery and cool. Slowly the silver thickened, swirled, and formed a cylindrical vortex that grew till it reached from ceiling to floor. Inside it Verrarc could just discern a shadowy man-shape.

  Raena opened her eyes, gathered her breath for a moment, then began to chant again. The man-shape thickened, turned solid, became as much fox as man with his russet fur and sharp fox's nose. When Lord Havoc stepped out of the silver light, Verrarc could see that he wore black armor and carried in one pawlike hand a plumed helm.

  “Greetings, O my priestess!” Havoc said. “Why do you bring me here?”

  Raena fell on her knees before the fox-man. All at once Verrarc felt like shouting at her to get up, to stop prostrating herself before this beast-spirit.

  “I do beg your aid,” Raena was saying. “O great lord of the inner lands! Help one who worships you!”

  “I shall listen,” Havoc said. “What is it that you desire?”

  “In this town I have an enemy who would kill me. Please, please, drive it hence or slay it!”

  “Who is this enemy?” Havoc's voice was not quite steady enough for an all-powerful deity. “Where does it reside?”

  “Not far from here, on the ruins of the temple in which I once worshipped you. It be a huge black beast, a dragon. Many times has she tried to devour me as I flew on your errands.”

  “Arzosah?” Havoc yelped. “I'll not be messing about with such as her! Uh, I mean, no doubt the greater gods have sent her to be a great spiritual test for you.”

  “Oh, have they now?” Verrarc got up, shoving the chair back. “You stink of fear, fox lord!”

  Raena screamed and shrank back. Lord Havoc swelled, grew huge, and towered over them both.

  “How dare you take me in vain!” the spirit hissed. “I shall destroy you for that!”

  In sheer reflex Verrarc drew his long knife. When the steel flashed in the sunlight, Havoc yelped and began to shrink. With two long steps Verrarc charged forward and swung. As the steel approached Havoc's body, the black armor began to crack and melt; Havoc's torso suddenly wavered and bulged away from the blade as if it were a reflection on water, rippled by the wind. Havoc shrieked in agony, made a futile grab at the knife, and disappeared. The silver light vanished with him. Verrarc sheathed his knife and knelt in front of Raena, who sat sobbing on the floor.

  “Rae?” Verrarc said. “That be no god.”

  “So I do see.” She was sobbing so hard that her nose ran like a child's. “I should have listened when you told me of his brother. Ah truly, I should have listened!”

  Raena dropped her face to her hands and went on weeping, sobbing wet and noisily. Verrarc stroked her hair and tried to think of some comforting words. He could find none. At last her sobbing ended.

  “If only Alshandra would come to me,” Raena whispered. “If only you might see her. Then would you truly understand.”

  “Jahdo did tell us all that she were slain.”

  “Oh, that be drivel! No one can slay a goddess.”

  “Just so, which is why I doubt me if she were any such thing.”

  “Hold your tongue!”

  She was glaring at him in such utter rage that he sat back on his heels.

  “Mock not my lady,” Raena snarled. “Mock her not in forfeit of your life. Now let me think. Truly, if I could only reach her—let me think.”

  Although Jahdo invited Rhodry to eat dinner with his family, and Dallandra suggested he join the elven camp for a meal, Rhodry ate the last of his bread and cheese up at the ruined temple with Arzosah. Why, he couldn't say. She sprawled on the stone roof, and he sat leaning against her vast belly for a backrest while they watched the sun set in a shimmering haze.

  “Have you ever been to the mountains in the west?” Rhodry said.

  “Beyond the Westlands?” Arzosah said. “I have, on occasion.”

  “Then you've flown over the Seven Cities.”

  “There's not much to see of the southern ones. The ruins are mostly covered over with plants and suchlike now.”

  “And in the north?”

  “One city still lives. Bravelmelim, I think it was called in the old days. That's where Meer came from.”

  “It must have escaped the plague somehow, then. Huh. Interesting. What about beyond the far mountains? Does anything lie beyond them?”

  “Some flat plains with trees and suchlike. They looked boring, and so I never flew over them. I've been told that there's an ocean beyond that.”

  “Told by whom?”

  “My poor dear departed mate. He was a great one for exploring.” Arzosah sighed with a heave of her sides that nearly toppled Rhodry right over. “When we've finished whatever we're doing here, would you like to fly west?”

  “I'd like to, indeed, but I can't. I've got to go back to Dwarveholt. I suppose I'm daft, but I want to find Enj and settle down to wait for Haen Marn. I keep praying Angmar will come back somehow.”

  “Ah yes, your dear departed mate.” there was an odd edge to her voice—mockery, perhaps. He ignored it. The sun lay just on the horizon, all swollen and gold with clouds. When he looked to the east, he could see a single star, shining against the velvet blue of the sky. Angmar! he thought. Can you see it too, my lady, wherever you are?

  “Ah well,” Rhodry said at last. “If naught else, I promised Enj that I'd return.”

  “That's true, isn't it?” Arzosah sounded positively gloomy. “I'll carry you there, then.”

  “My thanks. If you'd rather not fly to the cold north, I can get myself a horse and ride.”

  “No need, no need. But I shan't be staying there when the nasty snows come.”

  “Of course.” He scrambled up, then turned to look at her massive head. Her eyes were half-closed and unreadable. “Is somewhat wrong?”

  “Naught. Thinking about my dead mate makes me sad, is all.”

  “Well, that I can understand, truly.”

  He sat down again, leaning back against her flank. Together they watched the stars come out until the Snowy Road hung above them, a vast river of diamonds in the dark sky, flowing to some unknown sea of light.

  Long past the zenith of night, when the entire town slept in a wrap of darkness, Verrarc and Raena crept out of the compound. Overheard the wheel of the stars and the waning moon gave them just enough li
ght to make their way uphill. They were headed for the broken temple, but long before they reached it, the wind shifted and brought them the vinegar smell of dragon. Raena clutched Verrarc's arm with both hands, and whispered “I dare not.”

  “Just so,” he murmured. “Let's go back down.”

  Through the steep little alleys of Citadel he led her to the plaza by a roundabout way. The Council House stood unlocked. They slipped in by a back door. Away from the starlight the room gaped as dark as a cave. He could feel Raena move close to him and shudder. Verrarc opened the door again, and in the faint greying of the dark he could just make out the stairway at the far end of the room.

  “Upstairs there be a back room with shutters,” he whispered. “None will see if you make your witchlight up there.”

  “And if we do break our necks upon those stairs, we shan't care if they see or no, bain't? Shut that door, Verro. I'd best risk making a little light.”

  He could hear the fabric of her dress rustle. She murmured a chant, so softly at first that he could barely hear her, but a spark of silver light appeared in the palm of her hand. He could see, then, that she was holding one cupped hand level with her waist but close to her body. As the chant rose and fell the point swelled to a little pool of silver, casting a faint light around her for a few feet—enough for them to climb the stairs in safety.

  Three doors opened off the corridor at the top, meeting rooms for private matters among the Council of Five. Verrarc went into the first one and felt his way over to the window, where heavy wooden shutters hung. He pulled them closed and latched them on the inside.

  “It be safe for you to come in now, Rae.”

  She walked in and stood for a moment looking around. A square table and four chairs stood in the middle of the plain stone room.

  “I dare not brighten this light more,” she said at last. “But it will do.”

  With a snap of her wrist she tossed the ball of light to the floor, where it stuck, glowing like a tiny lantern. She sat down cross-legged in front of it, and Verrarc joined her, cursing a little at the hardness of the stone.

  “Huh, you be soft, my love,” Raena said. “Those who worship Alshandra needs must have souls of steel.”