"Rise and greet your lord chancellor," Sensi said with an unenthusiastic flourish. His expression shared a joke with those in the room while his voice remained serious. Onin still chuckled when the lord chancellor entered. Their eyes met, getting them off to a bad start, and he shook his head. When would he learn?
"This is a military meeting," the lord chancellor began without preface. "Those not part of the current guard are dismissed."
Knowing his rights, Onin remained. An uncomfortable silence held.
"Must I have you removed?" the lord chancellor said.
"You may try," Onin said.
"Is that a threat?"
Onin shrugged. "Anyone who violates my rights will encounter resistance."
"So it is a threat!" the lord chancellor said, his voice higher in pitch.
"Only if you plan to violate my rights."
Cold silence followed. The lord chancellor seemed to be gauging his own standing in the room. Powerful he may be, but the guard was sworn to protect the people and their rights. If the lord chancellor issued orders contradicting that oath, loyalty would be tested. Revolutions had started over less, of which Onin was acutely aware.
"Fine. Stay," the lord chancellor said, red in the face. "But do not cross me."
Onin nodded, knowing he walked a fine line. Experience had made this abundantly clear, but his sense of self-preservation wasn't what it used to be. "We need to stop hiding up here and get into the fight." These words stirred the guard, as Onin had known they would. With a single statement, he'd shifted opinion in his favor. Much of what he knew he kept hidden, sure they would not believe. Someone else must also see what he'd seen.
"The dragons and the new guard are our most precious resources," the lord chancellor said. "We cannot risk them."
Pandering to the guard and insulting Onin in a single statement showed the lord chancellor did not come to this battle unarmed. Onin considered his options and decided to keep his mouth shut. Awkward and overlong, the silence unnerved all those present.
"The ferals are concentrated at the center of the Jaga," Jordic of Kern said. He was a good man, Onin knew. "If we stay along the coastline, we should be able to avoid the ferals and the weather."
The stormy season would be as much a danger as the ferals.
"I've sent word to the Midlands, apprising them of our needs," the lord chancellor said. "If they wish continued trade and prosperity, they will comply."
Onin shook his head, the disappointment in the room obvious. The lord chancellor did not deal with the Midlands on a regular basis. To him, they were but a faraway land to be called on when in need and good for little else. The guard knew otherwise, one and all, old and new. The Midlands fed the Heights in exchange for precious metal. In times of war, the cost of food increased. The cost of some metals increased dramatically and others decreased. Iron was more valuable than gold for the making of weapons, and platinum fed no starving children. In this instance, the people of the Heights were in no place to ask favors. Among their few applicable assets, dragons might be their only hope.
"I wish to fly a scouting mission along the coast," Jordic said. It was a risky move. "I can take iron and copper and trade for grain."
"Even a single dragon is too much to risk," the lord chancellor said.
"Then I'll go," Onin said. Jordic glared at him. Onin almost felt bad.
"That's a risk I can accept," the lord chancellor said with a smile. "Any chance you could scout the center of the swamp while you’re at it?"
"Already have." This statement brought silence. "Not on purpose, mind you. My dragon just doesn't steer all that well." This brought laughter from almost the entire guard--even Jordic. "It would probably be best if you sent Jordic of Kern with me to make sure I don't get lost. After all, my little dragon can't carry much."
"Useless," the lord chancellor said. "Fine! Go."
Onin turned to Jordic and winked. The younger man shook his head and smiled.
* * *
Following a path Emmon widened before her, Nora Trell walked and grumbled. It wasn't the boy who raised her ire; he was doing quite nicely. Holding a branch aside, he let her pass and raced around to get back ahead of her and clear the trail as best he could. Why would anyone choose to live this far out in the wilderness? She knew the answer was partly to keep people like her from asking favors. It didn't make the walk pass any more quickly.
When at last they reached a well-made fence with rolling green pasture beyond, they had found Madra's farm. Emmon ducked down to climb through the fence.
"Wait," Nora said, backing up. The boy looked confused but did as he was told and took a step back. For another moment they stood in silence. Then came a loud snort from not far away. Trees and brush blocked the view, but something was coming. Emmon back away farther when a bull charged, its sharp horns long enough to reach through the fence and kill.
"How'd you know?" Emmon asked.
"Never go into a field without checking, boy. And I've been here before. Madra's known for saying, 'Who needs guard dogs when you've got bulls?' Madra's known for saying a lot of things."
"Now what do we do?"
"Yell 'Madra' as loud as you can."
The boy shrugged and managed an impressive effort. Moments later, dressed in chaps and cursing, came Madra. "What kind of idiot just goes around shouting in the woods? Do they even consider that I might have a horse standing over me?"
"It's Nora Trell," Emmon shouted after a nod from Nora.
"Oh. That kind of idiot. I should've known."
"Could you corral your dog, please?" Nora asked.
Madra made a rude gesture but grabbed a metal bucket from nearby. A good shake and the bucket made a rattling sound. The bull turned immediately and ran toward the fence where Madra stood, looking as if it might impale her, but instead it slowed and gently grabbed the ear of corn Madra held. With her other hand, she yanked on a rope that pulled the gate shut, corralling the bull off from the rest of the field.
"How'd she do that?" Emmon asked, not moving toward the fence, his skin pale.
"If you always feed them in the corral and rarely close the gate, you don't even have to work at it. And now we can safely cross the field."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, you did make Madra angry with all that yelling you did."
The boy gave her a wry but unappreciative look.
"What do you want?" Madra asked when they reached the barn. She had her knees bent and a colt's hind leg resting between hers, and she finished crimping the nails of a loose shoe. Nora just waited for her to give them her attention. "That'll have to do until the farrier comes back. Turn him back out on the hill, Chelby."
After pulling up a wooden chair with a leather seat and wheels, Madra looked them over and chuckled. "You must want something, Nora Trell. Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten off your pretty ship and trudged through all those trees and bugs and snakes. You did tell the boy about the snakes, didn't you? Boiling things look just like branches, but one bite and it's all over."
The size of Emmon's eyes nearly made Nora laugh, but why spoil the joke? "I need your help."
Madra snorted.
"I need food."
"You walked all the way here for some food?"
"Rather a lot of it, actually."
Madra's eyes narrowed. "You have an army to feed?" The silence hung. "I had an army once, dreadful things. Noisy and they smell terrible. They're like children. Speaking of children, Chelby!"
"Yes?"
"Nora here needs rather a lot of food. You know what that means, don't you?"
"No."
"It means I'm going to need a drink. Fetch my metal flask, will you?" Chelby did as she asked.
"Don't ask about his brother while he's standing here," Madra said when her son walked away. "Those two have been fighting again. Idiots. At least I did not raise boring children."
"I'll drink to that," Nora said. "Twice."
Emmon pretended not to hear
.
"So where exactly do you need all this food?"
"West of here," Nora replied.
When Chelby returned, Madra took a deep pull before handing the flask to Nora. "West of here, you say? Well, there's not a whole lot west of here, now is there? Won't be sending wagons that way, that's for certain. How much can the boy carry?"
With a laugh, Nora pushed Emmon toward the door. "Why don't you go play with the bull?"
"Watch the pointy bits," Madra said as he rushed out. After he was gone, she asked, "You think that one's going to make it? He's a little doe eyed, don't you think?"
"He'll live," Nora said. "Not sure how much of that living he'll do on my ship, but I doubt I'll have to throw him overboard."
"So you want supplies by barge, I assume?"
"That would be best. I'll need multiple shipments over time." Nora did not shrink under Madra's glare. There was a reason she'd trudged through the forsaken wilderness to seek out Madra. Others could get what she needed but not and maintain secrecy. Few people had the courage to ask Madra many questions.
"You never ask for anything easy."
"What fun would that be?"
* * *
Leaving the Heights involved far less activity for Onin and Jehregard than Jordic and his dragon, Tanaketh. Among the largest verdant dragons, Tanaketh was young and proud. Most verdants were supported by a guard and ten grooms. Jordic commanded a full thirteen grooms to deal with the dragon. Tanaketh's size and disposition made him both a greater asset to the Heights and a greater threat to those in power.
Getting them away from the Heights was the first priority, and they left with as much haste as possible before anyone changed their minds. While he would have liked some time to confer with Jordic, there were ears everywhere. Even once they were in the air, shouting sensitive information between them would be unwise.
Jordic's request for a wing transfer still came as something of a surprise. The practice had been frowned upon in Onin's day and was all but outlawed. Still, Onin had done it himself in the past, and he believed the talent should be maintained even if not often used. In battle, such skills could mean the difference between life and death. Patting his dragon on the neck, he said, "All right, old boy, behave yourself for once." Jehregard grunted in response. "Just keep straight and level."
Tanaketh flew in close, overlapping Jehregard's wing with his own. Though crowded by the larger dragon's wingtip, Onin dared not insult the giant oaf. Jordic walked Tanaketh's wing with confidence but stepped down onto Jehregard's hesitantly. Tanaketh wheeled away almost immediately. The change in air pressure pulled Jehregard's wing upward, causing Jordic to stumble.
When Jordic wormed his way into the small tierre, Onin smiled. He liked this young man more and more. Wing walking took guts.
"Why'd you do it?" Jordic asked almost immediately.
"Do what?" Onin asked just to be contrary.
"You know. Offer to go with me--or in my stead--depending on how you look at it."
Onin shrugged. "Our lord chancellor may have some strong points, but dealing with the Midlands is not among them. Diplomacy in general seems to be a problem."
Jordic smiled at this statement. Such conversations were unusual. They had been trained to take orders not ask questions. Onin had always had difficulty with that. In Jordic, he saw himself.
"We can't just ask them to send us all their resources when they are surely also preparing for war," Jordic said.
Onin nodded. "That is the reason."
"Is it the only reason?"
"I don't like smoke."
That made Jordic laugh. "I think we need to reinforce relations with the Midlands," he said after a moment, his voice once again serious. "They have things we need, and we have things they need. When we work together, like during the Jaga War, we are all stronger."
"I agree," Onin said. "The problem is that the lord chancellor understands neither our strengths nor our weaknesses. He views the Midlands as a threat to his absolute power."
"But you know that's not the case," Jordic said with passion.
"I do. But I'm probably not the person you want to quote to get his chancellorship's approval."
"Not even Sensi can convince him of this," Jordic said.
Onin had his own issues with Sensi, but at least the man had tried.
"So how do you plan to fix this?" Jordic asked.
Again, Onin shrugged. "At least we're not breathing in smoke." Jehregard trumpeted his agreement.
"They say you're crazy."
Onin nodded.
"I say it's hard to tell the difference between bravery and lunacy," Jordic continued. "You’re a good man, Onin of the Old Guard, even if you don't want to admit it."
"You, too, are a good man, Jordic of Kern. Though, I must admit, I've been trying to think of what I'll say to your parents if you don't survive the wing walk back."
Jordic took the hint and summoned Tanaketh. The big dragon moved in fast, once again crowding Onin with his wingtip, flaunting his size. Jehregard must not have taken kindly to this. As soon as Jordic grabbed Tanaketh's wing, Jehregard dived, leaving Jordic hanging.
"He was a brave kid," Onin ruminated out loud, Jordic's cursing in the background as he pulled himself up. "A little slow . . . but a good kid."
* * *
Allette Kilbor knew nothing. She shared memories with the most powerful person on the planet, along with her own life experience, but nothing prepared her for this. Slipping through the keystones had been risky once she'd cracked them but had seemed safer than remaining in the cavern with Mael. Knowing she had destroyed his way out, she doubted he would have shown her any mercy. Seeing the Jaga through the fractured keystone, she'd thought fate smiled upon her; in actuality it was about to stand on her neck.
She had walked into a trap not knowing the danger she faced. And Trinda Hollis, thinking to capitalize on Allette's good fortune, rushed headlong into the very same trap. The Black Queen almost felt bad about that. The child queen had been manipulated along with the rest, and Allette's animosity toward her waned. Even without the knowledge of Mael's influence, Allette and Trinda faced a common foe. Both were trapped and working together might be their only chance of escape.
Both had been separated from their physical forms, which rested not far away within an altar presumably constructed for that purpose. Energy flowed to those bodies, sustaining them in their suspended state. Within the Noonspire, Allette and Trinda were mere shades of their physical forms, their spirits reflecting how they perceived themselves. Wearing a perpetual frown, Trinda clearly felt guilty for what she had done.
Allette's spirit looked much as she had aboard her father's ship. It was there her identity had formed and that self she clung to. Their captors seemed not to care. Both Allette and Trinda had learned not to attract Aggrezjhon and Murden's attention. Almost indistinguishable, they often resembled a single spirit, but sometimes they disagreed and the two grew more recognizable and distinct. Allette could only imagine what ages in a prison such as this would do to a person. She tried not to wonder. Thinking too much might raise their ire.
When their captors did pay attention, it was to dominate them and crush their spirits. The ancient magic users were extremely skilled, and Allette hoped never to experience it again. Too many times, she knew, and she would cease to exist. This was their true goal. Once their spirits had been subdued, Aggrezjhon and Murden could inhabit Allette's and Trinda's physical forms and finally escape their prison. That would, of course, leave Allette's and Trinda's spirits in their place. That thought alone kept Allette fighting to maintain her identity.
Even when the sorcerer and sorceress ignored them, their thoughts radiated through the crystal. They had seen Mael through the keystone and blamed him for their imprisonment. He had betrayed them. He had helped build this forsaken prison and lured them into it. He would have gotten away with it if not for their quick thinking and teamwork. These thoughts ran in circles, reinforcing each oth
er and creating a predictable pattern.
During a rare moment when Aggrezjhon and Murden were transfixed on something in the outside world, something flying high above them, Allette reached out to Trinda and held her hand. Even if only in spirit, the contact was reassuring. Though they had never been friends, Allette was glad Trinda was there. She understood much of what Allette had been through, and at least she wasn't alone. Whenever she came close to losing herself, she leaned on the child queen, and Trinda leaned on her. It was a small thing, but in circumstances such as these, small things could make all the difference.
Across their bond, Trinda sent a mere whisper of thought. "Together, we will survive."
It was enough for Allette to know she had at least one ally in this world.
* * *
Sleeping upon a broken spire, mostly submerged in cool water, Mael enjoyed his freedom. After so long, he'd forgotten the sheer variety of things to see, smell, eat, and drink. Never would anyone take it from him again. That thought niggled at him, preventing him from enjoying his newfound freedom. It wouldn't last. They were still out there. They did not want him to be free. Waiting for eons could have made him act in overenthusiastic haste, but he had learned true patience. Thus far, he'd used little more than gentle nudges to move the puzzle pieces into place.
A smile crept over him as he remembered when the humans rediscovered the keystones. After so much silence, their inane conversations had been the most interesting thing in the world. Of course the humans had no way to know how susceptible they were to persuasion when using the keystones. Just a little nudge in the right direction, here and there, was all it had taken. It was a good thing since power had been available in such minute quantities. He'd been agonizing over pulling every last bit of energy from the air beneath a mountain, and now he soaked in sun and comet light. The potent combination left him giddy.
Saltbark trees provided an excellent restorative. He'd eaten three trees whole before the effects kicked in. Now he floated above a natural energy flow. Though cracked, the keystones remained powerful. It was a reminder. Eventually Aggrezjhon and Murden would have access to enough power to escape their prison. He'd done his best to keep them occupied, but their interference had already cost him. If he'd not had secondary, tertiary, and quaternary plans, he might have remained trapped. Surely his former colleagues had plans of their own.
The Seventh Magic (Book 3) Page 2
