Dragonhold (Book 2)

by Brian Rathbone

Mael appeared dubious Catrin would have any gift worthy of his attention. The Herald of Istra knew something of what sorcerers found valuable. Moldy old tomes were unappreciated by some, but the right books in the right hands--or perhaps claws--were magic. When Catrin placed the tomes on the grassy landscape, not far from where black scars still tore through the soil, it was clear they piqued Mael's interest. A normal dragon may not have seen the books' value, but Catrin knew he could read without ever turning a page. She and Pelivor had left little power within the green stones, but there was enough to afford him that.

  Your kindness may one day be your downfall, but I must nonetheless thank you.

  "We need not be enemies," Catrin said. "Perhaps there are ways we can help one another."

  These words clearly made Mael uncomfortable, and he shifted in the lap of the mighty stone god, his tail sending spray from the waterfall onto the plain below.

  I've known allies before. They betrayed me.

  It was some time before the dragon spoke again, but then the expression on his visage softened.

  You've shown me kindness, Catrin Volker. I'll not forget this. Do not think this makes us friends. If you wish to save the child queen and the Black Queen, you must move quickly. This information I impart to you in return for the gift you brought me. Those trapped within the Noonspire seek new bodies since their old mortal trappings have long since turned to dust. Those new vessels must be prepared in order to receive such vast knowledge and powerful souls, so you do have some time, but not much.

  "Sadly I'm as much trapped here as you are." Catrin's words were sincere, but they brought a strange smile to the dragon's eyes. She waited, silent, hoping to understand the nature of this smirk.

  There is another way.

  Catrin wasn't certain if she detected humor, kindness, or lies. Her life would likely depend on which it actually was. As if to show his power, Mael placed the idea deep within Catrin's mind without ever uttering the words. It was unsettling at best, but at least Catrin Volker had the information she'd come for.

  May the gods forgive what she did next.

  * * *

  When Pelivor awoke, his head ached. With parched lips, he looked for something to drink and found a pitcher of cool water waiting on the nightstand next to him. Not far away, on the bed where he had expected to see Catrin resting, were clean, smooth sheets. Almost immediately, he began to curse. He loved Catrin and knew her now better than anyone else in the world, save perhaps Allette Kilbor. She must be doing something of which he would not approve.

  "You'll want to sip this," Miss Mariss said. "The hunger may be overwhelming, but drinking this too fast is sure to give you a headache. Do yourself a favor and learn from Catrin's mistakes."

  These words did little to still Pelivor's anxiety. "Where has she gone?"

  Miss Mariss simply shook her head and walked from the room, leaving Pelivor alone with his melancholy thoughts. Then the thunder started. He'd guessed Catrin had gone to see the dragon, but now no doubt remained. Few others within the hold could create such thunder, and this was not the result of a natural or even supernatural storm. This was the result of his friend going off on her own, unprotected, into the realm of an ancient dragon sorcerer with unknown powers. The words that left his lips were not fit for ears. He got out of bed too quickly and stumbled against the nightstand, knocking the pitcher over with a clatter of metal against wood.

  Miss Mariss came rushing back into the room at the sound. "Oh, no," she said. "I won't have you running off and risking yourself just because Catrin does foolish things. We need you, something I think the two of you often forget."

  "I cannot let her face the dragon alone," Pelivor said. "I'm sorry."

  When deep laughter reverberated through the hold, making it clear Mael was awake and still had access to power, Pelivor could no longer be restrained. Miss Mariss shook her head in disappointment but did not bar his path. The laughter unnerved her as well, and even if she were angry with Catrin, they were friends. No one wished ill on those they cared for.

  With his head aching and his body failing to react with the alacrity he would have desired, Pelivor did his best to make his way back to the dragon's chamber with as much speed as possible. There was no way to cover such distances quickly, at least no natural way. Pelivor realized this in an instant and used his flightmaster experience to full advantage. Applying his will, he sent himself hurtling through the halls at breakneck speed. If he misjudged, the results could be fatal since hard stone flew past in a blur. Practically flying down the main hall, he soon saw Catrin walking toward him, solemn but determined. No words were needed to tell him what she'd done, no explanation required. Instead, Pelivor simply slowed and allowed his feet to once again touch cold stone. His knees trembling from the exertion, he faced his friend with fear in his heart.

  "There's another way out," Catrin said. "We must go."

  "Wait. He told you this?"

  Nodding, she tried to pull Pelivor back toward the main keep. It was an extremely difficult thing, knowing her mind up until a certain point then having no way to know what Catrin thought going forward. He could guess, based on the sum of her experiences, but had no way to predict what she would do next. She always had his best interests at heart; that he knew. For this reason alone he allowed her to pull him back the way he had come.

  "What else did he tell you?" Pelivor asked.

  For a while longer, Catrin walked in silence. Pelivor knew she was choosing her words. "He said Aggrezjhon and Murden wanted to use Allette and Trinda's bodies since they lost their physical forms long ago."

  These words darkened Pelivor's soul, and he began to see why Catrin would want to go to save them. The things she didn't say terrified him.

  "We must first scout the way," Catrin said. "We take no one else. No one is to know where we've gone. The way is not safe, and I don't want their blood on my hands as well."

  "So you're just going to leave Miss Mariss and all the others without any information and let them wonder what happened to us?"

  "I don't like it any better than you, but I've no better ideas."

  "I really don't like it," he said.

  Nodding, Catrin accepted it. "I need my pack. I have one prepared for you as well."

  Pelivor raised an eyebrow.

  "I had a feeling and stashed them not far away."

  Much of the way they walked was a common thoroughfare, a major hall leading back to areas of the keep that had been inhabited for much longer. The stump of an old torch still resting in the sconce was just what he'd been searching for. "A moment," he said.

  Catrin stopped, turned, and waited without much patience. Pelivor leaped up to the sconce and grabbed the butt of the old torch. Using the blackened charcoal, he scratched a crude message onto the floor. He didn't get much more than their initials and the words will return written on the stones of the roadway before the rest of the torch completely disintegrated. It would have to be enough.

  Soon Catrin turned from the main thoroughfare, going out of her way to avoid contact with anyone else. Most of the tunnels they now strode were seldom used. It was a good thing; Catrin's pack reeked of that dreadful blanket.

  When they arrived in a circular chamber, its floor divided into symmetrical tiles, each bearing a pictograph, Pelivor's stomach grew cold. This chamber had been used successfully to turn on the water within the hold and also to travel to the mountaintop, a trip that would currently be suicidal by Pelivor's estimation. Though each time had recovered utility from the long past, both had come with a price, and Pelivor wondered what this would cost them.

  Catrin gave Pelivor no chance to second-guess; grabbing his hand, she pulled him onto a tile bearing a series of rectangles, each surrounded by four circles. Not quite ready and pulled off balance, he took a hesitant step and stumbled into her, forcing her back as his foot hit the tile she occupied. A low grinding noise followed after she inadvertently depressed the wrong tile, this one having three thick vertical ba
rs intersected by a wavy horizontal line.

  Having no idea what this represented, Pelivor closed his eyes and held his breath. Nothing else happened. "Sorry," he said.

  "It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have pulled you like that. I don't know what I was thinking."

  Both silently acknowledged their luck. Catrin joined him then smiled, shrugged, and exerted greater force on the stone tile upon which they stood. At first it only wiggled, but then Pelivor took her hand and synchronized their movements. Without warning, the tile dropped, leaving both waving their arms, trying to keep their balance. The movement started slowly, almost imperceptibly, but increased until soon they were falling at a rate that had Pelivor's insides tingling. Catrin's grip on his hand tightened.

  After plunging into unknown depths, the circular stone floor slowed, pressing up into their boots. From her pocket Catrin pulled a herald globe and used Koe to give it an extra charge. It revealed a foreign landscape unlike anything else within Dragonhold. Above were sweeping lines, right angles, and stonework straight from the hands of masters. Below, the stone resembled the work of giants armed with enormous hammers. Even the smallest facet in the stone face was taller than Catrin and Pelivor standing on top of one another.

  A strange sound filled the hall. Not hesitating, Catrin stepped onto roughhewn black stone.

  Pelivor followed with trepidation. "What is this place?"

  Four cylindrical rails lined the halls. Two were suspended from either wall, one dominated the center of the floor and another hung from the ceiling. Whistling and a rush of air were all the warning they received before a projectile of metal, wood, leather, and glass soared through the room.

  "What was that?" Pelivor asked.

  Catrin walked to a series of black metal levers set into the wall. "That was our ride."

  "You're not planning to get into one of those things, are you?" Pelivor asked.

  "There's no other way," Catrin said. "I've no idea exactly how far we need to travel or if we'll use up the precious little energy Koe has stored. So far beneath the land, the air is completely devoid of Istra's power; I know you can feel it. We must conserve. And as you can also see, the mine cars travel in ways we would never be able to accomplish."

  Pelivor sighed and watched Catrin. The way she operated this foreign device's controls, as if she knew them, made him suspect Mael had imparted this information--and more, which worried him. Despite his concerns, the mine car slowed and stopped right in front of them. Catrin immediately climbed aboard, but Pelivor took a few more moments to inspect the car to make sure there was nothing that had rotted over the ages. It was a testament to the ancients' construction skills that any of this worked at all. Albeit under a patina of age, the mine car was in near pristine condition, making Pelivor wonder what other marvels the ancients had accomplished.

  The mine car itself was remarkable. Pelivor would have expected something suitable for carrying ore, but this car was designed to transport people rather than cargo. Two seats, side by side, filled the bottom of the car. A series of controls near the front bore indecipherable labels, and a glowing amber lamp shed light on what lay ahead. Pelivor cleared dust and grime from the lens, allowing them to see more.

  "Let's go," Catrin said.

  Having inspected the car to the best of his ability and really having no way to address any of the things he found questionable, Pelivor resigned himself and climbed aboard.

  "If I'm right," Catrin said, "we're just taking a short service loop to pick up speed."

  "And if you’re wrong?"

  Catrin shrugged. "Hold on."

  There was no more time for misgivings. Sliding the controls forward, Catrin sent the car gliding along the rails. The metal structures supporting them bore a glossy sheen. Pelivor did not know how long the cars had been running. It was possible they had operated continuously over the eons, but it seemed far more likely that recent events within Dragonhold had reactivated them.

  No matter how long it had been, using the cars was far from safe. The speed alone was dizzying. Halls barely wide enough to allow for the car and rails led to a steep downward slope. Soon they dived through an expansive cavern with many rails suspended from cables. The cylindrical shafts, supported by metal structures, rarely intersected. Where they did, the rails appeared designed to allow the car to switch tracks. Rather than coming together at right angles, the tracks merged smoothly then separated with equal grace.

  Dust and detritus of ages coated some rails. Upon seeing those, Pelivor made the mistake of looking down. There, at the bottom of a deep pit, Catrin's overbright herald globe shone on dented and destroyed cars launched from no-longer-complete spans. Certain his screams could be heard all the way back in the main hold, Pelivor watched in despair as they crossed over broken tracks and launched into an upward arc. When the tracks continued, he tried to catch his breath.

  Shiny rails indicated the track was whole the entire way around, but Pelivor could not be certain. When the controls and the circular shaft reappeared, he knew Catrin had been right. Still, that did nothing to ease his anxiety since he'd seen no place appropriate for them to disembark. The pitch of his screams rose even higher when Catrin threw one of the levers forward. A loud clang reverberated through the halls, setting Pelivor's teeth on edge. A junction raced toward them, smooth and clean on one side, dusty and unused on the other. The smooth side would get them nowhere. Despite the graceful appearance of the transition, the car slammed left and vibrated over disused rails.

  Still whisking along the track, the mine car sent dust, grime, and refuse of ages flying. Bits of wood that may have once supported the tunnels and rusted metal hung in the shaft before them. It was everything Catrin and Pelivor could do to keep their heads down and avoid decapitation.

  "Get ready to jump!" Catrin shouted.

  Had she given Pelivor the opportunity to protest, he would have, but life was moving at high speed, and there would be consequences. He was certain. There was no way to know just how much longer there ride would last until Catrin drew a sharp breath. She stood and leaped, grabbing his shirt collar as she went. Unable to stand in time, Pelivor was yanked bodily from the car by Catrin's grip alone, and he thought she might have broken his collarbone. Screaming, the two landed on a pile of unforgiving rock. This was, however, far preferable to the fate of their mine car. Pelivor now had a full view, and he was thankful for Catrin's quick reflexes. If only she hadn't gotten them into this in the first place.

  A short distance ahead of the doomed mine car, the tracks ended in a pile of rocks where the tunnel had long ago collapsed. Whistling and screaming, the car collided with the rocks at near full speed, sending sparks and a thunderous boom into the air. Pelivor would have despaired if not for delicate beams of sunlight piercing the darkness.

  Chapter 17

  Beware the dreamers, for they know not their own weakness and are therefore not limited by it.

  --Osbourne Macano, glassblower

  * * *

  "He's going to need a thrustmaster, sir."

  Benjin Hawk smiled at the young man who had grown up before his eyes. Jessub Tillerman was a man of his word, and Benjin truly had no hold over him. Nonetheless, Jessub asked permission to join Kenward Trell's crew. Doing so would endanger the young man's life, but who was he to say no? "Are you sure that's what you want?"

  "I always said I was going to be an adventurer," Jessub said, his grin contagious.

  "Indeed you did, my boy. Indeed you did. I must admit, you've perhaps not chosen the safest career path," Benjin said, getting a chuckle from Jessub. "But I'll support you in whatever you decide."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "But don't think I'm going to tell my wife on your behalf. Or that I'm going to tell her this was my idea. That, my friend, is on you."

  The young man blanched, proving he had good sense, in spite of his choice of ship. "Yes, sir."

  Benjin chuckled and patted the boy on the shoulder. Something seemed to be irritat
ing his eyes; he kept rubbing at them but would admit nothing. Jessub cast him a sideways glance but also remained silent. Gwen and Fasha stood nearby, talking, which would make the conversation even more difficult for Jessub, but that was not his problem. If this boy thought he could survive the Portly Dragon, then he would have to brave Benjin's wife and daughter first.

  Of course, it could be said that taking advice on women from Benjin Hawk was a bad idea. And once again the two people he thought he knew best surprised him. There were no stern words or reprimands; instead tears of joy and sorrow mixed on his shoulders. Jessub Tillerman was a brave man. It went neither unnoticed nor unrewarded.

  "Come on, young man," Benjin said after the girls had finished falling all over Jessub. "Grab your things and let's go talk to your new captain."

  The Portly Dragon sat in dry dock, looking much like the barge she was designed after. Kenward Trell watched them approach with a crooked smirk.

  "Permission to come aboard, sir?" Jessub asked.

  Kenward grinned like a fool at the sight of the bag slung across the young man's shoulder. "I would never have asked you to come."

  Benjin nodded in acknowledgment of his statement, knowing it was partly intended for him. Out of respect, Kenward Trell had not sought anyone from the Dragon's Wing.

  The good captain could scarcely contain his enthusiasm. "Having a thrustmaster aboard, even a novice, will greatly increase our chances of success."

  Benjin wore a sad smile. "Take good care of him. The boy's been getting under my feet for so long, he's like family." Jessub flushed and could not meet his eyes.

  "He is just as fine and strong a young man as I've ever seen," Kenward said, coming to the aid of the boy's ego. "I'm certain will get along very well."

  "I'll say one last thing, Kenward. I don't expect Martik would take kindly to you putting his only born son in the drink."

  And with those words, Benjin released responsibility for one he considered his own. It was a difficult parting, and he worried about Jessub's future and safety, but he'd done everything in his power to train the boy, as had Martik, Fasha, Gwen and others. There was nothing more they could do.