Spear of Destiny

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “The cost will be significant,” Soma replied cautiously. “And the College is not capable of extending credit. However, my own House may be willing to do so… if required. I know Racsa is still in terrible shape after the war.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Racsa is fine, thanks. And I don’t need credit: you’ll be paid in full. However, as your Voivode, I’m going to request a discount for the sake of the realm. Twenty-five percent off materials and assembly, as per the Volod’s request that we prioritize activity related to the Warsingers.”

  Soma turned white, then red, then narrowed his eyes. He really, REALLY wanted to argue… but I’d caught him, and he knew it. “As the Voivode commands. Shall we go and fetch this rare metal stockpile?”

  “Sure. Karalti will be glad to get it off her back.” I motioned to the hangar door with my head, then headed off in that direction.

  My dragon was crouched down on the tarmac, resting some weight onto her arms and winghands to offset her burden. She pivoted her muzzle toward us as we exited, and let out a huge sigh of relief.

  “Finally! Come get this stuff off me!” Her tail lashed as we pulled up to her. “I don’t mind carrying you guys around, but I really don’t like this whole ‘use Karalti as a pack mule’ thing.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry we had to ask you. Thanks for helping out, Tidbit.” I went into her Inventory and loaded it into mine, one piece at a time. Both the scrap and the sonic organs from Perilous Symphony went on the cart Soma had brought with him. Rinse and repeat ten times, until Karalti was back to a quarter of her maximum weight and over half a ton of precious metal was stacked beside her.

  “Where did you get all of this? And the blueprints?” Soma rubbed his hand over the metal sphere Gar had removed from Perilous Symphony.

  “Meewhome!” Rin replied cheerfully. “We went there to find this stuff.”

  Soma sneered. “Ahh. Yet another thing the cats ‘liberated’ from the mainland, is it?”

  “They made all of these artifacts,” I replied sourly. “The console, the first nine Warsingers, and the Chorus Vaults where the Warsingers were stored.”

  Soma let out a derisive laugh. “Pull the other leg, Dragozin. They are a dull, indolent species who are barely capable of laboring in prisons, let alone producing masterworks like these. No, this is the work of humankind, no doubt about it.”

  “Hector’s right, though,” Rin insisted. “The Meewfolk made all of this. The blueprints are written in an ancient form of their language.”

  Soma didn’t seem to know what to make of that. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. We’re sure.” I resisted the urge to reach up and grab his ear, pull his head down, and headbutt him in the teeth. Instead, I turned to adjust Karalti’s saddle cinch, rolling my eyes where he couldn’t see. “Anyway, we need those sonic weapons more than we need the blueprints right now, so please work on those first and keep us posted. Karalti and I are going to run a quest for Vash, but you should be able to send PMs.”

  “Will do! I’ll update you as soon as I can.” Rin, obviously grateful to be off the subject of Meewfolk, nodded enthusiastically. “Come on, Soma! Let’s get started!”

  “Yes, yes. You know, perhaps I should work on this console while you manage this weapon project?” Soma asked her, already ignoring my orders in favor of his true passion: figuring out the best outcome for himself.

  “Ugh.” Karalti groaned to me telepathically as I climbed back up to the base of her neck. “At least he isn’t trying to flirt with me this time.”

  “Right? He’s like the worst combination of a Silicon Valley tech bro and some white guy’s old racist uncle,” I replied. “Wonder what he’s going to say when Ignas announces our impending alliance with Meewhome.”

  “I don’t care what he has to say about it, actually.” Karalti launched herself from the ground, her powerful wings driving up clouds of dust and loose gravel. “Whatever his opinions are, they’re probably rubbish.”

  I watched the lights of the college recede, and turned my face toward the southern horizon as Karalti banked into a thermal, using it to rest in preparation for teleporting. “You want to fly home the long way for once? Just you and me, the sky… you know.”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s been a while since I got to stretch my wings properly.” Karalti broke out of the thermal, levelling out into a swift glide.

  “You’re not really mad at me about Solai, are you?” I asked.

  “No, not really. You WERE pretty drugged. I tried speaking to you a few times, but all I got was this endless stream of durrrrrrr.” Karalti flicked a wingtip as we sailed out over the crystalline blue lake that marked the border of Litvy, breaking out over the vivid green wilderness that lay beyond the city. “Also, I talked with Suri about some stuff while you were… uhh… busy.”

  “Stuff?”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  I laughed aloud. “Tidbit, how many times have you tuned into me when I’m in the middle of something embarrassing and-or intimate?”

  My dragon huffed. “Well, I told Suri what happened when you two were together in Bas, and that I thought she was really beautiful, and… yeah. She was nice about it, but…”

  “But?”

  “She thanked me, but said she thinks of me more like a sister than anything else. She’s really comfortable sharing you with me, but she doesn’t want the three of us to… you know. She asked me not to tune in again, too. You know, when you are her are together.”

  “Oh.” I drew a deep breath, not sure if I was disappointed—or relieved. “So… what did you say?”

  “I told her I understood,” Karalti said. “I’m not sure I like girls in that way, either. When I thought about it, I was excited because you were excited. I hope that if I ever take a mate, you’ll like him in the same way.”

  “Maybe.” I paused for a moment. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it, to be honest. If some husky boy dragon ever takes a liking to you, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “Me either, to be honest.” Karalti paused awkwardly. “Really, I want you to catch me. The first time, and every time after that. But what Lahati said is weighing on me a bit. I might be the only Queen dragon left on Artana. And if I am, I have a duty to my people to find a mate and establish my linage. I WANT to do that. I just… don’t want to do it with anyone else but you.”

  I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. “Weird question: what about polymorph?”

  “Huh?”

  “Instead of you turning into a human, could you like… turn me into a dragon?”

  Karalti thought about it for a few minutes. I could almost hear the gears in her head turning. “No. You know how when I polymorph, I only kinda look like a human?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I think I could kind of turn you into a dragon. But you won’t BE a dragon. You get what I mean?”

  “I think so.” I frowned, troubled. “I guess we’ll just have to roll with what we’ve got for now.”

  “Yeah. And that’s not too bad, is it?” Karalti mused to herself as she headed towards the distant ruins of the Prezyemi Line. “Hey, there’s something I want to do after we’re finished helping Vash.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to take you to my favorite hot spring and camp out next to it for a night or two. There’s a place nearby I go to hunt, too. We can just… be together for a while. You and me, and no one else.”

  I closed my eyes against the wind. “I couldn’t think of any better way to handle your time of the month, Tidbit. Let’s do it.”

  ***

  We fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip. The flight gave me time to recharge, and to think about our next goal: the reclamation of Withering Rose. With a weapon like her on our side—fully repaired, fueled and armed—even Ororgael would give pause before striking at Vlachia. In my dreams Rin and Soma worked some miracle and we
were able to fix Nocturne Lament and arm Vlachia’s warships with weapons that could knock our enemies out of the air. Ororgael would have to slow his roll and replan his next moves, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to win through attrition.

  I was feeling pretty good by the time Kalla Sahasi was in sight, and even better when I zoomed in and saw how much work had been done on it in the six days we’d been away. The broken tower was still missing a roof, but most of the walls were back up. The Lord’s Tower was completely repaired, as was the curtain wall and the gatehouse. When we landed, it was on fresh slate, free of moss and broken stones. The scaffolding had moved: volunteers were working on the cornicing and other decorative features.

  “Wow!” Karalti exclaimed, craning her neck as she turned to stare. “The castle looks amazing!”

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face as I dismounted, shaking my head in wonder. “I… yeah. Wow is the only word for it.”

  I bought up my castle map. Most of the major facilities were back up and running, save for the War Room, Library, and Court Mage’s Oratory, all of which were features of the tower that was still being fixed. Our bakery, kitchens, granaries, and barracks were all online. Kalla Sahasi probably hadn’t looked this good in a hundred years.

  There was a cheerful whistle from behind us. I turned slightly to see Istvan bounce out of one of the gatehouse doors. He looked relaxed and happy, his hair worn loose down his back. He’d switched his usual coat and brigandine for a nicer shirt. I’d rarely ever seen him without his armor.

  “Heya, man. How’s things?” I clapped my hand into his when he came to a stop. “The place is looking great.”

  “It’s like a dream come true,” Istvan replied. “This place was my home for years, and with the exception of a few structural repairs, I’ve never seen the old battleaxe look better. Was your mission a success?”

  “Sure seems like it,” I replied. “Let’s go find someone to sit down and have a drink and a bite to eat. Karalti? Want to join us?”

  “I’m going to polymorph and go sleep in our room.” She lifted one of her feet as she stretched her wing out, yawning wide. “It’s been a long week. Come snuggle with me when you’re done?”

  “Happily.” I rubbed her ankle, then turned back to Istvan. “All yours.”

  “The parlor in the gatehouse has been restored,” Istvan said, beckoning me to follow him. “As have the steward’s quarters and the butlery, thank the gods. Rudolph and I are both glad to have our own rooms.”

  “For sure.” I fell into step with him as he headed for the entry to the gatehouse. “Is Vash back yet?”

  “I received a letter from him yesterday. They’re almost ready with the next shipment,” Istvan said, holding the door for me and following me up the stairs behind it. “They focused on removing the gold and coinage first. According to him, they will be excavating the rest of the goods there for at least a full month.”

  My eyebrows shot up. A month was a long period of time to complete a task in Archemi.

  “It has to do with the delicacy and care required to retrieve the grave goods.” Istvan seemed to read my mind as he opened the door ahead of me. “Vash, being who and what he is, is guiding the excavation team in the proper handling of the dead. There are Tuun warriors buried down there with them, did you know that?”

  “Yeah. There’s some kind of relationship between the Tuun and the Solonkratsu and tulaq that was lost in time,” I said. “All three were here in Vlachia several thousand years earlier than most historians believe.”

  Istvan’s mouth quirked in a small smile as we climbed the stairs. “I didn’t realize you were a student of history.”

  “‘Student’ implies commitment. I’m more like a slime-mold of history, passively absorbing information as I crawl around in swamps and caves.” I marveled at the gothic corridor we entered at the top of the stairs. The craftsmen had used contrasting dark and light stone for the walls and doorways, and the floor had been finished in white mosaic, inlaid with a repeating design of dragons in flight. “I can’t believe how much work the people here have done. This is incredible.”

  “This is how they wished to show you their gratitude,” Istvan said. “Believe it or not, you have already done more for Karhad and Myszno than Lord Bolza did in twenty years.”

  I let out a brief laugh. “What? Really?”

  “Yes. Lord Bolza was a just and fair man, but he was not a reformist,” Istvan replied. “He was heavily invested in his heritage as one of Myszno’s founding families, and thus, he favored policy which reinforced the status-quo. Poor people remained poor, rich people remained rich, and neither had much affinity for the other. You have indicated by word and deed that you are approachable in the way that my lord never was. Not only that, but you drove the Demon from the land and have prioritized public spending.”

  “So, they celebrate the fact I’m approachable by building me a big fancy castle?” I grinned at him.

  Istvan smiled wryly. “Yes. I have heard the same praise from many mouths. The citizens of Racsa are pleased to furnish their Voivode with a fine home. A fine castle burnishes the beauty of the city it oversees, and is something for them to be proud of. Though, now that you have guest accommodations, I think it would be wise to start courting the other nobles of the land.”

  A home? It was strange to think of this place as a home. I passed my hand over one of the walls as Istvan stopped and opened a room ahead of me. “Any particular reason?”

  “Yes. Following the Battle of Solonovka, there is a rumor circulating that you are a military prodigy who may wish to reform all aspects of the province, and some of your Satraps are starting to become nervous. The fact we have over five thousand veteran soldiers garrisoned on our doorstep has not dispelled these rumors.”

  “Well, they can stew for a while longer. I’ll make some time to do a meet and greet, but I’m not going to be upset if they’re nervous.” I came to a stop as Istvan did. “What would you recommend?”

  “My suggestion is that you host a victory ball once the castle is complete, and use it as an opportunity to demonstrate generosity and strength.” He lay a hand on the door handle. “You will have the facilities to do so. This room is an excellent example of what Myszno’s crafters are capable of.”

  He opened the door, and a wave of warm air wafted over us. I eased in, eyes widening as I took in the view.

  The artisans had done the parlor up in warm, rich colors: golds and honey-yellows, deep browns and charcoal, all of which contrasted well with the white and gold lights overhead. The bay windows looked down into the courtyard. There was a sofa, chairs, a small reading table, two bookshelves, and a small, fully stocked bar. It was dark and comfortable, rich with the scents of woodsmoke, leather, oranges and whiskey. And it was all mine.

  “Lord Bolza insisted his décor always be in the colors of his livery, but you seem to prefer a less ostentatious look,” Istvan said, folding his hands behind his back. “This seemed more appropriate.”

  “It’s beautiful.” I gingerly sat down on the leather sofa. It was the color of dark chocolate, springy and comfortable. “Where did all this stuff come from?”

  “Here and there. Don’t worry, it’s all paid for.” Istvan went to the bar and took down two tumblers. “Brandy?”

  “Sure.” I tried to relax, but it was difficult to believe—really believe—that this stuff belonged to me. It looked like an upscale bar, or a billionaire’s private study. I’d grown up expecting I’d never own a normal home, let alone… this.

  Istvan brought my brandy over and set it down, then took the seat across from me with his own glass of water. “How does it feel?”

  “Surreal,” I said, picking up the dark amber liquor and swirling it once. “I worry I’ll get too used to it.”

  “You’re no Lorenzo Soma.” Istvan flashed me a wry smile. “Care to bring me up to speed on your efforts? And the campaign against Ilia?”

  “The campaign against Ilia is pretty s
traightforward, for the moment. Ignas is flying the entire 2nd Fleet in, and Jeun and Dakhdir are joining him to drive Ororgael and Lucien Hart back,” I replied, sniffing the brandy curiously. “Suri, Rin, Karalti and I went to Meewhome.”

  Istvan’s lips quirked. “Meewhome?”

  “Yeah. We recovered blueprints for four of the Warsingers, and tech that might lead to some serious advances in weaponry and communications. We made a good diplomatic start with the de-facto rulers of the Meewfolk. If Ignas is willing to communicate with them, and I figure he will be, they’re open to backing us in the event the Drachan are released and have to be put down.”

  Istvan’s eyebrows arched. “That is a considerable achievement for one week.”

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s weird. I feel like I haven’t done enough.” I had a sip and rolled it over my tongue. The brandy was sweet, creamy and caramelly, with just a hint of spice.

  “Restlessness is not a bad thing for a leader to feel, in moderation. Do not worry, my lord: you are far from indolent.”

  “Man… try telling that to my dad.” I let out a small, bitter laugh. “How are things here? I know you’ve got a list of things we need to do.”

  “A short list,” he replied. “There are more cases of Thornlung in Riverside—twenty or so people are ill, but the plague does not seem to have spread beyond the district walls. We have three of the five healers you requested and supplies ready to go, but we still need to source two more if we are to effectively combat the disease.”

  “That’s what I’ll be doing while Rin does her thing in Litvy.” I frowned. “What else?”

  “The artist who is to design your heraldry and banners has arrived, quartered in a guest room just down the hall from us,” he continued. “Also, those Starborn you met with have finished clearing the university of monsters and brigands. They requested houses in Karhad as their reward in lieu of payment. I granted them apartments and encouraged them to take up quests around the city to make their living.”