“Oh, Calen,” Krelig whispered. “How you will pay for this.”
And then suddenly Krelig screamed, not with rage this time, but with surprise and pain. So much that it radiated out from him in glowing red bursts. Or at least, that’s how it looked to Calen, his vision blurred with unshed tears and pain of his own.
Krelig had just enough time to stare up in alarm toward the wall, toward where the other mages still stood, several of whom had pulled back their strength from Calen over the last few minutes.
Toward Serek, who had pulled his own strength back almost as soon as they began, reserving it for this very moment.
“No. He won’t,” he heard Serek say in his mind, but he wasn’t speaking to Calen; he was speaking to Krelig.
And then Krelig was gone, vanished into a ball of red fire as big as a house. Bigger. Big as a dragon, Calen thought hazily.
And then the fire went out, and Krelig’s body lay charred and smoking on the ground.
Calen thought that it was probably safe to faint now. So he did.
When he woke up, the first thing he saw was Meg’s face, looking down at him.
“Hello,” he said. His voice came out in a hoarse croak.
She grinned, relief showing clearly on her face.
“Hi,” she said back. “You’re always passing out when things get rough, aren’t you?”
He blinked. “What? Hey . . .”
She laughed. Then abruptly threw herself down and hugged him. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“Ow,” he said. “Shoulders.”
She pulled back, kneeling beside him. “Sorry.” But she didn’t sound that sorry. That was okay. Calen hadn’t really minded the hug.
“What’s happening?” Calen asked. He didn’t quite feel ready to sit up.
“Well,” Meg said, glancing around, “Krelig is dead. Were you still awake for that part?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so, but it was hard to be sure. Well, while you and Krelig were battling it out, Jakl and I were keeping the other traitor mages away. Until someone from our side woke up Mage Oren, and one of the other mages from Serek’s group did that transportation spell and came down to help. She hit the remaining ones with some kind of sleep spell, I guess, because they all slumped to the ground at once. I think they were too distracted by the dragon to realize what was happening until it was too late.”
So many transportation spells. Those were still forbidden, as far as he knew. They were all going to be in trouble.
“What about the slaarh?”
“The other mages are helping the soldiers with the last of those, as well. There are only a few left. Several of the human handlers tried to run for it when they realized Krelig was dead, but we got them.”
“And the Lourin soldiers?”
“Surrendered. Well, some surrendered; some ran. But they didn’t get very far.” She smiled again, and this time it was one of her fierce dragon-girl smiles. “Jakl and I helped Captain Varyn round them up.”
At the sound of his name, Jakl thrust his head into view beside Meg, nearly knocking her over, and snorted a blast of warm dragony breath into Calen’s face. Meg laughed and pushed him back. “Move over, you. Give Calen some room.”
Suddenly Serek and Anders were there, too, also looking down at him. Calen was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, like he was a bug under a glass. He grunted and struggled to sit up. Meg helped him.
“Well done, Calen,” Serek said. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked less grim than he had in a long time. “I’m sorry about the, uh . . .” He gestured toward Calen’s shoulders. “Let me help with that a little.” Calen sighed in relief as the blue and golden energy sank into his shoulders, easing the pain a great deal.
Meanwhile, Anders had walked over to peer down at Krelig’s unmoving form.
“He’s really dead, isn’t he?” Calen asked, suddenly worried. The man had come back from some other universe; could they be certain that even death was enough to stop him?
“Pretty sure he’s dead,” Anders said. He hesitated, then stepped back. “Best to be very sure, though, I suppose.”
He sent a surprisingly bright and strong bolt of red-violet energy down at the dead mage. Calen had to shield his eyes, but not before he saw Krelig’s body explode into a cloud of tiny particles.
“Anders!” Serek said, shocked.
“Best to be sure!” Anders repeated. “I don’t want to have to go through that again, do you?”
As they watched, he started stamping around on the ground where the particles had landed.
They gazed at him in silence for a moment, and then Serek turned back to Calen.
“Are you all right? I know that was a lot to manage, back there. And not very pleasant by the end.”
“I’m all right,” Calen said. He thought he was, anyway. It might be too soon to tell. It hadn’t all really sunk in yet.
“I think,” said Pela, who had suddenly come up beside Meg, “that we should take Apprentice Calen inside to get some rest now.”
“Pela, I could kiss you,” Calen said without thinking. He was startled to see her turn completely scarlet.
“I’ll — I’ll just go and . . . um . . .” She turned and fled toward the castle.
Serek laughed, although he tried unsuccessfully to turn it into a cough.
Anders had returned just in time to witness this. “You have quite an effect on young women, it appears,” he said.
Calen was starting to miss the part where he had been unconscious. “I wasn’t really going to kiss her,” he muttered. He looked desperately at Meg. “Can you help me get inside?”
She grinned at him again. “Stay there. I think we should let the medics take you in. You know how Serek doesn’t believe in healing you all the way.”
Now it was Calen’s turn to laugh.
Serek looked affronted. “Sometimes it’s best to let things heal naturally,” he said. “It’s true! I’m not making that up.”
Calen lay back, still smiling, and waited for someone to come and take him away. It felt really good just to lie there, not having anyone try to kill him for the moment. He hoped it would be a nice long while before anyone tried to kill him again.
MEG WOKE THE NEXT AFTERNOON, STARTLED at the odd angle of the sun through her window. She had no idea what time she’d gone to bed, but she thought it had been on the early side. All that borrowed magical energy was a wonderful thing, but when it wore off, it abandoned you completely. She had a vague memory of Pela practically carrying her up the stairs to her room.
Having noticed that Meg was awake, Pela popped brightly up from her chair. “Princess! How are you feeling? Would you like some breakfast?”
Meg smiled. She was glad that some things never changed.
“Yes, please. To breakfast. And I feel fine. I was just . . . very tired.”
“I should think so,” Pela said. “After what you’ve been through.”
“Well, it’s over now, thank the gods,” Meg said. She stopped, then looked back at Pela. “It is over now, isn’t it? Nothing new and terrible happened while I was asleep? Mage Krelig didn’t reassemble himself out on the grass and come back to try to kill us again?”
Pela shook her head. “No, Princess,” she said soothingly. “All is well. Or . . . mostly well. Many were injured and killed in the fighting, of course. And many more are suffering from the poison of those terrible creatures. But Mage Serek and some of the others think they might have found a way to help with that.”
“Oh, good,” Meg said. That was very good news, about the possible treatment for the poison. She wondered if Calen had had something to do with that. There were men in the infirmary still suffering from when the very first slaarh had attacked in the garden. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. And in a way, it was. She was not the same person she had been back then. None of them were, she thought.
She let Pela bring her breakfast in bed, but then insisted on getting up and dressed. Meg
watched in the mirror as Pela arranged her hair, which hardly took any time at all now that it was cropped so short. There were some new burn scars twining up along her collarbone. More were hidden by the sleeves of her dress. Meg didn’t mind them, though. She’d earned those scars.
“Your parents would like to see you as soon as you are ready,” Pela said.
“I suppose I’m ready now,” Meg said. She left Pela to clean up the breakfast tray and headed to the small audience chamber where Pela had told her they’d be waiting. She wasn’t surprised to see Commander Uri there when she arrived; there must be all kinds of things they had to discuss about the logistics of the end of the war. King Tormon had sent a formal demand for Lourin’s unconditional surrender yesterday, which even the unreasonable King Gerald really had no choice but to accept, since so many of his soldiers were now Trelian’s prisoners. Both Baustern and Farrell-Grast had broken their alliances with Lourin when they learned of King Gerald’s cooperation with Mage Krelig and were offering any and all assistance to Trelian in the recovery efforts as a show of good faith. It was possible that King Gerald would still refuse to back down — he had not exactly demonstrated a great deal of rational thinking or behavior in the past, after all — but even if he attempted to continue fighting, assuming that what was left of his army would continue to follow his orders, Meg didn’t think it would take long for the combined pressure of Trelian, Kragnir, Baustern, and Farrell-Grast to bring things to an end, one way or another.
She supposed that she would resume her princess-heir duties now that the army no longer needed her and Jakl so desperately. She was surprised to find that the thought made her a little sad. Not that she wanted them to still be at war, of course! But she’d liked training with the soldiers, liked working with Captain Varyn, liked feeling a part of that team. She knew Jakl had, too.
“Come sit down, Meg,” her mother said, patting the seat beside her. “How are you feeling?”
“Very well rested,” Meg said, smiling. “I’m sorry to have slept so late, but I think everything must have finally caught up with me. I don’t even remember going to bed.”
“Meg,” her father said, “no one begrudges you a little sleep after what you did for us yesterday. I think it’s safe to say you’ve earned a bit of a rest!”
“Speaking of yesterday,” the commander added, “I would like to extend my personal commendation for your actions, Your Highness. You and your dragon, both. We would not have succeeded without you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Meg said. “We were both very glad to be able to serve.”
Meg’s parents looked at each other. After a moment her father said, “And speaking of serving . . . there is something we would like to discuss with you.”
Meg waited, wondering what this could be about. Surprisingly, it was Commander Uri who spoke next.
“Captain Varyn and I have requested your permanent enlistment in the Trelian army,” he said. “Continuing to train with Varyn’s company, which will be expanded to include a larger number of soldiers and to prepare for a greater number of possible future scenarios.”
Meg stared at him. She opened her mouth but then closed it again without saying anything. Then she looked at her parents.
“It would mean,” her mother said, leaning forward, “making some additional decisions about your future. Specifically, you would have to pass the title of princess-heir to Maurel. It would not be possible for you to continue in both roles at the same time. I know we talked about this possibility before, but this is very different, Meg. I want to be sure you understand that. We have no doubt that the people of Trelian would accept you wholeheartedly as their princess-heir if you chose to retain that position. They know what you did to protect them, and I know they love you for it. But if you choose to dedicate yourself to Trelian’s defense, we would need someone else here, ready to handle the leadership and governing of the kingdom from the inside. Maurel is still very young, of course, but, gods willing, there is time to prepare her and let her gain more years and experience before she would need to fully step into that role.”
“We want to be clear,” her father said, also leaning forward, “that this is your choice. Entirely your choice, and we will accept whatever decision you come to. And you don’t have to decide right away. But your connection to your dragon puts you in a unique position, to say the least. As much as we might like to pretend that this is the last time you might be called upon to help defend Trelian from its enemies, we know that is probably not the case. Allowing you to continue to train with the army, to be prepared for whatever the next challenge might be . . . While we would worry about your safety, Meg, you know that the royal family’s first responsibility is to protect its people. And since you would almost certainly demand to fight on Trelian’s behalf whether or not you’d been training . . . well, in a way, declaring you officially part of Trelian’s defenses will at least allow you to be as prepared and ready as possible the next time your and Jakl’s efforts are called for. We can’t keep you safe by ignoring the truth of the situation. But we might be able to keep you safer by acknowledging it.”
Meg sat there silently, trying to take this in. Everyone else sat back and waited, giving her the time to do so.
Her choice. All right, then.
But — what did she want?
For a long time, what she’d wanted more than anything was to prove to her parents, to everyone, that she could do what was required of her. That she could be the princess-heir they needed her to be. And she had done that. But she had also proven that she could be something else. Something that she could not deny had started a little knot of excitement forming inside her.
How important was it to her to be the princess-heir? She wanted to serve Trelian. She didn’t want to be prevented from doing that because of her dragon. She’d been so angry at the idea that the people wouldn’t accept her because of what she was. That they wouldn’t accept him. But it wasn’t about that anymore. They did accept her. They loved her, her mother had said. They loved Jakl, too, she knew. They’d seen how strong and fierce and good he was, and how deadly he could be on their behalf. They wanted to know that he was protecting them. That they both were. What the commander was suggesting would simply allow her to keep providing that.
Was it the title that had been important to her? Or what it represented? Could she still have everything she wanted in this new, different way? It would still guarantee that she’d get to stay here at Trelian, rather than be sent off to marry some foreign prince or other political-minded match somewhere else. She’d still have an important role and would still be directly involved in the future of the kingdom. She would never be the queen; that would be Maurel now. It was hard to imagine Maurel as queen! But Maurel was only eight. She would surely grow at least a little more dignified and serious as she got older. And Maurel had a good heart; that was clear already. She believed in fairness and kindness, and Meg did not doubt for a moment that the people of Trelian would come to love her dearly.
So Meg would be giving up . . . being in charge, she supposed. That was the main thing. She would report to the commander, and to Captain Varyn or any others to whom she might be assigned. At least for a long while, anyway. She would almost certainly be an advisor to Maurel, though. And, in time, she could rise to a position of more authority within the army, as well. She might not be an expert on warfare or fighting in general, but she would become an expert on her dragon and how he could help to defend their kingdom.
Could she ask for a more significant responsibility than defending her people?
And what was the alternative? Her mother was right that if Trelian were in danger again, Meg would not be willing to just sit by and not try to help. And if she were queen one day, it would be very irresponsible of her to put herself in the front lines of danger. And . . . she knew herself well enough to know that she would want to do it anyway. Would probably do it, no matter what. Knowing that, and knowing that there was this better option being offere
d to her, could she really choose to remain princess-heir?
Did she even want to?
No, she realized. She did not.
She thought she had probably made this decision in her heart a long time ago, not even knowing that it would ever be a real option. This was what she wanted. To serve Trelian in a way that only she could serve, to use the link with her dragon to help their people in whatever form that help needed to take. To not have to be divided in her loyalties or obligations. To dedicate herself heart and soul to who she was really meant to be.
“Yes,” she said finally, looking at the commander. “I accept your position, Commander Uri.”
“Are you sure?” her mother asked. “You don’t have to decide now; you can take some time to think. . . .”
Meg shook her head. “I don’t need time to think, Mother. This is what I want.” She paused, then added, “Thank you for letting me make this choice.”
“We’re very proud of you,” her father said.
The commander nodded and got to his feet. “I’ll inform the captain. I know he’ll be pleased, Your Highness. As am I. We are very glad to have you with us.”
He left them to begin to sort out the details of raising Maurel into place as princess-heir and freeing Meg to move into her new role as soon as possible. Meg was having to fight to pay attention. She was also having to fight to keep from grinning. She reached out to Jakl through the link. Do you understand what just happened? she asked him. He couldn’t understand all of it, of course, the titles and official responsibilities, but he could understand that they would get to keep fighting and flying together, to keep training with the soldiers, their new family. . . . He understood that part very well, she thought.
She felt her own excitement reflected back at her a hundredfold.
Later that afternoon, Meg went down to the infirmary to visit Captain Varyn, who’d been wounded (but not too seriously, thank goodness) and some of the other soldiers from her company.
The Mage of Trelian Page 26
