by Duncan Lay
Merren gritted her teeth.
‘Alternatively, we could finish the ceremony now.’
‘There is no time! We shall be back swiftly, within a few days. And you shall watch over the country in my absence. After all, you were the one who told me the country was about to descend into anarchy. Who better to keep a lid on any trouble?’
‘Conal can do that. I must come along! There will be more than enough spare time for the marriage ceremony to be finished on board the ships.’
She stared at him. ‘Is that what you are concerned about? Or are you thinking to chaperone me on board a ship with Martil? This will not be a pleasure cruise, Sendric! We are rushing across the sea to save the world! And do you imagine Martil will be thinking of anything other than Karia?’
‘Nevertheless, I should still come along,’ Sendric insisted.
Merren was inclined to forbid him but thought it might be better to keep him close to her, rather than leave him behind, where he could foment trouble. Already he seemed too close to many of the guild leaders and badly needed gold seemed to be getting diverted from rebuilding the towns and feeding the people to restarting industries. While she appreciated the country needed its business community back at work, feeding the people was a greater priority.
‘You shall come along—but I will not marry anywhere but here. The people must see it,’ she warned.
Sendric bowed his head. ‘As ever, your majesty is wise,’ he said.
She spun around and walked back to the altar. Her head said this was foolish, it would be easy to finish the wedding now, then ride hard to catch up with everyone else. But, deep inside, she knew she would never marry Sendric. Part of her said it was because she was worried about Martil, the thought he might fall to pieces if she were married. But the truth was, seeing Martil again, even like this, just reminded her of all she had so nearly lost. She would not make the same mistake again. She would explain it to him, he would understand and they would marry on their return. Simple.
‘Conal, Louise and Gia shall lead the Royal Council in my absence, the rest of us must get to Cessor as fast as possible—and from there to Tenoch,’ she told them. ‘What are you waiting for? Time is trickling away! Hurry!’
With help from Louise and Gia, she picked up her skirts and hurried back towards the palace.
A moment later, everyone began bellowing orders, in human and Derthal.
Sacrax walked across to Martil and embraced him.
‘Karia is part of our tribe. Let the Norstalines worry about this Egg. My warriors go with one thought—to get back Karia,’ he said simply.
Martil nodded grimly. ‘Like a Derthal, I shall not rest until their tribe is destroyed.’
Sacrax clapped Martil on the shoulder and then began shouting again at his warriors, pointing them towards the gates.
‘Come on, you need a wash and to change.’ Conal put a fatherly arm around Martil’s shoulders.
Martil ignored the angry stare he was getting from Sendric and shrugged off Conal’s arm.
‘I suppose the people will hate me for this. Ruining their happy day and risking the lives of their men for a little girl,’ he said bitterly. ‘Well, they don’t have to like me—they just have to follow me.’
‘Not just any little girl,’ Conal pointed out. ‘But I think you might be surprised at what the people do. Sendric’s little survey predictions haven’t come true.’
Martil was not really listening. The reaction to the day’s events was sinking in and he felt hollow inside, but the burning knowledge of Karia’s kidnapping and the warmth of his anger kept him going. He allowed himself to be led towards the palace. The only way to get through this was to think only about what was happening in front of him—and to always believe he was going to get her back, he decided.
Around him was chaos. The shocked crowd had watched as soldiers, in full surcoat and armour, tried to find families to say goodbye, and find horses for the ride south. Derthals had pushed through the streets, while Barrett, Milly and Kesbury, all in traditional flowing robes, also hurried off to change. The sight of the Queen rushing back towards the palace was the last straw—many people seemed close to panic.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Your majesty, what is it?’
The cries of the people forced Merren to stop. She could see the concern on the faces all around her. The last time they had been here, a massive army had been grinding towards them, ready to destroy them. It was natural for them to imagine something similar. She could not tell them the truth—she had to tell them a version of the truth, the cover story they had agreed upon.
‘Gello and his Fearpriest allies have attacked Dragonara Isle. Captain Martil drove them off but they captured his daughter. She used her magic to help the dragons and Elfarans escape, so they think her a powerful creature of the island. We are going to get her back,’ Merren shouted.
She almost held her breath. Would they think this a good enough reason to abandon the wedding, to disrupt the country and take most of the army across the sea on a desperate expedition?
‘The girl that rides dragons? The one that saved you from Gello’s trap in Gerrin?’ someone shouted.
‘That is the one!’ Merren agreed, silently thanking Romon and his bards for spreading such tales so fast and so far.
‘Aroaril speed you, your majesty! We must rescue her!’
The confusion in the crowd changed swiftly, as news spread. People turned to each other, called out the news.
By the time Martil got there, the story had not only spread but changed.
‘I hear Gello has killed almost all of the dragons and this last one only escaped because of your daughter, Captain!’ someone shouted.
‘Don’t worry, Captain! We’ll help! Norstalos won’t forget what you did!’ another roared.
‘We want to help sir! Take us with you! We’ll get her back for you!’
Martil looked around, shocked, to see men and women and children surrounding him. They were not cheering or clapping, they were not shouting abuse or hurling rotten fruit. They looked…sympathetic.
A woman embraced him.
‘I know how you must feel, sir,’ she said simply. ‘I thought my children were lost. It was only you and the Rallorans who saved them.’
Martil stood there numbly until she let him go.
‘Gello won’t get away with this! We’ll help you get her back and sing songs about it for a hundred years!’ someone yelled.
‘We’ll all stand with you, Captain! Anything you need, you say!’
‘Three cheers for the captain!’
Martil stared around him as the people called his name.
A small girl left her mother’s side and offered him something. He dropped to one knee to see she was holding up a small doll.
‘This is my favourite. Take it with you. Your daughter’s prob’ly scared. This will make her feel better,’ the girl stated.
Martil looked at the small cloth doll, which had been lovingly stitched in a blue dress. It had yellow wool for hair, black wool for its nose and mouth and small horn buttons for eyes. He gazed at it and suddenly it seemed to be swimming before his eyes. He saw himself taking it, breaking down and being comforted by the people around him. Perhaps even Merren would rush to him. But while that would help him, how would it aid Karia? She needed him to be an unstoppable force, driving ever onwards, no matter what it took, until she was safe. No, he could not take the doll. Anger and hatred were the only things that would keep him going. He did not need anything else.
‘Thank you. But this is all I shall need,’ he told the crowd, patting the Dragon Sword. ‘And I shall make sure Gello never dreams of touching this land again!’
Above, Merren heard the calls, heard the cheers. She left her wedding dress lying on the floor and stood on the balcony, a cloak around her. She saw Conal guiding Martil, saw the people reaching out to pat him on the back or to try to shake his hand, saw the women and children offering him a hug. It
was a desperate situation but it was also a chance to make everything right. Looking at the reaction of the people, she knew it was safe to do so. She turned away from the balcony. When he came up to see her, she would tell him how much she regretted her choice, that she would ignore Sendric and marry him, if he still wanted it. And, hopefully, she could take some of the bitterness and anger away from him. She was sure he would come up soon. With Karia gone, he would want to be with her. It was perverse almost, but her overwhelming sense was of relief. Of course she was fearful for Karia, and worried what Gello and his Fearpriests would do with the Dragon Egg but the wedding to Sendric had been looming over her like an execution. Avoiding that had her feeling like a prisoner granted a last-moment reprieve. She had nearly made a huge mistake—but now was a second chance. And she knew Martil would jump at that.
Down below, Martil almost had to push through the crowd. Women and children were in tears, coming up to him sobbing, swearing that they would be praying to Aroaril to protect Karia, men were offering whatever they had to help get her back.
He heard them all but it washed over him. All he wanted to do was release the Dragon Sword on the bastards who had taken Karia. It was all he could do not to shout at the crush of people around him, not strike out at them for slowing him down. He pushed into the palace with the cheers of the people, the promises to help Karia and the prayers for her safety echoing around the square.
‘We are a sentimental people. And we do love our sagas,’ Conal tried to explain. ‘Rushing off to rescue a little girl…probably in Rallora they would think it foolish—here, it makes perfect sense.’
‘It doesn’t matter. They can think what they like of me. All I care about is getting her back and punishing Gello,’ Martil grunted. ‘I have to save her. Aroaril knows what she is going through!’
‘Well, I can tell you one thing. That little girl is a survivor. And she has her magic. Plus she knows you’ll be coming for her.’ Conal considered Martil doubtfully. The man looked as though he was going to fly apart at any moment. ‘I think you need to change. You’ll scare the horses, looking like that!’ He tried to grin but his heart was not in it. He had never seen Martil like this before and he dreaded to think what would happen to the man if anything happened to the girl.
‘Oh, I’ll be ready,’ Martil promised coldly.
Conal tried once more to break through. ‘Well, you had better hurry back. I need you to stand in as the best man at my wedding on your return!’
Martil was barely listening. ‘Best man?’
‘Aye, well, Louise wants me to make an honest woman of her. And the kids would like it…’ Conal trailed off as he realised what he was saying. ‘Are you going to see the Queen?’ he asked hurriedly, to change the subject.
Martil paused. ‘There’s nothing more I need to say to her,’ he said grimly.
Karia had listened patiently as Ezok explained to her that she had to pretend to be the Radiant Child, the wielder of the Egg—and that both their lives depended on it.
When she had first woken up, she had panicked, but had forced herself to stay calm, using some of the exercises Barrett had taught her to relax and focus the mind.
‘The mind is a muscle like the one in your arm. Remember it has to do what you want. Never let fear or uncertainty stop what you are trying to do,’ Barrett had told her, then taught her ways to keep herself in control. Never had they come in more useful.
Martil was coming for her. She had to cling to that thought. Do whatever it takes to survive. She reminded herself she had survived life with Da and her brothers for six months. She reckoned six days would be more than enough for Martil to get her out. Six days. That was nothing! So she listened when Ezok talked.
‘They will want you to tell them how to use this Egg. You have to think of something to delay them,’ he had said. ‘Say that you need food, and warmth, and plenty of rest and you will consider their request. Just don’t tell them the truth. I remember you from Norstalos—you were the young girl with the priest who tried to stop Prent and me then. Prent’s not on this ship, none of the others know you and you need to keep it that way. Now, can I trust you to talk to me, and not scream or anything if I remove your gag?’
Karia nodded slowly and sighed with relief when Ezok removed the cloth covering her mouth.
‘Do you know what this Egg is? Do you realise that all life will end if we don’t return it?’ she hissed.
Ezok gulped. ‘Listen, you can’t tell them that. They will kill you—and me. You can try to persuade them to return it…’
‘As if they’re going to do that,’ Karia told him scornfully.
Ezok looked around desperately. He was horribly aware his life could be measured in hourglasses unless he came up with something.
‘How about we do a deal? They’ll be coming after this Egg, won’t they?’
‘My dad will come after me,’ Karia said loftily. ‘And he’s the greatest warrior in the world.’
Ezok rubbed his chin. ‘He’s the one with the sword that can cut through anything, even armour?’
‘And he’ll be chasing after you.’
‘Don’t tell them he’s your father. They think him a demon, summoned by the Egg to protect it.’
‘But he’s not…’
‘It doesn’t matter. Look, here’s my deal. You tell them you are going to train me to use the Egg.’ He held up his hand. ‘I know that’s not possible, but it will help keep us both alive.’
‘But why would the Egg’s wielder do that?’ Karia demanded.
Ezok grimaced. Why did she have to make this so difficult? He sighed. At least having her point out the flaws in his plan was better than Onzalez discovering them.
Karia cleared her throat. ‘You have to tell them you are tricking me. You have sworn an oath to me to betray them and return me and the Egg. As the oath was sworn to Aroaril, it does not bind you. But, I think it is binding, so I have agreed to begin showing you how to use the Egg to fool them into giving me more freedom, enough that eventually I can escape. You tell them that I will reveal the secrets of the Egg to you this way.’
He had to think about it for a while before he saw what she was getting at. ‘How did a small girl think of that?’ he demanded.
Karia shrugged. ‘It’s the sort of thing you find in sagas all the time. Princes who have lost their thrones to their evil uncles and cousins always do things like that.’
‘I was never a fan of the sagas,’ he admitted.
‘Well, you are silly then. Just think of all the useful things you would have learned from them.’
‘You are a very unusual little girl,’ he sighed.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Why does everyone say that?’
Ezok decided to change the subject. ‘So I shall do what you said. Meanwhile, I’ll do everything I can to help and protect you. All I ask in return is that, if your father catches us, you protect me.’
‘If you help me stay alive, I’ll make sure he does not kill you. But we have to get this Egg back to him quickly, or all life will end.’
He grimaced. ‘Well, wish me luck when I tell them your plan.’
Karia could not disagree with that.
Merren had been surprised when Martil did not come to see her but, as usual, had little time to think about it. Organising a rescue expedition across the seas was going to take plenty of work, especially as they had no time to plan. She rushed around the palace, issuing orders and meeting with Conal and Hutter, trying to leave everything in place while she was away. She sent Wilsen and Jaret to find Martil but they had returned empty-handed. She knew Martil had to be devastated by Karia’s capture and decided he was too upset to talk to anyone. At least she hoped that was the case. The other reason was he was still furious with her, after their last meeting. Naturally she hoped what she had to say would make him think again, make things right between them. She would give him time, then try again. Meanwhile, she held a dozen meetings, trying to organise a hundred different things—th
ough her mind was elsewhere.
‘The Radiant Child is the only way you can access the enormous power of the Egg,’ Ezok said confidently. When you are going to tell a lie, it is always better to make it a big lie, he told himself. Confidence was also vital in selling the story. Luckily there was plenty of evidence to support his lies—and no Khaliz to refute them. The wizard was the last expert on natural magic they had, but he had been left for dead on the island.
‘So this child defeated Khaliz?’ Onzalez asked sceptically.
‘As easily as I would defeat a woman in battle,’ Gello confirmed.
‘And none of the men could touch it?’
‘Well, the two who tried both had their hands burned. None wanted to try after that,’ Gello admitted.
They were all sitting around the Egg, which sat on its makeshift cradle in the main cabin of the Tenoch ship. Gello and Onzalez were the unquestioned leaders of the rabble that had been an army—Prent was on another ship and, anyway, Onzalez did not like sharing power.
Onzalez stretched out his hand towards the Egg, which began to flash its colours warningly. The Fearpriest, whose face still needed regular applications of a soothing salve, eased his hand back, unwilling to put his own flesh to the test.
‘But the Child was able to touch it without fear or damage,’ Ezok added.
‘Will this Radiant Child help us? After all, it did not greet us warmly in the hall!’ Gello growled. ‘Why bother with this magical child anyway? If the Egg has power, why do we not use it?’
Ezok sighed. ‘Do you know how? Brother Onzalez is the most powerful of us, the only one who understands magic. Brother, do you know?’
Onzalez shook his head. ‘I can sense the power within…but I do not know how to get at it! If only we had Khaliz…’
‘Surely there are wizards in Tenoch…’ Gello began.
‘No, there are none!’ Onzalez interrupted. ‘None have the ability!’
