Varia fluttered down to the dragon’s face and looked into his eye that was almost as big as she was. You have to try! Change to your man-shape, Crucible. Do it now, or you will die.
When she sees me, she will hate me, he replied. I have betrayed her trust.
She should be allowed to make up her own mind, the owl insisted, and she won’t be able to do that if you are dead.
The bronze lifted his head and nudged Linsha with his nose. “I am sorry,” he groaned. His eye closed again, and a faint glow of light began to glimmer on his scales.
Linsha raced around to his back. She could still hear the sounds of the battle behind her and the wild yells of the centaurs; she could smell the thickening smoke of the grassfires. But she shut out the stink and the noises and the fear and placed a vallenwood leaf on each hand so her fingers matched the lobes of the leaves. She focused her thoughts inward. Although she feared there were many dead souls on the battlefield, she hoped perhaps she could use her healing ability just long enough to help ease the pain as she pulled out the barb.
The glow of light brightened and began to sparkle. The spell was slow, for Crucible was weak, yet it appeared to be working. The dragon was suffused in the golden light from head to tail, and his wings quickly shrank and vanished. His large body began to grow smaller within the aura of light. Linsha was forced to squint in the brilliant glow as she watched for the small reddish barb.
When Crucible shrank to something close to fifteen feet, Linsha spotted the tail of the barb penetrating the glowing area that she guessed was his shoulders. It glared through the beautiful light like an ugly splinter, its color dark with blood. She did not hesitate. Her leaf-covered hand shot through the coruscating energy of his being.
Linsha gasped. She was suddenly inundated by the power of Crucible’s being in a massive rush of memories, thoughts, emotions, and worst of all, his pain. Her consciousness reeled from the overwhelming assault of the dragon’s wounded mind, and she felt herself slipping both physically and mentally away from him. She was losing him.
No! No-no-no-no-no-no.
It was the only word she could dredge from the chaos of her mind, but it worked. Short and emphatic, it served as an anchor for her will and gave her a grip from which to reach deep into the wells of her ability. From her blood and her bones, she drew the strength to push her own awareness to the forefront and to focus on her own magic. Using the power drawn from her heart, she touched his mind and reassured him with the warmth of her presence. Crucible fell still. As they joined in mind and body, they became as forged together as two different creatures can be.
The dragon scales around Linsha’s neck began to glow, and she felt a new power emanating from the scales. Emboldened, she pushed her arm deeper into the dragon, seeking the dark red impurity of the barb. Her fingers touched it and caught the end before the barb could slip deeper into his back. For just a moment she felt the heat of the thing burn her fingers, then the power of the leaf surged through her hand and into the barb, cooling its foul heat and nullifying its power. She sent her own magic surging out of her heart, down her arm and fingers, and through the leaf into his form. He continued to diminish in size while she gripped the barb in one hand, then with both hands.
The leaves began to crinkle at the edges and turn brown. Linsha gritted her teeth. Her throat and mouth were dry, and she could feel the hungry, tickling touch of souls draining away her power. But the scales fueled her determination, and she did not let go. As Crucible dwindled to the size of a tall man, the leaves lost their vitality and wilted. The heat of the barb returned and scorched her hands. Ignoring the pain, she held tighter and began to pull with all her strength. Crucible’s tail vanished. His forelegs shrank to human arms.
An instant later there was loud pop and several things happened all at once. The blinding light vanished in the wink of an eye, leaving Linsha blinking at the spots in her vision. Unable to see clearly, she felt rather than saw the barb pull loose from Crucible’s back, and she stumbled backward, the barb still burning her hand. She dropped it like a searing coal and stamped on it. The scorched shreds of the leaves fell from her hands.
A deep groan of pain came from the ground near her feet and drew her attention from the dart. She rubbed her eyes, blinked, and looked down at Crucible’s shape sprawled on his belly. He had become a tall man, powerfully built, with dark gold hair, and skin deeply tanned. A torn, bloody wound disfigured his upper back and right shoulder. Blood ran in rivulets down his neck.
Linsha stared at him. Their union created by need and magic Was broken, and in its place a sick, cold feeling crept slowly through her heart and mind. She hadn’t thought she had ever seen Crucible in his human shape, but she realized, looking down at the wounded man at her feet, that she had been wrong.
Her hand reached out to his arm, and she carefully rolled him over to see his features. The face she saw was the face of a friend-or someone she had imagined was a friend. The features that turned toward her with a mixture of apprehension, pain, and relief were those of Lord Hogan Bight, Lord Governor of the city of Sanction.
She fell to her knees beside him. “No,” she whispered. “This isn’t right. It can’t be right.”
And yet, an unobtrusive part of her mind said why not? When had she ever seen them together? But she couldn’t believe it completely. She couldn’t accept that another man she had liked and respected had lied to her and deceived her.
“Why?” she said in choked-off cry. “Why did you take the shape of Lord Bight? What do you think you’re doing?”
Varia came to land on the ground beside the man and hooted softly. “Linsha, he is Lord Bight. And always has been.”
A tear trickled down Linsha’s cheek. She rocked on her knees, her mind reeling. He was a dragon. The dragon was him. “Oh, gods,” she cried, and suddenly the flood of tears she had kept at bay for so long broke loose and flooded her eyes. Her vision blurred and swam so badly that she did not see the look of dismay and grief on his face.
He struggled to sit up and reach for her, but she wrenched away from him.
“You lied to me!” she screamed at him with all the fury she had held inside-placed there by Ian and Lanther and by too many trials and deaths. “For ten years I have thought you were human. Did you think it funny to keep me in the dark? To make me such a fool? And you!” She turned on Varia. “You knew, didn’t you? All those looks, those remarks to Iyesta, the laughing! You two must have thought I was so amusing, to be so deluded and not have the slightest idea. How dare you!”
Varia wisely said nothing.
Crucible, however, tried to say, “I told her not to tell you. I was-”
Linsha cut him off with a rage as sharp as a sword. “Going to tell me yourself some day? Exactly when? I worried about you and your city. I wanted Crucible to be with you and keep you safe. And little did I know he’s been with you all the time! When were you going to tell me? Never?”
Summoning what was left of his strength, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered to the sword Linsha had dropped earlier. He picked it up, although he could barely hold it or even stand upright. Blood was running down his back, and his limbs were shaking.
Linsha glared at him and struggled off her knees. “Oh, no. No, you are not going to fight here. You are not going to die after all we went through to help you. Leonidas!” She bellowed with all her exploding emotions. “Leonidas! I need you!”
It never occurred to her that the young horseman might be busy or dead. Hoofbeats pounded behind her, and the buckskin centaur cantered to her side. He was splattered with blood, filthy with dirt and sweat, bleeding in several places, and looking rather wild-eyed. But he was still alive and kicking.
“What is it?” he said quickly. “The Akkad-whatever-his-name-is has not gone far. I think they’re treating his wound. His guards are still around.”
Linsha wiped her eyes again and ran a quick glance over the field around her. Close by, Horemheb fought with a Tarmak guard
, yet farther away through the smoke and dust she saw only sporadic fighting around piles of dead and wounded. She was surprised and alarmed to see the main battle had moved away from their position. In fact, the Duntollik warriors seemed to be pulling back. To the north she could see the flicker of flame through the billowing clouds of smoke. She strode over to Lord Bight and yanked her sword out of his hand. He was too weak to stop her.
She pointed the tip of the blade at him. “This man is wounded. Take him behind the lines. Get him out of here.”
Leonidas looked at Hogan Bight askance. “Who is he?”
“The Lord Governor of Sanction, a tomcat, a dragon… who in blazes knows? Just take him out of my sight!”
The young centaur stared at Lord Bight, then at Varia, and finally at Linsha. Receiving no help from any of them, he nodded to Linsha. “I’ll get Horemheb to take you. The wind is changing and those grassfires are moving fast.”
“No!” Linsha said venomously. “Just take him to Danian. He’ll know what to do. I will stay and fight as a Solamnic Knight.”
“Linsha,” Bight said softly. He lifted a hand and gently touched the bronze scale hanging by the chain around her neck.
“Go!”
Leonidas recognized that tone that brooked no argument and instantly obeyed. He moved in beside the wounded man and hauled him over his withers. With one hand to hold the man on his back, he hefted his sword and whistled once to Horemheb who was busy dispatching a wounded Tarmak. A jerk of his head signaled to the big chestnut to join Linsha, then Leonidas took off at a canter across the valley toward the tribal lines.
Linsha watched them go, weaving between the clumps of fighting men, until she could no longer see them through the smoke and haze. Filled with unspeakable misery, she blinked back more tears and clutched the sword until the hilt dug into the flesh of her burned palm. She knew Horemheb had come to her side, and she knew he could carry her away from the field and over to the Duntollik army. She wanted to go. She wanted to find Falaius and Sir Hugh. Especially Sir Hugh. Besides herself, he was the last Solamnic Knight from their circle. Together they could fight and uphold the honor of the Knighthood. And yet… she could not force her body to move. The struggle to summon the magic and free the dragon had taken more out of her than she believed possible. In the turbulent aftermath, she had not felt the effects, but now a heavy cloak of exhaustion and despair settled over her shoulders and drained away her energy, her will, her desires. Her arms and legs felt like lead. Her head was too full of tears and confusion. The day seemed to grow dark around her. Her lungs burned in the smoke of the approaching fires. She had no notion of how long she stood there, rooted to the torn up ground, nor did she notice Horemheb shouting at her. Varia fluttered by her head, screeching a warning, and still she could not move. A tall, dark shape charged at her, and it was all she could do to raise the heavy sword and parry a powerful blow to her body.
Another powerful voice demanded something in the Tarmak tongue. More shouts echoed through her dazed mind. More shapes moved around her in an odd slowed motion that barely registered on her failing vision. She heard Varia squeal something. Somewhere close beside her, she heard a centaur bellow in pain. She turned her head just as a spear point jabbed her back. The sword fell from her nerveless fingers. She stood, swaying in a dark mist. She caught a glimpse of a golden mask, and a blue painted hand clamped over her face. Varia screeched, but Linsha could not react. An agony sharp and brutal stabbed into her head and sent her senses spinning. She screamed once, and blackness closed over her.
27
The Prisoner
The first thing Linsha became aware of was a deep throbbing pain behind her skull. It was a rhythmic pain as steady as a drumbeat, and it seemed to go on for hours. It took her quite a while to realize that part of the rhythm stuck in her brain was a drumbeat, pounding somewhere outside and accompanied by the noises of what sounded like a joyous celebration. Linsha didn’t care. Drowned in lethargy, she did not have the will to pull herself out. She lay without moving and sought the darkness and solace of sleep.
Someone walked into wherever she was and without a moment’s consideration, rolled her over onto her back.
The movement set off a concert of temple drums in her head. A groan hoisted itself out of her aching body, and she clamped her hands to her throbbing head. For a sickening moment, she thought she was going to vomit.
“Good,” said Lanther’s voice. “You’re awake.”
A hand slipped under her head and lifted it just high enough to push a cup of something to her lips.
“Drink this,” he ordered and punctuated his demand by forcing the contents into her mouth.
She sputtered and tried to spit it out, but he poured more in until she was forced to swallow a mild, almost sweet-tasting liquid that slid like warm wine down her parched throat.
He laid her head back, and she could hear him moving around the… where was she? In a tent? She opened her eyes and was relieved when her head did not shatter from the dim lamplight that lit the tent around her. When she could focus clearly, she looked around and saw that she was indeed in the Akkad-Dar’s tent. Darkness flooded in from the open tent entrance, explaining the necessity of the lamps. Outside, the celebration sounded like it was proceeding well.
“Welcome back,” the Akkad-Dar said. “You almost didn’t survive.”
Linsha did not bother to answer. She swept her eyes over the tent again, and this time she saw Varia sitting on a crude perch near the Akkad-Dar’s black seat. A chain connected a band fastened around the owl’s leg to the perch, and her wings looked like they had been clipped. Varia sat hunched, her feathers fluffed out and her dark eyes vacant. This more than anything else stirred some emotion in Linsha’s numb mind. She frowned. The warm drink had had some surprising effects, and she realized her stomach was not churning any more and her head felt somewhat better. She pushed herself to a sitting position on the pallet. But that was as far as she could go. Her entire body felt as if it had been caught in an avalanche and beaten to a pulp with several thousand tons of rocks.
“What have you done to Varia?” Her voice came out in a croak.
“The same thing I have done to you. Cared for you.
Kept you subdued. You are lucky I did not kill you both when I discovered you’d found a way to free the dragon. I had looked forward to killing him myself.”
Linsha swayed slightly in the effort to stay upright. “How long have you kept us like this?” she asked huskily.
He sat down in his chair and lounged back on the fur pads with all the arrogance of the Tarmak. His skin was scrubbed clean now, and his long hair was pulled back behind his head. A shadow of a beard darkened his jaw and outlined the ragged scar down his cheek. He wore a black tunic and pants, which Linsha found an improvement over the blue paint and linen kilt. There was no outward sign of his arrow wound.
“About four days. Long enough to crush the feeble attempt made by the tribes and clans of this land to stop us and to take the towns of Stone Rose and Willik. In a few days we will attack Duntol. They have no chance, but I am hoping they put up a fight.”
“Gods,” she moaned. “Leonidas should have killed you.”
“Thanks to the One God, he did not. Now, I have a proposition for you.” He poured more of the warm, sweet liquid into the cup and brought it to her. Kneeling, he offered it to her with gentleness and the grin she remembered from their time in Missing City. “Drink this. It will make you stronger.”
Linsha looked at him. “What is your proposition, Dark Knight?” she snarled.
The reminder of his erstwhile profession pushed the smile off his face. “I was a Dark Knight only long enough to learn dark mysticism and establish my relationship with Takhisis. After she sent me my Vision, I left the Knighthood and returned to the Isle of the Tarmaks. I am the Akkad-Dar.”
Linsha snorted her disdain. “You are a traitor, an assassin, and a Brute. They deserve you.”
He set the cup dow
n beside her. Swift as a snake, he clamped a hand behind her head and pulled her against him. He kissed her long and hard, then let her fall back on the pallet, panting.
“Urudwek told me I should just take you,” he said, jumping to his feet. “But that is for whores. You have earned my admiration this past year. I would rather offer you a choice. Stay with me. Fight by my side. Bear the children of my new dynasty, and you will have my respect and the power of my name. You will be the empress of these Plains. Stay with me, and I will free your owl and allow your dragon friend to live. However, if you refuse me, I will keep the owl and send you back to the slave pens in Missing City. And when I find Crucible as a dragon, cat, or man, I will sacrifice him to the Dark Queen and present his skull to her in tribute.”
Linsha looked into his vivid blue eyes and thought that once, perhaps before the death of Iyesta, if Lanther had offered his hand to her as a lover and a companion, she might have taken it. Now it was too late. Lanther was dead to her, and this tall, blue-eyed man that stood before her was a stranger who offered her the wages of dishonor and prostitution. There was no decision to be made.
“There was a man before you,” she replied in an almost conversational tone, “who also tried to seduce me. He was a Dark Knight, too. An assassin and a treacherous spy who deceived me and tried to kill me.” She sighed. “He died on the side of a volcano. Where would you like to die?”
The Akkad-Dar’s eyes glinted with cold humor. “I’ll take that as a no.” He snapped an order to a guard just outside the tent and watched as a Tarmak warrior fastened shackles’ around Linsha’s ankles and wrists and chained her to the heavy center tent pole. “However, I will give you a little time to change your mind.”
He turned on his heel and strode from the tent into the darkness.
Four days later the city of Duntol fell to the Tarmak invaders. Because of its importance as a trade city in the northwest plains, the Tarmaks treated it and its population in a similar manner to Missing City. They massacred all of the members of the government and the city watch, they drove off or killed all the defenders, and they selected many young, able-bodied people to be used for slave labor. They set about repairing much of the damage caused by the battle and swiftly organized a military government to run the city.
Flight of the Fallen l-2 Page 25
