“Thus is the will of the Council made clear,” Clarissa declared. “Argus of Corland shall direct our forces in defense of Jalan’s Drift.”
Silence at the table, as if the Dukes were stunned by their own actions, and Argus allowed himself a tight smile as he said, “I formally accept the charge laid upon me by the Council, and I swear I shall do my outmost to defeat the invaders and defend the Drift of Jalan. I…”
He came to a stop as Brillis got abruptly to her feet, a violation of protocol that went beyond rudeness.
“My Lords and Lady, I trust you will accept my apologies, but the defenses of the Drift require my immediate attention.”
She turned and walked right out of the meeting without another word. Argus was boiling with rage at the undisguised insult. Going to attend to the defenses of the Drift without so much as a word to the Council’s chosen leader of their armies. This bitch will pay, he promised himself darkly.
The rest of the Council was still attending upon him, and it seemed as if some could read the words in his mind and were already questioning their decision. He steadied himself and offered a thick smile.
“We have the best troops available to defend the strongest fortress in all the world,” he told them. “We shall prepare a proper welcome for Regnar and his folk.”
* * * * *
Shannon gaped at the city spreading out below, for even at night and with the veil of the ethereal mists about them, she could see this metropolis made Alston’s Fey look like a forest village. The outer wall was a massive structure that stretched from one mountain side to the next, and she could just make out the second wall that followed the same curved course as the first. She could not make out the details of the sleeping city even as they passed directly above it, but she saw wall after wall extending past the second, each one slightly higher than the one before.
“Jalan’s Drift,” Adella told them. “The greatest city in all the Southlands, perhaps in all the world.”
“And the ultimate prize sought by Regnar and the Silver Horde,” added Malcolm.
They were slowing and gradual descending at the same time, and Jhan stiffened beside her. Never a good flyer, he was even worse with landings. She gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze and got a hard constant pressure in return.
“The fourth tier,” Adella observed as they passed the fourth wall and began to descend into the city proper. “What are you planning, Wizard?”
“We have a little meeting to attend,” he answered. “Just a casual gathering of old friends and new.”
“Will the small matter of our uninvited visit to Llan Praetor come up?” she asked.
“Oh, I expect it will be one of the central subjects of conversation.”
Shannon swallowed hard, not liking the reply, and Jhan’s grip tightened painfully on her hand, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the Wizard’s words or the rapidly approaching ground.
They stepped out of the ether into a small, unremarkable city square with only two arched exits at either end, the shops all closed for the night. The square itself, however, was well lighted to show at least a score of heavily armed warriors and a small carriage with two miniature horses to pull it. Shannon stared at the carriage, wondering if it were the toy of some noble’s child, for clearly the small horses could not pull the carriage any great distance. Then she noticed the tight arched exits from the square, and her eyebrows rose in appreciation. The carriage wasn’t intended for the open roads and vast distances of the country but rather the narrow streets of Jalan’s Drift where smaller size might well mean greater speed.
As if to confirm her thought, a footman reached forward and opened the door of the coach, and a woman stepped down without assistance. She was short and stout with a mass of blonde hair, and while her face was still largely free of wrinkles, she was clearly on the verge of leaving middle-age behind. She wore trousers with legs baggy enough to suggest a skirt and a simple blouse with a leather vest over top, the effect one of efficiency without denying her gender. She came towards them, her manner direct to the point of brusqueness, and she carried some kind of short cane or riding crop in her gloved hands. When she came to a stop, she cracked the crop against one glove as if warming up for some real blows.
“Madam Mayor, may I have the honor to present the woman Adella?” Malcolm said with a small bow. “Her companions are named Shannon and Jhan, and they accompanied her on her unannounced visit to my home.” He glanced back to the three of them and added, “This is the Lady Brillis who is Mayor of Jalan’s Drift and Designated Defender of the City.”
Adella nodded once. “I know you well by reputation, Lady. The Drift has prospered under your guidance.”
“I know of your reputation as well,” the woman replied, her manner unfriendly. “And that the Drift is less prosperous because of it.”
Adella actually smiled in answer, and there was a momentary plateau, the two women taking the measure of each other. Shannon suddenly realized this was like a cat finally confronting the biggest rat in the house and not being allowed to kill it.
Malcolm interceded and said calmly, “The march of events has presented us with a new list of priorities. Lady Brillis has suggested that we consider past transgressions in light of future actions, and she has asked that I weigh the needs of the Drift before addressing the matter of the invasion of my home.”
“And what is this new list of priorities?” Adella asked.
“An enemy is approaching our gates,” Brillis said, her voice steady and stern. “An enemy that will sack this city and kill every man, woman, and child within if it should fall. We are in need of every ally and every sword if we are to survive, let alone triumph.”
There was a momentary silence as Adella appeared to weigh both the words that had been said, and those that remained unspoken.
“You have the armies of the Southlands gathered in your defense,” she said carefully. “Thousands of troops, the best generals to lead them, and the strongest walls in the world. Yet you make a special request of the Wizard Malcolm to bring me here. Why?”
Shannon felt the words touch on some hidden issue, the tension of the group rising almost imperceptibly, but Brillis let no more than a single heartbeat pass before saying, “You value the Drift as highly as the rest of us. The city is now in need. Will you flee or will you stand?”
“I ask again. What help can a single woman be in the midst of such powers?”
“One very special woman with one very special sword,” said an individual stepping out from the shadows. He was a slender man of medium height wearing a dark green cloak with a raking hat slanting down over his eyes, and while Shannon could not tell his age, she guessed he was in his late thirties, perhaps early forties.
“Tallarand,” smiled Adella and offered a small nod of the head. Her voice showed no inflection, but Shannon had traveled with the woman long enough to recognize a hint of surprise. Whatever she may or may not have been expecting, the presence of this man was unforeseen. “How are your interests involved here?”
“It has been clear to me for some time that a change in the governance of Jalan’s Drift would be bad for business,” he explained with a small shrug. “Therefore, I have offered my services to the present administration for the duration of the crisis. They, in turn, have agreed to overlook certain outstanding complaints that have been unfairly lodged against me by members of the Merchant’s Guild.”
Adella’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, and she shot a glance at Brillis. The Mayor nodded. “There are at least three such…complaints…lodged against you as well. Should your service in this crisis be deemed of value, I am reluctantly prepared to quash those also. The matter with Malcolm, of course, falls outside my jurisdiction, but he has already assured me he would consider any such service when determining proper remuneration.”
After a moment of consideration, Adella asked, “What would you consider valuable service?”
Brillis and Tallarand both looked to a
man in military uniform who had been standing in the background. He was tall and strongly built with a fierce black beard shot with gray and a savage scar on one cheek that ran into his facial hair, making the observed grateful for the beard. He didn’t seem to be of a particularly high rank judging by the ribbons and frills on his uniform, but he carried himself with a confidence that was accustomed to being obeyed.
“This is Colonel Stavis, Commander of the Garrison of the Drift,” introduced Brillis. “He will help explain what is needed.”
The man nodded once in acknowledgement, then addressed himself to Adella.
“When the enemy launches a determined attack on the city, we will not be able to hold the outer wall.” The man’s voice was calm and level, almost as if he were merely speaking of the weather, but his words made the hairs rise on the back of Shannon’s neck. “With stone giants pounding the gates, and 30,000 troops scaling the ramparts, we haven’t the resources to hold such a wide perimeter, regardless of what this castle-breaking titan can or cannot do. We will make a stand, of course, and we will make the enemy pay some small price for their aggression, but once we know we are facing a serious assault, we will fall back to the second wall.”
Watching closely, Shannon felt a tension in the air as this man spoke casually of surrendering a sizable portion of the city.
“And how is the second wall different from the first?” Adella asked.
“It may not be,” Stavis admitted. “It has a shorter perimeter and only two gates to three for the outer wall. Here, we will make our first real stand and test the enemy’s metal. Extra ballistas and catapults have been installed, and we should be able to deal with the giants and the scaling ladders of the Northings.”
“But you can’t be sure about the castle-breaker,” Adella concluded, her tone showing growing comprehension. “And the second tier of the city is the bazaar.”
The Colonel nodded, and Shannon felt as if he had actually smiled. “Exactly. The favored hunting grounds of rogues, robbers, and thieves of all types and descriptions. For centuries, these brigands have eluded even the redoubtable magistrates in that rat-warren.”
“Now, you would like these folk to be present during a retreat and offer some cover to your troops if they are hard pressed,” Adella concluded.
This time, the man actually did smile, though it was hardly more than a small twist of one side of his mouth. “Yes. The enemy will be scattered and disorganized as they press for the third wall. A force that is able to rise up unexpectedly after the first rush passes might be able to do serious harm to the invaders, perhaps even take some of their commanders unawares.”
“Except the enemy will fall with real ferocity on these raiders and pursue them wherever they flee,” said Adella. “You will have time to get your troops safely behind the third wall. At the piddling cost of our lives.”
“You will be able to use the sewers to affect your escape,” interjected Tallarand. “Any invaders who try to follow you down there won’t last long.”
“Don’t you mean ’us’?” Adella asked.
“I fear I have other obligations and might not return in time for the main event,” Tallarand said with regret. “But the underground warriors of this city will follow you better than me in any case. You and Bloodseeker.”
Shannon exchanged a nervous glance with Jhan, and she could tell they both were in complete agreement with Tallarand. The woman was perfect for the task they were assigning her.
“And if I should decline your offer?” Adella asked casually, her hand coming down lightly on the hilts of Bloodseeker.
“Then you are naught but a common thief, and I shall encourage Malcolm to make an example of you,” Brillis replied coldly. “More, I have received a very complete list of your operatives within the walls of the city, and with the extraordinary powers invested in me during this crisis, I shall issue warrants for every last one of them.”
Adella looked venom at Tallarand who smiled slightly and shrugged, confirming her suspicion.
The woman considered for a moment, then let out a short sigh. She bowed low to Brillis. “It would seem, Lady Mayor, that for the duration of the invasion, I am at your service. Let us hope we all profit from the victory. And from the peace that follows.”
Brillis’ cold stare did not change. “Thieves will never be welcomed in the Drift, no more than rats or other vermin. Serve well, and we may find a place for a woman of your special skills. Betray us, and you will find neither profit nor peace here or anywhere in the Southlands. Of that, I make you a promise.”
CHAPTER 21
The Dragons at War
Malcolm levitated in the chill, crisp spring air, the touch of the afternoon sun on his face, and tried to keep from disgracing himself by vomiting. Directly beneath him was the poisonous green blanket that stretched from horizon to horizon, the Canopy of Oblivion, and even here, there was a stain of sulfur and brimstone on the brisk winds. But the stench was only a small part of the trouble assailing his stomach and his heart. As terrible as that noxious covering was, still worse were the images his Wizard’s Sight enabled him to see of the dreadful armada marching beneath it and all those images implied. It was staggering proof that no matter his mastery of the wizard’s craft, his powers were still tied to a fragile human body.
“You tremble, Wizard,” a mighty voice said behind him.
He turned to see Mraxdavar hovering only a few feet above his head, so close he could feel the vibration of the words and smell the past carnage on the breath. The dragon king had his wings spread wide and was lazily floating on the thermals (air heated by the sun and rising in turn) just as seabirds were wont to do, and around them, almost forty of his older children were following suit, some with greater ease than others. The wider the dragon’s wingspan, the easier it was for them to ride on these warm upward winds, and Mraxdavar had brought only those of his family who had reached their full size; and their full power.
“‘Tis naught but the chill spring air,” Malcolm answered. “I’ve become far too accustomed to ethereal travel where I cannot feel the cold.”
“…or feel the other powers of the world,” the Dragon observed. “Do you tremble because you dread retribution for the number of my children you have slain?”
Fear touched him, his heart fluttering at the sheer power of the entity before him, and Malcolm brought himself up sharply. He had been caught in the midst of a despairing day-dream, and the sudden fear he felt was the power of the dragon-speech working on him, the intimidating and overbearing power of an immortal that commanded the truth from weaker minds. Untruths laid a mortal open to the force of the dragon-speech, and the master had heard the hollow lie echoing from the Wizard’s voice. He steadied himself, knowing that only truth would help to keep him from being dominated by that august presence.
He looked firmly at the jaws of the wyrm, carefully as always to avoid the eyes, and said, “I have never killed without a pressing need. Can you make the same claim about the thousands of my kind you have destroyed?”
There was a dark rumble in answer, the sound of a dragon’s chuckle. “A good and proper counter. But speak then. Why do you tremble?”
He took a breath and forced himself to look down at the green clouds beneath them. Lies would not serve here, not on this day, not before this fell being. “Power is a sword that cuts both ways, and knowledge that feeds the mind can also weaken the heart. Somewhere beneath that canopy marches my death. It comes upon me. Possibly today, perhaps tomorrow, but my death marches there as sure as prophecy.”
A moment passed between them, the truth re-establishing their boundaries, and finally, the dragon said calmly, “Immortality is vastly over-rated by beings who face the certainty of death. They ever seek to delay the time of their end, and so come to think the best answer is never to die at all. But time is a cruel master who takes a hard toll even on the gods themselves. Trust me, Wizard. There be worse things in this world than to die.”
For the first
time, Malcolm dared to look the Eldest Dragon directly in the eye, and he saw there an endless experience and a cool and balanced wisdom, the eyes of a being that had beheld ten thousand births and tens of thousands of deaths and knew from whence he spoke.
“Come,” Mraxdavar said softly. “The time is upon us.”
Malcolm nodded slowly and took a breath, knowing that he must formally demand the completion of the bargain. If a thing is to be done, he told himself, it should be done well. And if a few words from my mouth unleashes the power of forty dragons, it will be by far the most devastating incantation I have ever uttered.
“Then I call upon you, Mraxdavar, Lord and Eldest of Dragons, Master of Winds and Ruler of the Deeps, to fulfill now the obligation you have undertaken,” Malcolm announced. Such a pronouncement called for the echo voice that could be heard by the entire pride of dragons, but he was careful to use only his human voice that could be heard by the immediate entourage around the king to avoid any chance of attracting unwanted attention from below. “The force that marches beneath the clouds is foe to both our bloods, and thus their deaths insure the survival of our houses, our children, and ourselves. Strike, then! Strike, and show why the word dragon elicits terror in every language of the world!”
It was a poor invocation, and for just a moment, Malcolm feared that he had not said enough. Mraxdavar continued to ride the thermals and bask in the warm sunshine as if he had not heard a single word, small sparks of energy actually dancing down the eldest wyrm’s back as he gently flexed his huge body, a sign of both health and well-being. Then he lifted his head and let out a low hiss that caught the instant attention of every dragon in the pride, the dragon-speech coming from the lips of their lord and father.
“To honor our obligation, we shall plunge and flame the ground beneath the clouds,” were the words hidden within that hiss. Malcolm was one of the few humans who had ever mastered the dragon-speech, and shivers ascended his spine as he grasped the meaning. “The brood of Bramaclese shall lead, and the broods of his brothers shall follow in his wake.”
Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) Page 25
