When Dragons Rage

  “I remember. I was there.” Will stopped short of pointing out that while he was there, he had seen plenty of mages who had friends, who fought together in teams, who could joke. Even Orla had had a sense of humor at times. “I was there at the siege.”

  “Well, then, you know. They got me away during the siege.” The corpulent youth sighed. “I wish they had left me alone. I wouldn’t be here, and Orla wouldn’t be dead.”

  “Yeah, and Chytrine would have the piece of the DragonCrown you’re carrying.”

  Kerrigan’s eyes grew wide and a hand shifted beneath the blanket. “How did you . . . Did Crow tell you?”

  Will shook his head and picked with a thumbnail at a piece of bark trapped in the triangle of his legs. “I’m a thief, remember? You’re guarding that thing as well as a gem merchant with a hoard, or some swain mooncalfing over a locket with a curl of his lover’s hair. No one else would have noticed. Well, probably Resolute—he sees everything. But you’re big enough that most’ll just figure you have chiggers in your armpit.”

  “I do not.”

  Will shrugged. “Just scratch like you do and it’ll keep folks away.”

  “So you knew I was hiding something, but how did you know it was a fragment?”

  The thief pursed his lips. Instead of telling Kerrigan he’d not known for certain until he’d seen Kerrigan’s reaction to his bluff, he decided to lie. “You’ve been hiding it since we left Fortress Draconis. Now, aside from the people we got out, the only things of worth there were fragments. The Draconis Baron had to try to get at least one piece out and if there was anyone who could hide it with magick, it would be you. I just kind of figured it out from there.”

  “He made me promise not to say anything, not to tell anyone but Crow and the princess. Will, you can’t say anything.”

  Will shook his head. “I won’t say a word, but you have to let me help you hide it. Here, on the road, it’s not so important. Strikes me, though, that given what folks think about Crow, Meredo is pretty much going to be enemy territory. Chytrine had sullanciri in Yslin last autumn, so you know she could have them in Meredo.”

  The magicker nodded slowly. “Yes, that makes sense. How will we hide it?”

  “Easily. We’ll start on the road.” Will shivered. Kerrigan was leaning forward, hanging on his every word. Not having had friends growing up, and with Orla dead, Kerrigan was desperate for someone to talk to. Had Will been setting him up to be robbed, well, it would have been too simple.

  The small part of Will that had absorbed all Marcus’ lessons wanted to laugh at Kerrigan. Here he was, a powerful mage, in possession of an item so priceless that the Aurolani Empress would destroy nations to possess it. Kerrigan had already seen the riches that she’d offered the Pirate Queen Vionna for the Lakaslin fragment, so he knew just how much it was to be treasured. Yet despite all that, here he was listening to Will’s advice as to how to safeguard it. In a heartbeat the fragment could be Will’s—the reward for it, too.

  Will snorted. “Starting tomorrow, put all your stuff in one of your saddle-bags, then fill the other up with junk.” He leaned over and picked up a pine cone. “Things like this, and little animal skulls, funny-shaped rocks. Have Qwc and Lombo find things for you, and spend time looking at them. Offer to show them to the Tolsin men. Let them think you’re a little crazy.”

  Kerrigan nodded. “They think that already. And that I’m useless, even though I started their fire for them, wet wood and all.”

  “I’d have left them cold. ’Cept maybe Mably. I’d start a fire with him.”

  “No, Will, don’t think that. It didn’t work with Wheele and Orla died because of it.”

  “Hey, Ker, stop right there.”

  “What?”

  “Orla’s death isn’t your fault.” Will held up a hand to prevent a protest. “I know you said I wasn’t good at being a mind reader when I said that before, but you remember back in Yslin? Orla came with Crow and Resolute and the princess and we went after a sullanciri. And that Dark Lancer had made my friends into monsters, and we had to kill them. We didn’t have any choice ’cuz they would have killed us. But when it was all over, they were dead and they were just kids again. And I couldn’t help thinking, somehow, that there was a way we could have not killed them.

  “But, you know, I worked out that it wasn’t my fault. You trace it back, and it’s all Chytrine. She’s the one who made the sullanciri, and she’s the one who wants me dead, and she’s the one who had the pirates attack Vilwan, which meant you had to go away and Orla with you.” His head came up. “You and me, we’re not doing this. We might not do everything right, but we have to do something because if we don’t, then she wins and folks will be dead. Lots of them.”

  Kerrigan sat there for a bit, his thick lips pursed. Will wasn’t sure how long the magicker thought, but it was long enough that the cold and the silence began to gnaw at Will. If not for the steam drifting from Kerrigan’s nostrils, he could have imagined the mage had turned to stone.

  “That is it, though, Will,” he finally said. “You and I might not do everything right, but at least you’re doing some things right. I . . .” Kerrigan’s voice failed for a moment, then returned muted and cool. “All the training I had was meant to prepare me for something great. What, I don’t know, no one ever told me. They just made me do more and more and more. And then, when I was leaving Vilwan, the pirates tried to stop us. I destroyed their ship, but the people on the boat with me were hurt and then the ship capsized, and that was my fault, so that those who weren’t dead already drowned. And then I used the wrong spell on Wheele . . .”

  “But, Kerrigan, your spell let Orla’s spell work. And you’re forgetting all the stuff you did during the Svoin siege, and figuring out those spells when we were in Loquellyn, and your lighting up the firedirt that killed Chytrine’s troops and saved the people we were getting out of Fortress Draconis. You’ve done good, lots of good.

  “And I know I haven’t been fair to you.” Will sighed. “I let Scabby Jack and Garrow’s gang beat you up. I said you froze when that big frostclaw came after you. I never told you I was sorry Orla died. I guess, growing up, I had friends, but I never had people I could trust like you could her. I saw how she was, and I envy you knowing her. She was a good person.”

  “I know, and I miss her.”

  They both sat there quietly for a moment. Will thought about Orla for a bit, then about Resolute and Crow. They were the first real friends he’d ever had, and the first people he could trust, because they trusted him. Granted, they had drawn him into things without telling him who he was, but time had let him see that they were trying to protect him, preparing him to accept his responsibility as the person who was prophesied to bring an end to Chytrine’s invasion of the south.

  Kerrigan’s voice came soft through the night. “Did you ever think you’d be here, Will?”

  “Here, in some forest in Oriosa, wearing a mask, freezing, while the most evil man in the world is sleeping with a beautiful princess and the most evil woman in the world is sending vast armies south to kill me? Not specifically, no.”

  “You know what I mean.” The magicker’s hands emerged from beneath the blanket and he stared down at his open palms. “When I was growing up, I used to imagine things. I thought maybe I would become Grand Magister of Vilwan and invent new and wonderful spells. And other times I’d dream about opposing Chytrine, but in those dreams it would be the two of us in some wizards’ duel and I’d batter her down and save the world.

  “But here I am, in a cold wood, talking to someone who is younger than me and, no disrespect intended, about as ill prepared to save the world as I am.”

  “And don’t forget that we’re being hunted.”

  “I haven’t.” Kerrigan glanced over at the tent. “Orla told me to follow Crow and Resolute, and now Crow turns out to be Hawkins and King Scrainwood will probably kill him. And I have a fragment, and you are a pawn of destiny, and Fortress Draconis has fal
len, and my mentor is dead. Have I forgotten anything?”

  Will grinned. “General Adrogans took Svoin, then burned it to the ground.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Kerrigan winced. “Things are not going well.”

  “When you look at it that way, yeah. I mean, if I’m the hope of the world, then the world ought to be feeling pretty worried.” Will shrugged. “Then again, we aren’t dead yet, we’ve killed a couple of Chytrine’s Dark Lancers, and there are two fragments that are not in her hands. The fact that Fortress Draconis has fallen means some folks are going to have to start doing things to stop Chytrine, so we have a chance.”

  “Yes, we do at that.” Kerrigan nodded slowly. “And we will make the best of it. Pursuant to which, when I get this collection of things, I hide the fragment in it?”

  Will shook his head. “Nope, but you’ll treat the collection as if it does contain something valuable. You’ll show folks some things, but never let them examine the collection itself. When we get to Meredo, that collection will be the thing they go after. And when they find there is nothing of value, they’ll just think you are crazy and have nothing to hide. And so they will stop looking.”

  “That makes sense.” But despite his words, Kerrigan sounded uncertain. “In Meredo, you will help me hide it so no one will get it?”

  Will stood, stretched, and stamped his feet. “Yes, we’ll find a place for it that no one will ever discover.”

  Kerrigan’s brows furrowed and his jowls quivered. “But, logically, if we can find it, then it can’t be a place no one would ever . . . Oh, sorry.”

  “We’ll find a place.” The thief smiled. “Trust me, Ker. You owe Chytrine for Orla, I owe her for my friends and more. Keeping that fragment from her is just the first part of paying her back.”

  CHAPTER 10

  T he rage radiating off King Scrainwood was colder than the north wind swirling snowflakes through the sky over Meredo. Alexia let it beat at her back as she looked out one of the throne room windows. She allowed herself the hint of a smile, imagining both the expression on Scrainwood’s face and the grin her describing his anger would put on Crow’s face. She very much looked forward to sharing that with him.

  Fuming, Scrainwood sat on his throne, his right fist tight and pounding the arm, while his Minister of Protocol, Cartland Gapes, and the unctuous Cabot Marsham attempted to employ their brand of reason on the Okrans Ambassador, Vladoslav Svoinyk. She wished Perrine had accompanied her to the meeting, but she could have easily imagined her Gyrkyme sister grabbing Marsham and soaring into the room’s vaults before dropping him.

  “No disrespect intended to the House of Svarskya, the Kingdom of Okrannel, or the Princess Alexia herself,” Marsham offered, oozing contempt from each word, “but we all know this marriage is a sham. Clearly the Traitor deceived her into saying they had married to selfishly save his own worthless skin. His propensities for deception are the stuff of legend. His victims are known for their innocence. If the princess would merely give some indication of having been fooled, we shall . . .”

  Gapes, who was tall with a thick mane of white hair, cut Marsham off. “What we meant, Ambassador, is this: we fully acknowledge the strength of Okrans nobility and their pride, for it is that pride which has kept them honed and ready to destroy Chytrine. Clearly that pride drove them to liberate Svoin, your family’s home city, and without such fierce pride, the princess could not have successfully led her companions on the daring raid that liberated the DragonCrown fragment from the Wruonin pirates. And that same pride and strength and overwhelming courage was what enabled her to bring our Princess Ryhope home again to Meredo, saving her life and those of her countrymen.

  “This pride, however, must be balanced against the vaunted Okrans honor—the sort of honor displayed by her father as he gave his life at Fortress Draconis to save his boon companions from the sullanciri in Chytrine’s employ. It is certain that the princess must see how her liaison with the Traitor would bring shame upon her nation. Now, we have taken steps to assure that news of this supposed marriage will spread no further, but unless she denounces it, the rumors will foment and there will be no hope of killing them. While the princess might feel she has to stand by a judgment made in haste, since it was a commitment made, she must also acknowledge that haste is seldom conducive to reason. If she so desires, a judicious comment at this time would save the honor of Okrannel.”

  Alyx kept her face impassive as she turned to face those in the room again. She positioned herself so that the glow of the window would backlight her and make her face more difficult to read. She had chosen not to attend in full armor, but instead opted for her Alcidese uniform, albeit without rank insignia. She wore a dagger at her right hip and had been allowed to retain it as a courtesy of her rank.

  Vladoslav Svoinyk had a medium build and his soft face and dark hair made him appear far too youthful for a position of importance at the court of Oriosa. Still, the sharpness of his dark-eyed gaze, and the way he nodded gravely in response to the minister’s words, showed cautious deliberation before he spoke. Alyx had seen his like among warriors. Enemies misjudged him easily, and would pay a terrible price for their error.

  “Minister, your kind words about the pride and honor of Okrannel are heartwarming, for all too often we have been dismissed as a once-was nation. At the Council of Kings last autumn in Alcida, it was King Scrainwood’s insistence that the Oriosan delegation be introduced before the delegation from Okrannel, which could easily be taken as an indication that our nation is nothing more than phantasy.”

  “Ambassador, that error was the result of misinterpretations by the Alcidese Protocol Minister of casual remarks I had made concerning the beliefs of other nations. That my remarks were attributed to my liege has caused me no end of heartache. The responsibility for any discomfort caused you or your nation is mine to bear alone.”

  Svoinyk nodded solemnly. “Minister Gapes, your love of the Okrans people is not unknown to us. It does puzzle me, however, why you neglected to mention one of our more famous attributes: our intelligence. You have noted the courage and pride with which Princess Alexia saved your people and defeated the Wruonin pirates, but you don’t acknowledge how intelligent she must have been to do that.”

  Gapes bowed his head. “Again, I have offended you, and I have no desire to do so. Her intelligence is manifest in all these things, as well as her resilience and drive. If you have felt I have slighted her in this regard, I abase myself with apology.”

  Svoinyk smiled. “I find it curious, then, Minister, that you acknowledge how intelligent she is, and yet maintain she was duped.”

  Gapes’ eyes widened, but before he could recover from his shock, Marsham snapped quickly. “The Traitor has fooled many, including those who are far smarter than Princess Alexia.”

  Svoinyk’s face froze, and in his words Scrainwood’s cold fury met its match. “You present me a paradox, then, Count Marsham. I know you were fooled by Hawkins, and I cannot help but imagine you believe yourself smarter than my princess. But she tells me that she was not deceived. Which, if intelligence is to be measured based on who was fooled and who was not, would make her your superior. Moreover, we have ample evidence of her courage, wit, pride, and honor; whereas I have yet to learn of anything so illuminating about you. Princess Alexia may not deign to notice the slights you offer her, but I have. While my position in service to my king prevents me from demanding satisfaction from you, I would cast all that aside to do so.”

  Svoinyk’s words staggered Marsham. The man’s face turned purple, but before he could say anything, the king snapped his fingers. “That will be all, Marsham.”

  “But, my liege . . .”

  “Do not make me tire of you so early in the day.” Scrainwood passed a hand over his eyes, more as if hiding his mask from Marsham’s sight, than blocking his vision of the subordinate. “Go, find my son. Help him do . . . something.”

  The room remained quiet save for the heavy footsteps of Marsham’
s retreat. Door hinges creaked. Outside the wind whistled as it picked up, coaxing heavier flurries from the grey clouds cloaking the sky. Scrainwood’s head came up as the door closed, then he waited several seconds longer, before letting his words slither beneath the silence.

  “Let us end this polite game, for I tire of it.” Scrainwood looked over at Alyx. “I have never liked Hawkins. He was a lowborn schemer from the start and I saw this instantly. I knew what he wanted: power. I was there when he stole Temmer from Bosleigh Norrington.”

  Scrainwood’s right hand played over his jaw. The fact that Hawkins had slapped the king was part of the Traitor’s legend, and Alexia had no doubt that Scrainwood was reliving the sting of those blows.

  “Now, Princess, I accept that you are brave and honorable, prideful, intelligent, and courageous. I also accept that you are of the weaker sex, and your emotions hold more sway over you than they should. But it is evident that when it comes to combat you set the frailties of your nature aside. I would ask you to look beyond your emotions now and realize that even your best effort will avail you in no way here. The Traitor will be slain for treason. That is the way it must be.”

  Alyx’s nostrils flared and red nibbled at the edges of her vision. She would have happily marched over to that throne and plucked Scrainwood from it, then beat him senseless. Two things restrained her, the first being her certainty that Scrainwood would take her offense at his insult as proof of the insult’s validity.

  The second was Svoinyk raising his left hand. “Highness, the princess would dispute your view of things. The fact of her marriage to Crow casts your statement into doubt. Minister Gapes will agree that as a Prince Consort, Crow is due a new trial, since his station calls into question whether or not he is even capable of committing treason against Oriosa.”

  Scrainwood snorted at that suggestion. “We have borne the shame of him. He is Oriosan.”

  “I would beg to differ, Highness. In Yslin, his father stripped his mask from him, and declared in public that he had no son named Tarrant. In my study of your laws, a father may exile his son in this manner, and his name shall be struck from the rolls of Oriosa for all time. Since you brought the elder Hawkins to Yslin, this exile must be seen as being sanctioned by you. Moreover, Crow’s trial for treason happened years after this exile. In your own history, the rebel Prince Lehern was similarly exiled by his father at the conclusion of the rebellion precisely to prevent his brother from having him tried for treason and killed.”