by Devin Hanson
“No,” Andrew said flatly. “We’ll not go openly to Galdaris, not when Trent is there with his Incantors. We wouldn’t last an hour. They would stop at nothing to get to us.”
“Like I said,” Jules said, “it was a bad idea.”
“What can we do, then?”
“Prepare the walls,” Iria said, “lay away food and barrels of water. Stockpile ammunition for the cannon. Prepare for a siege.”
“And have this war over and done with within ten days,” Andrew added.
“Why? What happens in ten days?” Iria asked.
Andrew explained about Ava’s eggs hatching and the necessity to provide animi to the hatchlings.
“I will do it,” Iria offered.
“No. I need you.”
Iria scowled. “Who else would you trust with an immortal life?”
“Surely you know wardens who are honorable?”
“We are killers, Andrew,” Iria shook her head. “After too long spent with blood on your hands, righteous or otherwise, you lose a part of you that makes you empathize with others. I would not want a dragon around who didn’t feel empathy.”
Andrew frowned, thinking of Adnan. He trusted the man implicitly, but how well did he really know him? Adnan’s honor couldn’t be contested, but he was also cold-hearted about killing. The thought of death no longer made him hesitate. He would make a grim dragon.
“What of the alchemists?” Iria asked. “Surely there are some older alchemists who could suit?”
This time it was Jules who shook her head. “A crotchety old power-monger as a dragon? That would be even worse than a warden.”
“Milkin would have been perfect,” Andrew said sadly. “If only he still lived. He would have seen it as an honor.”
“What of younger wardens?” Jules asked. “You aren’t jaded, Iria, there must be others like you.”
Iria gave a sort of lopsided smile. “It is kind of you to say so.” She sighed. “I will make a list and we can interview them.”
“And I among the alchemists,” Jules agreed. “Between all of them, we can find five candidates and rank them by suitability.”
“What of the other five?” Andrew asked. “The condemned to feed the males? Does Andronath even have a gaol?”
“We’re about to be attacked,” Iria pointed out dryly. “I am sure we can find what is needed on the battlefield.”
Andrew grimaced. Iria was right, of course, but he didn’t like it. A man condemned to be hanged for crimes was one thing, as his life was already forfeit. A man following orders to attack Andronath in the belief that he was protecting his own home was different. That man could be decent, like Travis Bellwether had proven to be, and not deserving of a death sentence.
Iria saw his look and she smiled. “There will be those among the captured or wounded who will not strain your conscience, Speaker. Some men sign up with an army to protect those they love while others sign up for the chance to wet their blades. Have no sympathy for the later.”
Andrew sighed. Iria was right again. “Fine. But I want to approve of all who are to be given.”
“It will be done, Speaker. The horses are rested. We have much to prepare for and time grows short.”
Meria Yale stood on the tips of her toes, trying to see over the press of people in front of her. Sometimes she hated being small. Jumping to catch a glimpse over the shoulders of the people in front of her seemed undignified, so she elbowed the man in front of her in the kidney and shoved her way through the gap it opened.
That got her into the middle of the press, but now she couldn’t see anything at all. A few more shoves, and a stomp on the toes of a particularly weighty gentleman got her to the front where she finally got a view of the stage.
Wardens stood around the edge of the stage, creating a bubble of open space with the force of their reputation and the blank stare of their masks. To Meria, the wardens didn’t hold any particular fear. She had seen them in combat and respected them for their skill at arms, but at the end of the day they were just people.
A cheer went up and Meria looked up from the worn leather sword bindings on the warden in front of her and saw the tall figure of the Dragon Speaker climbing the stairs at the back of the stage. It was hard to remember that the Speaker wasn’t much older than she was. His face was stern and his eyes held a weight to them that belied his years.
Jules Vierra mounted the steps at the Speaker’s side. Where the Speaker looked like someone who wouldn’t mind getting dirty if he had to, Jules had the bearing of a noble. She glided instead of walking, her carriage upright, her chin held high.
The Speaker raised his hand and the crowd fell quiet. “Thank you for coming. I know you’re worried about what will happen in the coming days. I can’t promise you nothing bad will happen. I can’t promise you safety. But I can promise you that I will be here with you, and that we will fight side by side.
“I want to dispel any rumors. The King of Salia is an honorable man. He believes he is acting to protect his kingdom and his people. In truth, he is betrayed from within his own court. The slaughter of his citizens that he seeks to end is perpetrated by evil men who have grown corrupted through their search for power.
“We do not want this war any more than you do, and we are doing everything we can to convince King Delran of his mistake. While we are innocent of assaulting the people of Salia, we will not stand idly by and allow ourselves to be victimized. If Salia wants a war, we will give it to them.
“The defense of our homes will rely on each and every one of you. The wardens and alchemists will fight, but we need fire crews, cooks, nurses, and more. If you have a leg to hop on and an eye to see, you can help. There will be wardens in the pavilions on both sides of the stage. They will find out what you can do and assign you positions and tasks.”
The Speaker spread his hands wide and a small smile twisted his lips. It made him seem suddenly younger. “My friends. The coming days might be dark, but we will win through. Do your part and even mighty Salia will remember why Andronath has been, and still is, a power to be reckoned with.
“May the gods be with us.”
The Speaker stepped off the platform to cheers and people shouting their willingness to aid in the defense of Andronath. It was a good speech, Meria thought, but what about her? She was a student still, but she’d burn before she was stuck hauling buckets of water to put out fires.
The press of the crowd was loosening as the people gravitated toward the pavilions the Speaker had indicated. The majority of the wardens were moving away down the street and Meria caught a glimpse of the Speaker’s tussled hair.
Without thinking, Meria shoved her way through the crowd and ran toward the Speaker. The wardens were all about him, but if she could just squeeze through them and get the Speaker’s attention, maybe she could convince him to let her help… Suddenly Meria’s vision blurred and the world spun about. She tried to move and found she couldn’t. Belated pain blossomed in her arm and on the side of her head. She hadn’t even seen the warden that had taken her down.
“Tiny gods, Adnan,” a voice came from far away, “she’s just a girl. Ease up, would you?”
The pressure holding her to the ground eased and Meria took a deep sobbing breath. She flexed her hand, relieved to find nothing was broken. Strong hands helped her sit up and she looked up to find the Speaker looking at her.
“I know you,” he said. “Meria, isn’t it? You were in the Academy Archives with Professor Milkin.”
Meria nodded, unsure of the steadiness of her voice.
“Come on, Andrew,” Jules said impatiently. “You’ve got three more speeches to make. People are waiting.”
“Burn the speeches,” Andrew grumbled. “Can you stand?” he asked, offering Meria a hand.
“Yes, I think.” Meria let Andrew pull her to her feet. The wardens had formed a circle about them facing outwards.
“So, I imagine you didn’t come running to test Adnan’s reflexes,” the Sp
eaker said with a grin. “I can assure you, they’re quite fast.”
“No, I– I wanted to help.”
“Go to the pavilion then,” Jules suggested, not unkindly.
“More than that! I want to fight with you. I know I’m just a student,” she said hurriedly, desperate to make her case while she had the chance. “But I can fight! I held my own in the Archives. Milkin trusted me with the defense after he…” she swallowed. “Give me a chance, is all I am asking.”
“We don’t have time to train you,” Jules said.
“I don’t need to be trained, I just need a chance!”
“We do need all the alchemists we can get,” the Speaker shrugged.
Jules sighed. “Fine. I’ll speak with Iria. What’s your name?”
“Meria Yale, Lady.”
“Okay Meria. Tomorrow at first light, be at the north gate. Do you have a flux?”
Meria shook her head.
“Of course you don’t.” Jules looked at the Speaker, who waved a hand, dismissing the problem. “Right. First light, mind. If you’re late, you’ll miss your chance.”
“I’ll be there,” Meria promised. She felt giddy, the pain in her arm forgotten. “Thank you!”
“See you then, Meria” the Speaker waved and moved off. The wardens followed and soon they disappeared down the crowded street.
Meria skipped a few steps and twirled around. She had to tell Michael! A glance at the sky told her she was going to be late to her next lecture if she wasted any more time.
Burn the lecture, she decided. After tomorrow, things would be different.
Meria arrived at the north gate a half hour before dawn. The air was chilly and she tucked her hands under her arms, trying to keep her fingers warm. The plaza was empty but for a cart of gunnies by the gate. A boot scuffed the cobbles behind her and she spun.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” The Speaker stood behind her, staring over her shoulder at the cart. “I was one of them, you know.”
“A gunny?” Meria asked. She had heard the story, of course, but it was hard to believe.
“The summer was hard. Longer days meant harder work, but not as hard as the winter. Sometimes on the mountain, it was all you could do not to lie down and let the cold lull you to sleep.”
Meria didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m… sorry?”
He smiled and the distance fell from his gaze. “You’re here early.”
“I didn’t want to miss it. This means a lot to me.”
“Yes, I can see that. Why? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Meria shrugged. Where to begin? “I’ve been in the Academy for four years,” she said. “I started younger than most but I’ve always had a knack for runes and alchemy. I’ve still got another year to go before I can start an apprenticeship, but none of my options interest me in the slightest. I want to travel, Speaker, I want to do things that are important!”
The Speaker nodded. “What kind of options do you have?”
Meria thought he was teasing her, but he sounded genuinely curious. Then she remembered he had never actually attended the Academy, and would have no way of knowing. “The usual, I guess. I could make toys for rich people or something. I don’t think I could stand working at a factory doing the same thing over and over again.”
“Sounds boring,” Andrew agreed. “Though some people find comfort in routine.”
Meria shuddered. “Not me. I want excitement! Especially after the fighting in the Archives, I don’t think I could live a quiet life running a store.”
“You mentioned Milkin. Were you in his class?”
Meria nodded. “I liked him. I took every class of his I could. I never had a flux, so my classes in alchemy were limited. Not,” she added hurriedly, “that I’m not proficient with alchemy. Because my runes are so good, I use very little vitae.”
The Speaker chuckled. “Milkin taught me my first rune, you know. Tan. Took me a whole evening. If you could, what would you do with your life?”
Meria stared at him. His first rune in a single evening? It had taken her weeks to get her first rune functioning. “What would I do? I don’t know, really. I suppose I have to do something to live on.”
“Forget all that. What would you do if money were no object?”
“I’d fight,” she said promptly. “Not like that. I mean. That came out wrong. I’d be like you, or like the Lady Vierra. I’d use alchemy to fight against evil and against the dangerous things in this world.”
The Speaker smiled, and for some reason, she thought he looked sad. “Here.” He pressed something into her hands and she was astonished to feel the ridges and sharp edges of a dragon scale. It was a little smaller than the width of her palm, a relatively small scale, but still worth an incredible amount of money. Hundreds of crowns, enough gold to live comfortably for many years.
She gasped. The scale felt slightly warm. It was a fresh scale, one full of vitae. “But… This is… I can’t… Is this for the test?”
“For you.” The Speaker laid a hand on her shoulder gently. “Use it to fight, Meria. Make the world a better place.”
Chapter 21
The Practice Fields
Her own scale! Meria could only nod and clutch the scale to her chest. Her eyes grew blurry and a tear trailed down her cheek, leaving a cold path behind it. The scale meant more than money to her. It meant freedom. It meant the ability to follow her dreams. It meant she wouldn’t be stuck making coldboxes for sixty years until she died of boredom. It meant she had the power to change the world for the better.
The clatter of horse hoofs on cobble stones came distantly from up the road and the Speaker turned, cursing quietly to himself. “Ten minutes is all I ask,” he muttered. “Ten minutes to myself.” Louder, he said, “Go stand by the gate. The others are coming now.”
Meria turned away to follow his instruction as a pair of wardens rode into the square and swung off their horses to flank the Speaker. The scale was warm in her hands and dug into her skin where she was squeezing it too hard.
She didn’t have long to wait. Behind the two mounted wardens came a small flood of alchemists and wardens, thirty or forty alchemists with an even larger number of wardens. There were a few faces she recognized among the alchemists, but most were older, alchemists that had been living outside of Andronath before Trent’s banishment had caused the Guild to fracture.
A few of the alchemists gave her looks but none commented on her presence. Reluctantly, she slipped the dragon scale into her belt pouch and tied the flap down tight. She didn’t want to drop it in the dark. She didn’t think any of the other alchemists would steal it from her, but it was hard to tell what people would do when confronted with that much wealth. If the Speaker had received the scale from Avandakossi, as was likely, it wasn’t registered with the Guild and she would have no claim over it if someone stole it. She resolved to visit the flux registration office at the first opportunity.
The sun broke over the horizon and light flooded across the sky. The gate was cranked open and Meria stood aside with the rest to let the gunny wagon pass first. The Speaker led them out of the gate, riding on a horse. Jules was by his side once more, along with Iria and the warden who had intercepted her yesterday.
Meria followed the riders with the rest of the group. She was just wondering how far they were going to go, when they dropped down into a hollow between two hills. A practice range had been constructed, each station set with a half-dozen wooden dummies made from old barrels.
“Gather round,” the Speaker called, waving his hand. “Okay, I’m sure some of you are wondering what we’re doing out here. If you’re here, it’s because you have experience fighting with alchemy. Today, and every day before the Salians are knocking on our doorstep, we’re going to train you how to fight together in groups of three and four.
“Now, do any of you feel like you shouldn’t be here?” Silence answered his question and he continued. “Excellent. Do any of you feel lik
e you don’t have to be here?”
Several of the alchemists exchanged glances, one or two smirked. A handsome alchemist in his late twenties raised his hand, a confident smile on his face.
“Okay, great,” the Speaker said cheerfully. “Step forward please. Thank you. The drill is simple. Strike each of the targets with an irdo’at’lani Saying. You know it?”
The alchemist rolled his eyes and nodded.
“Good. Just hard enough to knock it over, mind, no need to destroy it, and only hit one at a time. While you do that, Adnan here is going to try and hit you with one of these.” The Speaker hefted a stitched canvas ball a few inches in diameter filled with sand. “If you can knock all the targets down without Adnan hitting you, you can go home and skip the training. Any questions?”
The alchemist shook his head and strode forward to where the Speaker indicated. Adnan swung down off his horse and collected a satchel of the little balls. The alchemist looked at Adnan warily and got a toothy grin in return. Meria watched, her eyes wide. She knew a setup when she saw one.
“Okay, on the count of three, you may begin. One, two, three!”
The alchemist threw up a shield and started backpedaling, trying to put some distance between himself and Adnan. The warden followed leisurely, one of the balls held loosely in his right hand. Seeing the warden wasn’t going to try and get too close, the alchemist dropped his shield and started calling out the Saying.
If Meria hadn’t been watching Adnan, she would have missed the throw. The alchemist hadn’t gotten more than two syllables into the Saying when the ball struck him square in the chest with a puff of white dust. The mark was clear on the alchemist’s clothing.
“Oh come on,” the alchemist growled, rubbing at his chest. “What was that?”
“Sorry,” the Speaker said. “You weren’t ready? Okay, one more try. On my mark. Go!”
Adnan’s arm flashed again and the alchemist cried out, “Ban!” just in time to deflect the ball. Hoping to take advantage of the warden’s miss, the alchemist dropped the shield and shouted the Saying. He got almost to the end before a second throw slapped a ball into the alchemist’s thigh.
