The Dragonswarm

by Aaron Pogue

  "Of course I won't," he said, still just as merry, but there was a brittle edge to it now. "And yet, ha hah, it's as I said before. All these rolling miles of dirt mean naught to me. I couldn't even move you to that barn."

  "I've been to that barn."

  He shrugged and tried unsuccessfully to scramble back into his saddle. At last he gave up and just stood leaning heavily against the horse's bridle. "There you and I depart. And as I've said before, if you will only make the portals—"

  I looked away, and he cut himself short. I heard him catch his breath, and after a moment he spoke with a clarity that belied his drunkenness if not his madness. "I have offered more than once to teach my lord."

  "And I have tried," I said. I shuddered at the memory. Lareth had learned at the feet of Seriphenes, and Seriphenes had been the worst of all my teachers in my brief stay at the Academy. Twice now Lareth had tried to teach me, and it had taken every shred of self-restraint to stop myself destroying him before the lesson was done.

  "My power is my own," I said. "Academy magic serves me little."

  "But as I've said before, it shapes your purpose, lord. I cannot imagine what you might do with all your powers, if you employed the focus I could teach to you."

  "And perhaps in time I will," I said. "For now, I cannot spare the energy, and you should count yourself lucky for that. It gives me reason to keep you alive."

  He grinned and laughed. "You have me there. But if you want to move more swiftly than this march—"

  "What about..." I began, already knowing his answer. Still, I had to ask. "What about my way?"

  He shuddered, top to toe. "No! No, my lord. No. Don't you ever try it that way. Better far to walk."

  "But it is only power," I said. "All of it is power. I can move power around. Why not move the lifeblood?"

  "What is a life?" Lareth asked, with a lecturing-hall tone. "Is it your will? Is it your awareness? Is it your brain? Is it your body? Who knows what you would move?"

  "But—"

  "No," Lareth said, lips peeled back to show his teeth. "Never try it that way. Unless...."

  "Yes?"

  He brightened and met my eyes. "You could try it with one of the soldiers! You should have done that at Tirah. Just send them all away."

  "And see what happens then?"

  He nodded, eyes gleaming.

  "But you still expect it would be horrible?"

  "Not horrible, then. Not with soldiers. No, then it's merely wasteful. But interesting at least. It should be interesting to see."

  I heaved a sigh. "Go away, Lareth. Go get some sleep. I order it. No more wine, no clever ideas; just get some sleep."

  It took us two more days and most of a third to cross the barony, stopping only once a day and then again at sunset. I kept the men close by and directed us through rougher terrain wherever I could spare a farmer's field. Lareth and Caleb both called me foolish for it, but I wanted to impact the farmers as little as possible. I knew these men. I'd helped them work some of these fields. I hated the price they paid for every step along our way.

  By the third day, though, the fields fell away, leaving only sun-scorched earth and broken stone and scrubby, twisted trees with cruel thorns. I pressed harder then, standing in my stirrups and begging the army for speed and straining my eyes south. But sunset came too soon, and once again we had to camp.

  When the last of the daylight failed, when Caleb and Lareth both were busy with the work of rest, I slipped away. The terrain was untrustworthy here, pitching and rolling and falling away in the treacherous foothills beneath the cruel coastal mountains. I followed a little path barely recognizable across the barren land. I found it more by instinct than by sight, but the sense of familiarity dragged me on.

  I rode for miles on my own, far past sunset, and finally stopped when the looming shadows before me resolved into a mountain of rubble separate from the distant range. It crouched upon the earth, just as I remembered, a pile of memories and legends and broken stone. The FirstKing's fortress. Palmagnes.

  And here, where the long-forgotten road meandered near a twisted black tree, I saw the spike of earth that I had made. I stared in awe, and memory came crashing back. We had come here with plans for a future. I was supposed to hide in these ruins for a day or two, and if it took longer than that, Isabelle would come and join me. She'd wanted so much to be with me.

  The sight before me dragged me from my saddle. I slipped down, moving as if in a dream, and drifted forward. We'd brought some rations, some resources for me while I camped here. I'd buried them beneath the earth and raised this spire to show me where.

  But now, beneath the spire, there was a pit. Someone had dug down into the earth. Two paces deep would have made a hard day's work even in friendly soil, and this was rocks and gnarled roots. But someone had recovered the saddlebags. Not a treasure, but enough to keep a man alive while he waited for better days.

  Now that I knew to look, I could see the remains of the campsite too: a circle of fist-sized stones, a bit of charcoaled wood, a broken bottle, a tattered blanket. I instantly took on the wizard's sight and stretched my gaze as far as it would go, but there was not a sign of life between this place and the wildfire light of my army miles to the north.

  But I should not have worried at all. The campsite was clearly old, abandoned for months. As I looked more closely at the fire ring, I saw another stone precisely in its center. Underneath the stone, a bit of parchment. I caught it up and summoned a brilliant flame above my shoulder so I could read.

  It said, "I know you can't be dead. I don't know where you are. I waited as long as I could. Come back to me. I love you. Come back to me." She hadn't signed, but I knew Isabelle's careful hand. I read it again, and my tears stained the weathered parchment.

  "Come back to me," she'd said. I turned to the north and sank down in the place where she had waited for me. I wept for what I could not have. I loved her too, and that was why I would not go. But I would wage war with death itself to keep that woman safe.

  13. The Stronghold

  It was well past midnight when I finally came in sight of the camp again. The night was still and dark, and even my horse's steps barely broke the deep silence as I rode toward the sleeping army. I felt bone weary, and my heart felt raw. I only looked ahead to one blanket on the hard, cold ground and perhaps four hours of sleep before we moved again.

  A shadow stepped out of the darkness of the night, barely three paces ahead of me, and resolved into the shape of Caleb. Thunder crashed behind his eyes, and his voice was a growl. "Are you a fool, my lord?"

  "I'm either a madman or a hero," I said, with acid to match his annoyance. "So I've heard. Right now I am tired."

  "You have responsibilities," he barked. "You're not some brave and lonely child anymore, free to run wild in the night."

  "Say your piece tomorrow," I said, and heeled my horse ahead despite him. "Right now, I need a bed."

  "No. You need to think!" He grabbed my horse's halter as it passed and hauled down hard. Nothing I could do would urge the beast forward after that. The dark warrior glared up at me, anger in his eyes.

  "I am your lord," I said through gritted teeth. "Is this how you'll behave?"

  "Toward a lord, no. Toward a reckless child—"

  "Enough," I snapped. "If you call me child again, I will be hard-pressed to ignore it."

  "I've no desire to be ignored. I am your man. I have sworn my life to you and that comes with a price as well. You chafed at the price the farmers pay, but lords pay prices, too. You owe me, Daven."

  "I owe you dragons' blood," I snapped. "That was the deal we made. I'll give you chance enough—"

  "No. Everything has changed. This is not the arrangement we made upon the ashes of that village."

  My eyes narrowed. "You would be released from your oath?"

  He held my gaze for a long moment. Then he released my horse's bridle and took a long step back. "No. I won't. But everything is changed. You made yo
urself a king and made me a general. You lay plans for war. The path you're walking now...you cannot act alone. Two thousand lives are tied into a knot around you now. Understand? When you risk yourself, you risk us all."

  "There is nothing safe in what I do, Caleb."

  "And that's why we should not make it worse."

  My answer died on my tongue. After a moment I looked away. "I'm sorry."

  "A lord is never sorry," Caleb said. "You may chastise me for challenging you. It is within your right."

  I shook my head. "You pledged your strength in my service. Among your strengths is knowledge. Training I don't have. It would be a grave betrayal then to hold your tongue."

  He considered me for a moment, calculating. Then he said, "You are a mystery."

  I laughed in surprise. "Why?"

  "You have two faces I've learned to know well. I've seen the cruel master who brought Lareth's madness to heel. I've seen the affronted wizard prepared to strike down a farmer who would not offer a stranger some water."

  I scrubbed my hands over my face at the memory. "That is not me, Caleb."

  He nodded slowly. "I begin to understand that. For there are times when you are this...this kind young boy."

  My jaw dropped at the comment, and he shrugged an apology. "I mean no disrespect. I swore an oath to the monster when he offered me the chance to kill some dragons. I am no different from Lareth in that. I responded to your power."

  "But not like him," I objected.

  "Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps not. But I would make that oath again. I would serve that monster as long as he could get me what I want."

  "I'll get you what you want," I said. "I mean to fight the dragonswarm."

  "And there's the boy," he said. "There's the noble hero. At times I thought it was a ploy. A clever show to win the hearts of men. But that is you."

  I looked away into the night. I heaved a sigh, and Caleb took a noisy step closer. "Daven. I will serve that boy with all my life. I do not care what you offer me. If that is who you are, then that is cause enough for loyalty."

  "That is who I want to be," I said. "It seems a thousand years ago, but you and I sat beside a fire beneath the stars and I told you I was afraid of becoming a monster."

  "Ah," he said.

  "You told me every man is half a monster."

  "It is usually not so stark a distinction."

  I smiled sadly at that. "Caleb, I have access to powers man was never meant to wield. I can shape reality as well as any wizard, if in different ways, but I have other options too. I can create reality. I can summon pure power to serve my will."

  "Fire?" he asked, and I could see the memory in his eyes.

  "Yes. Anything, really, but yes. That fire was Chaos power."

  "It was strong."

  "Stronger than me," I said. "I have never borrowed Chaos without losing hold of...well, of that kind young boy you mentioned. Me."

  "But here you are."

  I shrugged. "Perhaps. But I am not as kind as I once was. I do not see the world as bright as I once did."

  "The world is not as bright as it once was," Caleb said. "And you have looked deep into the darkness. But you are not a monster."

  "It's much easier when I don't borrow Chaos. And it's been days."

  "Then take more days. You said you do have other powers?"

  I laughed. "Caleb, I glow with power I don't even understand. But yes. I can shape whatever exists at no more cost than physical exhaustion."

  He frowned at that. "That is not a minor cost."

  "No, it's not," I said. Then I frowned. "But even that has not cost me much for weeks." I tried to recall the last time I'd felt weakness in my arms for crafting a blade of earth or flinging fire across a room. I remembered the staggering price I'd paid to bury those saddlebags, but I had done the same to Lareth days ago and never even blinked.

  Caleb watched the confusion cloud my expression, and when I offered no answer to it he shrugged. "This sounds a question for the wizard, not for me."

  "I do not trust him that far."

  "You should," Caleb said. "I am not a trusting soul, but that man will do anything for you. He loves you like a puppy loves its master."

  "He is dangerous and more clever than his madness makes apparent, and he need only find a more powerful master before that love will turn to hate again."

  "Is there a more powerful master?"

  I shook my head. "It matters not. I cannot trust that form of loyalty. I much prefer the kind that will challenge me when I'm a child."

  He nodded back past me, toward the south. "And what did you find?"

  "It's not six miles to the tower from here," I said. "We'll have our lunch tomorrow inside the walls, such as they are."

  Caleb nodded. He turned back toward our camp and jerked his head. I fell to a walk beside him. After a moment I asked, "How much do the men know?"

  "By my order, they know we are moving into a vulnerable but defensible position. They know it will take work to prepare the defenses, and the king will come to test those defenses within days or weeks."

  "That's all?"

  He shrugged. "By my order, that's all they've been told. But I'm sure every man knows it's Palmagnes, the way rumors spread. Most of them know you plan to rebuild it, that you want to be king of the mountains, that you're a total madman, and that you are the FirstKing's ghost." He threw a glance up at me. "Some among them have even suggested you intend to fight dragons, but outside the first battalion, most consider that a baseless lie."

  "Excellent," I said darkly.

  He barked a laugh. "It's the nature of rumor in a body such as this. It's not worth troubling over. They should be ready for the work ahead. That's what matters."

  "We've pressed them hard," I said. "And rebuilding those walls will be no small task. Pass the word that they can have tomorrow afternoon to rest, and we'll begin at dawn the day after."

  "No, my lord."

  I looked down at him, surprised. "No?"

  He looked back with a gaze like stone. "You bid me challenge you when you were wrong. And you are wrong in this."

  I crushed a harsh response before it could even resolve to words, and let it go with a long, slow breath. Then I asked him quietly, "What should we do instead?"

  "Put them to work tomorrow. The moment we arrive. You do have a kind heart at times, but these are the wrong kind of men for that. You may rest tomorrow, but these men respond better to orders than to leisure time."

  "That seems reasonable," I said.

  He frowned as though I'd argued with him. "And we have an army bearing down on us that would tax the defenses of Whitefalls, let alone this pile of rubble you've described. We cannot spare the day."

  "I understand," I said.

  "The easy answer is this: Do not tell me how to run the army. Tell me where to point it, what to teach it, and when to let it loose, but don't tell me how to run it."

  I nodded, thoroughly chastised, and managed a meek, "Yes, Caleb."

  He grunted. "You are most gracious, my lord." My horse approached the first row of tents then, and Caleb caught my bridle almost absently and began to lead me through the camp. As we went, he continued, "We'll start out at dawn, and I'll wait until we're well and truly moving before I pass the arrival orders. We'll need an honor guard, too. How many men do you think will fit inside the walls?"

  "All of them."

  He threw a measuring glance back at me, as though to see if I were mocking, then shrugged and turned forward again. "That is better than I had hoped, but I think you misunderstood. I'm planning for tomorrow, and right now it's just rubble. Before we start rebuilding, how many can this fortress house?"

  "Twice our numbers," I said. "Have you never seen Palmagnes?"

  "No man alive has," he said. He looked north, beyond the sprawling camp to the baron's lands. "Not even these farmers, I would guess. It's miles to the nearest house."

  "True." I chuckled to myself. "Does Lareth know it yet?"
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br />   "I think he half suspects. But then, like all grown men, he knows it's just a legend."

  "Well, we will make it real," I said.

  He stopped, then offered me a hand down from the horse. "At dawn," he said. He'd led me to a bed I hadn't bothered to prepare, an unlit fire built within a shallow pit, a water skin and a wax paper bundle of rations. "For now, you need to rest. You push yourself too hard."

  "And you?" I asked. "Do you ever sleep?"

  "Not while I have enemies awake," he said. "But I am made of stronger stock than you."

  "I think perhaps I have encouraged you to speak too freely."

  "Perhaps," he said, every line of his face perfectly serious. "Only time will tell."

  "Good night, Caleb."

  "My lord." He led my horse away, and I watched until he disappeared into the darkness. Then I fell gratefully among the thin blankets, and lay there long awake anticipating what the next day would bring. I barely thought of Isabelle at all.

  Dawn found me already alert and mounted, waiting anxiously. Caleb had apparently anticipated that, because he had the men ready to strike camp before the sun was even up. Still, I chafed to wait in quiet review of my troops. Instead, I inched along the line, closer and closer to the head of the column, and when the order to march was given, I rode ten paces ahead of the front line.

  I saw no sign of Caleb himself, but I recognized his handiwork when three mounted warriors came galloping past the column to fall in just behind me. My bodyguard. I glanced back over my shoulder and discovered I'd crept another forty paces ahead of the line. The tower called to me. The chance to act called to me. I shook my head and set my eyes to the south and fought to rein against my own impatience.

  Over the course of the next two miles, nine other soldiers came forward to join my guard, and as the last of them drew close I finally gave up my efforts at restraint. I cast one quick glance among them, nodded to the south, and kicked my horse to a run. We covered the barren miles quickly, then slowed to a reverent walk as we approached the tower.

  We passed within a pace of Isabelle's abandoned campsite, but no sign of it remained. I'd destroyed the tiny obelisk and refilled the shallow grave and buried the circle of stones. The note she'd left I carried near my heart, but nothing else remained.