With the Portly Dragon secured and everything upon the flight deck lashed down, the Drakon and the crew of the Dragon's Wing returned to their own work. Kenward was left to grin at his crew and figure out what his next move would be. Sinjin climbed atop Valterius, strapped himself in, and returned to Windhold to face his wife's wrath. He did have to admit, though, that Kenward would take the brunt of Kendra's anger, and in some small way, that might take the pressure off him. Still, Sinjin considered the possibility there might be times his wife was happy and did not want to throttle him.
The truth was that life was hard and their circumstances more than a little grim.
"What do you think we should do?" Sinjin asked Kendra upon seeing her. The words left his lips before he fully considered them, and he almost instantly regretted the question.
Looking up from the saddlebag she was unpacking, Kendra glared. "I say we kill Kenward."
These had not been the words he expected, and he gaped in response.
"He's been trying to kill himself for years but doesn't quite seem to have the right stuff. I'm starting to think we should help him out before he gets one of us killed."
Sinjin wanted to say Valterius had had everything under control, but he knew better.
"And if he doesn't kill us, he'll just bleed us of resources making his contraptions."
"They did fly," Sinjin said before his good sense kicked in.
No words emerged from Kendra's lips; her expression said all there was to say.
"Kenward is an unsolvable puzzle," Sinjin said.
"They're all unsolvable! That's the problem. We've a dozen puzzles with half the pieces all mixed together and the other half missing. At the moment, I'm not certain we can manage not to starve."
Their reserves would last through the winter, but he understood Kendra's point nonetheless. They were powerless, and no matter what they decided, it was unlikely it would make a difference. "Some things we can do," he said, shaking off the darkness. "For one thing, we can send a small armed force back to the Godfist and see if we can establish communication through the barrier."
"I've been thinking about that," Kendra said. "I think we could establish visual contact using smoke."
"From where? In the Pinook Valley?" Sinjin asked and she nodded. "I suppose that could work. Most of the valley is within the barrier, but there were a few sizable clearings outside as well. Not sure how we could do much beyond getting their attention, though."
"Kenward and your mom know the signal language."
"Do you think my mom will remember what little she once knew?"
"Perhaps not, but Miss Mariss is from a family of pirates, don't forget."
Sinjin had not forgotten, but it also had not occurred to him that she might be fluent in the signal language. "So we have a plan and a backup plan. Good."
"Almost," Kendra said. Sinjin nearly dropped his face into his hands again, but he knew that annoyed Kendra, and now was not the time. "Kenward doesn't want to go back to the Godfist."
"Oh?"
"Kenward wants to invade the Jaga."
Unable to formulate a response to that statement, Sinjin just waited for Kendra to go on and tried not to appear as dumbfounded as he was. The mental image of Kenward flying the Portly Dragon into the black swamp didn't help.
"You can't have missed the connection between Kenward and Allette," Kendra said, finally getting to her point. "Kenward thinks Allette is back within the Jaga, and he's going to go there and save her from the darkness."
"He told you this?" Sinjin asked, now fully incredulous in spite of his efforts.
"Not in so many words, no, but his actions tell the tale of his heart. The Portly Dragon is obviously nothing but a platform for war."
"To hear him tell it, the Portly Dragon is the barge of the sky, an extension of his family's rich history in trade."
"And you believe that?"
"Yes," Sinjin said. "He's my friend and I believe him when he tells me why he's building the craziest aircraft the world might ever know." Doubt crept in.
"See?" Kendra said, reading his face. "We can't let him go alone."
"Wait. What?" Sinjin shook his head as if making sure his brain hadn't developed a rattle.
Kendra sighed. "Clearly," she began, looking at Sinjin as if he were daft, "Kenward built the howler and the bumblebee to protect the slower and less nimble Portly Dragon. And those craft are not suited for carrying weapons into combat."
Despite his training in military matters, Sinjin could never manage to think like someone with a soldiering background. Though Kendra had never officially served on a fighting force, her mother had taught her well, for good or ill. Some of those lessons had taught her what to do; others taught her what not to do. The latter were far more powerful lessons, reinforced with pain.
"And you think the Drakon are better suited?" Sinjin asked, not wanting the answer.
"Vastly," she said. "The glass lances are proof of weapons used against dragons while adragonback."
"No one knows how to make those, and they would be of limited use against just about any other foe."
Kendra nodded, silent. Sinjin didn't know what to think. Such things rarely happened. "I don't know what to do," she finally admitted.
It was tempting to make a sarcastic remark, but Sinjin could not blame his wife in the least. He also had absolutely no idea of how best to proceed.
* * *
Within the makeshift forge, sweat ran into Osbourne's eyes and burned. Both his hands were occupied, helping his friend work hot metal, at least to the best of his ability. Osbourne was accustomed to the heat, though he preferred working hot glass, but their current forge lacked the shielding that had always insulated him from the fire's raw power. Working hand-built bellows while holding a pair of crude tongs, Osbourne wished for better gloves. His hands were desensitized to heat after years of working with glass, but even he could feel when he was being burned. While there were others, perhaps more capable and better suited physically to this job, Strom needed all the experience he could get. The working conditions compromised everything he did, and both knew the stakes.
"You really think we should be doing this?" Osbourne asked again.
Strom responded by repeatedly hammering red-hot metal. White hot was what they really wanted, but sometimes bright orange was the best they could accomplish. Working metal at lower temperatures was more difficult and compromised the product's integrity, but it was at times the best they could do. Osbourne worried most about the pressure tanks and the valves associated with them--or the lack thereof. When working with steam, it didn't take long for one to realize the need for pressure release, but Kenward insisted they had neither the time nor the resources. He was right. But in truth they had neither the time nor the resources to build experimental airships.
"Some of the things we've done in the past have been ill advised," Osbourne continued, "but this pushes the limits."
Strom stopped hammering for a moment, put down his tool, placed his hand on his hips, and stared at Osbourne. Still working the bellows, Osbourne went silent. Strom took the opportunity to stare at him a little bit longer just to make certain he'd made his point before he once again picked up his hammer. Using the extra energy from not talking, Osbourne concentrated on getting the metal white hot.
* * *
Despite the freedom and power of flight, it was sometimes nice to get where you were going on your own two feet. This was the case for Sinjin, who had left Valterius in Durin's care. He felt bad about asking his friend to work while he was still healing, but having something useful to do might reinforce his sense of purpose.
He could not change the harm that came to his friends and those he loved, and Sinjin let the physical exertion exorcise some of his worries. Not far away, the Portly Dragon waited in dry dock. The ship had grown since Sinjin had last seen it. Tar bladders the size of the deckhouse had been wrapped in sailcloth. Nearby, Kenward's crew worked to remove the inner sections fr
om lengths of stalk weed, providing slender, unobstructed cylinders.
"What's all this?" Sinjin asked when he reached the place where Kenward worked, huddled over plans scribbled in charcoal on fresh-cut planks. When the pirate wiped away his most recent drawing upon hearing Sinjin's voice, it was no coincidence.
"Making a few adjustments," Kenward said, not looking up.
Taking it all in, Sinjin decided his wife was either a complete genius or entirely delusional. The same could be said for Kenward Trell, and he wondered, not for the first time, about the company he kept.
"We're not far from finished," Kenward continued. "I am sorry about using so many of your resources, but I vow to come back laden with tools and implements of all varieties. I may even find a way to get your smith an anvil, heavy as the devils are."
"Where will you go first?" Sinjin asked, trying his best to be subtle. If Kendra had been there, she'd have rolled her eyes at his lack of tact.
"Wherever the wind takes me is probably the only honest answer I can give. Unless you've a spare thrustmaster or three."
"Not today," Sinjin said.
Kenward sighed. "I didn't think so. I'm going to have to figure that part out eventually. At sea, one can drop anchor and ride out a contrary wind. It's not so easy from the air. We've rope and sail and we know how to use them, but I must confess they can't do what a single thrustmaster can. But no worries! We're a crafty lot. I've more ideas to test, and you never know what we'll come up with."
Increasingly grateful for Valterius, even if dragon flight had its own drawbacks, Sinjin tried not to think about the complexities of flying airships.
"Still, it may take me a while to return," Kenward said.
The words were said without emotion, and Sinjin wasn't certain what to read into them. His wife's suspicions had him looking for alternate meaning in everything. It was maddening. "Are you going to invade the Jaga and try to save Allette?" Sinjin finally asked, unable to keep up the subtle game.
It took Kenward a moment to respond. "I suppose . . . if that's where the wind takes me."
"We'll go with you," Sinjin said before Kenward could utter another word.
"No. They'll not harm me. I've been invited."
Invited. The word rarely carried such sinister connotation, and Sinjin was afraid to ask by whom.
Kenward considered his offer for a moment. "You would do that for me?"
Sinjin nodded.
"It would likely be a one-way trip for some of us," Kenward said. "Though I'm sure the crew would return to you should anything ever happen to me."
"Was it Allette who invited you?" Sinjin asked, primarily because his wife would ask him that question, and for once he wanted to have the answer.
Unfortunately Kenward shrugged in response.
Sinjin tried to think of something else to say when his eyes landed on a growing pile of coconuts. "What are all those for?"
"Water storage," Kenward said, and it was clear to Sinjin he would get no more information that day. Once the man started giving one- and two-word answers, the dismissal was obvious.
"Is there anything else you need?" Sinjin asked, despite the fact that he'd probably already given too much.
"A couple flightmasters and a handful of thrustmasters if you can scare them up."
Chapter 16
Some ships are propelled solely by their crew's will.
--Fasha Hawk, sailor
* * *
Pelivor would not approve, but what he really needed were a few more days to rest. Catrin had a great deal more experience with astral travel, and even she felt the weariness, as if her soul were in tatters. Walking through darkened halls, like a thief skulking in the night, she couldn't help but feel bad for leaving him behind. Some things needed doing no matter what anyone else thought. She knew Pelivor's feelings. Now she knew almost everything he did. Their lives and memories diverged once their energies had been torn apart, but the cores of their beings were known to one another.
The deeper Catrin moved into the hold, the more Mael's presence could be sensed. Not knowing if he was conscious or not, she moved in silent trepidation. Though glossy and slick in her hand, Koe was streaked with white. The meager energy stream penetrating the barrier had not been enough to fully recharge the dragon ore carving. There was a chance she could draw energy from the giant green crystals, but they should also be mostly depleted. This would be a dangerous encounter. She had wisdom enough to recognize those with greater knowledge and skill than she. The most powerful individuals of the last Istran phase might also prove to be the most dangerous of this age. Like a child alone in a thunderstorm, Catrin felt small, powerless, and afraid. Mael was awake.
Even knowing this, Catrin remained undeterred. Her life had ceased to be the important factor long ago; most of what she did was for the benefit of others. Sinjin and his wife were chief among those, and even that made Catrin feel selfish. The entire world relied on what she did to save them, and all she could think about was her own debts. It proved just how small and self-centered she really was. Knowing Mael played with her feelings and tampered with her thoughts did not prevent them from stinging and hitting home.
It came as no surprise to see Mael wrapped around the ancient god's head, back in the place worn smooth over time. He watched her enter with distrust glittering in his eyes, and she couldn't help but notice the way he reacted when she pointed Koe in his direction. No matter how powerful he may be, he knew the sting of the carving and wisely backed away.
You're a fool for coming here.
Catrin made no statement in response but merely nodded her head, Koe never leaving her hand.
Why did you not kill me? His eyes glittered with rage, but a semblance of humanity remained even after all these years.
"Because, in you, I see myself," Catrin said. These words hung in the air for a long time before anyone moved or spoke. Catrin could feel him tinkering with her memories, playing with her motivations, and trying to get her to fall back under his influence, but the knowing prevented any of it from being subtle enough for the skillful sorcerer to apply.
I need pity from no one.
"It is not pity. I feel for you, ancient one. It is empathy. You, Aggrezjhon, and Murden were the most powerful people of your time. You were feared and misunderstood. No matter what your motivations were. This I understand better than anyone else alive."
The ancient dragon shifted.
"I've been to the Noonspire."
You think I'm unaware of this? There's nothing you can hide from me.
Perhaps most would have taken the dragon's word, but Catrin had seen the surprise when she mentioned the Noonspire, no matter how much the old sorcerer had endeavored to hide his reaction. The sheer size of his visage made even the slightest emotion visible.
Your friends will die. My colleagues will make sure their souls never escape the prison that has held them for so long.
The dragon's harsh words echoed painfully. Catrin knew he referred to Allette and Trinda, and while she would not consider them friends, they were better allies than this dragon was proving to be. Catrin had come here seeking help and knowledge in the hopes she and Mael would find common ground, but now she felt like the very fool he said her to be.
As if reading her thoughts, Mael chose that instant to launch his attack. What had seemed a leisurely posture soon proved to be an aggressive position of power. Lightning and fire rained down from on high, and the true glory of Mael's might was apparent. He must have known this time would come, a time when Catrin would be unprotected, when Pelivor would be left behind. Patience this sorcerer had in abundance. Thousands of years he'd waited to exact his revenge, his perspective far longer reaching than hers might ever be. In spite of the defensive structures she erected, Catrin was not immune to his attacks. Reaching deep into Koe for what reserves he held, she endured the pain, despite knowing her wounds were not purely physical. Using emotional anguish, the dragon mage carved deep rifts into Catrin's psych
e.
The Herald of Istra knew power as well, though, and had not come unprepared. Ignoring the sting of Mael's attack and the smoke rising from her clothing, Catrin launched a potent attack of her own. Leveling Koe at the fearsome dragon, she used the carving's strength to exploit what she hoped was a weakness. Inanimate, Koe had no thoughts or feelings to manipulate. Born from Catrin's imagination, he could not easily be corrupted and used against her. Only if Mael could possess the carving itself could he claim its power, much as Thorakis had done years before.
"I do not wish to destroy you."
Then you truly are a fool. I'd very much like to rid the world of you. Especially now that you've damaged the shield without having the decency to destroy the blasted thing. The vibration makes my teeth hurt, and I blame you.
When the echoes of his anger had settled, Catrin let the silence hang between them, sensing a deeper undercurrent. Mael needed her, no matter what he said, and for more than just destroying the shield. This was not something the dragon wished to be true or wanted to admit, but Catrin would use it to her advantage. "What if I were to help you escape?"
Dark, menacing laughter occasionally reverberated within the cavern. Catrin doubted anyone in the hold still slept. Pelivor would be on his way, and Catrin would soon have to explain herself. Coming here had been a mistake. The ancient sorcerer lacked much of the humanity he'd once born and did not even respond to simple empathy. Catrin had underestimated what three thousand years in a prison could do to a soul.
"I've brought you a gift," Catrin said, ignoring the hatred being projected at her, understanding, at least to some extent, that the people of the last age had created this monster. If not for her friends and family and those who cared for her, Catrin might have suffered a similar fate. For those reasons she refused to give up on Mael, insisting some vestiges of humanity must remain. Otherwise, her own future looked grim, indeed.
Dragonhold (Book 2) Page 18
