“If so, I am missing it as well, Will.”
Dranae’s eyes half lidded. “I had forgotten that you do not always see as I do.” The dragon extended his neck, opened his jaws, and breathed out softly. His exhalation flowed like fog over the stone. Then color flowed into it, painting the rocks in soft, chalky layers. Blue rivulets flowed down, carving the rock, enlarging the opening. Watching the process was hypnotic. In bits and flashes plants grew up, blossomed and died, animals came and left in an eyeblink. Rocks shifted and melted until the present opening remained and the colors bled away.
Will blinked. “Wow. What was that?”
“A little dracomagick.” Dranae canted his head slightly to the right. “Every event in the world produces echoes—not of sound, but resonations that travel in time. Dragons can see those vibrations and make sense of them. With some magick, we can provide them substance so that others can see. To me, when I land here, I see what you just saw, but on a larger scale. To me the cavern opens as if the rock were a curtain. It welcomes me home.”
Crow nodded. “I can imagine that is indeed beautiful. I have a question, though. If what you say about actions creating resonances is true, then dragons have access to everything that is happening.”
“Or ever has happened, since those resonances still flow through the world.” Dranae nodded. “Your question is preface to wondering why, with such knowledge, we have not intervened before on behalf of Chytrine’s enemies—even if just to inform them of what is happening elsewhere.”
“You anticipate me well.”
“Your question contains pieces of things that have long been debated. First, however, it is possible to use magick to kill resonances before they are born, or to alter others, so the information is not always reliable. Second, imagine hearing a hundred birds singing. How do you pick out the notes of one specific bird? And then expand that to all the notes ever sung by every bird that ever lived? How do you know which to listen to? Dragons may pick out a line or two to follow, but it is for their own purposes and amusements. As spying goes, we are hardly efficient.”
Erlestoke smiled. “And Chytrine has her resonances damped?”
“So I have been told, yes.” Dranae stretched and adjusted his wings, then lifted his right forepaw and gestured toward the mouth of the cave. “Welcome to my true home. As you welcomed me into your world, so I welcome you into mine.”
Will led the way into the dim cave. Luminous lichen did provide some soft green light, reminding Will of Oracle’s cave near Gyrvirgul. He wished Dranae would use more magick to reveal things, but even without it, the place was stunning. The pillars of stone had all shades of color streaming through them, and small creatures moved through the stalactites and stalagmites both. Will wished he could be looking everywhere all at once.
Crow grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him back right before Will stepped off into an abyss. A wall of heat rose from the depths. Down there, moving slowly, molten lava with dark islands floating on it flowed toward the north. The islands broke apart and sank, with flames flaring here and there. Watching it was almost like watching the dracomagick at the entrance, and for the barest of moments Will just imagined what it would be like to see that river with the mystical layering.
“Watch where you’re going, Will.”
Dranae came up and lifted each one of them across. “Forgive me. I lose perspective of size sometimes.”
They continued on, but Will lagged back to remain near Dranae. “That thing you did with the entrance. Does it work for other things?”
“An example, Will.”
“Well . . .” The thief shifted his shoulders uneasily. “People?”
The dragon nodded sagely. “Living things, yes. Creatures are studied to determine things about them—feeding patterns, migrations, breeding habits . . .”
“Breeding habits?” Will blushed heavily. “Even people?”
“Yes, Will, though we find that about as interesting as you might find watching dogs mate.”
“Oh, so you haven’t . . .”
“No, Will.” Dranae eyed him carefully as they moved into a tunnel that sloped downward and moved to the left. “You specifically were interested in seeing resonances of someone?”
The thief nodded. “I was wondering if, maybe, you could let me see my father from, you know, before he became one of them.”
“Why?”
“Well, because, okay . . . Back in the mountains I saw Crow with his brother, and despite all that’s been done to Sallitt, they looked a bit alike. And Erlestoke and his brother, I could see the family ties there, too. And I guess I know my father used to make rhymes, the way I do sometimes. I know he’s my father and all, but I can’t see it.”
“If I were to do that for you, Will, you would have to realize two things. The first is that it wouldn’t be a seeing-thinking model of your father. You’d be watching him as if he was a ghost. He wouldn’t see you. He wouldn’t talk to you.”
“Okay, I guess.” Will shrugged. “What else?”
“He could end up haunting you.”
“Haunting? Like a ghost?”
“Precisely.”
“Wow.” Will tried to remember if he’d ever seen a ghost or not, but didn’t think he had. The prospect of having his own personal ghost made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, but he decided to chance it. “I’m still willing to try.”
“Then I will perform that service for you, gladly.” Dranae paused beside the company as they waited in a large, round intersection. “We will go left here, to my family chambers. You will rest while I report to my masters, then we will see to your needs until you are summoned before the Congress.”
Erlestoke’s lips pressed together. “Congress?”
“Our ruling council.” Dranae’s mouth opened slightly. “It is they who will decide if we will oppose Chytrine, or enter this war on her behalf.”
CHAPTER 71
W ill really got no sleep. When they reached Dranae’s family holdings, a number of dracomorphs guided them to guest chambers that were located off a central antechamber. To everyone’s great surprise, they found Princess Alexia waiting there for them. Crow shouldered past Will and swept her up into his arms, hugging her tightly. Her arms went round his shoulders and she hung on as he spun her around. He couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other, but the smiles told him it must have been good.
The rest of them all turned away, letting their gear slip from shoulders. Will wanted to pepper the princess with questions about how she’d gotten there, but a quick look from Resolute kept him quiet. He grabbed his stuff up and carried it to one of the doorways off the antechamber.
By the time he returned, Crow had released his hold on the princess, though he still had his arm slid around her back. She smiled broadly, greeting everyone and even letting Qwc settle onto her right shoulder. Quickly enough she told them about the battle before Navval and how she had come to join Kerrigan at Vael.
Will clapped his hands. “Princess, that was nothing compared to what Dranae did. He killed another dragon, just took a big bite out of him. You see, we were . . .”
Erlestoke rested a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There will be time for that story later, Will. I think we all need some rest.”
“No, I’m fine, really.”
Resolute cleared his throat. “Will, we all need to go lie down for a bit and collect ourselves.”
“Oh, right.” Will nodded, finally comprehending. “Okay, well, I’m just going to go to that room over there. If anyone wants to hear the story or anything, that’s where I’ll be.”
Alexia nodded. “Sleep well, Will. It warms my heart to see you again.”
“Mine, too, Princess.” He wandered to his room and sighed. Everything had been scaled to dracomorphs, so to get into the bed, Will had to climb up the foot, then launch himself onto it. He landed in a thick down mattress that almost swallowed him.
Will lay there in the big bed and suddenly felt very alo
ne. The look in Alexia’s eyes when she saw Crow was the same look he remembered from Sayce’s eyes. I wish Sayce had come with her, too.
That realization surprised him. Growing up as he had in the Dim, love was something that happened only in songs. He’d seen a lot of lust in his time—his mother had made her money on her back. The liftskirt trade was a staple of the Dim, but certainly couldn’t be mistaken for love. And families—which he didn’t really know, other than by observation—often seemed to be together because it was easier to survive that way than if they were apart. Marcus and Fabia certainly had that sort of relationship.
In songs, of course, love was something of burning intensity. It was fated; recognized instantly. What he felt for Sayce hadn’t been fated or recognized instantly. He’d begun, slowly, to enjoy her company. And when he was saying good-bye to her—even with the reservations he’d expressed to Alexia—he really didn’t want to say good-bye.
When he did get to sleep, he dreamed of her. He saw her and Peri in the forests of Muroso, hunting gibberers. They were driving the enemy before them and out of Muroso. As the two of them watched the Aurolani troops flee, he awoke smiling.
Will dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He left his coat off, as he didn’t feel that chilly in Vael. In some ways the heart of the mountain felt like home to him and he began to explore. He didn’t get far, though, before a dracomorph found him and agreed to conduct him to Dravothrak.
Dravothrak lay resting in a large, domed chamber. He opened a blue eye and his head came up. “You do not look rested.”
“I couldn’t sleep much.” Will shrugged. “I was wondering if you could . . .”
“I believe I can. While I rested here I sifted through impressions and I believe I have found him—a piece of him anyway.” Dravothrak motioned him closer. “Will Norrington, meet your father, Bosleigh Norrington.”
The dragon’s breath blew soft and cold, congealing into a translucent shape. Edges took on hints of white and slowly filled in, revealing a young man a bit taller than Will, but not much heavier. He had an open face and slight smile. He paced, looking through Will, moving toward him, with one hand on his chin and the other behind his back.
Will stepped away from the ghost’s line of march and heard his father’s voice. “Yes, yes, those lines will do. It will be a grand poem. I’ll call it ‘How to Vex a Temeryx.’
“How to vex a temeryx,
It’s not easy, no
Temeryces, if you please,
Live in ice and snow.
Build a fire, perhaps a pyre,
To warm its darkling heart.
Or with a knife, take its life.
Hitch it to a cart.
Into its tail drive a nail,
Or perhaps a spear.
Fill its head with boiling lead,
That will inspire fear.
On a bet, use a stout net,
Bind it up all nice.
Using a mace, strike its face,
More than once, try twice.
With a snare you trap a pair,
Feed one to the other.
Stuff its nose with dirty hose,
And then let it smother.
With a rope, cut off all hope,
Tie it to the floor.
Feed it lice, perhaps some mice,
Make it beg for more.
You may vex a temeryx,
If stout of heart are thee.
But take care, for if you err,
its luncheon will you be.”
Will laughed aloud. “Again. I want to hear it again.”
Dravothrak smiled. “That might be beyond my control. I can try, but what I would have to do to the magick could make him remain with you. Right now I can dismiss him, but I might not be able to later. Do you want to risk that?”
“Sure, what could it hurt?” The thief smiled, his eyes sparkling as he watched his father move. A happiness showed on his face, beneath the mask he wore. Will did read a hint of arrogance there; still, this was his father, and not the thing Chytrine had turned him into.
Dravothrak blew again. The figure froze, then began pacing once more. Leigh Norrington repeated the poem, then began the cycle all over. Will concentrated and by the fourth recitation had the whole thing memorized. By the fifth he was beginning to tire of it, so he waved his hand in front of his father’s ghost.
“Enough, already.”
The ghost walked toward him and Will’s hand passed straight through him. A chill ran through the thief, then the ghost vanished. “What happened?”
Dravothrak laughed. “It’s your blood. He’s there, behind you. No matter how fast you turn around, you won’t see him, but he’s there. Nothing to worry about. He should fade in a day or two. Until then . . .”
“I’m haunted; I know.” Will shrugged and closed his eyes. He brought his father’s face to mind and heard his voice again. He could see himself in those features and catch elements of his voice in his father’s. Connections began to form.
Prior to that, he had been the Norrington because he had been told he was. Oracle told him, and used magick to prove it. Chytrine trying to kill him, Crow and Resolute finding him, Sayce seeking him out, even Scrainwood giving him a mask, all of those things were external signs that he was the Norrington. And Will had accepted that mantle because it was a responsibility he could shoulder.
Until that moment, however, he’d never truly believed he was the Norrington. He was willing to play the part, and he’d done it well. Seeing his father, though, hearing his voice, confirmed the Norrington Prophecy. Not only did he accept the job, but he now knew he was meant to have it. He was the fulfillment of the prophecy.
He opened his eyes and felt cold for a moment, then looked at Dravothrak. “Thank you.”
“It was nothing.”
“No, it was everything.” Will smiled and laid his hand on one of Dravothrak’s toes. “I am the Norrington. I will redeem Vorquellyn and I’ll kill the scourge of the north.”
“Yes, the prophecy.” Dravothrak’s voice hummed with power, sending vibrations through Will’s chest.
A Norrington to lead them,
Immortal, washed in fire
Victorious, from sea to ice.
Power of the north he will shatter,
A scourge he will kill,
Then Vorquellyn will redeem.
The thief smiled. “It sounds much more powerful when you say it.”
“The power comes not from me, but from the prophecy itself, and the people it has drawn to its fulfillment.”
Will nodded. “Well, I was pulled out of a burning building as a child, and the raid on Wruona would be our victory at sea. I guess I just have to lead folks north to the ice, to defeat Chytrine, and then we can redeem Vorquellyn.”
The dragon’s head rose, towering over Will. “The work of a lifetime. Even a dragon’s lifetime.” Dravothrak looked past him, then hissed.
Will turned and a dracomorph stood there, with his head bent forward. He hissed back at Dravothrak, but in a very polite manner. A returning hiss brought the dracomorph upright again and he waited.
Dravothrak spoke from behind him. “Will, please accompany this small one to the Congress Chamber. The others will join you there, including Kerrigan. I must travel another route and take my place in the Congress.”
Will craned his neck back. “What will we be doing?”
“Answer questions as they are asked. Just answer truthfully and all will go well. Chytrine has few friends in the Congress, and even they suspect her motives. If we succeed, you will have allies in your war against her.”
“They’ll be welcome.” Will nodded. “Thank you again.”
“It was my pleasure, Wilburforce Norrington.”
Will wandered from the chamber in the wake of the dracomorph but did not wonder at Dravothrak’s full use of his name. He did want to turn and ask the shade following him if he had chosen such a horrid name for him, but he wasn’t sure he’d get an answer. G
iven that his father had gotten him on a whore during a drunken binge in Alcida, he wasn’t sure his father had known he’d been conceived, much less had anything to do with naming him.
Besides, his father then and his father now weren’t the same person as the shade. The shade was happy and free. None of the tragedy that had shaped his life showed at all. The poem he recited was fun and playful, and Will imagined him that way. That’s what I got from him. That’s the foundation that makes me the Norrington.
The dracomorph led him to a semicircular shelf of stone that jutted out into a lake of fire. Will walked up to the edge and saw a line of runes ringing it. He couldn’t read them, but he could feel power humming off them. He looked past them and at the way the heat from the fiery lake made images shift. Will breathed out as Dranae had at the cavern entrance and saw his breath mist briefly in the invisible barrier holding the heat back.
He smiled, then looked past the edge and deeper into the lake. There, at various points—on tall, flat rocks, tall towers, and niches carved in the far walls—he saw dragons. Lots of dragons, and some of them were looking at him. In the distance, he saw Dravothrak settle into place, but he held back from waving.
Qwc zipped past him and, for a heartbeat, Will thought he was going to sail through the barrier. “Qwc, be careful!”
The Spritha stopped short of the wall, then turned. “Hot, hot, Qwc knows. Very hot.”
“Yeah, really, really hot.” Will winked at him, then turned and smiled as the others joined him. “I was talking to Dravothrak. As soon as Kerrigan gets here, we’re supposed to answer questions when they are asked of us. If we do things right, we might get help against Chytrine.”
Crow stared at him and paled. “Will, what is that thing behind you?”
“You should recognize him. He’s my father. Dravothrak made him appear. He’ll go away soon, but I heard him recite his poem ‘How to Vex a Temeryx.’ ”
The older man shivered, then shook his head and chuckled. “That was going to be Leigh’s most magnificent poem. I’d love to hear you recite it, Will.”
When Dragons Rage Page 56
