Vehel covered his face with his hand, and Warsgra heard the pain in his voice. “You think she’s dead?”
“No. I won’t believe it.”
“I thought I saw something,” Orergon said. “Right before the explosion happened. There was movement through the air.”
“Aye,” Warsgra snapped. “Dela falling.”
But he shook his head. “No, something far larger. It was flying.”
Warsgra frowned. “The dragon? You think the dragon was there?”
He nodded. “Possibly. I’m sure it wasn’t a hallucination.”
“Like the Seer’s home, you mean?”
Orergon’s teeth bit into his lower lip. “You think that whole place was a hallucination?”
Vehel clambered to his feet and looked around. “Not all of it, but most of it was created by magic. It wasn’t real.”
“Where do you think the Seer is now?” Warsgra asked. “Do you think she’s still alive?”
“I’m not sure it’s possible to kill her,” Orergon said, “and I’m not sure she was ever alive to begin with.”
It was a strange thought, but it rang true.
Warsgra suddenly realized his axe was missing. He’d had it in his hand when he’d brought it down on Vehel’s ball of light. By the Gods. It had to be around here somewhere. They’d each found their weapons again when they’d been transported to the north, so he hoped they’d find them again now.
The alley was narrow, and there weren’t many places it could have gone. Knowing his luck, it had ended up through the roof of one of the neighboring homes. Hopefully, it hadn’t gone all the way through or someone might have had a nasty shock while lying in bed.
“What’s wrong?” Orergon asked.
“I’ve lost my damned axe.”
The other two helped look, scuffing their feet along the piles of trash that lay stacked up against the walls, and checking the gullies that carried dirty water alone each side of the alley, but there weren’t many places it could be. The lack of daylight didn’t help the search.
“Sorry, War,” Vehel said as he turned to face him, “but I think it’s gone.”
War. That was what Dela had called him when they’d made love. Emotion swelled inside him at the memory. They couldn’t have lost her. They just couldn’t. They had to cling onto the hope that what Orergon thought he saw was real.
He felt naked without his axe. His hands were big and strong, and he wouldn’t hesitate in snapping another man’s neck if he had to, but that axe had been like a talisman to him. Dela gone. His axe gone. What next?
Orergon stood straighter. “I think if Dela manages to make her way here, she’ll go to her parents first. She talked all the time about how much she wished she had a way of letting them know she was still alive. She won’t come to the city without reaching out to them.”
Warsgra nodded. “I thought the same thing. There was a boy here when I woke. I asked him if he knew where Dela’s family lived, but he didn’t know.”
Vehel frowned. “So word might be getting around that there are foreigners in the city.”
“I threatened him not to say anything.”
“Good, but you know what a boy with a secret is like. Chances are it’ll be off his tongue within minutes.”
Orergon nodded down the alleyway. “Let’s get moving, then. We should try to cover some distance before the sun comes up and the city starts to wake.”
They each glanced up at the sky. It had been pitch black when they’d woken, but already the black had lightened to a deep, cobalt blue. Sunrise wouldn’t be far away, and as soon as the sun made an appearance above the horizon, the inhabitants of Anthoinia would begin their day, too.
“We can’t just wander around like this,” Warsgra pointed out. “The City Guard will be on us within minutes.”
Vehel pressed his lips together. “We’ll keep our eyes open for something we can disguise ourselves in.”
Keeping their heads down, they started down the alleyway. They reached the end and turned right, though none of them knew where they were going. Each street looked the same as the last, and they wound down one and then the other, with no heed for direction. They turned down another identical alley to find washing lines strung across it.
“Look, a cloak.” Warsgra gestured to one of the items hanging from the line.
Vehel was clearly the least human out of all of them, so he took it, pulling the hood up to cover his pointed ears and silver hair. Warsgra knew he’d be lucky to find any human clothing to fit him, but he couldn’t wander around with his bare chest and legs.
At any sign of movement, they darted into the nearest doorway or changed direction and waited for it to pass. Eventually, they came across another cloak, left discarded on a chair outside someone’s front door. Warsgra took that one, covering his long hair with it, and hunching down to try and make himself appear smaller. That only left Orergon, who eventually snatched up a hat and used that to cover his head. The disguises were far from perfect, but it helped them not stand out quite as much.
But as the hour crept forward into morning, the streets of Anthoinia came to life around them. Most of the men of a fighting age had been sent to travel through the Southern Pass and fight, but those who were younger or older, or had a profession deemed to be needed in the city, remained, and of course the women and children were still here, too. They went about their morning routines, flapping rugs and bedding out onto the streets, heading to market, and feeding the children. Even with their heads and faces hidden, they looked like a strange group to be walking through the streets, especially when most of the men were gone. It was impossible not to notice how the children stopped and stared as they passed by, and how the women glanced at them and quickly looked away.
“We need to find somewhere to hide,” Vehel hissed. “This is getting us all the wrong attention.”
“You were the one who dumped us in the middle of the city,” Warsgra growled in reply.
Orergon shook his head. “We don’t even know where we’re going.”
“To the castle,” Vehel said. “That’s where Dela will be heading, if she manages to make it here.”
“No,” argued the Moerian. “She’ll try to make it home first. She’ll want to see her parents.”
A group of small children had been playing with a stick and woven ball, and they stopped their game to watch the three of them pass.
Warsgra pulled the hood further over his face, trying to sink into the back of it, so the shadows would disguise his features. He hunkered down a little lower. “I agree. She’ll want to let them know she’s alive. And anyway, it’s not as though we can just storm the castle. We’ll need to sneak in, and right now I don’t think we’re doing a very good job of sneaking.”
Orergon frowned. “But how are we going to find Dela’s home in all of this?”
Warsgra shook his head in dismay. “I have no idea.”
The place was a warren of cobbled streets. Tiny homes were back to back, housing families that appeared to have at least seven or eight children each. The stink of the streets rose off the cobbles, and dirty water ran in a narrow channel on each side. He watched as one of the women came out of her home and emptied a bucket of filth into the water. He hoped the same water wasn’t used for drinking or washing. How could people live like this? It made him homesick for the wide open space of the Southern Trough and the endless expanse of the Great Dividing Range. The air was so clear out there, he felt purged just to inhale it. Did these people know this wasn’t the best way to live? Strangely, he’d always thought the humans had it best, that they’d been the ones with expensive homes and full bellies, but looking around at the skinny, dirty people, he wondered if the Norcs, Elvish, and Moerians were actually the ones who’d had it best all this time.
“This place is like a labyrinth,” Orergon said as they turned into yet another alley that looked identical to all the others they’d been down. “How are we ever going to find Dela’s home?”
Vehel gave a sigh of exasperation. “Surely someone will know her. Her family name is Stonebridge. She said she worked helping the blacksmith.”
Warsgra lifted his eyebrows. “So we’re just going to ask around? You don’t think that’s going to get us noticed?”
“We’re already getting noticed,” Orergon pointed out, “and if you have any better suggestions, I’m happy to hear them.”
He clamped his lips together. He didn’t. Orergon and Vehel were the smart ones.
They ducked down another alley, still without any definite plan in mind or direction to go. A commotion came from up ahead, and in front of them people darted back into their homes. Mothers scooped up their children under their arms and vanished back inside.
“What’s going on?” Orergon asked, as they slowed their pace, already sensing danger.
Then came the sound of heavy footfalls, moving at a fast pace toward them.
Warsgra frowned, wishing more than anything that he had his axe to brandish. “I think we have company.”
From around the corner ran a troop of City Guards, each armed with swords. Their timed footsteps beat a tattoo on the ground, but they spotted the strange group standing there and drew to a halt.
“By the Gods,” Warsgra swore.
They were outnumbered. Warsgra missed his axe. He couldn’t fight a sword with bare hands.
He glanced to Vehel and Orergon at his side, seeing the same indecision in their faces that he was sure was in his own. Stay and fight, or turn and run? They could run, but where would they go?
Vehel tossed aside the cloak he’d used to cover his head and quickly drew his bow and arrow. He moved with deft skill, releasing two arrows before the men of the City Guard even knew they were under attack. Orergon also threw away the hat he’d been covering his head with and pulled his spear. The tip was sharp and lethal, but the handle was wooden, and would be easily cut in two by a sword if he wasn’t careful.
“By the Gods,” Warsgra swore. “I need a weapon.”
Orergon bent and pulled a small blade from his boot and tossed it to Warsgra. “Here.”
Warsgra caught the knife by the hilt. The blade was barely the size of his hand, but it would have to do. He’d have to move fast if he stood any chance of not losing an arm.
He counted the men of the City Guard. Five of them, so they were outnumbered.
“Back up!” he called to Vehel and Orergon.
They were going to struggle to win this.
Moving as one person, the three of them walked backward, trying to put more space between them and the City Guard. Warsgra quickly went into fight mode, and he scanned the men of the City Guard for any points of weakness he’d be able to attack. The men wore partial sets of armor—chainmail breast plates, helmets but without the face guards, forearm guards, and leg guards. There were areas that were exposed—the armpits and the backs of the knees, and the throat where the helmet met the gorget. But he’d need to get up close and personal to be able to deliver a strike with his blade in one of those spots.
Vehel continued to let his arrows fly. One of the arrow heads struck a City Guard in the calf, and the man let out a cry, staggering back to take shelter behind his comrades. As he tried to move, his leg refused to cooperate, and he fell, landing on the arrow, snapping the shaft and driving the arrowhead deeper into the muscle.
Vehel’s arrows kept the men back for the moment, but that wouldn’t last. He’d run out soon enough.
More footsteps came from behind them, and Warsgra glanced over his shoulder to discover a second group of City Guard running toward them. They were trapped.
Even if Vehel had an endless supply of arrows, he wouldn’t be able to release them in two directions at the same time.
“Use your magic, Vehel.”
The Elvish prince shot him a glance. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Warsgra lifted his eyebrows. “Why not? We’re in a bit of a situation here.”
“If I use my magic in front of everyone like this, I might as well write on my forehead that I was the one who broke the Treaty. You think that’s going to end well for me? For any of us?”
“If we end up dead, that’s not going to end so well either.”
“They won’t kill us,” Vehel said. “Not right away, anyway. They’ll want to find out who we are and what we’re doing here. Let them, and I’ll use my magic to get us out when no one is looking.”
“Any idea on who we say we are?” Warsgra asked.
“We’ve come for a parlay with the king and queen. A way to talk this through.”
Orergon nodded in agreement. “It’s a good idea. It’ll get us inside the castle, at least.”
Warsgra stood, brandishing his dagger. The City Guards’ men approached, cautiously at first, but then with more confidence as they realized Vehel had run out of arrows. Warsgra was a good fighter, but he didn’t like his chances with one dagger against ten full sized swords.
“Wait!” he called out to the men. “We’re not here to fight. We want an audience with King and Queen Crowmere.”
The City Guards’ men cast uncertain glances at each other, unsure how to proceed with this news.
“My name is Orergon Ortiz of the Moerians,” Orergon announced from beside him. “This is Warsgra Tuskeye of the Norcs. And this is Prince Vehel Dawngleam. We’ve traveled a long way, as I’m sure you can see. None of us wants to die today. Take us to see your king, and we won’t put up a fight.”
“You’ve already injured my men,” an older member of the City Guard snarled.
“You were coming at us with swords,” Orergon continued. “We were just trying to buy ourselves some time.”
The people of Anthoinia had made themselves scarce while all of this was going on. They clearly didn’t want to get caught up in the fray.
Orergon straightened himself to his full height. “If you harm us before your king and queen get the chance to speak with us, they’re not going to be pleased with you. I imagine such a thing would end in punishment for yourselves, and I don’t imagine that punishment would come lightly.”
Warsgra watched the men’s faces. They shifted uncomfortably as Orergon’s words sank in, and a couple of them allowed the points of their swords to drift lower to the ground. They looked toward the older man who’d spoken before, clearly looking for some guidance about what to do next.
The older man didn’t address Orergon, but jerked his chin to his men. “Take them in. Lock them in the dungeon until we can speak with King Crowmere. The King will most likely ask for their heads anyway, so no matter if we do it here, out in the street, or in the castle’s dungeons.”
The City Guard surged forward on both sides. Warsgra held himself back from his natural urge to fight, and he gritted his teeth when one of the men kicked him in the shin, and then plucked the dagger out of his hand. It would have only taken him a matter of seconds to slit the man’s throat, but he held himself back. They needed to get inside the castle walls, and right now this appeared to be the best way to do it. Unless Vehel used his magic, they weren’t going to win this fight, and as the Elvish prince pointed out, using magic out here in the open, with citizens of Anthoinia looking on, probably wouldn’t be the wisest of decisions.
Even so, when one of the City Guard grabbed one of his arms, and a second man took hold of the other side, it pained Warsgra to allow the two smaller men to push him along. He threw a glance at Orergon and Vehel, and could tell from the expressions on their faces that they, too, were having a hard time in not fighting back.
This is for Dela, he told himself. Once within the castle walls, they could search for the dragon egg the Seer had told her to find. He imagined presenting the egg to her, and how happy she would be.
That was assuming she was still alive.
Chapter 25
Dela
It felt as though they’d been flying forever. The sun had risen higher in the sky then gone down again, and still the dragon hadn
’t needed to rest. Dela was flying among the stars, the ground below in total darkness, as though it did not even exist. The warmth of the dragon’s scales eventually lulled her to sleep. She had no fear of falling, trusting that he would sense her slipping and adjust his position if needed.
When she woke, the sun hadn’t yet risen, but when she dared peep over the side of the dragon’s body, there was more than just darkness below. Small flames illuminated the area far beneath them in the shape of a huge circle, and she knew what she was looking at. Those were the torches burning on the great wall surrounding Anthoinia.
She was finally home.
How she was going to get down there, however, was another matter. She knew the dragon wouldn’t want to be seen. Would the cover of darkness be enough to hide his massive body and wingspan? Or had he realized the time had come when he needed to come out of hiding?
The dragon circled, gliding lower and lower. Dela risked leaning forward, trying to spot her home, but it was impossible to discern amongst the rabbit warren of alleyways and houses. Still, she knew which side of the river she lived on, and as they lost height, she was able to make out the market square.
No, it wasn’t only because they were losing height. The sun was beginning to rise. When it did, the people of Anthoinia would rise, too, and if any of them deigned to look up, they would see an enormous dragon circling the skies above them.
She recognized the quarter where her family home was located. She wished she could put her hand on the Dragonstone she carried in her pocket and imprint on the dragon’s mind the exact location of her house, but she didn’t want to risk doing that. For him to reject her now would be more than heartbreaking—it could kill her. All it would take was a tilt of his body and she’d fall to her death.
“Over there.” She pointed to the area she needed. Did the dragon even understand what she was saying? She had no idea. But he did seem to bank in that direction, and her heart lifted with hope.
The dragon wouldn’t be able to land in the middle of the city, however, not without causing uproar. They still had the cover of darkness on their side, and they needed to use it. She didn’t want the dragon to be seen—not yet, anyway—and especially not by the City Guard, who would be sure to report back to King Crowmere. The sight of a dragon in the city would be sure to cause alarm, and they would put up their defenses and make it far harder for her to enter the castle. Even in the dark, if someone happened to be wandering around, they’d notice the gigantic dragon circling to land. Of course, the only people who tended to be wandering the streets when it was dark were those who’d been in the taverns all night, and no one was likely to believe anything they said anyway.
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