“A vexing problem, yes, but one we shall work upon.” Chytrine reached up and caressed Isaura’s left cheek. “Fear not, daughter, the enemy’s victories shall sour in his mouth, and what he swallows will poison him. The course may not be the one plotted, but our destination shall remain the same.”
Adrogans rubbed his left hand over his face. “Read that to me again, please?”
The signal-mage’s exasperation filled his voice. “My lord, if you do not believe me, you can read the reply yourself.”
The Jeranese general spitted the man with a furious glance. “It is not you I disbelieve, it is the message.”
The signal-mage clutched the arcanslata to his chest. “You do not understand, sir . . .”
“READ!”
His bellow made the man jump back and brought a smile to Phfas’ face. Both Gilthalarwin of the Loquelven Blackfeathers and General Caro managed to keep their faces blank, but he knew they were mulling over what they had heard.
“From King Stefin of Okrannel to General Markus Adrogans. We have heard of your victory and our heart knows great joy. The debt owed to you by the Okrans people can never be repaid. Your victory is the greatest ever won in our nation and shall be sung of forever. You will ever be revered in our nation, and we shall always consider you a friend of the highest order.
“From Queen Carus of Jerana to General Markus Adrogans. I convey to you my grand admiration at your feat. Six months ago the liberation of Okrannel was but a dream, and one many said could not be realized. You have proved them wrong, and proved yourself the greatest military mind alive. While nothing would please us more than to have you join us in Narriz for the Council of Kings, we would not trouble you to overcome your aversion to traveling by water. We bid you remain there in Svarskya until you are called forth again.”
The signal-mage looked up. “It has all been authenticated.”
Adrogans nodded. “I believe you. Leave us now.”
The signal-mage withdrew from the chamber that had previously housed Nefrai-kesh. Adrogans waited until the man was gone, then Phfas invoked his yrûn of air to swirl about the tower and prevent the words spoken from being overheard.
The Jeranese general sat back in the high-backed wooden chair at the head of the table. “That’s it. We are thanked and told to wait: no word of reinforcements or redeployment.”
Caro nodded. “I do not know if I should take heart that King Augustus did not send a message of congratulations. I wonder if there is dissent in Narriz over what should be done in the future?”
“I have no doubt there is, my friend.” Adrogans shifted his shoulders as Pain stabbed long talons down either side of his neck. “Things would be much worse if our leaders knew the full import of this victory.”
In searching the city, several important discoveries had been made. There had been boombags rigged to explode, but their fuses had never been lit. Other searchers had located a workshop where firedirt was formulated.
Equally important, a ship that had been scuttled in the harbor had not sunk in deep water. At low tide men had gone out to it and discovered a cargo that included dragonel shot and a number of dragonels in watertight crates. The common soldier took it as a very good sign that their advance had been so rapid that Nefrai-kesh had not been able to use those weapons.
Adrogans was well aware that the weapons had been deployed. Ever since Chytrine had introduced the first dragonel a quarter century before, the secrets of their manufacture and the production of firedirt had been sought after. Dothan Cavarre, the Draconis Baron, had jealously guarded that secret and refused to share it with the nations of the Southlands. He feared that once they had a weapon capable of bringing down castle and city walls, wars would rage in the south. When Chytrine came again, there would be no one to oppose her.
And now they have given me these secrets. He shook his head. Here he was, a victorious general who had just been given weapons that would guarantee his invincibility. He already had Okrannel. Jerana was his nation, so he could just declare Okrannel a province of a Jeranese empire. Gurol and Valicia would fall quickly enough, then an alliance with Alcida against Chytrine would allow both nations to descend upon and divide up Reqorra, Helurca, and Salnia. Were Adrogans to let Alcida become the battleground where he fought Chytrine, he would have that nation, too.
Gilthalarwin gave Adrogans an easy smile. “I wish I could imagine your leaders as being shrewd enough to see the dragonels for what they are. I fear they will just see them as a means to dominating their neighbors. You are right to conceal this information.”
Caro shook his head. “There is a problem, however. This information will not remain secret forever. Once someone—let us use King Scrainwood as an example—learns you have the dragonels, he will point to a conspiracy against nations that do not. He could choose, then, to accept Chytrine’s offer of protection against you, and there are other nations that would do likewise to avoid destruction.”
“Fools who deserve her,” Phfas hissed derisively. “They flow from fear to fear.”
“That may be true, Uncle, but do their people deserve it?”
“If their people allow it.”
The Loquelf frowned. “And if they do not, they attack their leaders and overthrow them. More chaos and Chytrine to benefit.”
Adrogans sighed heavily. “We are congratulated, but told to wait. For what, we do not know, and that will destroy this army as surely as the dragonels would have.”
The Alcidese general nodded in agreement. “Our army needs to be active. I would like to put them to work rebuilding the city’s defenses.”
“Yes, we want them to think we are going to make sure Svarskya does not fall when the Aurolani return.” Adrogans looked at the Loquelf. “I wonder, Mistress, if you and your people would be willing to engineer a deception for me?”
The elf’s dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “How much of one?”
“I want to send your scouts out, both to the east toward Crozt and northwest toward the mountains. I suspect there are Aurolani troops operating in the east. If there are not, or they are insufficient to threaten Svarskya, I want reports from the west indicating that Aurolani troops are gathering for a strike on Svarskya. I need the reports to hold this army together.”
“And to convince those in the south that they should not call their units home?”
“It is a mild deception. The Aurolani will interpret your scouting as preparation for an invasion, which will tie up some troops.”
“And if we find nothing to the north and west?”
Adrogans smiled carefully. “Chytrine gave us the dragonels in hopes that we might create an empire. She expected Okrannel might be the northern reach of it, but the Ghost March exists further north. It’s been a quarter century since King Augustus took an army through it, and he never had dragonels. I may carve out the empire she wants, but just not the one she expects.”
CHAPTER 70
I n the end, it was the vote of the Oriosan Freemen that decided things. Dranae was only going to take a limited number of people with him to Vael. That list came down to Will, Crow, Resolute, Erlestoke, Lombo, and Qwc. The Panqui, as a race, were favorites of dragons, so Lombo’s inclusion was a foregone conclusion. As for Qwc, since there was no way to prevent him from coming, Dranae invited him along. The other three came because they had been Dranae’s companions, and Erlestoke because he actually possessed a Truestone.
Those who were left behind were placed under a joint command of Sallitt Hawkins and his wife, Jancis Ironside. Exactly what they would be doing had started a debate. The Murosans wanted to return to Murosa to continue to harass Aurolani troops, even though their chances of surviving were dreadful. The meckanshii wanted to head back toward Fortress Draconis—especially after learning there were other survivors there. Jullagh-tse Seegg struck a middle ground and pointed out that if they went back into Sarengul, they could help crush the Aurolani occupation army. The Sarens would then move to strike at the Aurolani, which would give them m
uch more strength for hitting supply trains than they had now, and Sarengul would become a refuge for people fleeing the Aurolani armies.
A return to Sarengul would also mean a chance at finding Verum, and the idea of locating a lost comrade meant a lot to all assembled.
The Freemen held a meeting and discussed things. Wheatly came to Will and asked what he thought, but Will just smiled. “You’ve earned the command of this unit, Wheatly. You know their minds and their hearts. Whatever you decide, I know it will make me proud.”
Wheatly then announced that the Freemen were all for entering Sarengul and fighting the Aurolani therein. While the Murosans weren’t wholly happy with that idea, a supplemental plan to lure their pursuit into the mountains and use the byways of Sarengul to destroy them did suit.
No one found leave-taking easy. Will said good-bye to each and every one of the Freemen. Each wished him well; they each took from him a small snippet of the bloody cloth that he had wrapped around his left hand before Jilandessa healed the wound. The Freemen sewed the brown patches onto their masks, below their left eyes, which is where they would cut an orphan notch if their father was dead. He knew why they did it, but the idea that a group of hard-bitten warriors would choose to see him as some sort of father figure astounded him.
Crow had a hard time saying good-bye, too—leaving his brother and his sister-in-law, to whom he had just been introduced. The Freemen and others also made a big deal of his departure and told him to keep wearing his mask. “If you’re going to represent us before the dragons, Crow, then you have to be attired proper” was the oft-voiced sentiment.
Erlestoke had it rougher, though. He was leaving behind his squad of soldiers, without whom neither he nor the DragonCrown fragment would have escaped Fortress Draconis. The mission they had chosen to accept was one that would very likely kill them, so the good-byes they said could easily have been forever.
Toughest of all, though, seemed to be having to part from his brother. Will had been saying good-bye to Linchmere when Erlestoke came by. The elder prince’s jaw dropped in surprise, then a smile blossomed on his face. “Linchmere?”
The younger prince stiffened and blood drained from his face. “You’re alive! You’re alive.”
“Yes, very much so, and very happy to see you.” Erlestoke embraced his brother, then glanced at Will. “Why didn’t you tell me my brother was here?”
“Well, we were dealing with Dranae and everything and, you know, it’s been a long day.”
Linchmere pulled himself from his brother’s embrace and smiled. “It’s because, Highness, no one here knows who I am. To them I’m just Lindenmere, one of the Freemen.”
Erlestoke’s eyes flicked up and Will was certain he caught the knowing glances from other Freemen milling about. All of them knew who Lindenmere really was. “Well, I never would have guessed. You’ve come with them from Meredo, have you? Father must be furious.”
Linchmere shrugged. “He’ll be more surprised to see you back from the dead than to see where I’ve gotten.”
“Pity if it’s true.” Erlestoke’s smile broadened. He clearly couldn’t believe the changes that had been wrought in his brother. Though Linchmere had only been a Freeman for just over a month, he’d lost weight, made friends, and earned some scars. “He won’t recognize you, that’s for certain.”
Linchmere’s return smile burned brighter than dragonfire. As the brothers embraced, Will withdrew to gather his gear for the trip. It struck him that, in many ways, Linchmere had been like Dranae, only it was the crucible of war, not a bath in molten rock, that had awakened him. Likewise Kenleigh had taken on an edge. In combat he’d proven quite stalwart, but content to take orders rather than give them. That didn’t mean he didn’t exhibit leadership capabilities. He did, very much so, but he was the sort of man who led by example instead of command or force of personality.
When next Will saw them, the brothers were laughing together. Linchmere was helping Erlestoke work on the riding harness they’d use on Dranae. Having met them separately, Will never would have guessed they were brothers, but here he could see it. Moreover, he could see they were friends.
With many promises of future drinking, feasting, and wenching being exchanged, those bound for Vael clambered onto Dranae’s broad back and nestled down in the valley between his shoulders. They roped themselves into the princes’ harness and waved to their compatriots.
Will was glad the rope harness allowed him to crawl forward to where Dranae’s neck joined his body. While the air was cold enough that Will couldn’t remain there for very long, he got to watch the landscape below. He could see the way rivers flowed from mountains down to lakes or the sea. Forests spread over the hills and plains, save where men had chopped them back to feed fuel and building material into villages and cities.
And villages and cities were easy to spot because of the rising smoke. From most it was from cookfires, but the flight took them near enough to Caledo to see that part of the city was burning. He hoped Alexia, Kerrigan, Peri, and Sayce were still alive, and would be able to defeat the Aurolani or escape.
“Dranae, can’t you go down there and kill the Aurolani before we go to Vael?”
“No, Will.” The dragon hooked his neck back to watch him. “There is a chance I could be killed, and the Dragon Crown fragment would then go over to Chytrine. More importantly, there is another dragon down there. My intervention could trigger a larger battle, which would be to Chytrine’s benefit.”
“The first reason I get, but not the other.” Will shrugged.
“In due time, Will Norrington.”
Night fell before they left Muroso. The thin sliver of moon complemented the stars and Will saw lots of them. He half expected Resolute to take the opportunity to drill him on how to navigate by the stars, but being aloft and surrounded by darkness seemed to take an edge off the Vorquelf.
He did point to one chain of stars. “That is the Flail of Raisasel. He was a grand elven hero, from Vorquellyn. Back then, Vorquellyn was just part of the elven holdings. Everything from Loquellyn to Croquellyn and Harquellyn were all part of one grand elven nation.”
Will picked out the curvy line of seven stars. “What did Raisasel do?”
“He did many wonderful things, and the songs sung about his exploits are legion. He slew dragons and fought battles with the kryalniri—the real thing, not these ghosts Chytrine has created.” Resolute actually smiled, and for half a second Will thought he might sing one of the songs of Raisasel.
Then the Vorquelf’s eyes narrowed. “Songs to entertain children who never expected to have to fight.”
The Panqui extended a claw, dug some flat white wormy thing from beneath a scale, and popped it into his mouth. “Lombo likes star-songs.”
The thief smiled. “Do the Panqui have a song about Raisasel?”
“No flail. Seven sisters river floating.” Lombo’s grin revealed a small morsel of squirming worm. “Not child’s song.”
Erlestoke smiled. “In Oriosa, those are seven merchants and the moon is counted a thief. When it passes through them, it steals their light.”
Crow nodded, then looked to Qwc. “What about the Spritha?”
“Spritha sing not of stars.” He looked around at his companions. “Holes in the sun’s hood, just holes. Why sing, why?”
“Dranae, do dragons sing of the stars?”
The dragon looked back. “People create stories about what they fear as a means to define and control the threat. Raisasel slew no dragons, but elves feel safer to think that one of their number did. Dragons have no fear of the stars because we know what they are.”
Will frowned. “So do the Spritha, but I don’t think they are holes in some hood the sun pulls on.”
“No, Will. What would they be, then?”
He hesitated. “Well, I’ve not thought about it much, but they look like gems just scattered up there. If we could fly high enough, we could get them.”
Dranae laughed and a tiny b
it of flame jetted from his nostrils. “The Spritha are closer than you are, Will.”
Crow smiled. “What are the stars then, Dranae, if that information can be shared?”
“Stars are just like the sun, but very far distant from here.”
But that can’t be. They’re so small and the sun is so big. Will looked at Crow and Erlestoke, then the three of them broke out laughing. “No, Dranae, that can’t be. Sparks from the sun maybe, but suns? Not possible.”
Another fiery snort accompanied a smirk. “Doubtless you are right, Will.”
As they flew west and south, the sky began to lighten in the east. The sun stole over the horizon, and long shadows began their retreat from its light. Will crawled back up to his vantage point, rolling onto his back to watch the dawn, then onto his belly to see their destination.
Vael sat in the southern portion of the Crescent Sea, due north of Gyrvirgul and northwest of Vilwan. Thick jungles covered it so well that as night’s veil was lifted, Will could still see very little. Occasionally a brilliantly colored flock of birds would rise, swirl above the leafy canopy, then descend and disappear again.
Several dark grey peaks thrust their way up through the vegetation wreathed by thin white clouds. The tallest sat in the middle of the island, but Dranae did not make for it. Instead, he flew toward the northern end and dipped down into the jungle. They drifted down into a misty valley with steep walls covered in mosses, and overgrown with deep green plants and vibrant blossoms. Water poured down in frothy cataracts. At the far end of it, Dranae lifted his left wing, banked into a turn, then landed effortlessly on a greensward before the opening of a massive cave.
“We have arrived, my friends.” Dranae lay down on his belly and extended his right forepaw to give them an easy way down to the ground. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Will was ready to agree with that assessment; the valley had been breathtaking. But Dranae was nodding toward the cavern mouth—which seemed only a cavern mouth, devoid of decoration.
“Am I missing something?” he whispered to Crow.