When Dragons Rage
“You’re part of the plot, deny it not, Resolute so bold.” The fire in the sullanciri’s eyes flared. “Soon not to be bolder, not to be older, but just very much cold.”
The blue’s nostrils flared as gold flame licked from them. “Do not use that sword, elf, or it’s not cold you’ll be.”
Resolute glared at the dragon, but did not return Syverce to its scabbard.
Will picked himself up off the shelf and stared at the blue. “I’d like to be heard. I don’t know if it helps that I’ve got dragon’s blood in me, or that I’ve bled on the Truestone the prince carries, but I think there’s a way you can see the truth of things pretty easily.”
The blue’s head oriented on Will. “Pray, tell us.”
“Well, it’s like this: I’m a thief. If I’m going to steal things, I figure out where they are and then I go after them. Now, Chytrine took Vorquellyn a long time ago. Maybe there was a stone there, maybe there wasn’t, but she stayed there after she took it. And then, twenty-five years ago, she tried to take pieces from Fortress Draconis, but she didn’t. Still, she had forces far south of it, and my father knows that, because he made up a poem about fighting them long before he saw a Truestone.”
The sullanciri hissed. “Tell your lies, you who was whelped ’tween poxed thighs.”
Will snorted. “You were there before I was.”
Fire shot in jets from Nefrai-laysh’s eyes, but he remained silent.
The thief continued. “And then she went to Fortress Draconis and sent folks to Lakaslin to get fragments. She got one from Fortress Draconis, the prince has a second, and a third is hidden. And the one from Lakaslin is hidden. But, still, her troops are heading south even though she doesn’t know where the pieces are.”
The grey snarled. “Is there a purpose to your recitation?”
“Well, it’s this. If she wanted the fragments—if that’s what she’s been going after—she’d be stopping when she knows she can’t find them. But instead, her troops continue south.” He pointed at his father. “And you already know she enslaves people and makes them do her bidding. If you look at what she does, not what she says, I would be thinking you don’t want her to have that Crown any more than we do.”
The blue considered things for a moment. “Your point is taken. The request for possession of the Truestone is denied.”
The sullanciri raged. “Hear my plea, do not fools be! They come here in heroes’ guise, concealing venom in honeyed lies. It is plain to see, they are no friends to thee. But mistress mine, the magnificent Chytrine, has your best interest at heart. Keep not the crown apart. Give us the stone, merely a loan. Then with four, she will gain more. Her goal will be at hand. Dragons will rule the land.”
Will blinked. “Four? Four? She has two, this would make three.” He looked at Crow. “The ruby! We left it with Scrainwood. He wouldn’t!”
“Not if we stop him.”
The thief turned back to the blue. “Get us to Meredo, and we’ll bring that fourth stone here. You can keep it, along with this one. That way you’ll know it will be safe.” Will smiled. “In fact, if Chytrine really had your best interests at heart, she’d bring all the fragments here and let you keep them.”
The grey snorted two gouts of flame. “The thief uses wormwords to convince us to gather the stones in one place so he can steal them.”
Will’s head came up. “I’m very good, but I know I couldn’t get them out of here. Neither could Chytrine.”
The blue looked at Nefrai-laysh. “You will convey to your mistress our desire to have her deliver her Truestones here.”
The sullanciri laughed aloud. “You have no grounds; you overstep your bounds. Your request she does deny.” With his right hand he reached behind himself and circled a finger through the air. An oval hole opened in nothingness. “You have earned her ire, and in consequence dire, one of you must die.”
Nefrai-laysh drew back his left hand to throw the ruby stone. As his arm came forward, he jerked. A spear passed through his body, lancing down from left armpit to right hip. The haft caught his arm, abbreviating his throw. Instead of the Truestone flying straight out into the heart of the fiery lake, it spun end over end in a long, high arc.
Will watched it fly. He watched it spin and began to run. Light flashed from the heart of the stone as it tumbled, falling faster and faster. Will measured the arc, reckoned where the stone would land, and dove.
His fingers closed on the stone’s smooth surface. His body twisted. He threw the stone back toward the shelf and saw it was going to fly true.
“Qwc, get it!”
As Will’s body passed through the magick wall, he saw the Spritha dart for the stone. The little creature wrapped all four arms around it and hung on tightly.
Then the heat hit Will and he was no more.
CHAPTER 74
T he appearance of the sullanciri, the revelation of Rym Ramoch as a puppet, the spear, the sharp war cry of a furious Gyrkyme, the ruby’s glittering arc as it spun through the air, and Will’s dive all left Kerrigan stunned mindless. He saw Will grab the Truestone, spin, and throw it. His eyes followed the stone’s arc and saw the Spritha’s flight intersect it. He only caught the explosion of flame in the corner of his eye.
He couldn’t look. He couldn’t confirm that the new fire in that lake was Will. He opened his mouth to shout, to scream, to do anything, but he couldn’t breathe.
Then he saw Qwc flailing and falling. Kerrigan’s left hand went out and triggered a spell. He caught the Spritha softly, then whisked him over to Alexia, redoubling the spell to restrain her from lunging after Will.
Back above him, on the ledge, Nefrai-laysh snarled in anger. “Oh, you can all be dragon-hearted, but my wrath shall not be thwarted!” He gestured with his right hand, and from it burst a golden sphere the size of a ripe melon with little tendrils of golden lightning racing around its surface. It shot forward, piercing the wall, and veered straight for the blue.
The blue snorted, and a magickal shield smashed the spell away toward the grey. With a flick of a claw, the grey sent it spinning farther into the Congress Chamber. The dragons, like adults marveling at a child’s invention, invoked spells to send the sullanciri’s attack skittering between them. The spell lost none of its lethal fury, but this seemed only to amuse the dragons.
Lombo let go of an explosive roar and charged the cliff beneath Nefrailaysh. In two huge bounds he reached it, then scaled it fast and furiously. The sullanciri half turned to face the Panqui, but the haft of the spear caught on the edge of the magickal doorway. A spell began to gather in his right hand, but before Nefrai-laysh could finish the casting, Lombo tackled him, sinking fangs into his left shoulder. Both of them tumbled into the portal, which snapped shut, trimming head and butt from the spear, and shaving a tuft of black hair from the tip of Lombo’s tail.
The sullanciri’s disappearance did not affect the spell, which the dragons still batted back and forth. Then the golden orb swerved straight up, slamming hard into the apex of the roof arch and spitting rock everywhere. It burned its way up higher, golden sparks drizzling down through the hole. Then a huge gout of red-gold fire shot down and touched the surface of the lake. The spell’s detonation shook the entire mountain, spilling everyone to the landing save for Crow and Alexia, who cradled Qwc between them.
Above the dragons, red cracks spiderwebbed through the ceiling. Chunks of stone began to fall, splashing into the molten lake. Hot rock splattered the shielding spell and dripped down like rain. Some stones crashed into the rocky pedestals, and one dragon spilled from his perch. His scrabbling claws gouged stone, but they found no purchase and he pitched screaming into the liquid rock.
His screams defied translation, yet their meaning could not be mistaken.
Dragons breathed and gestured. Wave after wave of magick flowed out and up, bolstering the roof, but rock still fell. Tremors shook the ground. The entire mountain was coming down and, as powerful as the dragons and their magick were, no
t even they could prevent that.
“Kerrigan!”
The mage looked over at Crow. The man had drawn his sword and stood over Alexia. Kerrigan shook his head. “I can’t do anything! The whole mountain is falling in.”
Crow pointed his sword toward the hole the sullanciri’s spell had created. “Get this sword in there. Now!” He tossed the blade into the air. “Go, Tsamoc. The promise will be completed!”
Kerrigan reached out with a spell and plucked the sword from the air. He drove it past the shield and saw the metal begin to glow. The gem set in the forte was also glowing, with opalescent highlights pulsing. It almost seemed as if the gem was shifting and melting, for the closer it got to the hole, the larger and more solid its light appeared.
As the blade ascended into the hole, the gem exploded into a round, flat disk, then it curved down into a milk-white bowl alive with flashing lights. In places, the bowl twisted as more rock fell, but no stone pierced it. Then the bowl expanded, pressing up against the shattered ceiling.
The light bled up into the mountain, leaving the chamber as dark. Above, the rumbling ceased and the earth stilled itself. Then the light reappeared, pouring down through the central hole. Eight luminescent lines shot out. Two ran down the original arch, while the other six ran at angles to it. Rock cracked ahead of them, as if they were plows splitting crusty earth, then stone oozed out through the furrows. It swelled like rising bread, then solidified.
Four gleaming opal arches now supported the Congress Chamber’s vaulted ceiling. And there, at their heart, an angular, eight-sided cone of rock pointed down. In it, Kerrigan saw something moving, something vaguely manlike.
He shook his head. “What was that?”
Crow swallowed hard and swiped a tear from his left cheek. “The weirun of a bridge in Okrannel. It destroyed itself to stop Chytrine’s marauders, but only after we promised to let it fight against her. A friend bound it into my sword, and we did wonderful things together. This, however, is what it was meant for.”
Peri landed next to Alexia. “Are you all right, sister?”
“I’m not hurt.” Alexia’s face came up, with tears etched in red reflections on her cheeks. “But, Will . . .”
Kerrigan looked over at where Will had gone through the wall. Where he went into the lake. “He’s gone. Just gone.”
Rym Ramoch’s wooden limbs clattered as Bok collected the Truestone from Qwc and stuffed it back into his chest. The puppet clambered upright, but made no attempt to adjust the mask. The left-hand glove had come off, exposing the hand as wooden bits linked by spring-and-leather joints.
“Yes, Kerrigan Reese, your friend is gone. His sacrifice, however, will not be forgotten.”
Erlestoke dusted his hands off. “It best not be. If this has not shown you how little Chytrine can be trusted, then you walk blindly into the doom she’ll bring you.”
The grey, settled again on his pedestal, snorted. “We walk nowhere.”
“Fly, then, and the quicker into doom for it.” Erlestoke shrugged off the harness with the DragonCrown fragment. “As Will said, I’ll leave this piece here, to show you we have no desire to re-create the Crown.”
The blue’s azure eyes half closed. “Pity, for only by bringing all the parts together can the Crown finally be split asunder. When it was created, we were complicit in its making. At that time it seemed wise, but events conspired to make us question that wisdom.”
Alexia stood. “If that is true, why haven’t you collected the pieces?”
Rym opened his arms. “Complications, Princess. We knew where five of the Truestones were, as you did. Three in Fortress Draconis, one in Okrannel, and one in Jerana. There had been one on Vorquellyn, but it is lost. Of the seventh, we have no report. Without being guaranteed success in gathering them all, we chose to wait. In our reckoning, it has not been that long.”
Erlestoke frowned. “My original point stands, however. You now know that Chytrine cannot be trusted. You should help us gather all the fragments together and stop her.”
The grey curled a lip back. “Chytrine cannot be held responsible for the actions of a subordinate, especially since he was attacked here. That was a violation of our peace.”
Crow arched an eyebrow. “But Nefrai-laysh was in the act of attacking Rymramoch.”
The puppet held up a hand. “There are nuances of our ways that complicate the situation, Kedyn’s Crow. Allowing myself to be as I am now, I have placed myself in jeopardy and no dragons are compelled to save me. In fact, most here would have been pleased to see me pay for my foolishness. The Peace of the Congress Chamber did not extend to me. But the Gyrkyme’s attack on Nefrai-laysh violated that peace.”
Peri screeched defiantly. “Evil reveals itself; rules do not.”
Kerrigan looked at his mentor. “You’re saying Will died for nothing?”
“No, his death—his sacrifice—counts for much.” A cold tone entered the puppet’s voice. “I am not without influence in this assembly. And we shall not pretend, shall we, Vriisureol, that you did not lead this Gyrkyme here? Or shall we be led to believe you failed to notice her trailing in your wake?”
The Black Dragon’s mouth opened in a bit of a smile. “Why would I be concerned with something that could neither catch nor harm me?”
“Would you deny giving her magickal assistance to find this chamber? You always seek to be too subtle, Vriisureol.” Ramoch looked in Peri’s direction. “Perrine was lured here so she could intervene. While her action violated our law, Perrine did not act wholly of her own volition.”
Peri screeched again, angrily, at the Black. Vriisureol, presumably having heard her curse translated into his tongue, widened his eyes for a moment, slowly closed them.
“So, it is this way, my friends. The violation of our peace here will be used by Chytrine’s allies to justify their support of her. Conversely, Nefrai-laysh’s attempt to bring down the mountain will justify the position of those who oppose her. As those forces are currently balanced, dragonkind shall remain neutral.”
“Neutral?” Erlestoke shook his head. “She already has dragons as allies, and dracomorphs as well.”
Rym Ramoch pressed the wooden hand to the hole in his chest. “Individuals, yes, as do you. I have helped Kerrigan, and shall help him even more. Dravothrak has helped you, and Vriisureol, well, he plays his own games, but so far they have benefited you. And there are others here who will feel compelled to aid you. To most, however, you and Chytrine are in a race. Whoever amasses the majority of the Truestones first will be the side for which we shall intervene.”
The Oriosan Prince crossed his arms over his chest. “You play a dangerous game. If you support the wrong side, you will be denied the Crown. If you come into the war too late, the same thing will happen.”
The blue raised his head. “Lecture us not on politics, for that is what is being played here. While we do not all move to intervene, some of us do. The factions here who win will win much, and those who lose will lose even more.”
Kerrigan’s hands balled into fists. “But this isn’t a game. It isn’t a race. It’s a war! People have died. Orla died. Will just . . . and Lombo . . . Who knows . . . ?”
Grief suddenly overtook him. His stomach shrank in on itself, and Kerrigan folded around his middle. He sank to his knees, then curled up into a ball. In his mind he saw lightning play through Orla’s guts. He watched Will burst into flames.
He wished his tears could have doused that fire, could have healed Orla’s wounds. He knew, however, that they could not—that all the tears that had ever been cried could never heal anything.
And yet, even with that realization, he could do nothing but cry.
CHAPTER 75
A lexia shifted in the bed. Crow’s body pressed against her back, with his left hand on her stomach and his arm under their shared pillow. She slid her fingers from his, then rolled over to face him. His hand slid onto the small of her back, and her arm circled his chest.
S
he pulled herself tight to him, needing to hold as much as be held. She kissed his forehead. “You’re not sleeping.”
Crow, his eyes still closed, shook his head. His hair rustled against the pillow and his beard brushed the top of her breastbone. “I keep thinking back to the night we first found him. He was soaking wet, and so tiny. He’d been punched. He looked so helpless, just drenched and bedraggled, a feral little thing.
“And then today. I saw the expression on his face when he threw the Truestone. He knew Qwc would be in the right place. He’d changed so much, grown so much. The Will we found would have gone for the stone, but only because it was a gem, and he never would have thrown it away. No, he would have gone into the fire, clutching it to him, staring into its depths.”
Her hand came up and she sank fingers through the white hair at Crow’s left temple. “I know, Crow; I saw the changes. The way he dealt with Scrainwood and the Freemen. The way he dealt with Kenleigh. Once he left the Dim, he grew up a lot.”
“And now he’s gone.”
“He sacrificed himself so Rymramoch could live.”
Crow nodded. “He died well, yes. I can but hope I will die that well. We were so certain, though, that Will was the Norrington. Were we wrong? Was the prophecy wrong? Was Scrainwood right? Is Kenleigh a Norrington? Is he the Norrington? Is the Norrington out there dying in Sarengul?”
Alexia shivered and Crow hugged her a bit closer. “Crow, Kenleigh may not be the heir to the Norrington bloodline.”
He pulled his head back. “You’re not talking about his brother are you? What are you saying?”
She frowned. “After you left Caledo I learned that Sayce’s family had determined she was with child. At Navval, she was beginning to suffer morning sickness . . .” Another shiver shook her. “Oh, by the gods, how will we tell her?”
She could feel the gooseflesh rise over Crow’s back. “You’re telling me that she is carrying Will’s child?”
“Yes. And she is in love with him. She does not know—at least, not yet—about the child. She will soon, of course, but she’s probably leading an army to attack the Aurolani host sieging Caledo even now.”