When Dragons Rage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Little frostclaws, not much bigger than dogs, worried the bodies of the dead.

  The huge, cylindrical intersection for paths from all levels of the mountains had roadways that spiraled up and down. Directional arrows carved in the stone pointed out the diverse destinations that could be reached over the broad avenues. Even though most of the intersection remained hidden in shadows, it was easy to imagine it as a place of much activity.

  Now, though, the activity consisted solely of the flapping of flesh as greedy little temeryces crawled inside bloated bodies to feast on decaying flesh.

  Erlestoke had little problem understanding what had happened. The urZrethi defenders had fallen back before the Aurolani assault. Chytrine’s troops had pursued quickly and had not taken precautions against an ambush. When they reached the crossroads, the urZrethi hit them with a withering attack.

  Unfortunately, they had not hit hard enough.

  It could have been the presence of dragonels and draconettes that undid the urZrethi. He saw much evidence of the damage that both would wreak. A dragonel ball bouncing up and around one of the spirals would eventually lose momentum and stop, but it would harvest arms and legs as it went. Bodies of urZrethi magickers appeared to have been riddled with draconette shots, and their deaths would have made countering Aurolani magick all but impossible.

  The crawls, it seemed, had won the battle, for there were very clear signs of their presence. Not only were bodies blackened and burned as the result of spells, but holes had been melted in walls. The sheer power of the magick astounded him, and the evidence of the cruelty with which it had been employed sickened him.

  All around the walls, the crawls had been at work. Magick had melted stone, and survivors had been pressed into it, hand and foot. The stone then solidified, binding them there—in essence crucifying them. While the urZrethi should have been able to shift their shapes to escape those bonds, being battle-weary and, as most were, wounded, would prevent them from effecting any escape.

  Crucifixion, Erlestoke knew, was not an easy death. Hanging there, the body would labor to draw breath. The very weight of the viscera on the lungs would shrink their capacity until the victim slowly suffocated. Cries for mercy would shrink to moans then mews, rasped breaths, and finally death rattles.

  Jilandessa started to cast a spell, then shook her head. “A week ago this battle took place, not much more. The victims here lasted two or three days, five at the most.”

  The prince nodded. The cylinder would have collected the sounds of their dying and sent it through the mountains like an ill wind. No one knowing of the attack and hearing that finale would have ventured forth. The silence that came with their deaths would have been welcome, but would have encouraged people to stay hidden.

  Jullagh-tse Seegg pointed south. “The Aurolani went that way. We will catch up with them soon if we follow.”

  Erlestoke frowned. “The first thing we do is find a place to hole up, then we backtrack and see if we can find a parallel route. If we can’t, then we follow in their wake. They’re not going to let themselves fall into another ambush like this, but what we see here doesn’t mean they’ll be unopposed hereafter. Our goal is to get through—and we will, somehow.”

  He took a last look at the walls. “We have to. If we don’t, there are many other places where we’ll see this and worse.”

  CHAPTER 53

  A lexia had known this meeting was important even before both King Bowmars put in an appearance. The man she had first been introduced to as King Bowmar had, in fact, been Crown Prince Bowmar. When he was present with his father in the map room they could not have seemed more different, save for similar masks and almost identical robes. The elder Bowmar was shorter than his son, balding and stoop-shouldered and reminded her of her grandfather.

  When he spoke, however, the true king seemed his son’s age. He spoke with clarity and even wit. He—they, Alexia corrected herself—had a tactician’s grasp on the state of their nation that few other rulers would have understood or accepted. The king did not shrink from the grim assessment of things indicated on the maps and models.

  The crisis Muroso faced had forced the two Bowmars to undertake a most dangerous and radical exchange of spells. As it was explained to her, because of their consanguinity and long years of association, during which the true king had not only raised his heir but had instructed him in the ways of magick, the two of them were singularly like-minded. Together they worked a spell that was a variation of one that allowed magickers to cocast a spell that linked them very tightly. What one knew, the other did as well.

  The crown prince said to her, “It is not as if we share a mind; we simply share memories. We benefit from each other’s experiences. While one rests, the other works.”

  While Alexia understood the idea of the magick, the reality of it made her uneasy. Giving another access to her memories was something she could never do. It was a sacrifice of self that she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

  But, then, I was raised to be entirely at the disposal of my nation, so am I really any different? She had accepted fully that her life would be subordinate to the cause of her nation—at least she had until she’d fallen in love with Crow. But in her case, at the very least, she had the illusion of free will, which the magick denied both kings.

  The elder king studied the latest maps of the situation near Porjal. “Pursuit of the refugees to Navval has been cursory only. Reports do put the sullanciri as gathering their host for a drive south here to Caledo. This was not unanticipated, and our strategy to deal with them has kindly been supplied by Princess Alexia.”

  He pointed to a small unit located roughly sixty miles north-northeast of the capital. “Here are our Freeman Rangers, more or less. We have not had reports from them that betray their location, but we anticipate that they have reached roughly this area. They have made good progress, and as the Aurolani host moves south, they will be able to cut the supply lines.”

  Bowmar the senior picked up a small block of wood representing a military unit just outside the capital. “We will take these troops, the main bulk of our force, north along the Porjal road to the Green Dales and set up our first battle. We will let them know we are there, so they will set up to deploy against us, then we shall fade from that attack after inflicting some initial casualties. We will ambush pursuit to convince them they need to approach slowly.”

  Alexia nodded. The elder King Bowmar would not actually be with that force, which was comprised of four crack regiments. They had only one regiment of cavalry, but it was the best in Muroso, with three battalions of light horse for pursuit and one of heavy horse for devastating attacks. Of the three infantry regiments, one was comprised of scouts and rangers who would be able to form up in small hunter-killer groups to harry the enemy advance. The other two regiments were more standard and would be used to hit and hold the enemy when things became serious.

  Crown Prince Bowmar would be in command of that force. Alexia had been told that his distance from his father would affect how quickly they could read each other’s memories, so the elder would not be seeing what his son saw as his son saw it. They said the delay was something on the order of an hour per mile of distance. Arcanslata reports would come faster, but would contain a lot less detail.

  King Bowmar’s dark eyes flicked toward Alexia. “You, Princess, will lead this secondary force up the Navval road and keep it parallel with our force. You will be able to strike east and hit the flank of the Aurolani host.”

  She nodded. “I do know my role.” It had rankled her a little that her strategy had been taken over by the Murosans and that she had been given a smaller force to command, but she quelled her unease quickly. She was a foreigner; young, and, in the eyes of many, utterly untested. For her to have been given the command she had—two regiments of cavalry—was a great honor. She wished she had her Wolves riding with her, but they were off in Okrannel fighting alongside General Adrogans.

  The old man’s e
yes sparkled for a moment, and his son smiled. “Oh, Princess, we do know you would like to hit the Aurolani when they form up their column to march south again. If that appears to be something that would work, we shall permit it.”

  “It would hurt them badly, but would only be done if it would not pose undue risk to my command.” She kept her voice even, and had to suppress a smile. Her use of the word “undue” had been deliberate to distance herself from the insane unnecessary risks Resolute and Crow would be taking.

  The crown prince gathered his hands at the small of his back. “Princess Sayce has requested to be allowed to join your force.”

  Alexia frowned. “I thought she was meant to be part of my force since the beginning.”

  “She was, but I argued against her joining you.” Princess Dayley glanced angrily at her brother. “Sayce has done more than enough.”

  Alyx rubbed her hands over her eyes. Dayley was using the tone mothers use when protecting children, and if Dayley was linked to her mother the way Bowmar was linked to his father, the implications of that were too much for her to want to contemplate. She blinked and remembered that Dayley was not a sorceress, just a member of the Communion. If this were something of import that she wanted me to know about and say nothing, she could have told me there. I have to conclude, then, this is some internal Murosan matter.

  The Okrans princess folded her arms over her chest. “It is true that Sayce has done a lot. She ventured south, found the Norrington, and dragged him north. She fought well and almost died in Bokagul. With her nation facing extinction, however, I’m not sure anyone can determine if what she’s done is enough aside from her. The warriors who went south with her were drawn from the King’s Scarlet Lancers, and I have them with me. While I don’t think they need her to lead them or even inspire them, she can do both, and do both well. If she is free to join me, I would like to have her along.”

  Dayley shook her head. “For her to go would put too much at risk.” She looked past her brother at her father. “Sayce should be sent south to Alcida, or west if the Loquelves would accept her and keep her safe.”

  “Keep her safe?” Alexia frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Dayley’s features sharpened. “My sister is pregnant with the Norrington’s child.”

  Alexia’s stomach just twisted down in on itself. “Was this all a charade? Did you send her south to seduce Will?”

  The elder king shook his head. “We did not.” He glanced at Dayley. “I sent her.”

  Crown Prince Bowmar had enough grace to look surprised, though Alexia would have preferred his being aghast. Dayley blushed crimson. Alexia looked from them to their father and back again. “I don’t know what to say, what to think.”

  “You may think what you will, Princess, but I did what was necessary. If the prophecy is true, the Norrington bloodline is very important and I wished to secure it. Not for my nation, but for the future.” King Bowmar’s lips pressed together in a narrow line. “You have seen how inept my peers are at assessing the threat that is Chytrine. Sebcia is gone and no one has raised a voice, much less an army, to take it back. My nation is invaded and, aside from your company and renegades from Oriosa, there are no foreign troops here to oppose the Aurolani horde. I am not sanguine about the future of my nation in the short term, but I will do what I must to see the prophecy is fulfilled in years to come.”

  Dayley looked down at the wooden floor. “I was given the job of traveling south to find the Norrington and seduce him. My sister, who has forever been jealous of me, decided to head south and bring the Norrington to Muroso. She seduced him and consummated the seduction here, just to rub my face in it. That accomplished, she wishes to continue being a hero and go with you.”

  Alyx looked at the crown prince. “You knew nothing of this?”

  He shook his head. “I have been preoccupied with the war and have not gone rummaging about in my father’s head. Of that I am glad. I did not know, and would not have approved.”

  “Yours is not to approve, son. With the crown goes the responsibility. Were you in my position, you would think differently.”

  Alexia could not believe it. She remembered Will’s turmoil when he came to talk to her. He was worried about breaking Sayce’s heart. He was worried she would feel used, and yet he was the one being used all along.

  She looked up. “What is wrong with you people?”

  “I have a nation to think of.”

  Alexia batted that assertion aside. “You hide behind that noble idea as if no one can see the lies you’ve wrapped yourself up in. You’re plotting revenge. If Muroso falls because no one else comes to your aid, you’ll have the Norrington they need to save themselves. And don’t try to deny it, because using subterfuge to get someone with Will’s child—especially one of your own daughters—proves there was no altruistic motive behind what you did.”

  The elder Bowmar shook his head. “Secrecy was required so that Chytrine would not try to have the child killed.”

  “That lie is so flimsy a whisper would shred it.” Alexia’s violet eyes became slits. “You don’t seem to understand: it’s not any Norrington, but the Norrington. If it was the bloodline that was so important, Will would have been spending himself night after night to create a legion of Norringtons. I’d be carrying his child myself.”

  Something clicked in the back of her mind. She glared at Dayley. “Sayce doesn’t know she’s pregnant, does she? You had someone use magick to determine that.”

  “She knows.”

  “You don’t lie well enough for me to believe you. If she knew, she’d not want to travel with me.”

  The true king watched her closely. “You know, however, so will you take her into combat with you?”

  “And risk losing the child? Yes, but only to get Sayce away from you.” Alexia raked her clawed fingers back through her hair. “King Scrainwood and now you. Is it the masks that encourage duplicity, or something else? I don’t understand this and I don’t want to. You complain about others playing political games and not helping you, but you do the same thing; and you play them with a young man who came north to save your nation. He’s the young man who quite possibly can save your nation.”

  Before anyone else could reply, one of the signal-mages came over and placed a number of unit designators at the edge of the map, in Sarengul. One indicated the presence of Aurolani troops in the urZrethi stronghold. That did not exactly surprise Alexia, since she had supposed that the strike on Bokagul could only have been undertaken if Sarengul had been neutralized by conquest or alliance.

  The mage placed another marker down, a small one with nothing to indicate nationality.

  “Pardon my interruption, my liege, but this information was relayed from Alcida. A small group of people from Fortress Draconis have reached Sarengul and report the Aurolani have invaded it. Details are spare, but parts of Sarengul fell two weeks ago. The refugees are working south, but do not know what they will find or if they will make it through.”

  King Bowmar nodded. “Have a message relayed to them that they are to head here to Caledo if they make it through.”

  “Yes, Highness.”

  The elder Bowmar looked at Alexia. “The situation is yet more dire with the confirmation that Sarengul is gone. Chytrine need fear nothing on her march south, so her entire might is focused here. I do not regret any steps I have taken to protect my nation.”

  Alexia let her voice grow cold. “But you were a party to the discounting of Tarrant’s story after the last war, weren’t you? What did you do with the time you bought your nation?”

  The elder king hesitated and the crown prince stared at him, stunned. “You knew, Father, that Chytrine would be coming?”

  “It was conjecture.”

  The crown prince shook his head. “You can’t lie to me; I have your memories of that time. You knew it was wrong, you knew she would come, and yet you did nothing!”

  The king’s shoulders sagged. “I hope, my son, tha
t you will be wiser than I was.”

  The crown prince nodded. “I had better be, or the future—secured by a Norrington heir or not—will be short and bloody.”

  Alexia snorted. “It’s likely to be short and bloody anyway.”

  Crown Prince Bowmar gave her a solemn look. “Then let it be their blood and their time. I will make sure you are kept informed of my activities. I am sure my sister will be safe with you.”

  “I shall do the same, and I shall keep her safe.” Alexia glared at the king. “Not for the sake of your future, but for Will’s. What you have done is bad. Let us just hope it does not become something worse.”

  King Bowmar looked up. “I fail to see bad or worse.”

  Alexia shook her head. “You were thinking to create another Norrington to have in case this one isn’t the Norrington. But what if your grandson, by dint of his blood, now is the Norrington of prophecy? You’ve stripped Will of his import, of any power he might have had. As the Norrington, he might have been able to accomplish great things out there. Now, who knows? No matter what, Will Norrington will be doing everything he can for you. If your action has worked against him, you and your nation will pay dearly for your betrayal of Will.”

  CHAPTER 54

  F or Kerrigan Reese, the whole idea of a purification ritual being practiced by wizards seemed more theological than thaumaturgical. He could understand folks wanting to cleanse themselves before they went to worship a god, but Kerrigan felt no connections to any particular deity. None had claimed wizards, and wizards had not been inclined to adopt any deity. It did occur to him that Yrulph Kirûn might have been trying to ascend to the level of a god at one point in time; but even had he succeeded, Kerrigan doubted he would have had much of a following.

  When you can daily play with the stuff of miracles, the gods somehow become superfluous.

  In the week he’d been in Caledo, he had come to modify that initial opinion of the ritual. Prince Murfin had showed him how to do it—clearly skeptical that anyone from Vilwan would see value in it. Kerrigan, who was well used to learning from all manner of tutors, listened to the instructions carefully and followed them exactly.