When Dragons Rage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The Black came in low and snapped at the purple dragon’s hindquarters. The grounded beast yipped, then rolled onto its side, exposing its throat. Its quivering tail curled in to cover its belly.

  The cloaked figure that had spoken to Procimre moved through the camp and flung off its red cloak. It towered over the fleeing gibberers. At least one caught itself on a hooked spike on the thing’s forearm. With a casual gesture the bleeding beast was tossed aside and the figure continued on its way without a break in stride.

  It passed in front of the Aurolani lines, then called out in a keening tone that undulated into inaudibility.

  The Black’s course shifted when the thing called out. Though she would not have thought it possible, Vriisureol turned in the air and swooped back with the ease of a Gyrkyme at play. The Black replied and they exchanged words, though Alexia could make no sense of the hisses and shrieks.

  “Kerrigan, have you any idea what is being said?”

  The mage shook his head. “Not a clue. I don’t know what that is, or why it speaks dragon. I hope it won’t negotiate a better bargain.”

  Alexia shared that wish and wondered, just for a moment, if Vriisureol could read her thoughts. On the very next pass his tail came through and batted the figure into the air. With a powerful pump of his wings, Vriisureol surged forward, then rolled. His right wing curved and cupped the broken figure, then swatted it to the left. The left wing popped it back right, then the Black’s head came up and snapped the thing out of the air. Teeth flashed quickly and the figure vanished into that massive maw.

  A great cry arose from the Aurolani camp. The purple dragon continued to slither forward, then stopped with its snout at what had been the command pavilion. All around it, gibberers and vylaens scrambled and ran. Hoargoun lumbered as best they could, using their long legs to retreat quickly toward the south. Kryalniri joined them—save for one leaving the command tent in the company of a slender woman dressed entirely in white.

  Alexia shivered again. Even at that distance she knew her. That was the woman she had seen in her room in Caledo, when she first met Princess Dayley. Who is she?

  The kryalniri walked the woman to Procimre’s left forepaw, then steadied her as she climbed up. The woman worked her way to a position between the dragon’s wings and tied herself into the harness that had held the hoargoun. She sat there with her back against the creature’s back, as if in a carriage for a leisurely ride.

  The kryalniri stood back and waved. Procimre gathered his feet beneath himself, then flapped his wings once, hard, to lift from the ground. A wingtip casually hit the white-furred creature, exploding him into a red stain upon the snow.

  Vriisureol dove and snapped again at Procimre’s tail. The purple dragon shrieked in protest, though that protest quickly became a frightened mewing. He beat his wings more hastily and turned toward the ocean. The Black chased him out over the water, then drew up and with several pumps of his wings, arced skyward.

  Alexia had spent most of her life in Gyrvirgul. She had watched countless Gyrkyme fly. The precision and power she had seen in the Warhawks, or the artistry of the Swifts, they had defined for her grace in flight, but this dragon reduced the Gyrkyme aerial artistry to panicked flutterings.

  Vriisureol came over in a loop. His head and neck described an elegant arc, then one wing came up, the other down, and he rolled into a long swoop passing right over the Aurolani line. Alexia waited for him to open his mouth and release a fiery flood that would stretch a burning line from the ocean to the road to Caledo.

  He did not. As he reached the middle of the camp, his wings flared forward and beat hard once, letting him hover. Vriisureol’s head came down and his jaws opened. He vented his rage over the command tent with a loud roar that was equal parts triumph and contempt.

  A puddle of fire rolled from that spot. Burning wave fronts, like ripples in a pond, pulsed along, quickly overtaking gibberers, vylaens, and the frost giants. The smaller creatures just vanished as the liquid flames poured over them. The hoargoun made it several more steps, burning like torches, before they flopped forward into the incandescent lake.

  Flames washed over the lines of dragonels. Some exploded, others just vaporized. Tents and tools, weapons and sleighs all evaporated in the rolling conflagration. Drearbeasts and frostclaws burned black in a heartbeat and disappeared.

  The heat from the dragon’s assault and the force of the wind it created did push Alexia back. Kerrigan gestured and some of the heat abated. Bok had moved in at Kerrigan’s legs and clung to her as well.

  The fire seeped across the open field that had separated the Aurolani from Navval. People on the walls below—a few guards and the foolishly curious—began to run. It looked as if the burning tide would splash against the walls. Alexia expected they would erode them as ocean waves gnawed at castles of sand, but the dragon’s fire stopped short. Pennants and flags did ignite, but beyond that, little damage was done.

  Vriisureol swooped through the flames, curling them in his wake, then drifted south and east. At various points his head lunged, and little bursts of fire exploded against the ground. He came around in interlocking loops, spitting more fire, then finally flew back toward the city.

  He landed once again on the south tower and more of it crumbled. He thrust his head toward Alexia. “I have done as I said I would. The enemy is no more.”

  “I see that. Why did you let the other dragon go? Who was the woman who escaped with him?”

  The dragon snorted. He looked from Alexia to Kerrigan. “Kerrigan Reese, it is time for the honoring of the bargain.”

  The Adept frowned. “The least you could do is answer her questions before you kill me. It would be polite.”

  Vriisureol cocked his head to the side. “A lecture in manners. How . . . mortal.”

  Kerrigan shrugged. “Well?”

  “I said I would eliminate the enemy. Procimre was reduced to a beast of burden and sent away. The woman Procimre took was not your enemy.”

  “But she was from Aurolan.”

  “Alexia of Okrannel is wiser than to assume unanimity in any group.” Vriisureol straightened his head and looked at Kerrigan. “Is Kerrigan Reese prepared?”

  “I guess so.” He turned and gave Alexia what was supposed to be a brave smile. She decided she would remember it that way and ignore the quivering of his lower lip. His voice came in a whisper. “Let the others know . . . Good luck to everyone.”

  She nodded, then leaned in and kissed him once on each cheek. “I will. May the gods bless you in your next life.”

  “Next life?” Vriisureol’s eyes narrowed. “This common tongue lacks nuance. I am not going to slay him. I have been sent to provide transport. I am to bear Kerrigan Reese and Bok to Vael. There are those who wish to speak with the Adept.”

  Alexia blinked. “You came to get him? If you are just transport, than why did you . . . ?”

  The dragon’s head came up. “I was told to see to Kerrigan Reese’s comfort. I chose to see Procimre and the Aurolani as a discomfort. Do not question such fortune, Alexia of Okrannel.”

  Her hands came up. “No, no, no question. I just wondered . . . the seeming gravity of what you demanded . . .”

  “A lack of nuance.” Vriisureol extended his left wing to the balcony. “Come, Kerrigan, climb onto my back.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why are you taking me to Dragonholm?”

  “The struggles of mortals have not gone without notice. Certain efforts have attracted attention. Kerrigan Reese will be examined and decisions will be made.”

  “Ah, wait.” Kerrigan’s brows knitted together. “You were to see to my comfort, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I won’t be comfortable unless Princess Alexia comes with me.”

  Alexia’s guts began to boil. “Why do you want me there?”

  He regarded her with innocent eyes. “You just told me about responsibility. If they are going to try to decide something b
ased on me, I’m far from a good example. You are. If someone has to represent us mortals, you’re better for it than me.”

  The sound issuing from the dragon sounded remarkably like a groan. “As desired, but that is it.”

  “And we will meet you outside the city. We have to get our things and put our affairs here in order.” The magicker’s eyes narrowed. “Um, isn’t there something else you want to do, like fly south to Caledo and drive that dragon off?”

  Vriisureol raised his nose to the air and sniffed loudly. “No. Marimri has never been an annoyance. I shall wait over there.” With that he took off again and drifted to the blackened landscape that minutes earlier had been home to Navval’s second most dire threat.

  Kerrigan’s expression reflected how guilty he felt as Peri blinked her big eyes at him. “I am sorry; I didn’t think. I was tired. I should have included you as someone I needed.”

  Alexia hugged the Gyrkyme tightly. “I am sorry, too, sister. I wouldn’t go, but this could be a chance to bring more help like Vriisureol.”

  “If I am not there, Alyx, you will not be safe.”

  The Okrans Princess held her sister tighter, feeling the soft down against her cheek. “I will be safe, sister. I know it.”

  “Said without conviction.”

  Alexia pulled back and met Perrine’s sad stare. “You have to trust me, Peri.”

  The Gyrkyme frowned. “I do trust you. You know that. I just don’t like being apart from you. Kerrigan has Bok. Who have you got?”

  “Who will Alexia need?” Vriisureol snorted at Perrine, ruffling feathers. “You need not fear for her.”

  Alyx smiled despite the dulling of the light in her sister’s eyes. “I will be fine, Peri, and we will return quickly. Vriisureol has promised to bring us back.”

  Sayce, her arms crossed over her belly, nodded solemnly. “Very fast, I hope. The news from Caledo is not good. The dragon there took down part of the city wall. It seems to be resting, but there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

  “Marimri.” Kerrigan smiled and tugged on mittens. “Vriisureol said her name is Marimri. She’s young, so she’ll have to rest for a while before melting another wall.”

  “So Caledo’s life can be measured in days, not hours.”

  The dragon lifted his head, glanced at where Bok was tying a chest into the harnesses on his back, then looked at Sayce. “Marimri likes pretty things. Bribes will work. And songs; Marimri likes songs. If the songs are pleasing, Marimri will listen for as long as they are sung.”

  Alexia nodded. “Then you bring the troops here to the east, hit any supply trains heading south from Porjal, and hit the rear of the army.”

  Vriisureol nodded. “Bring bards. Have them sing loudly.”

  The redheaded Murosan looked surprised. “That might work. I will see what my father thinks. That might just work. Thank you.”

  Alexia smiled and gave Sayce a hug. “Take care of yourself. We will be back as soon as we can.”

  She gave her sister a final hug, then followed Kerrigan to the dragon’s paw. She mounted behind him, steadying him. She seated herself opposite him and tied into the flight harness. The dragon scales, while quite hard, were smooth enough that they’d not be too uncomfortable.

  Vriisureol craned his neck around to inspect his cargo. Apparently satisfied, he came up on all four feet. Muscle rippled beneath his flesh as his wings unfurled. With one tremendous downbeat, the dragon left the earth and Alexia laughed aloud. For the first time in a lifetime, she could feel what her sister felt when flying, and despite being where she was, she was happy.

  CHAPTER 69

  F rom Procimre’s back, Isaura was able to see the disk of winter’s always-night curving sharply down over Aurolan’s white tundra. North they had flown, over the Sebcian peninsula, past Vorquellyn and the ruins of Fortress Draconis. Over the Boreal mountains they went and yet farther north. As the day died and darkness overswept the world, the purple dragon began to descend into the valley in which her mother’s castle sat.

  Isaura shivered, but not with cold. The heat from the dragon’s muscles took the edge off the air. She had also never thought of her mother’s realm as cold, but seeing it shrouded in shadow, it suddenly seemed frigid to her, and part of her wanted to avoid this homecoming.

  The rest of her immediately rebelled. Her mother feared betrayal, but she would not be the one to betray her. She trusts me, and I owe her everything. The young woman steeled herself for what she feared might be her mother’s displeasure, and sought those things that might brighten her mother’s outlook.

  There were not many. Neskartu had been slain by a child. The dragon Vriisureol had destroyed the rest of the Conservatory students. The entire army besieging Navval had been eliminated. Naelros had not been a favorite of her mother’s, but the loss of any allies hurt.

  Trib’s death had saddened Isaura. She’d beseeched the kryalniri to join her and escape, but he had refrained. He knew Vriisureol would permit only her escape; his presence would put her in jeopardy.

  The dragon landed before the black citadel, then reared up and rested his chin on the balcony. Isaura unhitched herself, scaled his neck, passed between his horns, then slipped off his nose and onto the stone. Without so much as a hiss or murmur, the dragon withdrew, and Isaura did not regret his slinking departure.

  The grand chamber she entered had been changed somewhat, but it took her a moment to figure out how. Some of the furnishings had vanished, though from the smashed piece of a bench leg near the hearth, she supposed they had been broken up and fed into the flames.

  Opposite the fireplace, an inky blackness stained the wall. A couple of steps into the room she realized it was not paint, but the flaccid flesh Neskartu had last worn. She saw the limp limbs and the withered wings. It hung there from the wand, which appeared to have been driven into the stone to half its length.

  Isaura fought another shiver, then smiled happily. “Mother, it is good to see you again.”

  Chytrine’s head came up and, just for a moment, Isaura caught the last of a venomous expression as it bled away. A smile replaced it, though not as broad as the one she wore. “Daughter, you are come home. Had you not arrived within the hour, I would have sent Nefrai-laysh to find you.”

  The smaller of the two sullanciri sketched a bow. “Within the hour, the skies I would scour, to find that shining star which, dear Isaura, you are.”

  “My lord Nefrai-laysh devalues the stars.”

  “He thinks too much of them, you mean to say, daughter.” Her mother’s blue-green eyes narrowed slightly. “You were seen home safely?”

  “Yes, Mother. Vriisureol allowed me to come north.” She hesitated and bit her lower lip. “He destroyed the army at Navval. He killed Naelros.”

  Her mother waved that report away. “That army never should have been there. It was useless, and remains useless. The fall of Caledo will render that loss insignificant.”

  “It pleases me that you are not disappointed, Mother.” Isaura smiled again and looked at the other sullanciri. “And you, Lord Nefrai-kesh, how goes the war in Okrannel?”

  “It is done, Princess.” Nefrai-kesh smiled politely.

  “You defeated Adrogans?”

  “By no means. He has taken Svarskya and Okrannel. He has won his prize.”

  Isaura frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Chytrine laughed lightly. “It was necessary for Adrogans to succeed in order for us to succeed. We have given them back a ravaged country, while we have made great gains in the south. When Muroso falls, we will be farther south than we were before, and Oriosa will not be an obstacle.”

  “But, Okrannel . . .”

  “Isaura sweet, you do not understand. In Svarskya are hidden the seeds of the Southlands’ destruction.” Chytrine’s voice took on an edge. “Okrannel’s loss did come sooner than I had intended, but other events conspire to make up for this setback.”

  Nefrai-kesh dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “It
is to my mortification that I have failed you so, Empress.”

  “A minor failure, pet, and one worth nothing compared to your victories.” Chytrine reached a hand out and lifted his chin. “You will not fail me again, will you?”

  “Never, Mistress.”

  “Good. There are important tasks to which we must attend. You, Nefrai-kesh, shall remain here to coordinate things. Your son has been given his assignment. I shall be taking Myrall’mara and Ferxigo with me. Anarus shall press the siege. Things are working to my satisfaction.”

  “What would you have me do, Mother?”

  Chytrine regarded Isaura with wide-eyed innocence. “You, child? I would have you remain here and learn from Lord Nefrai-kesh.”

  “But is there nothing else I could do?”

  “Oh, sweet child, what is it?”

  Isaura started to speak, but her throat thickened. How can I tell her that I feel she does not trust me? “Mother, I did not mean to fail you.”

  “Fail me? Oh, no, child, you mustn’t think that.” The Aurolani Empress moved to her daughter and embraced her. “You have seen much in the south, and I wish you a chance to know peace again. To know peace before I call upon you to help me once more.”

  Chytrine took her by the arms and pulled back to look up into her silver eyes. “I have minor tasks to attend to, and so I shall deal with them now. There is the matter of the ruby fragment. It is not lost to me, and may well be had for a reasonable price.”

  Isaura’s face brightened. “That is wonderful, Mother!”

  “Yes, child, it is. Three pieces are so much more powerful than two, and the ruby especially so. Even if the others were gathered to oppose me, the balance of power would leave me with the advantage on the ground.”

  Isaura glanced at where Neskartu’s flesh hung from the wall. “What of the youth who did that?”