by K. C. Julius
Glumly, Whit returned to his tent to continue his studies of the dark arts. He’d made a little progress with transformation, but almost none at all with conjuring. The magic was volatile and unstable, and he feared that learning to actually create something out of nothing could take months, if not years. He’d already suffered a near-fatal misfire while practicing a binding spell, and one exceedingly petrifying moment when he attempted to put a paralyzing curse on a toad, only to have his own mind go completely, terrifyingly blank.
So he concentrated most on the defensive spells, especially those designed to protect against the most dangerous curses. Unfortunately, without a dueling partner with whom to practice—and without the guidance of a more experienced wizard or sorceress—he had no way to gauge if the defenses he threw up would actually be effective against a fatal attack. The horrible truth was, he couldn’t know for sure if he had the spells right until he went into battle against Lazdac.
And by then it would be too late to do anything about it.
Chapter 41
Maura
As Maura and Borne hurried along the darkened streets, she felt a pang of regret over the loss of her magical cloak. It had proved invaluable on her journey to Olquaria, and there were sure be more challenges in the days ahead. But she thanked the gods for the book she’d purchased from Kitapi’s shop, mapping the tunnels under Tell-Uyuk. Though it too was back at the palace, she had studied it so often, the routes were etched in her mind. The tunnel she sought, the one that would eventually take them outside the city walls, wound under the bazaar. The only question was whether they could open the battered little door sealing it off. She’d passed it many times while out on her rambles, but there had always been too many people around for her to test it.
A clatter of hooves propelled them to the shadows, and a company of Companions swept past. Maura prayed they weren’t headed to the home of their friends to search for Borne.
When the riders had passed, she drew Borne down an alley to a shadowed portal. “It’s just here,” she said quietly, then found the iron ring on the door and tugged.
It opened easily, revealing pooling darkness beyond.
“Resourceful girl indeed,” Borne murmured. “You put me to shame. As a defender of this city, I should have known about this particular hole in her defenses.” He stepped ahead of her into the opening, raising the lantern high.
“There’s a hatch in the floor.”
“Hopefully it’s not an oubliette.” Her words echoed eerily around them.
Borne handed her the lantern, then pulled on the rusty handle and peered into the dark hole. “There are rungs in the wall. You can wait here until I’ve seen what’s at the bottom.”
“We’re likely to be more vulnerable from behind than ahead,” Maura replied. She gathered her skirts, tucked them up, and lowered herself onto the first rung.
“Maura, I’d really rather I go first.”
She glanced up at him. “You needn’t be so worried. I’m dragonfast, remember? Facing danger comes with the territory.”
She was rewarded by the appearance of his dimples.
She’d counted twelve rungs when her foot touched the ground. “I’m already at the bottom,” she called up softly.
Quick as a cat, Borne followed.
The tunnel ran straight ahead for some distance, wide and clear. Perhaps it even still served some use. But as they progressed, the floor became rougher, the tunnel more crudely hewn from the stone. Other smaller tunnels veered off at intervals into the inky dark on either side, but Maura had chosen this one because it led true north. At times they climbed, at others, they descended. Puddles of water soaked their shoes, and Maura didn’t care for the occasional scuttering behind them.
When, after what seemed an eternity, they at last came to the tunnel’s end, Maura felt her pulse quicken with anticipation and dread. She longed to be reunited with her dragon, but it also meant parting from Borne. And what if Ilyria wasn’t waiting on the outside? She didn’t dare to dwell long on the implications that would bring.
Borne handed her the lantern, then tried the door. It didn’t budge. He put his shoulder hard to it, and something crashed on the other side. Maura had the presence of mind to quickly extinguish the lantern, then held her breath as she waited for the cries of alarm the racket was sure to elicit.
But none came, and Borne pushed again. The door juddered open to a small grotto littered with a jumble of wooden crates. He began to move them aside.
“I can smell the river,” Maura whispered, “so we must have made it outside the walls.”
Borne looked over his shoulder at her. “If anyone comes, you must say I took you captive.”
Maura nodded. It would do neither of them any good if she were put in the Zindan as well.
Borne reached a hand back for her and led her past the opening he’d made, then they proceeded through the grotto into open air. In the sky above hung a sliver of the moon.
It was time.
“I must stand out of the shadows,” Maura whispered, “so that Ilyria can see me.”
“Then I will stand with you.”
They had taken only a few steps forward when a dark form swooped down from the sky on powerful, wide-spread wings. Maura felt her heart soar as the dragon came to ground with extraordinary grace, and she ran out to throw her arms around Ilyria’s neck. “I’ve been so worried for you!” she cried.
“And I for you, child. There is much to tell you, but we have little time. After we speak, you must return to the safety of the city. I shall not come again.”
Maura felt a thrill of alarm. “What do you mean? I’m coming with you now. I can’t go back to Tell-Uyuk. All foreigners are being expelled.”
Ilyria spotted Borne, who was slowly approaching, his eyes fixed on the dragon’s golden gaze. The dragoness was clearly appraising him, but seemed unsurprised to discover him in Maura’s company.
“You found one another in the end, I see. It is well.”
“You knew we would meet here?” said Maura.
Ilyria didn’t reply, for Borne was offering the dragon a low bow. “It is a harbor long awaited,” he said.
The pale smoke streaming from her deep nostrils signaled her approval of this response.
Maura took up his hand. “Ilyria, this is Borne Braxton. He—”
“I know who he is, and what he is to you, child. Since he must leave this land as well, why are you not going with him?”
“I would welcome her, but I’m a hunted man,” Borne said. “I have to accept that she’ll be much safer with you.”
“Besides that, I took a vow to which you and I are both bound,” Maura reminded the dragon. “We must return to the Isle. What did you discover in the far north?”
Ilyria’s golden eyes narrowed. “I never made it to Belestar. Its borders were sealed with a powerful magic than I could not penetrate. If any of my siblings remain there, I fear they will be trapped forever.” The smoke from Ilyria’s snout darkened. “But some of them, at least, are out in the Known World. There have been dragon attacks in Drinnglennin.”
Maura felt her blood run cold. “Have they all turned against us?”
“Not all. My sister Emlyn has made a binding with your friend Halla, and is with her now.”
“Halla of Lorendale?” Borne said.
Maura turned to him. “You know her?”
“We fought together in Gral. She rode with the å Livåri. I’ve never met a lass who was braver or more skilled at arms.”
While Maura was digesting this unlikely connection, Ilyria cast an uneasy glance at the city walls. “We cannot linger here. I see I must take you back to the Isle, child. If you are determined on this course?”
“I am.” Maura reached for Borne’s hands, and he drew her into his embrace. “How long will it take you to return to Gral?” she ask
ed him.
He held her away to see her face, his own looking forlorn. “It depends on my ship and the whim of the winds. With Gral and Albrenia at odds, we’ll have to put in somewhere along the Delnogothian coast, then travel overland to Lugeneux. I doubt I can complete the journey in less than three weeks.”
She longed to propose that he come with her instead, though she didn’t know how Ilyria would take to the idea. But she knew he was an honorable man, and would not forswear his oath or neglect his duty to his company. Tears pricked her eyes, for she feared he might never even make it to Rizo, let alone back to her once more.
“Keep safe, my love. I’ll be waiting for you.”
He drew her close once more. “I’ll come to Drinnkastel as soon as I’m able. Do you know the Tilted Kilt on Holder’s Lane?”
“I do.”
“You can trust Gilly, the publican there. If you leave word with him where you’re staying, I’ll find you.”
Then he sealed his vow with his kiss.
* * *
Ilyria took to the night sky like an arrow shot from a longbow, and Maura, despite her heartache over leaving Borne, gave herself over to the fierce joy of flight. At first they traveled both day and night, pausing only to snatch a few hours’ sleep on the uninhabited islands dotting the Middle Sea, but when they crossed Albrenian skies, Ilyria could fly only under the cover of darkness, and they spent the daylight hours hiding in caves or wooded groves.
When they finally reached the relative safety of the Erolin Sea, they flew without stopping, so that by the time they sailed into the elven sanctuary deep in Fairendell, both rider and dragon were weary to their bones. Mithralyn’s glades, with the first flush of autumn upon them, had never looked more inviting, and the slanting light of the waning day was as golden as honey.
While Ilyria ambled off in search of a feed, Maura made her way to the palace, only to find the main bowered hall curiously empty. Voices from the gardens drew her there, where she came upon Aenissa, Elvinor’s niece, in the company of a tall elven lady. The beautiful stranger wore a regal gown in fall’s colors, and her jet-black hair, held by a golden circlet, fell well past her waist.
“Maura!” Aenissa leapt to her feet and caught her in a warm embrace. “From where did you come? Are the others with you?” Then she took in the state of Maura’s once-fine dress, and the marks of exhaustion on her face. “Oh my dear, come and sit! Has some ill befallen you?”
“No, truly—I’m well. But I’ve traveled a long way to get here.”
“The young lady is clearly in need of rest and refreshment.” Aenissa’s regal guest offered Maura a goblet.
“Forgive me, cousin,” said Aenissa, “for not properly introducing you. Princess Celaidra, this is Maura—”
The woman’s laugh was low and musical. “I know well who Lady Maura is. I had ample opportunity to observe her during her stay in Drinnkastel.”
Maura’s surprise must have been obvious, for the princess laughed again.
“I’m afraid I’ve let the weasel out of the sack. I serve on the Tribus to the High King, Lady Maura. And since you’ve previously been an honored guest in my cousin Elvinor’s realm, I feel there is no harm in your knowing this.” She pointed her delicate chin at the goblet in Maura’s hands. “You should refresh yourself, my lady. Our mead will ease your weariness and restore your spirit.”
Maura did as she was bid, and felt better almost at once.
“Ah, that’s better,” Aenissa declared. “Now the color is back in your cheeks. But still, you must wish to rest. The tale of your journey can wait for its telling.”
“A moment, cousin.” Celaidra laid a gentle hand on Maura’s sleeve. “I have long wished to thank you, my dear, for your gentle care of your late uncle in his last days, and for helping ease the transition for his chosen successor. The realm is in your debt, too, for your sworn service to King Roth.”
“You know of my oath?” Maura asked, surprised.
The princess smiled. “Master Morgan has spoken of you often.” A faint glow spread over her fair cheeks, giving Maura the impression that the old wizard and the sorceress shared more than a friendship. It reassured Maura that she could speak freely.
“Actually, it’s Master Morgan I’ve come in search of. If he’s not here, I hope King Elvinor can tell me where I might find him.”
Princess Celaidra’s smile faded. “Alas, the wizard is not here, although we wish he were.”
A furrow creased Aenissa’s brow. “My father has gone deep in the forest, and most of our folk are with him, for there has been trouble again with the fae. I expected him back by now, and I confess I find the fact that he isn’t to be worrying.”
The sorceress gently covered Aenissa’s hand with her own. “Have no fear, my dear. He will likely return this night, but if not, you know he can come to no harm within Mithralyn’s borders. Now—we should all take our rest. I shall see you to your bower, Lady Maura.”
Maura was grateful for the princess’s offer, for she was literally swaying on her feet from exhaustion. She moved as if in a dream through the palace’s corridors, longing only for a long soak to wash away the grime of her travels and then to sleep.
At her chamber door, Maura offered Princess Celaidra her thanks, and she was about to slip inside when the sorceress forestalled her. “I forgot to ask—how fares your dragon? I was away from Drinnkastel when that ill-advised attack upon her was launched. I know King Roth has come to regret acting so rashly.”
“She is well, Your Grace. We are grateful for this sanctuary.”
“As are we all, my dear.” Celaidra placed a tender kiss on Maura’s brow. “May Milucra send you sweet dreams.”
Maura had never heard of this elven dream-bringer, but she smiled after the princess as she disappeared into the shadows.
Once she’d closed the door behind her, Maura stripped off her tattered gown, then passed into the interior garden to bathe in the pool, letting the water soothe away her aches and pains. As she floated under the purpling sky, the first star appeared, and she wondered if Borne was watching the same glittering light from his ship on the Middle Sea.
Guide him safely back to me, she willed the star.
When her eyes began drifting shut, she returned to her chamber and fell into bed. It seemed no time passed, though, before she felt the cool touch of fingers on her own.
She started up to find Princess Celaidra perched beside her.
“I’m so sorry to wake you, my dear, but I’ve been summoned back to the capital. I thought you’d want to know that Master Morgan is there. An army comprising a number of lords and vassals from the lower realms is camped outside the Havard Gate, in support of a young prince who claims to be Urlion’s legitimate heir. Master Morgan rides with him, so there must be truth to his claims.”
Maura seized on this hope. If this young prince’s claim proved true, she might not have to serve Roth. “I will go to Drinnkastel as well. Oh—has Elvinor returned?”
“Not yet, but I expect he’ll be back with the dawn. I must caution you though. You shouldn’t take your dragon south. Indeed, it isn’t safe for her to show herself anywhere on the Isle just now. If you wish, you can travel to the capital with me in my coach, but I must depart this night.”
Much as she didn’t want to be parted with Ilyria again so soon, this was an opportunity Maura couldn’t fail to seize, for she was eager to meet this contender for the Einhorn Throne. “I will call Ilyria now,” she said. “I can’t leave without explaining to her why she can’t come too.”
A light sprang up in Celaidra’s eyes. “Yes, of course. How do you call her?”
Maura threw back the covers and reached for her discarded clothes. “I don’t really have one way,” she confessed. “But I think I know where to find her.”
“Shall I come with you?”
Maura hesitated, but
just for a moment. After all, Princess Celaidra was kin to Elvinor. “If you like.”
The two of them made their way out of the palace. In the forest, a gusting wind tugged at their cloaks and sent the branches of the trees swaying violently overhead. Maura didn’t remember there ever being such wind in all the time she’d spent in the elven realm.
When they arrived at the grove where Maura had formally met her dragoness for the first time, she called out repeatedly for Ilyria. But the dragoness did not appear.
The princess looked as disappointed as Maura felt. “I fear we can’t tarry much longer,” Celaidra said. “Are you sure there isn’t some other way you can summon your dragon?”
“I’m afraid not.” Maura’s heart sank at the thought of leaving the dragoness behind in Mithralyn without speaking with her first. “I guess I’ll have to leave word for Ilyria with Aenissa, then send for her once I have a place where she can stay out of harm’s way.”
Celaidra frowned, and for a moment, Maura thought she might raise some objection. But then the princess offered her hand to her. “Very well,” she murmured, “then let us take our leave of Aenissa, and be on our way to Drinnkastel.”
Maura slipped her hand into Celaidra’s, and with a will, pushed aside the sudden pang of anxiety she felt at the thought of returning to the capital—for while Master Morgan was there, so was Roth Nelvor.
Chapter 42
Halla
At her first glimpse of King Roth, Halla had to swallow hard to keep the bile from rising in her throat. The Nelvor had much of his uncle Palan in him—the same fair hair, the lantern jaw, the distinctive height. And the same arrogant sense of privilege, as was evidenced when he opened his mouth.
