The Dragonswarm

by Aaron Pogue

  But I'd had my chance to turn these men to ash, and far more to gain then than I had now. I shook my head, one swift motion, and felt a sharp tension ease between my shoulders. My breath came more easily, too. I pulled my attention closer, spread the fingers of my hand, and focused my will on the seeds of earth in the wardrobe's doors.

  The gap between the doors stood straight and clear as the edge of a blade. I focused on a spot near waist height, where the door's handles would be, and pulled the substance from both sides across the gap, binding them together. It worked, and as I saw Othin's arm extend toward the door I stretched the seam, up and down, until the substance of the two doors merged into one unbroken piece.

  He jerked on the handles. Both doors rattled on their hinges, but they did not give at all. He spat an angry curse and pulled again, heaving so hard the whole wardrobe shifted on the stone floor, but the doors held. He cursed again, more vicious than the first.

  "Here, now!" the baron snapped. "There is a lady present."

  "Indeed," the king said, not at all chastising. "What have you found?"

  "The room is clear but for this cabinet," Othin said. "I see no lock, but the doors will not budge. Perhaps some magic—"

  "No magic," Isabelle said hastily. "It is an old piece, and warped."

  "It must be checked," the soldier said. Then added, "For your safety, of course."

  "Of course," the king said. "Try again."

  He did and heaved the wardrobe half a pace across the floor. I'd have feared him toppling it, but given the sheer weight of the thing it was remarkable he could move it at all.

  I could hear the strain in his voice when he said, "It is no good. The doors are stuck fast."

  "I see," the king said. "Well, we can send some guards in case he's there, but I doubt the boy would be lurking in these chambers. Even a scoundrel would not stoop to shame this girl's honor. Is that not so?"

  Othin snorted. "Send for a sharp ax, and let me open these doors."

  "Father!" Isabelle cried, genuinely afraid, and I had to stop myself reaching for the burning coals of the fire. I saw the baron move closer to her, soothing, and I felt some of the anger ease in my chest.

  "I assure you again, Timmon, we have seen nothing of the boy since he returned from the day's ride. He certainly would not trespass in my daughter's private chambers."

  "Far more likely he's drinking at Duncan's common room," Isabelle said. "Have you looked there yet? Or in his own rooms?"

  "We have guards there, yes," the king replied. "And some can be sent to scour the tavern as well. Othin."

  "Your Highness?" Othin asked. Just two words, but they tread close to rebellion, so rich with defiance. "I believe—"

  "We will post guards for the girl," Timmon said. Then he added, "For her safety. Consider, Isabelle. Where else might he be?"

  "He might be in this chest," Othin growled. He slammed a fist against the wooden panel an inch from my face. "Get me an ax."

  "An ax will be got," the king said, treating the soldier to the same chill tone he'd offered Isabelle before. "And guards will be stationed. But here and now, you have your orders."

  I saw Othin still as a tracery of living fire, the heat of his anger and passion, and it flared brighter for four heavy heartbeats. My whole body tensed as I watched to see what he would do. I stretched my will toward the fire, I clenched my hands in ready fists. I poised myself, ready to strike if he chose to break down the doors by the sheer force of his fury.

  But then his anger cooled. I saw him fall back a pace, and then he turned back toward the other three. He said softly, "Yes, Your Highness," and left the room.

  "Do send four men to guard the room," the king ordered as Othin slipped past. "And...send one to find an ax. Just in case."

  From the corridor beyond, I heard Othin say again, "Yes, Your Highness." And then he was gone.

  The three left in her sitting room stood some time in awkward silence. Then at last the king said, "You must understand what a threat this boy represents."

  "I have seen it demonstrated," the baron replied. "He is a master of no small power."

  "Precisely!" the king said. "And reckless. And defiant of authority."

  "He sounds a great nuisance," Isabelle said, sounding bored. "If it please you, I have found this day's events quite tiring."

  The king hesitated again. At last he said, "For your safety—"

  The baron hurried to say, "I'm sure your guards are quite sufficient to the task."

  I saw the flash of fury before I heard the outraged bellow. "You dare to interrupt your king?"

  "Not in the least." The baron laughed. It sounded fragile to my ears, but his voice was still steady. "I only hasten to reassure your majesty. You seem greatly troubled—on my humble family's behalf—and I regret that mightily."

  "I shall see to my own concerns, Burton." But the flash of anger was gone. "We shall speak of this more."

  "Of course," the baron said. "And of the hunt for the murderer as well. I'll place all my household staff at your disposal."

  The king hmphed lightly, but he seemed mollified. The baron took some confidence from that. "Let us go and speak with my steward. He should have some word for us by now."

  They turned to go. I raised my hand toward the wardrobe doors and began undoing the bonds I'd made. The baron and the king both headed to the outer door...and stopped when four new shapes arrived. The guards. They started to move into the sitting room, but the baron objected. "Oh, my lord, please." His tone wheedled in a way utterly at odds with the man's personal power. "For my daughter's honor, do not place them in her chambers."

  "You seem too little worried, Burton," the king said. "Far too little for the safety of your daughter and your house." The words were an accusation, the tone sharp as a skinning knife.

  It took the baron a moment to find his answer. I held my breath, straining to catch every last word.

  "My lord," he said at last, "through all these many years, you've never let me down. You've offered such protection to my house, I cannot fear so long as you are here."

  I felt my lips peel back in an angry snarl. The king and all his army had left this town to die, besieged by the rebel army. If not for my intervention, they would all be starved or murdered by now. Yet the baron was forced to pretend gratitude—

  And the king saw nothing wrong. He sighed, long and loud, and clapped the baron companionably on the back. "Oh, good Burton. Oh, at last I understand. And of course that stands to reason. You've never known the dangers I've so often kept away."

  The king chuckled, then barked to the guards. "The corridor will do. But watch this door for your life, and remember your instructions."

  They withdrew. The king and baron left as well, and Isabelle closed her outer door. She stood for a moment, leaning close and likely listening, but I could see no subterfuge in the corridor. The guards stood at attention, and the other two faded down the hall.

  I let the bonds on the wardrobe doors dissolve and pushed back out into her room a breath before she came in. She closed the inner doors with great care, then turned to me. My wizard's sight failed me then, my concentration shattered by the expression on her face. Her eyes were wide with fear, her breathing hard and hot. She threw herself against my chest, and I wrapped my arms tight around her. She shook with little tremors. I hated the king.

  "Hush," I said soothingly, smoothing her soft hair. I whispered near her ear. "You were so brave and clever and strong. You saved my life."

  "He never," she started, too loud and gasping. She choked it off, then caught her breath and said through clacking teeth, "He has never spoken to my father like that. He has never looked at me—" She shuddered, head to toe, and I squeezed her close again.

  "It will be well," I said. "But this is what we spoke of in your father's study. This is why I must be gone."

  She nodded, a frantic little motion, and sniffed lightly. "I understand," she said. "I'll come for you."

  "Isabelle—
"

  "No," she hissed, suddenly fierce, and her fingers gripped too tightly on my arms. "I will come to you." I tried to argue, but she gave me no time. "I'll wait until it's safe. But I will come to you." Her voice shook with silent sobs, but she spoke with certainty. "I'll meet you beneath the twisted tree."

  I pushed the hair back from her face. Tears in my eyes now, I smiled at her. So strong. So brave. "I love you, Isabelle."

  "I love you, too."

  "Be safe," I said. "Wait until he's gone. And take special care with Othin. He is not a man of reason."

  She jerked her head in another nod, and her fingers closed more tightly still.

  "I need to leave," I said, but the last word was not out before she shut my mouth with a kiss. She threw herself up on her toes and knotted her fingers in my shirt. She kissed me with all the heat and passion I had seen in the glow of her lifeblood. She kissed me breathless.

  It seemed to last a very long time. Still, it was done too soon. She stepped away from me, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. My heartbeat hammered in my ears. It hammered louder. Then I recognized the furious pounding on the outer door. Othin bellowed from the hall, "Isabelle, open the door. By order of the king."

  "He's found his ax," she said. I saw terror in her eyes.

  "Stall him if you can," I said. I reached out my will, and the wardrobe's doors fell closed. I bound them together again to give him something to do. "But do not provoke him. He is a dangerous man."

  "Be safe," she said. "I'll come for you soon."

  I flew to the window and flung it wide. It took three breaths before I could catch my wizard's sight again. When I did, I saw the fire of life outside, motion in the night, but none was close enough to see my escape. Aching muscles screamed their protest, but fear gave me strength enough to slither through the deep stone window. I hung for a heartbeat by my fingertips, Isabelle's face framed in the window above me.

  She touched my hand, and I felt her warmth. Then there came a great crash as the outer door slammed open. I dropped into the darkness.

  4. The Monster

  I fell into a roll when I hit the hard cobblestones of the stable's courtyard. I made the move less gracefully than I'd have liked, but I did it without breaking bones. I heard the snick of Isabelle closing the window above me as I stumbled to my feet, and I dared not delay. I passed the stable at a lurch, wishing there was time to steal a horse.

  I knew Othin would not have left this escape entirely unguarded. There was no one directly outside the window, but the reason was clear enough: the high-walled stableyard offered only two escapes—an arched gate onto the town square, and a door back into the master's house. I flew toward the gate, flitting through deepest shadows, then stopped beneath the great stone wall to stretch my awareness on ahead.

  Twelve men were gathered there, ten of them shining with the silver lines of worked steel. Ten soldiers, silent and still. Waiting there for me. The other two surprised me. They shone with a different power—a backlight of perfect white, a halo behind their lifeblood—with a shine that reached out to light the darkness around them. I stared at them, bewildered. My heart pounded more loudly than any other sound in the night.

  Then I heard a frustrated groan, and Themmichus's voice. "I told you, this is a waste of time. If he were hiding in the house, my father would have found him by now."

  Themmichus. And then I understood. That was the glow of authority. Power over reality. Those two were wizards, capable of the same sight that showed them so clearly to me. Sweat stood cold on my skin, and I trembled. Then the other wizard answered Themm, "Be still!" harsh and vicious, and the strength went out of my legs.

  I caught myself on one knee. It was Master Seriphenes, the man who had tormented me in my brief stay at the Academy. "You have your instructions," he went on, bored and condescending. "Now watch the yard. Or shall I inform Lhorus you are still unable to do as you are told?"

  "That won't be necessary," Themmichus said, with none of the sniveling apology his father had stooped to. I saw the shift in his energies as he turned. I saw a flare in the sharp white light behind him as his attention passed over me. "But I assure you—" he was saying, but he cut short. I knew exactly what had stopped him. He had seen me hiding here.

  Seriphenes must have known it, too, because I saw the same flash of his attention. "What—" he started to ask.

  I did not wait to hear his exclamation. I threw myself into a sprint. Two paces brought me to the gate, and I saw them arrayed there just as I had expected. Three on the right, three on the left, with four more spread in a half-circle between to block the way completely.

  I heard shouts of surprise. Seriphenes cried his orders, warning, but the words were lost in the alarm from the soldiers. I heard Themm shouting as well, apparently in panic, but it seemed he was deliberately confusing the Master Wizard's commands.

  The two wizards stood together off to the left, so I angled right. I aimed for the gap between two of the soldiers in the half-circle, but it was not room enough to slip through. I was all too aware of the glowing lines of the swords in their hands—solid steel fashioned with a power my strange magic could not touch. But I remembered a trick I'd used before. I reached out to the earth before me, even as I sprinted forward, and whipped it with my will so it roiled beneath the feet of those two guards.

  It was enough to throw them from their feet. It felled me, too. Weakness stabbed into my legs, and I faltered. I scraped my hands on hard cobblestones and struck with a shoulder to save my jaw. I kept my legs moving, kicking, and found strength to heave with my arms. I made it to my feet again as I scraped through the gap I'd made, and then I was pelting down the silent street away from them.

  I stretched back with my awareness and nearly fell again when I clipped a cobblestone with my left foot. I kept moving, though, and turned my attention to Seriphenes. Even as I did, I saw the noonday blaze of his focus, and it flashed toward me. He shouted to the soldiers, "I have him!" In the same instant I felt bonds of air clamp tight around me. I slammed to a hard stop within their grasp. I grunted and looked down at bonds I knew too well. The wizard's apprentice Archus had used them against me once before to march me to my death.

  I was no longer the boy I'd been then. Though they were crafted of invisible air, I could see the bonds around me clearly in the wizard's sight. I could see the way he had bent wind to serve his will. How he had convinced this bit of air to pretend it were hard as steel. He had told reality a lie and enforced it by his will.

  Another wizard might have challenged his construct, might have forced reality back into its proper shape, pitting his own will against that of Seriphenes. But I was no wizard. I was something else. Instead of changing the false air around me, I caught at its true heart—at the fragile threads of contorted energy—and waved the air aside as though I were lifting back a curtain.

  And that easily the bonds dissolved. It cost me less than the trick with the earth, too, for air was easier to move. In all, Seriphenes's spell might have brought me short for ten seconds, and then I was moving again. I heard him curse behind me, heard the bafflement and the first trace of fear in his voice as he screamed, "After him! You fools!"

  But I was already far ahead. I heard them pounding after me, and without turning I cast my wizard's sight back. Seriphenes was among them, ahead of them even. Old and spindly though he was, the dark-eyed villain sprinted just as hard as I did, and already I could see the gathering glow of his next spell.

  I slowed just enough to gather my focus. I touched the earth beneath me, borrowed enough from the cobblestones at my feet to shape a ball of stone the size of my fist. Then I turned in place, between one pace and the next, and threw the stone in his direction. I hadn't the strength or the vision within the night to hit him so far away, but I put the ball in the air and then turned and continued on my flight.

  But I focused my will on the wizard's sight. I caught the heavy stone within my mind and flung it straight and true into the heart of
that blazing golden glow. Master Seriphenes gave an undignified grunt far behind me. I heard the rustle and thud as he fell to the stone. I watched in my wizard's sight as he skidded five paces along the earth before at last he fell still.

  The fiery dance of his lifeblood barely faltered, but the glow of his magical will faded, faded, and was gone.

  I felt a moment's thrill of victory. It evaporated quickly. I placed a foot wrong and fell. I scrambled to my feet again. Ten armed men still chased after me, and they were gaining ground. I was tired. I tried throwing another stone, and I dropped one of the guards behind me, but this time I felt the cost. I felt myself growing slower. Perhaps I could have dropped nine of them, but I'd have collapsed asleep in the tenth one's arms. I turned and ran again instead, but once more I stumbled, and my flailing hand barely caught the ground to stop my fall.

  The true reality revealed by wizard's sight was not the same as the reality of man. I couldn't run while looking with that sight; I couldn't see the subtle shape of the terrain, just the weight of it. Facades fell away, but right now I needed them. I couldn't afford to miss a little nuance like the lip of a paving stone or a tiny patch of loose mortar.

  So I abandoned the wizard's sight, drank deeply of my fear, and turned all my mind to the desperate sprint for safety. I had one advantage. Six weeks in the town had taught me its twisting streets. I left the main way and darted down the alley between Duncan's and the blacksmith's shop. I led them on a chase through narrow back streets, and at last I stopped in the black-shadowed yard behind Thomas Wheelwright's house. I watched seven men go thundering by, all that remained now of my first pursuers, and I used my wizard's sight to confirm no more were waiting nearby.

  I could hear a hue and cry going up in the town behind me, though. I glanced back and saw the distant, angry flicker of torchlight gathering in the town square. They would organize a full search, and I could not hope to escape from that.

  I gave myself no more than half a minute to catch my breath, then forced myself up off the wall and stumbling down the alley again. I had led them within a hundred paces of the eastern gate, and I stopped in another shadow just long enough to check that there was no one but the baron's guards watching that escape.