“Starborn. What nonsense.” Soma’s face rippled with a tic. “The briefing, on the other hand, is entirely reasonable, though the matter of your dragon remains. We have a large area I can set up with bedding, if the lady should like to rest?”
“Karalti can go back to the ship while you, Istvan, Suri and I talk,” I said, firmly.
“No! Wait!” Karalti suddenly got up off her keel, dancing from foot to foot. “I can come with you now!”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “The doors here are pretty big, but you’re bigger, Tidbit.”
“Just hang on!” Karalti reared up tall, wings vibrating with excitement, and breathed a string of words of power into the air.
The words rang like soft bells, the sounds lingering and overlaying, and then she began to glow. The opal colors between her scales flared, then spread out in a scintillating white cloud as Karalti’s form blurred, dissolved, and flowed down into a bright nimbus of light.
Lord Soma held his breath, taking a single step back, while Istvan cried out and nearly bolted. The nervous crowd of soldiers scattered with him as the light faded, a collective gasp went up around us.
[Karalti has learned Polymorph I!]
Chapter 14
The light cleared, and my jaw dropped.
In human form, Karalti was small, lean and athletic, like a dancer or a gymnast: a balanced, compact ribbon of muscle and soft curves. Her skin was creamy and iridescent by torchlight, the curves of her back and her face glinting with hints of pearly color, like a rainbow boa’s scales. Her hair was a glorious, razor-straight fall of inky blue-black that poured down to her hips. And her face… she was Tuun. Wide, high cheekbones, a full, small mouth, eyes as elegant as a calligrapher’s brush stroke. She was perfect, from her long slender neck down to her graceful, narrow feet. She was also buck-ass naked, and every single man on the parapet was staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment.
When she saw my expression, her eyes grew big and dark with excitement. Then she squealed, ran, and pounced. “Yay! I did it!”
I caught her mid-leap. “Tidbit, I-”
Karalti made a distinctly inhuman screech of joy as she latched onto me with her arms and legs and spun us around. Her hair swirled across my arms like heavy silk, and as I breathed in the cloud of scent, I finally realized what my dragon smelled like. It was lotus flower. Karalti smelled like a lotus in full bloom, waxy and sweet.
“Hector! I did it! I can go inside buildings again!” She butted her head against my neck, chirping and trilling. “We can sleep together again! No more cold stables, no more stinky hookwings! Comfy bed! And snuggling!”
“Absolutely, Tidbit. I mean, Karalti. I mean… ummm…” The combination of her scent, her strength, the petal-soft skin of her cheek against mine was quickly stripping me of higher function, common sense, and self-control.
She pulled her head back to meet my gaze with hers. Her eyes were still the same: a brilliant amethyst purple shot through with veins of silver, the iris and pupils large and birdlike. Before I realized what was happening, I fell into it, into her, just as I had when we’d sealed the Bond. Her feelings were more mature now, no longer the raw, primal need of a hatchling seeking food and safety… and as I gazed into her, I realized something. In the time we’d spent together, that her pure, simple love had never faded. But it had changed.
“Eeee! Hector!” Rin’s musical soprano broke over the stamping of boots and the chatter of men. The little Mercurion rode on the back of one of her turrets, the other one bounding along after her. Suri followed up on foot, leading Cutthroat. The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and she molded the front of her body against mine as the pair drew near.
“I can definitely, really explain this!” I blurted once they were earshot. “Suri, this is-”
“Karalti, I know. We saw her vanish from the gangplank.” Suri had Cutthroat’s reins in one hand, clasping them just under the brutish hookwing’s jaws so that she couldn’t turn around and bite anyone. She was wearing her gift from Ignas: a fine suit of flame-scorched plate armor and a long, black-red cloak that faded to scarlet around the hem. Ignas had called it Burning Man’s Plate. She wore it without the helmet, her short red hair tousled and freshly trimmed. “No mistaking that stink-eye she’s giving me, either. How the hell’d you shapeshift like that, Special-K? Is that a Queen Dragon thing?”
“That’s my secret.” Karalti scowled. She stepped back and tossed her hair over one shoulder. The limited coverage it had given her naked body was suddenly irrelevant.
“Good grief, man!” Soma tutted, sweeping his cloak from his shoulders. Before I could stop him, he advanced and lay it around Karalti’s shoulders. “Here, your Holiness… this is the least of the gifts I could give to honor such arresting beauty.”
Karalti opened her mouth to try and speak aloud, but all that came out was a weird honking rasp. Her eyes widened, and she clamped her hands over it with a little squeak of dismay.
“Baby steps, Tidbit.” I gave Soma a reluctant nod of acknowledgment and straightened up the enormous cloak so that it covered Karalti’s modest, but shapely chest. Then, something occurred to me. “Wait: Karalti, do you have an inventory?”
“Yeah!” She said. “When I changed, my saddle and the saddle bags went in there.”
“Then you should be able to carry armor and weapons.” Curious, I surfed to my own Inventory and selected the Nizari armor set. It came with everything but gloves. I added the Cold Iron Gauntlets I’d found in the tomb underneath Taltos. “Here, Tidbit: I don’t think you have any weapon proficiencies yet, but these gloves double as unarmed weapons. They’re good against undead, too.”
“Yeah! I have unarmed proficiency!” Karalti huddled in against me while I made the transfer to her Inventory - I still had access to it - then closed her eyes for a moment. “Okay... aaaand... equip!”
The leather armor appeared on her body, a Middle Eastern-looking assassin set with layers of artfully aligned leather and plate. It hugged Karalti’s curves a little more than it had on me, and she made it look good. The gloves were brutal: full-sleeve gauntlets forged from pitted cold iron that went almost all the way to her shoulders. She examined her hands, delighted. I pulled the marquee-sized cloak off her and threw it back to Soma, who took it like he was now handling the Shroud of Turin.
“There you go.” Suri clapped her on the back before she had time to react. “You look like a right little warrior princess.”
“NO TOUCHIE!” Karalti pulled her lips back over her gums, flashing top and bottom rows of razor sharp, shark-like locking teeth.
Istvan grunted. “A dragon who turns into a maiden. Now I have seen everything. Forgive me, Flamehair, Mercurion - we have not been introduced?”
“Not yet. Suri Ba’hadir, the Lioness of Dhul Fiquar.” She held out a hand to Istvan first, and then belatedly added: “Countess of Racsa.”
A tic started by Soma’s eye as Istvan shook ahead of him. When Suri turned to him, he lifted his chin. “A Dakhari countess now? Ignas is handing out titles like priests handing out candy to children during the Dark Moon Festival. Trying to make up for Andrik’s noisy nationalism, is he? Flaunt his tolerance?”
“Andrik’s death opened up a few appointments.” Suri flashed him a lovely, acidic smile. “You must be Lord Soma. He told us all about you.”
“Wait: you’re Lorenzo Soma?! THE Lorenzo Soma?! Oh my goodness, I’ve heard all about your work with L.A.E.H.T Engines!” Rin, oblivious to any sort of ritual noble protocol, burst out before Soma could really react to Suri’s barb. “Is it true that you managed to extend the range of the Super Storm DM-Long Haul by 2000 miles!?”
Soma blinked down at her a couple of times. “Why... yes, as a matter of fact. Just before this nonsense with the Demon broke out, we were looking at putting those engines into mass production for His Majesty’s navy.”
“Lord Soma is an Artificing genius.” Rin turned to us, while Istvan watched on with arched brows. “He’s published over
fifty articles about the development of hybrid long-distance airship engines using BCM-GCM synthesis via induction compression and conjugated Words of Power and... oh...” She trailed off, suddenly realizing that only one other person in the room had understood anything she had said.
Soma laughed uproariously. “Spoken like a true Artificer! Passion, that’s what I like to see! Not enough passion around this place. You’re a light in the dingy gloom of Fort Korona, girl. Those turrets are yours, are they? Mind if I look at them?”
“Yes! I mean, no! I mean... sure!” Rin blushed bright blue. She was clearly starstruck.
“Hold a moment, Istvan.” Soma pulled his one normal gauntlet off, revealing a surprisingly work-worn hand. He went to Hopper and Lovelace and knelt in front of them. The pair of Artificed turrets jittered in place like nervous hounds. “Khors breath, they’re responsive. Oh... yes, yes. Look at that! I can’t smell any gas, but these joints must leak during movement, surely? I always had that problem with articulating joints…”
“They’re sealed with copper solder and silicone gel, like kneecaps!” Rin blurted. “Bursa! I got the idea from studying anatomical manuals!”
“Oh, yes, I see the mechanism now... fascinating. What Word conjugation did you use to stabilize the bi-lateral sensor coupling? E.O.M or M.O.T?”
Karalti cocked her head, clinging to my arm. Suri watched on with a touch of bewilderment. Istvan had that sullen pouty face going again. And me? I was confused. Soma was the weirdest combination of meathead jock and science nerd I had ever met.
At that point, Istvan reached his limit. “Soma! Quit with your damn machines and pay attention to your officers! The marshals are making their approach! We are here to win a war, not play with trinkets!”
Soma paused nattering with Rin. He turned as he rose to his feet, eyes narrowed to icy slits. “These ‘trinkets’ are potentially the blueprints for very powerful weapons against our enemies.”
“Oh, yes. Let us send heavy metal creatures out into the mud carrying payloads of mana in their veins.” Istvan gestured angrily at the turrets. “YMachines can’t swim! They can’t float! Why do you want to send machines into the Great Marsh when you know the undead use that... that poison to make more of themselves!?”
The Count sneered. “You’re a fine one to talk about poisons, you insolent drunkard. Bolza might have let you get away with this behavior, but I’ll have you on the gallows by morning if you don’t sober up and pull your head out of your-”
“Hey, guys. Cool it.” I held up my hands. “Please.”
Istvan’s eyes flashed hotly as he turned to glare at me. Soma’s heavy jaw clenched. Rin, still kneeling beside Hopper, seemed to deflate.
“Some kinds of machines can float or swim,” I said. “But Istvan’s got a point.”
“Yeah. It’s not a one size fits all situation.” Suri gave a curt nod.
“It’s true,” Rin added nervously. “The articulated design on Hopper and Lovelace makes these guys fantastic on uneven terrain or in urban scenarios, but they lack a ballast and there’s a risk that, umm, the joints get clogged with mud. We could develop different styles of locomotion. I always wanted to work on an ATV-style Artifact.”
“Yes, yes... that’s entirely possible. I actually have some blueprints drawn up for powered water vehicles.” Soma stroked his stubbly chin, the captain’s attitude apparently forgotten for the time being. “You, girl - Rin? I like you. Istvan, you handle these foreigners. This talented Mercurion and I need to discuss Artificing and trade.”
Istvan’s eyes glittered with barely contained rage.
“It would be great to get a brief on the situation here.” Suri joined me and Karalti on my other side. “The more we know, the more we can help.”
“Yeah.” I glanced at the two men as they gave each other the stink eye when they thought no one else was looking. “Because it sure as hell looks like you need it.”
Chapter 15
The War Room at Korona was nothing like the palatial digs at Vulkan Keep. There were no fancy maps or mahogany furniture here: just chickens in the hallway outside, old smelly reeds on the floor, and a solid stone table covered in a messy jumble of maps, markers, notes, bottles and wooden cups. The walls were covered in more maps, ledgers, notes and scraps of parchment, with routes through the Endlar marked up with flags and pinned thread in different colors. I couldn’t help but notice the vast majority of the swamp was uncharted.
“Kutzi keri. You see what I have to deal with?” Istvan said sourly, plopping down onto one of the chairs. He knotted his fingers up through his hair, staring down blankly at the map nearest him. After a moment, he pushed it away and took up one of the bottles. “Do any of you want a drink?”
The cup nearest me smelled like fermenting fruit juice. I peered over the rim. There were a couple of mold floaters on the surface of the liquid inside. “Not for me, thanks,” I said, steering the dragon to a seat. Karalti darted her head to one side like a curious bird, staring at a shiny letter opener on the table glinting under the light of the chandelier.
“Suit yourself.” Istvan got one of the cleaner mugs and filled it to the brim with a milky, frothy liquor that smelled a cross between sweet bourbon and yogurt. “So, you want a briefing on Korona? Two thousand men arriving on short notice, another hundred in quarantine, close to a hundred injured – some brutally – and a constant flow of refugees beating on our gates. There’s plague spreading in Slutlava. Everything has been a disaster since Karhad fell. You want to know my problems? I can summarize with one word. ‘Soma’.”
“Listen, I know you hate the guy, but this kind of talk isn’t helping you or anyone here. He’s your commanding officer, whether we like it or not.” I steepled my fingers and let them rest between my knees. “You’re digging yourself into a hole, my dude.”
“The hole was already dug.” Istvan paused to slam back his drink. “There’s nothing to do in Myzsno now but join the ranks of the dead.”
“Start from the beginning,” I said slowly. “Because you look like the kind of man who doesn’t scare easily or normally say shit like this. Tell us what happened in Karhad.”
Some of the fight drained from Istvan’s wiry frame. He shook his head slowly, taking another pull off his mug.
“The Demon destroys everything in his path,” he said haltingly. “He twists the land, tramples and Stranges the fields, seizing, or just butchering the animals wholesale. He adds their carcasses to the rest of the dead in his ranks. They march without tiring, destroy without caring. The only things that repel them are fire and water.”
“And what about you?” Suri asked. “What’s your story?”
“I am... was... the Castellan of House Bolza.” He looked up, his pale green eyes flashing. “I was orphaned at a young age, and my life was spent in service to the Voivode of Myszno. I served in Egbolt Castle in Karhad, fighting while Andrik Corvinus refused to send aid. We struggled alone against an army who grew larger with every battle we lost. Every person who falls is added to this… this thing’s army. I lost my family, my hold… then I had to fight them. My wife. My children, my neighbors. Even my own dog came at me, guts hanging everywhere.”
I leaned back. “Jesus.”
Karalti crooned in agreement, searching the table for things to push onto the ground.
Suri stayed standing, as she often did. She wasn’t much of a sitter. “I’m sorry, mate. Can’t think of a worse situation than what you went through.”
Istvan bowed his head. “Nearly everyone here has a story like mine, except for Soma. You must understand first that Karhad is not a city built for war, but for river trade. The city walls are rammed earth, wood and daub. The worst things we ever saw there in my lifetime were Tyrannosaurus, Yanik raiders, sometimes monsters. We did not need large walls until now.”
“What kind of tactics does the Demon use?” Suri asked. “Any idea as to his overall strategy? What he wants?”
“Who knows? We have no idea what he
wants.” Istvan shrugged. “As for tactics... in Karhad, they hurled the living dead over the walls with catapults to begin the assault. Kalxat came forth next, blacking out the sky alongside chimera stitched from the bodies of wyverns and quazi and other animals. The horde followed: fast, fearless, immune to pain, carrying all kinds of weapons and tools. There were countless number of them, tens of thousands. They climbed over their own fallen corpses as their bodies mounded against the walls, and soon, it was over. The wall fell quickly, and they overran the city, butchering everyone they came across. How can you fight a man who pushes himself along your pike and feels no pain?”
He paused to drink, then sighed. “We held them off at the castle for a while. Closed the gates, poured oil in the moat and lit it ablaze. But the undead piled into the water until the flames were extinguished, and when they reached the gate, they punched through it with nothing more than nails and teeth and axes. I remember the smell, more than anything… and their commander. Behind the mass assaulting the castle rode the Demon himself.”
“You saw him?” I leaned in with interest.
Istvan nodded. “Briefly.”
“What did he look like?”
“He…” The man closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing. “I have never seen anything more terrifying. He is monstrous. Tall, well-built, like some terrible bronze temple statue come to life. His teeth gleam like sharpened metal stakes. He wears half plate with cloth of gold and all kinds of tarnished finery, and his mount… he rides a great skeleton aurochs made of gold or bronze, a bull the size of a tyrannosaurus. I never once saw its hooves touch the earth. He stood behind his elite guard during the assault, I remember, with a whip in one hand and a long gold staff with a great black stone in the other. I watched him use the staff to cast foul magic on the castle grounds. The gardens withered before our eyes, and the gates rotted away. His army poured in like an ocean of flesh and bone... it was all we could do to flee for our lives.
Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset Page 92
