The guard slowly nodded. ‘Just you?’
‘Of course,’ she said breathlessly, smiling up at him. ‘Just me.’
The guard lifted his chin. ‘All of you,’ he barked, ‘stand back!’
Palemon glanced around. They were already against the wall; there was nowhere else to go. The guard pulled a key from his belt and unfastened the lock. Metal jangled. A moment later the gate creaked as he opened it.
‘All right,’ the guard said to Zara, ‘out.’ Walking with feline grace, she exited the cell.
Palemon clenched his fists at his sides. He desperately wanted freedom and knew that his cold bloods were strong, skilled warriors; they could overpower the guard in an instant and likely make it out of the dungeon alive. He longed to fight; action was in his blood.
But he knew he couldn’t. They might make it out of the dungeon, but then they would be in a strange city, with no weapons, food, or allies, and a long journey to make to Malakai. More importantly, he truly wanted to solve the problem he had created. If Zara could convince Kargan that the threat of the red dragons was greater than he realized, she might also convince him to enlist their help, rather than keep them prisoner. Perhaps, at Athos, she might even find a way to break the spell.
He had to place his faith in her.
The gate slammed closed. The guard turned the key in the lock. Palemon watched Zara’s back as the guard led her away.
Lamara was tranquil. It was a beautiful evening and the sun was setting, casting slanted rays over the city of yellow stone. Kargan, ruler of the Ilean Empire, stood on the terrace that bordered his audience chamber and sipped from a golden goblet. He wore a bright-orange robe and his thick dark hair was oiled and neatly combed.
The palace was tall, crowning a hill in Lamara’s center, and he watched the fishing boats and ferries traveling the wide brown river. There were no large ships: trade by sea had dried up completely, but while his finances had suffered, the reduction didn’t cripple his empire, for the caravans from Abbas, Serca, Abadihn, and Efu kept coming.
His thoughts turned to the reason his fleet was grounded. Rumors of the plague of wildren across the sea were rife throughout the city. Rare was the man willing to embark on a voyage these days, and that included him. But, for now, the wildren seemed content to ravage the distant lands in the north. Kargan’s men were on alert, but no dragons had been seen in Ilea.
He scanned the soldiers manning the tall walls that enclosed the city. There was a multitude of archers in their number, along with the ballistae he had acquired at Fort Liberty. His best engineers had copied the design and were now producing their own ballistae. If the Galean nations failed to contain the dragons, he was ready. And when the dragons were all dead . . . That was when he planned to send his ships north again.
Kargan’s gaze moved to the great pyramid that rose over everything, dominating the vista. Solon had built it, but he had died far from home and his body was never recovered. Kargan would now occupy the tomb inside one day, and if the priests were correct, he would ascend to heaven no matter what sins he carried.
He lifted his goblet and tart red wine trickled down his throat. He smiled. It didn’t hurt to try – what harm could it do? – but he believed that when his body was placed in the tomb, it would do what bodies always did: rot and then slowly decay. This world was the real one. Only what happened in the here and now mattered. There was no other purpose than to live a long life, as full as possible with riches, women, and fine food and drink.
‘Great King,’ a voice spoke behind him.
Kargan turned, frowning at the interruption.
A palace guard stood on the edge of the terrace, waiting at a discreet distance. There was someone at his side, a slender, attractive woman in a figure-hugging garment. Her hair was raven-black, and her eyes were a startling blue. She was striking, with high cheekbones and a pale face like sculpted marble. She wore a copper necklace with a round medallion that dangled at the base of her neck.
Kargan recognized her immediately. She was the sorceress Zara, one of Palemon’s closest companions. ‘What is she doing here?’ he growled. He approached the pair, walking with long strides.
‘Great King, I . . .’ The guard looked confused.
Zara walked forward to meet Kargan. She tilted her head back to look up at him, gazing into his eyes. ‘I asked to see you,’ she said softly.
With her face close to his, suddenly she was all he could think about. His eyes drifted downward. The copper necklace glinted in the evening light. By Helios, she truly was beautiful.
‘Why?’ Kargan asked slowly. He was finding it hard to think. ‘You are supposed to be in your cell.’
‘What I have to say is important,’ Zara said. ‘You never saw the red dragons after they turned. If you had seen them firsthand, then you would know.’
‘Know what?’ Kargan’s brow furrowed.
‘Xanthos will fall. Phalesia will fall. Then the dragons will come here.’ She spread an arm to indicate the entire city. ‘Your defenses will not stop them. Another solution must be found.’
Kargan scowled. ‘I saw them in action when you stole half my fleet. I know what I’m dealing with.’
‘No,’ Zara said. ‘You do not. What you saw was a smaller force of dragons, completely under our control. They did what we bid them to do. We wanted to capture your ships and destroy any resistance on board, and that is what we did. The situation is now different. The Galeans face more than twice as many dragons and this time they are crazed. Kill just one and the others feel its pain, and they will do whatever they can to destroy the source of that pain.’
Kargan felt her words beginning to sway him. Perhaps he should help young Dion, rather than leave him to his fate? He shook his head.
‘We all want the same thing,’ Zara continued smoothly but insistently. ‘The red dragons gone from this world. You know that our people will soon return from across the sea. We cannot let them come to a shattered land, with their lives in immediate peril. We have to end the spell. That is what you want, isn’t it?’
Kargan slowly nodded.
‘There is a place, Athos,’ Zara said.
‘I know it,’ Kargan murmured.
‘It is a magical place. If you let us go to Athos, we—’
Kargan suddenly shook himself. He experienced a sensation akin to swimming underwater and then bursting to the surface. ‘You want me to let you go?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Lady, you may be beautiful, but I would not be king if I were so easily deceived.’
Zara drew back. Her expression darkened.
‘Guard,’ Kargan ordered. ‘Return her to her cell.’ He paused, smiling down at Zara. ‘Unless, lady, you desire a companion tonight?’
Zara’s face became murderous.
Kargan laughed again. ‘I thought not. Ah well, I have dozens of concubines. Another will have to do.’ He nodded at the guard. ‘Take her away.’ He considered for a moment. ‘But before you go, woman, give me your necklace. It will make tonight’s companion all the more eager to satisfy.’
Zara tensed, but then her shoulders slumped. She unfastened the necklace and handed it to Kargan. The guard then led her away.
Palemon raised an eyebrow when Zara returned. He didn’t need to see that the necklace was gone from around her throat. He could tell just by looking at her face that she’d been unsuccessful.
Two guards flanked the sorceress. Half a dozen bowmen followed behind. When they reached the cell, they stood with bows drawn, sighted on the cell’s occupants as one of the guards opened the gate.
Zara walked in, her posture defeated. The gate slammed closed. The guard fastened the lock and then shook the bars to test them. The archers and guards then left. Zara looked up to meet Palemon’s eyes.
‘We will think of something else,’ Palemon said.
She shook her head. ‘He has a strong will.’
‘Most kings do,’ Palemon said. ‘I could have told you that.’
26
Recollection hit him with force. He remembered being pursued and changing his shape as he flew directly at the waterfall. The dragons had finally given up their hunt. Exhaustion overcame him.
He had been to this place before, which was how he had known about the recess behind the waterfall. He stood and stretched, feeling blood return to his tingling limbs.
He then took a running start and leaped through the curtain of water.
For a split second his limbs flailed as he plummeted, but then he concentrated, imagining himself as a lean, winged creature. Mist welled around him. He felt his body shift, changing and elongating.
As a silver-scaled dragon, he flew up into the air.
He gave several hard sweeps of his wings, and his stomach lurched as he gained height. The pool fell away beneath him, and now he was over the forest and climbing still higher. Evergreens and mighty oaks spread out below. The sun was halfway up the sky, which meant it was midmorning. His uncle would be frantic with worry. There might have been another attack on Xanthos. He needed to visit Phalesia and then get home as swiftly as possible.
He performed a wide turn, taking a different path than the previous day. The dragons had chased him far from his destination, but if he flew with speed, he would get to Phalesia soon. His wings pounded at the air, propelling him forward. Leaving the Wilds behind, he kept his gaze constantly roving, scanning ahead and craning his neck to look behind. His belly was empty, and he was already fatigued. He flew over fields laid out in orderly rectangles. He suddenly saw movement, and colors that shouldn’t have been among the yellow fields of grain. He pulled up sharply.
The dragons were spread out, covering several fields. Their wings fluttered as they rested. He realized he was too late when there was a series of screeches and their wings unfurled as they rose up. They formed a wedge, clustered tightly together. Like a hail of scarlet arrows they sped directly toward him.
Dion immediately banked and picked a new direction. The trick with the waterfall wouldn’t work again, and he thought furiously. He tossed up different plans and discarded them. The sky was bright and blue, devoid of any clouds. The mountains in this region were low, and he couldn’t hide behind them. He traveled swiftly, following some instinct that was buried deep within. He headed toward the sea.
He looked back; they were gaining on him. He saw their angry eyes, glaring malevolently, and their sharp claws and parted jaws. Their wings were beating faster than his. The lead dragon’s white teeth were stained red. They were well fed and rested. After losing him, they must have found other prey.
Dion looked down and saw that he was flying over a wide road curving like a ribbon. He realized it was the Phalesian Way, which meant he was somewhere between Xanthos and Phalesia. He knew he couldn’t seek refuge in either place; he had to lead the dragons away. Instead he continued his flight toward the sea, seeing a region of barren hills and craggy peaks pass below him. Lifting his gaze, he finally spied blue water ahead. Suddenly he was over the shore and then flying above the crests and troughs of endless rows of waves.
Raucous shrieks sounded directly behind him. Dion looked to both sides and saw that there were dragons now flanking him, matching his speed. Fear lent urgency to his movements. His wings slammed down again and again, launching him forward so that he drew slightly ahead of them.
He knew what he had to do.
He was out in deep water, approaching the volcanic isle of Deos and beyond it Sindara. If he could change shape, his pursuers wouldn’t be able to follow him under the water.
He immediately tried. With piercing cries coming from all quarters, he concentrated, trying to imagine sea as his natural element. He was a long, writhing serpent, with a paddle-like tail and a frill behind his neck. He had no limbs or wings.
Even as he flew furiously, Dion attempted to change. But the visions of blood and red flesh coming from his pursuers swamped his senses and caused his concentration to fall away; he was finding it hard enough to maintain the form of a dragon.
He couldn’t do it.
Mount Oden, the volcano ahead, became larger. Smoke rose from its broken peak in a black plume. Dion was flying so swiftly that the isle of Deos was upon him in an instant, and then he was leaving it behind. The shrieks and snarls grew louder; the creatures were relentless in their hunt. They were once more at his flanks. He glanced down and saw that there were three dragons directly below him. A shadow came between him and the sun. His stomach lurched. There were dragons above him as well.
Dion frantically looked ahead. He was gazing at a swathe of sea and then a long coastline, with a wall of dark cliffs and a beach of pure white sand.
Sindara.
He knew he had no choice. He put his last burst of effort into reaching the eldran homeland. The water below changed hue, shifting from dark blue to cyan. The towering black cliffs loomed ahead. Dion roared as he whipped his wings at the air, flying over the crystalline sand toward the tops of the cliffs. At any moment he expected to feel claws on his back. He looked wildly in all directions.
Then he realized something: the dragons had all gone.
He executed a sharp turn and looked back the way he’d come. They were all still there, scores and scores of winged creatures, hovering in the sky and shrieking with frustration as they watched him. There was nothing stopping them from attacking. But it was as if they’d hit a wall.
The bloodren watched him for a moment.
Then they turned and flew away.
‘So they will not – or cannot – enter Sindara,’ Eiric mused.
‘I am certain of it,’ Dion said.
They stood near a bubbling stream, under the boughs of a tall cedar tree that swayed in the breeze. The sun was high in the sky and the shade was pleasant. A soft carpet of green grass covered the ground, dotted with bright summer flowers. As always, Sindara was almost too beautiful to be real.
A doe with her belly sliced open lay on her back near the stream, staring sightlessly. Dion had found Eiric by the water, butchering the deer’s carcass with skillful slices of an obsidian blade. Eiric wasn’t surprised to see him; he and Dion were friends, and he had sensed Dion’s approach.
‘You weren’t aware that they couldn’t come here?’ Dion asked.
‘No.’ Eiric shook his head. The tall, broad-shouldered eldran regarded Dion with golden eyes. ‘We have been shadowing them, tracking their movements, but we are always careful not to be seen.’ He sighed. ‘Tell me . . . Is it as bad as it appears?’
‘Xanthos cannot last,’ Dion said grimly. ‘We have no food and far too many people to take care of. The dragons have probed our defenses, but any day they will attack in earnest.’
‘Dion,’ Eiric said, ‘if you need to flee, and can get your people here, I promise you that we will provide refuge. We have plenty of water and animals for hunting. You have my word.’
Dion let out a breath. ‘I can’t believe it has come to this.’
‘We all do what we must. But yes, this is dark magic indeed. Even my father can see no solution.’
‘I need to visit Phalesia and then return to Xanthos. Stay safe, King Eiric.’
‘But they are still out there!’
‘I’ll take a different route.’
Eiric shook his head. ‘Remember, my promise stands.’
Dion held out his hand, and Eiric gripped his palm.
‘Thank you, my friend,’ Dion said.
Chloe was making bread in the villa’s kitchen, her movements mechanical, so exhausted she could barely think.
It was late afternoon, and she had spent all day working in the city, administering to the countless people in need of help. She had mixed potions, splinted broken bones, and cleaned wounds and sewn them closed. It was wearying, time-cons
uming work, but she never stopped until everyone was seen to.
Now, rather than take the rest she desperately craved, she would spend the evening in her kitchen getting as many loaves as possible ready for the next day. Phalesia was filled to bursting with refugees. The dragons had taken over the land. So far the city had plenty of grain, but someone needed to turn it into bread. In the morning she would deliver a hand-sized piece to every newcomer she encountered, which also gave her an opportunity to ask about their health.
At the back of Chloe’s mind was always the thought that she should be doing more. She had a fire staff. She could stand with the men and fight the bloodren. But what she truly wanted was to find a solution, to break the spell holding the changelings in their dragon form. Was this the time of darkness that Zedo had told her about? How could she go to Athos when it was too dangerous to travel at all?
Working absently while her mind moved from one thought to another, Chloe jumped when she heard a sound. It was the gusting snap of flapping wings. She froze and listened intently. The dragons had snatched people from the city more than once: unlike Xanthos, Phalesia was big, and it was difficult to protect the whole place. Her mind conjured up a scarlet creature, hovering on the villa’s terrace, just outside the front door.
Waiting with eyes wide, she pricked her ears. The sound of wings was gone. She heard a childish laugh in the distance. Conversation drifted up from somewhere in the city. She began to relax, becoming curious as she hurried to the front door and exited the villa. She glanced swiftly from side to side. There was no one there.
Then she turned and saw him.
He was on his hands and knees, near the wall, shaking his head from side to side. His expensive tunic was dirty, and his flaxen hair was in a mess. He was panting, as if struggling to catch his breath.
‘Dion!’
At the mention of his name, clarity returned to his eyes. He rolled over onto his back. ‘I almost lost myself,’ he wheezed, looking up at her. ‘It’s too much.’
Iron Will Page 17
