“He’s fine,” she said, as they neared the top.
“You can’t possibly know that! Just because it’s quiet up here – they could be dead, for all we know.”
“They’re not dead.My ability is with air, remember? I’m aware of every puff of breath everyone takes, and I can tell you that there are two people up here breathing slow and steady, fast asleep.”
He was giddy with relief. “Thank all the Gods!” Then he laughed at himself. “It’s stupid, isn’t it, to keep expecting something terrible to happen? It’s just – magic. I don’t trust it, and this kind is new to me. New to everyone, I suppose, but no one else seems to be bothered. And I guess they’re right, because Ruell’s fine, isn’t he?”
“So it would seem, so you can stop worrying.”
The ascended the last curve of stairs in silence, and crept to their blankets. Elestra tossed her clothes aside quickly, and even in the gloom Garrett’s spirits were lifted by the glimpse of her enticing softness. He undressed slowly, methodically, like a warrior, everything neatly folded and ready to put on again quickly in a crisis, for despite the soldiers filling the lower level of the tower, he wasn’t convinced they were done with crises. Last of all, he laid his sword within reach. Only then did he crawl under the covers.
She lifted her arm and he laid his head on her shoulder.
“Stop it,” she said.
“What? I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You’re still worrying about Ruell, that’s what you’re doing.”
“Ah, that. It’s difficult not to. I’ve been worrying about him for thirteen years. Not going to stop now.”
“But you should,” she said, her voice serious. “He’s a grown man with a troop of dragons at his command, and he’s perfectly capable of looking after himself.”
“You’re quite sure he’s all right?”
“Absolutely sure. I wish I could show you.”
“It would be fun to have the same abilities, wouldn’t it?” he said. “The Protectors and the Children of the Spirit all share their abilities. I wish we could do the same thing.”
“How did they do that?”
“Some mysterious bonding ceremony, which is all a great secret. If only we had some way to bond like that, then I could see for myself that Ruell’s fine.”
“I’d be all in favour of that,” she said, laughing. “At least it would stop you worrying about him. I’d like it very much if you were to worry aboutme for the next half hour or so.”
He chuckled, lifting his face to look into her smiling eyes. “I’d love to, but with two people sleeping just the other side of that giant glass ball—”
“Pfft. We can be very quiet.”
“Can we?”
A long silence. “Well… we can do our best. Can’t we?”
Garrett had no fault to find with the idea.
33: A Visitation (Garrett)
The efficiency of the Mesanthian Imperial Army made the tower a very comfortable place to live. Within three days, they had imported everything they needed from the ships or bought from suppliers in the city, and all of it transported in small bundles, wrapped in sacking and tied with rope conveniently looped for the claws of half-grown dragons.
In the mornings, the soldiers trained by running up the stairs, then jumping off them, having discovered, as Elestra had, that there was no abrupt plummet, just a gentle floating to earth. In the afternoons, they practised sword-work or archery or stave combat on the lower floor. The Drakk’alona army had abandoned the cavern surrounding the tower, so sometimes the Mesanthians ventured into the wider space for their exercise. There was no possibility of leaving that way, though, for a solid metal door blocked the exit.
One area they never ventured into was the column of glass balls. Hytharn had walked all round it, had watched Ruell and the dragon playing about, and had decided it was too much of an unknown to risk. Nor did anyone enter the room at the top of the stairs. Hytharn politely asked Garrett to show him around there, but once he’d seen it, he took no further interest, and even declined to drink the water.
“You never can tell what might be in it,” he said.
“We’re drinking it,” Garrett said, bemused. “It hasn’t killed us yet.”
Hytharn smiled but shook his head.
Garrett felt rather spare, at this point. His position as bodyguard had been usurped by the army, and his role as friend, confidante and adviser was lost to the pretty face and slender form of the Second Daughter. Even his ability to spy on the enemy through their eyes was curtailed, since the Drakk’alona army had reduced its presence to a token guard camp on the hill surrounding the door they’d entered by, and their routine had long since grown familiar. There was nothing for Garrett to do except sit around and eat several meals each day, and wait for the dragons to grow big enough to carry them away. There was no doubt that they were growing. Even Ruell’s faithful follower, the red dragon, had gone off to fish one day and had come back so stuffed that he couldn’t squeeze through the door. Garrett rather missed his antics.
Ruell himself spent his days sitting at one of the tower’s upper doors while the dragons came and went with packages, or teetered on the edge for their heads to be scratched, or simply to see him. When not busy with cargo-shifting duties, or out at sea fishing, they circled endlessly round the tower, or squabbled over the prime perches on the roof.
Having no useful function, Garrett tried to keep out of the way, spending hours in the room at the top of the tower, not doing much except to sharpen and oil his sword.
“Why don’t you do some training?” Elestra said, finding him there one morning. “The Mesanthians wouldn’t mind.”
Garrett shrugged. “Can’t see the point.”
“Why, do you think they’d show you up?”
That was too close to home for comfort. Of course they would show him up! They were the elite of Mesanthia, hand-picked to accompany the Third Protector and the Second Daughter, twice as fit as Garrett had ever been, even in his prime, and he was far from that now. He shrugged again. “They’re half my age, I’d be worried if they didn’t show me up.”
“Well, what about trying to work out what this big ball does? It’s got to have some magic in it, surely?”
Another indifferent lift of one shoulder. “We tried it, remember? It lights up when you touch it, that’s all.”
“It must do something else!” she said in exasperation. “It’s huge! I don’t believe it’s just a glorified lamp.”
But Garrett couldn’t summon the energy to care about it.
“What about the regular glass balls? Don’t you want a replacement for yours?” she said.
“I’d like that,” he said, turning to her with sudden intensity. “If you can tell me which of those hundreds – no,thousands – of balls can do what mine could, I’ll gladly take it. But they all look the same to me, and all the ones you and Ruell took out were just the plain sort – changing colour and not much else. Mine wasspecial and I’ll never get it back, never.”
“Well, you won’t if you don’t try,” she said tartly. “Look, I promised I’d help prepare the noon meal. Won’t you come and help? I’d enjoy your company, and it would get you out of this moping mood. Please?”
“If it’s rice again—”
“No, no! I’m going to make dumplings.”
She tipped her head to one side, and gazing imploringly at him. He could never resist those hazel eyes, so he smiled and hopped to his feet, slipping on his armoured vest and picking up his sword as he did so.
“You won’t need that, not to make dumplings.”
“Never know when I might need it, that’s the point. I needed it when that girl came through the door, and I’ll not be caught without it again. Right, let’s go and make dumplings.”
The kitchen area was not much more than a collection of food sacks, a line of trestle tables for chopping and peeling, and several small braziers, all the cookfire provision the dragons could carry. The
two soldiers designated for cooking duty were very pleased to see them, for extra hands were always welcome, even if they wanted to make stodgy food like dumplings. But soldiers would eat anything, so they pointed out the flour supplies and left them to it.
Garrett and Elestra set to work, and he had to agree that it was very companionable to work side by side in that way, mixing and rolling and teasing each other about the amount of flour that got over their arms and faces and even into their hair. Apart from the two cooks murmuring to each other, everyone else was running up the stairs in silent concentration, and the tower was blissfully peaceful.
Ruell poked his head round the kitchen partition, dragging a sack. “More fish, I think. Where do you want it?”
“Over with the rest,” one of the cooks said. “Thanks. A couple more sacks should do it.”
“Do you really want any more?” Ruell said. “The dragons will bring as much as you want, but there’s a lot here already.”
“Can never have too much fish,” the cook said cheerfully.
“There are those who would disagree with you,” Ruell said, pulling a face. “How about a nice bit of mutton for a change?”
“No thanks!” the cook said. “I suppose your pets can’t get hold of some lobster? Or a few crabs would be nice.”
Ruell heaved a sigh. “I’ll see what—”
A female voice interrupted him from outside the partition. “Ruell? Where are you?”
“I’m here,” he said, making his way out of the cooking area. Then, “What the—?”
Garrett dropped the dumpling in his hand and ran. At first he couldn’t find them in the maze of sacking partitions, and had to double back, but then he discovered them squeezed between a partition and the outer wall, where a new door stood open.
Famri.
“What thefuck are you doing here?” Garrett said, but his anger was as much at himself as at her. Why hadn’t he been checking the cavern for anyone trying to get into the tower? Just because the Drakk’alona army had abandoned it didn’t mean he could relax his guard. A quick mental sweep every hour or so would have done it, but now he’d been caught out again. At least there were only two people outside there waiting for her, not a whole troop.
“Always so civilised,” Famri sneered. “I am here to talk to Ruell, that is all.”
“And how did you get in, anyway?”
She smiled then, but it was a cold smile that left her eyes untouched. An unfeeling race, the Tre’annatha. “You think you have all the magic, you and your dragon boy, but we have forgotten more than you will ever know. It was Tre’annatha ingenuity that opened this tower in the first place, and the records of it are still in the homeland. It was just a matter of finding the right court.”
“Well, if you can open these towers so easily, why couldn’t you open the tower at the western keep?”
For a moment her face registered bewilderment. Was it possible she didn’t know about the other towers scattered about? But the Tre’annatha were such a secretive people, it was quite likely that they kept secrets even amongst themselves.
“That is irrelevant!” she snapped. “Your intervention is neither helpful nor necessary. My business is with Ruell, to help him escape from the greedy hands of the Mesanthians. Will you not come with me now, Ruell? These people would enslave you, and exploit you for their own power-hungry ends.”
“Oh, and you’re not going to, I suppose?” Garrett said.
“Did I not tell you not to interfere?” she said, eyes flashing, but almost at once she mastered herself. She turned again to Ruell, speaking more composedly. “You are safe with me, Ruell. Come with me now and—”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Ruell said calmly. “How many times must I say it? I won’t go into the Program, and you can’t compel me. If you leave at once, I won’t set my dragons to attack you, but you’d better go quickly before my patience runs out.”
“Ruell—”
“Go!” He stepped forward, so that he was practically touching his face. “Leave me alone!”
Garrett was instantly nervous, for there was no knowing what she might do. This was one Tre’annatha who wasn’t afraid to use violence to further her objectives, and maybe she’d whip out a knife, who could tell? Years of dealing with the unpredictable made him twitchy enough to reach for Ruell’s arm to drag him away from Famri.
Too late. She grabbed him and dragged him across the threshold of the door into the cavern outside. Ruell yelped.
“Hey! Stop that!” Garrett yelled, and jumped through the door after them.
“Door!” Famri cried.
A man standing to one side lifted an arm, and flames shot from his fingers. With a soft hiss, the door turned to flames and then vanished, blending seamlessly back into the blank face of the tower base, the wall softly glowing.
Garrett swore, then noticed Elestra had followed him into the cavern and swore again.
Famri laughed. “See? We have magic too.”
They were trapped in the cavern with Famri and her minions. Garrett assessed them with a practised eye. Famri, the flame-thrower and another man, also Tre’annatha, with no visible weapons, just the usual air of superiority. The flame-thrower was not Tre’annatha, though, and he looked terrified. That was something he could work with. And it was three against three, if it came down to brute force.
But it would have to be basic stuff. His sword was left under the table in the tower, and he hadn’t so much as a knife on him. The cavern floor was smooth stone, with not a single loose pebble. He had no magic ball, no magic power at all, and what could Elestra do against a man with command of fire? Tricky.
There was no use waiting for rescue, though. Ruell’s dragons couldn’t help them here, and as for the Mesanthians, no one had seen them leave, and it could be hours before anyone noticed they were missing. Even then they might not think of checking the cavern. What a shame that Ruell’s lady in white wasn’t there to send a helpful message to Hytharn. No, it was down to Garrett to get them out of this mess.
Ruell tried to pull away from Famri, but she held him firmly by one arm, and the other Tre’annatha grabbed the other. No matter how hard Ruell wriggled they held him fast. Elestra hurled a blast of wind at them, but although it rocked them as they wrestled, it wasn’t enough to free Ruell.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Garrett muttered.
Crossing the space between them in two paces, he swung his fist and connected with a satisfying thud on Famri’s jaw. Gods, that hurt! But it had the intended effect. Famri flew backwards and fell like a stone to the cavern floor. One down.
Ruell finally got free of the other Tre’annatha, who stepped back, with a nervous look at Garrett.
“Yes, you’re next,” he said cheerfully, making a fist and trying not to wince as his injured hand protested.
The Tre’annatha looked at the flame-thrower. “Kill him.”
The man shook his head. “Only the door. I don’t do people.”
“You will do as you are told!”
But he just shook his head even more firmly, backing away towards the outer wall of the cavern.
Garrett made his move, but the Tre’annatha turned and fled, yelling, “Hendron! Hendron!” as he ran. He disappeared into a tunnel, still yelling, and Garrett abandoned the chase. No point in pursuit for the sake of it. The most urgent need now was to get back into the tower.
He turned back to the flame-thrower.
“Open the door.”
The man nodded and raised an arm, but then an anguished look spread over his face, and the arm lowered again. “Can’t,” he said. “Can’t do it.”
“Sure you can,” Garrett said. “Try again.”
But he just shook his head.
Then, from the tunnel another man emerged, short and dark, and armed with a bow already primed.
“Oh, Hendron,” Garrett said, understanding.
Hendron raised his bow.
Garrett had to make an instant decision. He ha
d on his armoured vest, so there was a good chance he’d survive an arrow, but Elestra and Ruell were unprotected. He could shield one of them, but only one… and if he chose wrong… There was no time to think it through. They wanted Ruell alive, didn’t they? So it had to be Elestra.
With a yell of “Run!”, he leapt on Elestra and pushed her to the ground under him. Arrows pinged off the walls, but nothing hit him. Then there was yelling, and a shriek, and a strong smell of burning.
Then silence.
“Get off me!” Elestra’s voice was muffled.
He lifted a head, saw a smouldering body where the archer had been and the flame-thrower’s fingers still rippling with fire. Cautiously he rolled off Elestra and stood up.
“Honestly, Garrett!” she said. “Arrows can’t hurt me! There was no need to squash all the breath out of— Oh! Oh no!”
He followed her gaze. There on the ground lay Ruell, three arrows sticking out of his chest. From beneath him, the pool of blood silently spread across the cavern floor.
“Shit, shit,shit!” Garrett knelt down, heedless of the blood, and picked up Ruell’s hand, wiping away the blood already smeared across it. So soft, his hand, the long, delicate fingers not calloused or scarred, still showing the smoothness of youth. Only a few hours before, this hand had been stroking the breast of his woman, reaching for the joys of manhood. Only an hour before, it had touched dragon scales. Now it lay limp and unmoving, so pale it was almost transparent, like a creature dredged up from the bottom of the ocean, all the life drained out of it.
“He’s still breathing,” Elestra said.
Garrett’s head jerked up. There was still a chance. He scooped up the limp body, all dangling arms and legs, and turned to the flame-thrower. “Open this door – now!”
“Can’t!” he said, terror written all over his face. “I’ve been trained not to obey anyone except a Tre’annatha.”
“But you killed the bowman, and you weren’t supposed to, so—”
“Self-defence!” he squeaked.
The Dragon Caller (Brightmoon Book 9) Page 31
