Dragon Wing (The Death Gate Cycle #1)

by Margaret Weis

  Hugh hauled back on the cable with all his might, hoping to jolt it free. It did no good, and he realized that one of the exterior cables attached to his guide rope must have snapped. Swearing to himself beneath his breath, the Hand abandoned the broken cable and concentrated on flying the ship with one wing.

  “Nearer!” Alfred shouted. “A little more to the left-or is that starboard? I can never remember. Port? Perhaps port? There, I’ve almost got him … Now! Hang on tightly, Your Highness!”

  Hugh heard the prince’s shrill voice, yammering excitedly about something, the sound of small boots hitting the deck.

  Then he heard Alfred’s voice, low and rebuking, and Bane’s defensive whine.

  Hugh pulled back on the cable, felt the wing lift, and the dragonship, aided by its magic, began to float upward. The clouds of the Maelstrom swirled below, seemingly angry to see the prey escaping. Hugh held his breath, concentrating all his energy on holding the wing steady as they continued slowly rising.

  It was as if a giant hand reached out to slap them like an irritating mosquito. The ship dropped suddenly and sickeningly, plunging downward so fast that it seemed their bodies went with it but their stomaches and bowels stayed up above. Hugh heard a frightened shriek and a heavy bump and knew someone must have been thrown to the deck. The Hand hoped both Alfred and the kid had found something to hang on to, but there was nothing he could do about it if they hadn’t.

  Grimly he held on to the cables, fighting to keep the wing up to slow their descent. Then he heard an ominous ripping sound and the eerie whistle that stops the hearts of all dragonship pilots. The wing had torn, the wind was rushing through it. Hugh paid out the line as far as it would go, opening the wing all the way. Although he couldn’t use it to steer, at least its magic would help cushion their fall when they hit the ground-if they hit the ground and if the Maelstrom didn’t rip them apart first.

  Unwinding the rope from around his arm, Hugh threw it onto the deck. They hadn’t reached the Maelstrom yet, and already the wind was whipping the ship around. He couldn’t stand up and was forced to crawl across the planking, clinging to the cables and using them to pull himself into the corridor. Once there, he dragged himself up the ladder and peered out. Alfred and Bane were lying flat on the top deck, the chamberlain with his arm wrapped tightly around the boy.

  “Down here!” Hugh yelled above the buffeting of the wind. “The wing’s split. We’re sinking into the storm!”

  Alfred slithered on his stomach across the deck, hauling Bane with him. Hugh took a certain grim pleasure in noting that the child appeared to be stricken dumb with terror. Reaching the hatch, the chamberlain shoved the prince ahead of him. Hugh grasped hold of the boy none too gently, pulled him inside, and dropped him onto the deck.

  Bane let out a howl of pain that was cut short when the ship flipped over, slamming him into the bulwarks and knocking the breath from his body. The motion sent Alfred plunging through the hatch headfirst, causing Hugh to lose his footing. He crashed down the ladder onto the deck below.

  The Hand staggered to his feet and made his way back up the ladder-or perhaps it was down the ladder. The ship was rolling over and over, and he had lost all sense of direction. He grabbed hold of the hatch cover. A rain squall hit the ship; water lashed down with the force of elven spears. A jagged bolt of lightning split the air near enough that the smell made him wrinkle his nose; the concussion of the air rushing back together nearly deafened him. He fumbled at the hatch cover-it was slippery and wet-and finally managed to yank it shut. Wearily he slid back down the ladder and collapsed onto the deck.

  “You … you’re alive!” Bane stared at him in blank astonishment. Then his expression changed to one of joy. Running over to Hugh, the child threw his arms around him and hugged him close. “Oh, I’m so glad! I was so frightened! You saved my life!”

  Detaching the clinging hands, Hugh held the prince at arm’s length. There was no doubting the sincerity either in the tear-choked voice or on the innocent face. There was no guile or deceit in the blue eyes. The Hand could have almost imagined that he had dreamed everything.

  Almost, but not quite.

  This Bane, so aptly named, had tried to poison him. Hugh put his hand around the boy’s white throat. It would be a simple matter. One twist. Snap the neck. Contract fulfilled.

  The ship pitched and tossed in the storm. The hull creaked and groaned and seemed likely to fly apart at any moment. Lightning flashed around them; thunder boomed in their ears.

  All your life you served us.

  Hugh tightened his grasp. Bane gazed up at him; the child was trusting, shyly smiling. The assassin might have been soothing the prince with a loving caress.

  Angrily the Hand hurled the boy away from him, sent him stumbling into Alfred, who caught him reflexively.

  Stumbling past the two, heading for the steerage way, Hugh dropped to his hands and knees and heaved up his guts.

  CHAPTER 28

  DREVLIN, LOW REALM

  BANE WAS THE FIRST TO REGAIN CONSCIOUSNESS. OPENING HIS EYES, HE STARED

  around at his surroundings, at the dragonship and its other two occupants. He could hear a low rumble of thunder, and for a moment his terror returned; then he realized the storm was some distance away. Looking outside, he could see it was calm, with only a spatter of rain hitting the ship. The horrid motion had ended. Everything was still, nothing moved.

  Hugh lay on the deck amidst the cables, his eyes closed, blood on his head and arm, his hand hanging on to one of the ropes as though his last effort had been to make some attempt to save them. Alfred lay sprawled on his back. The chamberlain did not appear to be injured. Bane remembered little about the terrifying descent through the storm, but he had the impression from somewhere that Alfred had fainted.

  Bane, too, had been afraid, more afraid even than when the elf captain had tossed him over the side of the ship. That had happened swiftly, so there had been only a short time for fear. The fall into the storm had seemed to take forever, with terror growing stronger every second. Bane had really thought he might die of it. He recalled, then, his father’s voice whispering words that lulled him into sleep.

  The prince attempted to sit up. He felt peculiar-not hurt, just peculiar. His body seemed too heavy, a tremendous force was weighing him down, yet there was nothing on top of him. Bane whimpered a little in fright and at the feeling of being alone. He didn’t like these strange sensations and he crawled over to shake Alfred, to try to wake him. Then Bane saw Hugh’s sword, lying on the deck beneath him, and the child had a thought.

  “I could kill them both now,” he said, gripping the feather amulet tightly. “We could be rid of them, father.”

  “No!” The word was stern and sharp and startled him.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you need them to get you away from this place and bring you to me. But first, there is a task I want you to perform. You have landed on the isle of Drevlin in the Low Realm. A people known as Gegs inhabit this land. Actually, I am quite pleased that chance has brought you here. I was planning to come myself, when I acquired a ship.

  “There is a great machine on this isle that very much intrigues me. It was built long ago by the Sartan, but for what purpose, no one has ever been able to discover. I want you to investigate it while you are there. Do this and find out what you can about these Gegs. Though I doubt if they can be of much use to me in my conquest of the world, it is wise to know as much as I can about those I intend to conquer. I might even be able to make use of them. You must watch, my son, for the opportunity.”

  The voice faded. Bane scowled. If only Sinistrad would stop his irritating habit of saying “When I conquer, when I rule.” It was to be “we.” Bane had determined this.

  “Of course, my father can’t know much about me yet; that’s why he’s never included me in his plans. When we meet, he’ll get to know me. He’ll be proud of me and he’ll be glad to share his power with me. He’ll teach me all his
magic. We’ll do everything together. I won’t be lonely anymore.”

  Hugh began to groan and stir. Bane hurriedly lay back down on the deck and shut his eyes.

  Hugh eased himself up painfully, propping his body with his arms. His first thought was one of absolute astonishment to discover he was alive. His next was that he would pay that elven wizard who cast the spell on his ship double what he charged for magic and feel that it was cheap. His next was for his pipe. Reaching into the soiled and sodden velvet tunic, Hugh discovered it safe, unbroken.

  The Hand glanced at his companions. Alfred was out cold. Hugh had never in his life known anyone to pass out from sheer terror. Marvelous person to have around in a crisis. The boy was also unconscious, but he was breathing steadily, his color was good. He hadn’t been hurt. Hugh’s future security was alive and well.

  “But first,” muttered the Hand, edging across the deck to the boy, “we need to get rid of daddy, if that’s who this really is.”

  Moving slowly and cautiously, careful not to wake the child, Hugh slid his fingers beneath the silver chain from which the feather amulet was suspended and started to lift it from around the boy’s neck.

  The chain slid through his fingers.

  Hugh stared at it incredulously. The chain had not slipped off his fingers but through them-literally! He had seen it pass right through solid flesh and bone with as much ease as if his hand had been as insubstantial as that of a ghost’s.

  “I’m imagining things. The bump on the head,” he said, and grasped the chain, this time firmly.

  He held nothing in his hand but air.

  Hugh realized then that Bane’s eyes had opened, the boy was watching him, not angrily or suspiciously, but with sadness.

  “It won’t come off,” he said. “I’ve tried.” The prince sat up. “What happened? Where are we?”

  “We’re safe,” Hugh said, sitting back and drawing forth his pipe. He’d smoked the last of the sterego, not that he had any way to light it even if he hadn’t. He clamped the stem in his teeth and sucked on the empty bowl.

  “You saved our lives,” Bane told him. “And after I tried to kill you. I’m sorry. I truly am!” The limpid blue eyes lifted to gaze at Hugh. “It was only that I was afraid of you.”

  Hugh sucked on the pipe and said nothing.

  “I feel so strange,” continued the prince in easy conversation, that one small matter between them having now finally been cleared up. “Like I’m too heavy for my body.”

  “It’s the pressure down here, the weight of the air. You’ll get used to it. Just sit still and don’t move.”

  Bane sat, fidgeting. His gaze went to Hugh’s sword. “You’re a warrior. You can defend yourself the honorable way. But I’m Weak. What else could I do? You are an assassin, aren’t you? You were hired to kill me?”

  “And you’re not Stephen’s son,” Hugh countered.

  “No, sir, he is not.”

  The voice was Alfred’s. The chamberlain sat up, looking around him in confusion. “Where are we?”

  “My guess is we’re in the Low Realm. With luck, we’re on Drevlin.”

  “Why luck?”

  “Because Drevlin’s the only continent down here that’s inhabited. The Gegs will help us if we can make it to one of their cities. This Low Realm is swept constantly by terrible storms,” he added in explanation. “If we’re caught in one out in the open …” Hugh finished his sentence with a shrug.

  Alfred blanched and cast a worried glance outside. Bane squirmed and twisted to see. “It’s not storming now. Shouldn’t we leave?”

  “Wait until your body’s gotten used to the change in pressure. We’ll need to move fast when we go.”

  “And you think we’re on this Drevlin?” Alfred asked.

  “Judging from our location when we fell, I’d say so. We were blown around some by the storm, but Drevlin’s the largest land-mass down here, and it’d be hard to miss. If we’d been blown off course too far, we wouldn’t be anywhere.”

  “You’ve been here before.” Bane sat up straight, staring at Hugh.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s it like?” he questioned eagerly.

  Hugh did not immediately reply. His eyes shifted to Alfred, who had lifted his hand and was examining it in puzzlement, as if certain it must belong to someone else.

  “Go outside and see for yourself, Your Highness.”

  “You mean it?” Bane scrambled to his feet. “I can go outside?”

  “See if you can find any signs of a Geg settlement. There’s a big machine on this continent. If you can see parts of it, there’ll be Gegs living nearby. Keep close to the ship. You get caught by a storm with nowhere to go for shelter, and you’re finished.”

  “Is that wise, sir?” Alfred looked anxiously after the boy, who was squeezing his small body out of a hole smashed in the hull.

  “He won’t go far. He’ll get tired sooner than he realizes. Now, while he’s gone, tell me the truth.”

  Alfred became very pale. Shifting uncomfortably, he lowered his eyes and stared at his too-large hands. “You were right, sir, when you said that Bane was not Stephen’s child. I will tell you what I know-what any of us knows for certain, as far as that goes, although I believe Trian has conjectured some theories to explain what happened. I must say that they didn’t seem to completely cover all the circumstances-” He saw Hugh’s face darken, the brows draw together with impatience.

  “Ten cycles ago, a child was born to Stephen and Anne. It was a boy, a beautiful baby, with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s eyes and ears. You think that is odd, that I mention the ears, but it will become important later on. Anne, you see, has a nick in her left ear, right here, at the outer curve. It is a trait in her family. The story goes that long ago, when the Sartan still walked the world, one of their kind was saved from harm when a spear thrown at him was deflected by Anne’s ancestor. The point sliced off a part of the man’s left ear. All children born since have been marked with that notch as a symbol of the family’s honor.

  “Anne’s child had the notch. I saw it myself when they brought the babe out for the showing.” Alfred’s voice lowered. “The child found in the cradle the next morning did not.”

  “A changeling,” commented Hugh. “Surely they knew?”

  “Yes, they knew. We all knew. The baby appeared to be the same age as the prince, only a day or two old. But this baby was fair-haired with bright blue eyes, not the milky kind of blue that will turn brown. And the child’s ears were both perfectly shaped. We questioned everyone in the palace, but no one knew how the switch was made. The guards swore no one had slipped past them. They were good men. Stephen did not doubt their word. The nurse slept in the room with the baby all night and woke to take him to the wet nurse, who said that she put to her breast Anne’s dark-haired boy. By this and by other tokens, Trian judged that the child had been placed there by magic.”

  “Other tokens?”

  Alfred sighed. His gaze strayed outside. Bane was standing on a rock, peering intently into the distance. On the horizon, black clouds flecked with lightning were massing. The wind was beginning to rise.

  “The baby had a powerful enchantment woven round him. Anyone who looked at him must immediately love him. No, ‘love’ isn’t the right word.” The chamberlain considered the matter. ” ‘Dote on,’ perhaps, or ‘become obsessed by.’ We couldn’t bear to see him unhappy. A tear falling from his eye made us feel wretched for days. We would have parted with our lives before we parted with that child.” Alfred’s voice fell silent and he ran his hand over his bald pate. “Stephen and Anne knew the danger of taking this child as their own, but they-all of us-were helpless to prevent it. That’s why they named him Bane.”

  “And what was the danger?”

  “A year after the changeling was delivered to us, on the birthday of Anne’s true child, a mysteriarch from the High Realm came among us. At first we were honored, for such a thing had not happened in years-that
one of the powerful magi of the Seventh House should so humble himself that he would deign to leave his glorious realm above and visit with us below. But our pride and our gladness changed to ashes in our mouths. Sinistrad is an evil man. He took care that we should know him and fear him. He came, he said, to do honor to the little prince. He had brought him a present. When Sinistrad lifted the babe in his arms, we knew-every one of us-whose child Bane truly was.

  “No one could do a thing, of course-not against a powerful wizard of the Seventh House. Trian himself is one of the most skilled wizards in the kingdom, and he is only Third House. No, we had to watch with smiles plastered on our faces as the mysteriarch slipped that feather amulet around the baby’s neck. Sinistrad congratulated Stephen on his heir and left. His emphasis on that word sent shivers of horror through all of us. But Stephen was helpless to do anything except dote on the child more fiercely than ever, even though he began to loathe the sight of him.”

  Hugh tugged at his beard, frowning. “But why would a wizard of the High Realm want a kingdom in the Middle? They left us cycles ago of their own free will. Their own kingdom is wealthy beyond anything we can imagine, or so we’ve heard.

  “As I’ve said, we do not know. Trian has theories-conquest is the most obvious, of course. But if they wanted to rule us, they could bring an army of mysteriarchs down and defeat us easily. No, as I said, it doesn’t make sense. Stephen knew that Sinistrad was in communication with his son. Bane is a cunning spy. The boy has learned every secret in the kingdom and has passed it all on, of that we are certain. We might have lived with that, for ten cycles have passed and our strength grows. If the mysteriarchs wanted to take over, they could have done it before this. But something has happened that made it urgent for Stephen to rid himself of the changeling.” Alfred glanced outside to see the boy still occupied in scouting out a city, though he was obviously tired and now sitting on the rock instead of standing. The chamberlain motioned Hugh near, whispering in his ear. “Anne is with child!”