* * *
Beyond the light towers, and the view of anyone on the shore or in the harbor, the ships approaching the inlet from the open sea were greeted by the sight of the forewave of iacxsis advancing on them, riders waving the burning stalks of whey grass.
At least some of them were.
As the iacxsis crested the harbor walls, fully three-quarters of the ships beyond them spilled the wind from their sails, slowing their approach, and, one by one, raised the same billowing flag up their mainmasts.
The flag of the Empire of the Sun.
The captains of the remaining ships, caught between the oncoming waves of screaming beasts in the air, and the armada behind them flying Talquist’s colors, made valiant stands against the incoming ballistae fire or sought to flee in vain. It would have been hard for the doomed crews of those trapped ships to say which sight was more perplexing—the horrifying sky force of unnatural beasts, topped by Sorbolds with fire, or the odd collection of merchant vessels, warships, and privateers, the last of which were also flying the skull and crossbones beneath the flag of Sorbold, that outnumbered them three to one.
Within the hour, the ships not flying under Sorbold’s flag had been reduced to floating driftwood, flotsam and jetsam littering the sea beyond the harbor. The occasional body could be seen drifting among the charnel, though most had been snatched up by the iacxsis in the final sweep of the area before the winged squadron turned south. The next morning would find carcasses and pieces of monstrous carapace floating in much the same way as the detritus of ships had; the winged beasts had inherited the brief longevity and rapid reproductive cycles of their plague locust ancestors, along with their voracious appetites, a weakness Talquist was still working to correct.
Their riders remained unaccounted for.
The smoke from the burning ships beyond the seawall blended into the thickening clouds of debris rising from Avonderre Harbor, twisting gray and orange in the sea wind. It blackened the sky for miles up and down the western coast of the continent and out to sea, like a storm that had settled over the unfortunate harbor and had remained until it had spent its fury, leaving the nautical jewel of the Cymrian era in ashes.
Farther beyond the seawall, the combined armada of naval, merchant, and pirate ships slowly lowered their flags. The warships, braving the dissipating smoke and ash, raised their sails and moved into what remained of Avonderre Harbor, occupying it with the aid of additional armed vessels bringing reinforcements to the new Sorbold outpost. Once ensconced, the flag of the Empire of the Sun was flown at the land’s edge of the port, but not from the twin guardian light towers. After the clouds of smoke had dissipated, it was as if, from the western sea, nothing had changed in the harbor at all.
The pirate vessels moved farther out to sea, forming a floating barrier, a moving blockade that monitored the sea-lanes, keeping any vessel from other parts of the Known World from advancing to Avonderre Harbor, rerouting them north to the port of Verne Hys at the western coast of the Hintervold, or south to the ports of Minsyth or Evermere in the region known as the Nonaligned States.
Or to the gleaming, massive harbor of Ghant in Sorbold.
The merchant vessels that had been Talquist’s all along went quietly about their business, plying the trade routes as if nothing had happened at all.
THE CROSSROADS BETWEEN WINDSWERE AND JIERNA’SID
At the crossroads of the thoroughfare between Windswere to the south and Jierna’sid to the west, Talquist waited impatiently in the royal carriage as the regimental commander, Titactyk, rode forward on his mount and dismounted. The commander strode to the carriage and stopped before the emperor’s window, waiting respectfully.
The Merchant Emperor pulled the velvet curtain briskly out of the way.
“Are we ready to proceed, Titactyk?”
“Yes, Majesty.”
“You are clear in your orders?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
Talquist’s dark eyes gleamed intently.
“Good. We part company here. I will return forthwith to Jierna’sid. When you have finished your mission, your regiment is to report directly to Jierna Tal. Send Kymel in to see me personally. When the abbey is secured, your troops are to withdraw, leaving him alone to search and reconnoiter the grounds. He knows what to look for. Are we clear?”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Excellent. I will expect his report in no more than ten days. Travel well.”
Titactyk bowed and mounted, then set off to Windswere with half of the regiment that had originally been assigned to protect the emperor.
Following the chariot of the stone titan.
36
IN THE LIGHTCATCHER, GURGUS PEAK
“It’s cloudy today,” Omet commented as he waited for Rhapsody to finish buttoning the tiny garment in which she was dressing Meridion. “I’m not sure how strong a connection you might have with just the natural light.”
“That’s something we always have to contend with,” Rhapsody said, smoothing out the folds of the tiny shirt she had made, then nuzzling the baby’s belly beneath it. Meridion cackled with delight. “If I need to, I can use the diamond. Are we ready?”
Omet glanced above him. The sun had moved into position just beyond the green slice of the spectrum of glass; the cover had been removed from the dome, and now the emerald light flooding the circle through the wheel was fading to a bluer hue.
“Any moment now,” he said.
Rhapsody inhaled deeply, then let her breath out fully, willing her pounding heart to slow down. She watched above her until the slice of blue glass began to glow, shining a moment later on the floor of the instrumentality. She kissed the baby, then stepped into the light, and spoke the note of the blue spectrum and its ancient name. Then she sang the name of the room, Eastern study off of main library, White Oak Lodge, second floor, Highmeadow, Navarne, Middle Continent, Wyrmlands, Known World. Her specificity and detail paid off; a moment later a familiar image formed.
In the sparsely decorated office beyond the pool of blue light, Ashe was pacing. However disheveled he had seemed before, his state of dress and grooming now caused Rhapsody to gasp aloud.
She could not tell if he had changed clothes at all in the many weeks since she had seen him last. His beard had grown in fully, unkempt, as had his hair, which now reached below his shoulders. There was a sharpness to his features that frightened her; it reminded her a little of the aspect of Michael, the Wind of Death, but more alien, serpentine, less skeletal. His eyes were wild, and he was berating an aide-de-camp who stood at attention near the door, and who took the first opportunity to flee the room as soon as he was dismissed by a growl that caused the walls of the room to vibrate a little. The sound of the closing door half a continent away made her jump. Nevertheless, she stepped farther into the light and addressed her pacing husband.
“Having a bad afternoon, my love?”
Ashe looked around in surprise, then exhaled.
Go away, Aria. Please. The dragon’s voice was evident, but not in control as yet.
Rhapsody blinked. “You want us to go away?”
Want? Of course not. Ashe stopped pacing and dropped into his desk chair, running his hands through his hair. But you and Meridion should not visit me anymore. Not even when, and if, the war comes to an end.
“Ashe—”
For the love of the One-God, Rhapsody, stop torturing me! Take him out of there—now!
The words stung like a slap across her face. Rhapsody went back to the far end of the light pool, shaking, and handed the baby back to Omet.
“Please withdraw to the far end of the room for a moment, Omet,” she said, her voice shaking similarly. “We need privacy, as much as possible.”
The glass artisan nodded quickly and disappeared into the shadows of the enormous cylindrical tower.
Rhapsody smoothed her hair, ran her sweating palms across her trouser legs to dry them, then returned to the edge of the light pool nearest to Ashe o
nce again.
“All right, the baby is gone,” she said. “Tell me what is going on.”
Ashe shook his head, as if trying to clear it from cobwebs. The forces of dark intent are gathering, growing every day, he said dully. I am keeping abreast of it as much as I can, but I fear we are outflanked, surrounded on every side, or will soon be. The warships I ordered from Manosse have not arrived—it now appears that Talquist holds the entirety of the western coast, from Traeg in the northlands almost to the shores of the Nonaligned States, and of course Sorbold, all the way to Golgarn. Any attempt to contact our allies in Gaematria or Manosse has been rebuffed, undoubtedly intercepted by the military forces that have taken the harbors, or the armed merchant fleet that patrols the seas beyond, or the pirates that run interference should anything make it past the first two ranks. We are cut off, Aria, separated from some of the most powerful parts of the Alliance, surrounded by enemies and defending a vast, open plain with no possible means to do so successfully. And while at this point I am still functioning, more and more the petulant dragon that has taken over my conscious thought is distracted, obsessing over the loss of you and Meridion as the world crumbles.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “We knew this was possible, but it had been my hope that our visits would serve as incentive, rather than as a distraction. I wish I had been able to be with you in the light more often.”
That’s just it, Ashe said sadly. If anything, you should cease thinking about me and stay as far away as you can—even should there be a peaceful resolution, which is not looking likely at this point.
All of her awareness of his nature deserted her, leaving her speechless. She fought back the hurt that she knew he might hear in her voice and willed her response to be calm, measured.
“Even should there be a peaceful resolution? What are you talking about?”
I—cannot risk being alone with you, or our son, ever again.
“Why?”
Ashe turned away from the light. It was not clear to Rhapsody, who was fighting to remain calm, if he was stung by the thunderstruck tone of her voice, or suffering an even deeper sorrow. A moment later it was obvious that it was the latter.
I—I am barely man anymore, Rhapsody; the dragon is rampant now. It is nearly—impossible for me to control that part of—my nature. Even my dreams of you have changed. In them I am—almost violent toward you, hungering for you. What used to be—reminiscent of our passion, our— His voice faltered.
Rhapsody exhaled quietly. “I know what you mean—go on.”
Ashe’s voice was barely above a whisper. I fear—I would—ravage—you if—you were here in the flesh. I dream of—almost—consuming you—please stay away. Gods, as much as I want—to be with you—need to be—with you, if I—were to hurt you—
“Stop. That won’t happen.”
You are not listening to me. His voice had changed, the draconic tones returning. Do you think I want—to tell you this? He held up his hands; they were trembling violently. This is not draconic peevishness or—rage that vents itself and is gone, as it has been in the past. My dragon nature has changed. I—I fear for you, Rhapsody. The thought that anyone might harm you or Meridion is sickening enough to me. The possibility that I could do so myself is preventing me from sleep, from focus—from sanity. It rends my heart to think that you would fear me—but you should, Rhapsody. You must; believe me when I tell you that you are no longer safe around me as I now am.
Her voice choked slightly. “I do not fear the dragon, beloved—it is part of you, and a bit of a pain on occasion but—”
You are not hearing me! The roar shook the walls of the study, causing paintings to fall to the floor, their frames shattering, and the curtains of the window to flap like flags in a high wind.
Rhapsody watched her husband in silence for a moment. He was right in that he was almost unrecognizable, his body thickening with the rise of the dragon, the angles of his face sharpening, looking almost serpentine in his aspect.
She closed her eyes and pictured the boy she had fallen in love with on a windy night in the old world, the man who had married her, once in secret, once in glorious ceremony, trying to hold on to the memory of him as he had once been in the face of the transformation of ancient lore and blood that he was contending with now. She summoned her Naming ability and spoke Truly to him, her eyes still closed, her tone as sensible and free from emotion as she could manage.
“I am hearing you, Ashe. It is you that is not hearing me. You will not hurt me when we are reunited, because, if all else fails, I will not let you hurt me.” She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. “I am not made of glass—and you know my resources, my weapons, my strengths. We sorted this out years ago on the banks of the Tar’afel River, if you recall. Do not fear ravaging me. One of us will die before that ever happens—but it won’t. I know it won’t.” Her eyes lost the lock with his as he dropped his head. “Remember, I have a better right cross than you do—you have said so, and tasted it, yourself. And my sword is older and more powerful than yours.”
Ashe looked up again, exhausted.
Are you saying—that you will kill me if I lose control and try to ravage or harm you? Or Meridion? Even if I am only trying to express love for you both?
“In a heartbeat.” The tones of True-Speaking were in her reply.
Do you promise?
“Yes.” She swallowed and added a reference for emphasis. “Remember Jo.”
Ashe exhaled deeply. Thank the One-God, he said. And thank you, Aria—thank you for understanding. I pray that you really do comprehend the danger.
“You’re welcome. I believe I do. Will you listen to me now?”
As well as I can.
“Good enough.” Her face became somber. “All right—I am advising you now; I cannot tell you what to do, but I beg you to consider my suggestions.” The Lord Cymrian nodded with effort.
“You cannot successfully conduct the war from Roland anymore,” she said flatly, softly. “If, as you say, the western seacoast is blockaded, in Talquist’s control, to the point where you cannot reach either Gaematria or your naval resources in Manosse, you and your army—our army—are eventually going to be ringed, trapped and slaughtered as the Hintervold, Sorbold and Golgarn advance—this is not my assessment, Ashe, it is Achmed and Grunthor’s as well.”
The Lord Cymrian’s eyes showed signs of the dragon’s resurgence.
You think I don’t know this, Aria?
“I am certain that you do—I am just not certain you know what I am going to suggest you do about it.” She averted her gaze quickly as the dragon attempted to lock eyes with her. “Look away,” she commanded, “I do not want to play games of will with your other nature. Hear me. Close your eyes and listen.” She waited until he did so, after some internal struggle. “I know the primary rule is that the king must stay and hold the land—”
Yes, he interrupted bitterly. The draconic tones had fully returned to his voice. This was why no one with any sense agreed to take the lordship.
“Nevertheless, you must leave. You alone have the ability to pass through the blockade, to reach the Isle of the Sea Mages, and eventually Manosse, without detection—you alone can walk through the sea. Working alone, as you did for so long, shielded by the element of water, of which you are the master, you can marshal your forces of the Second Fleet and Gaematria, and bring them back to the continent, breaking the blockade.”
I am well aware of this, the dragon said haughtily; Rhapsody turned even further away from her husband and closed her eyes for fear of its entrapment. But I cannot abandon the continent. Tristan Steward would be the only possible regent at this time, but you know we cannot trust him. Anborn is likewise engaged, behind enemy lines and unreachable. You could do it, take command, but it would put Meridion in the gravest of danger. And none of you except Anborn are Wyrmril, able to maintain the Shield. What would you have me do, Rhapsody?
She smiled. She had no idea if the drago
n could sense it through the light.
“I would urge you to remember that you have a namesake. One that not only bears your name, but was named specifically for you, at a time when you were away and hidden from the sight of the world, and is your godson. He is fully vested, brave and wise—and, though young, he can hold your place until you return.”
She waited for a moment, but heard only silence.
“In addition, because of everything I just said, because you and he share a name, and the fact that you are well acquainted with a Lirin Namer, even if she is limited and self-trained, you have at your disposal the ability to share your lore, your Right of Command, with him, as no other sovereign really could.”
He is a child, Rhapsody.
“Nonsense,” she retorted. “He is barely younger than you were when you went to the House of Remembrance on Midsummer’s Night all those years ago to kill the demon in its vulnerability—”
Yes, and see how well that turned out.
“It only turned out badly because Oelendra abandoned you. That’s not the point—he will have Gerald Owen, and Gavin, and your trusted generals, and I will send a messenger bird to Rial in Tyrian asking for aid for him as well. He can do this, Ashe—in your concern for him, you insult him and all that he has endured, learned, and already proven. If you recall, it was Gwydion who put an arrow through the head of Michael’s assassin that would have killed Anborn where he sat in Haguefort’s Great Hall. He has suffered even more loss than you had at his age, and yet remains considered, brave, and wise. You said so yourself at his investiture.”
There was a long silence. Finally Ashe spoke quietly, his voice still draconic, but calmer.
I did.
“Trust that you, and Anborn, have taught him well. He has studied the sword with Anborn for years, he is very wise, he is an extraordinary archer, and you have included him in all the strategy sessions since the reformation of the Alliance. I wish that he might have had more time to learn the ways of Tysterisk, but if nothing else, it should give him an advantage in battle, should it come to that. Extend your protectorate to include Navarne, and have Highmeadow absorb Haguefort’s inhabitants except for the garrison to protect the province against an incursion from the North. Gwydion will do better if his chamberlain is with him, as well as the other staff he trusts. If you undertake the Naming ritual I am suggesting, he will have a good measure of your knowledge and experience to aid him.”