Marielle’s breath caught in her throat as Liandari flicked the blood from her blade.
“Anyone else?” she asked quietly.
The crowd backed up. No one else wanted to tangle with Liandari.
“I like this city,” Liandari said casually to Anglarok. “I get such little sword practice in the Isles. Live duels are always more effective than planned ones with practice blades, don’t you think?”
“Mmm,” Anglarok said, his gaze sweeping across the street before them as he hunted for threats. In all the violence and rage, Marielle didn’t know how he’d sniff anything specific out at all. She was having trouble scenting anything else, her nose overpowered by the scent of smoke, pitch, and cranberries.
She carefully sheathed the sword they’d acquired for her and looked down at the clothing – leather and wool, fashioned for someone of much more noble blood than the daughter of a red-door woman in the Trade District of Jingen.
Maybe she should have emphasized that the clothing should be practical. She’d thought that went without saying, but the elaborate woven-metal decorating her leather breastplate and carefully wrought clasp at the center of her chest was anything but practical. Sure, it would protect from attack, but she looked like a Legend with all the decoration – polished metal scrollwork and leaf decorations swirled in ways that emphasized her femininity while also looking foreboding enough that she was surprised anyone had tried to kidnap her. The greaves and gauntlets – also leather – had swirling feathers worked in metal decorating the fronts of her calves and forearms.
She felt over-dressed, like she drew the eye too much, but Liandari had smiled when she presented them to Marielle and right now, Marielle didn’t dare offend her benefactors.
She wished she’d had a chance to say goodbye to Tamerlan and Jhinn. She owed them that much. But this was her best chance at making things right – and at squirming out of the tight corner that Lord Mythos and Allegra had shoved her into. It would be hard to report on people if they were both in a different city than her.
In the distance, the canals were packed with gondolas, barges, and family boats. They worked their way through the busy streets toward the nearest canal and Marielle worried more with every step. If it was this crowded in the canals here, how bad would it be as they moved upriver toward Yan? Would there be refugees scattered across the countryside? Was her mother out there, perhaps, walking to safety one step at a time? Her breath caught in her throat as she thought of that.
“When we get to the barge that will take us upriver, we will talk more about what you can hear in the shell,” Anglarok murmured. “We must find where the voices are coming from, track them if we can to the place where the dragon has settled. It’s essential that we find him.”
“Of course,” Marielle agreed. She wanted to find the creature, too.
Someone jostled against her and she stumbled to the side, surprised to see a knot of young women carrying weapons and wearing eyepatches.
“What are you looking at?” one of them asked her. “We’re the Band of Abelmeyer and we’re the ones who are going to find the Eye!”
“Dragon-speed to you,” Marielle said politely, glad that her scarf hid her incredulous look. The whole city had gone mad.
They were coming up on the Xin City Smoke House, a tall tower billowing with spicy smoke. In Xin they did their meat smoking in the Spice District instead of the Trade District. It made sense. After all, the spices they needed were here, but she wasn’t the only one smelling delicious smoked meat during a time when the whole city was fasting, and she probably wasn’t the only one getting more and more irritable because of it. She could smell it even over the rage and guilt of the city and that was saying something! Her mouth was watering, and her eyes began to tear up, too. How long had it been since she had a decent meal? She’d had food on the boat with Jhinn, but she wouldn’t call that a meal.
Her mind drifted back to eating fried meat pies with Carnelian before Summernight. Was that her last hot meal? She felt a little faint as she remembered it, her memory of Carnelian – the betrayer – so strong that it brought back the smell of the dragon with it. Funny how memories evoked smells.
She could smell the cedar musk of a nearby dragon so strongly, it was as if the dragon was there. She shook her head. She needed to keep her mind focused on what she was doing, not drifting to the past.
A scream erupted from the crowd and Marielle froze, looking around her. Anglarok and Liandari were crouched, weapons already drawn. The harpoons of the nameless were out and ready as they spread out in a ring around their leaders.
But there was nothing else. No more screams. No clash of weapons.
Marielle began to relax as the crowd around them returned to motion. Just a false alarm made worse by her imagination. Fool! She should be keeping her mind on her task, not on useless memories.
A second scream ripped through the air and then the people on either side of her began to flee toward the alleys and doors of the buildings on either side of the street as a dark shadow blocked out the light.
Marielle looked up just in time to see the belly of a dragon overhead.
He was close – far too close – and on his wings and back and neck ruined buildings and roads were still crusted like a layer of barnacles he hadn’t been able to scrape off.
He let off a cry like a gull – but deeper, more guttural. It shook the earth under Marielle’s feet. No. Wait. It shook the dragon deep down under the road under Marielle’s feet. Or at least, it seemed to her that was what was happening.
Her heart was in her throat. The seconds dragged out like years. She braced herself, her sword held high – as if that could do anything to a creature so large. How had she ever thought they could kill such a monstrous creature?
Each flap of its wings was so powerful that people tumbled down the street as if caught in a hurricane. Stalls selling wares, carts, oxen, and small buildings upended and somersaulted down the streets.
Marielle thought she might be screaming, but the sounds around her were so deafening that she couldn’t hear herself. Screams and shouts, the sound of wood shattering and stone crumbling created a cacophony so loud that words were lost in the torrent.
Terror filled the air – vinegar scented, burning the nose, tinting everything with raw red.
The dragon’s massive head dipped down, and he seized the towering Smoke House in his mouth, tearing it from its foundations like an uprooted plant. Stone and earth rained down from the tower.
Marielle scrambled backward, colliding with one of the harpooners. Her vision was blocked by whirling bodies, fleeing in terror. She saw a stone the size of a cart fall from the sky, crushing two of their harpooners at once. Saw Anglarok lean over them, shaking his head. A scream caught in her throat.
Liandari sprinted forward but a cart, hurtling down the street, smacked her in the back, sending her spinning through the air to land on the ground in a crumpled heap just inches from Marielle.
Marielle jammed her sword in the sheath. It was useless to her right now. She leaned down over Liandari. Was she still alive?
She heard a scream from behind her and she turned in her crouch just long enough to see a piece of masonry fly past. It was the size of a small house. It flew past inches from her head. A warbling ripple of insensible terror pulsed through her.
If she’d still been standing ...
She shook her head to clear the thought. Not time for that.
She pulled Liandari up, dragging her by her upper body through the rubble of the street. Her veil slipped down, and the scent of acrid fear and musky dragon, tinged with cedar, smacked her in the face.
She made it a full pace before a piece of masonry as large as she was smashed down onto the street where Liandari had been only moments before. Marielle’s mouth fell open, her body freezing as she tried to grasp what had just happened. Anglarok was there in a moment, lifting Liandari’s legs and pointing with his head to an alley already filled with people.
“There, bring her there,” he shouted, his words barely audible above the noise of the street.
Marielle struggled against the wind, fighting to keep her footing as they worked their way to the mouth of the alley, pushing their way into the crowd there.
She thought she saw looks of protest on the faces there – this alley was already too full – but it was too loud to hear their words, too bright a red to see any other scents.
They huddled together in terror until, at last, the winds stopped, and sound returned to their District.
“I don’t think we’ll be leaving the city just yet,” Anglarok said grimly when he could be finally heard. Marielle nodded in agreement.
In the street, the rest of the harpooners lay dead, struck by that block of masonry that had narrowly missed Marielle.
And as they stepped out from the alley, plumes of smoke filled the sky in every direction.
The dragon had returned.
Xin was no longer safe.
21: Black Plumes
Tamerlan
BY THE TIME HE WAS up the rope again, Tamerlan’s arms were on fire, his fingers tingling like he was losing circulation. He’d never climbed up a rope like that before. Certainly not without having eaten for days before. His head swam and his throat was dry when his hand finally reached up and grasped the top of the railing.
A pair of finer-boned hands grabbed his, heaving him over the railing where he fell in a slump. Oh, Legends, he was exhausted.
Yes! Call on us! Let us take you!
When he was weaker, they were louder.
We come when your strength fails, when your mind needs to be faster, your endurance stronger. Why do you deny us?
He could barely keep their voices apart in his mind as he fought his exhaustion.
“Drink this,” Etienne said, shoving a flask in his hand. “Stand back!”
Etienne’s legs were inches from him, almost as if he were standing over Tamerlan.
Tamerlan gulped down the water from the flask, his head clearing a little as the cold refreshment of water spread through him.
They were surrounded by a crowd of people, people with weapons and intent expressions. They looked like they were waiting for something, all their eyes trained on Tamerlan as if he were the salvation of their souls, the deepest joy of their hearts. He shivered.
“Well?” Etienne asked tightly.
Tamerlan reached into his shirt and pulled out the mask. It laughed at him even now.
“What is this?” Etienne hissed.
“Show us! Is it the amulet?” A voice called from the crowd.
“Come on!”
“You promised to show us!”
Etienne was looking at him with a grim look on his face, shaking his head. He whirled around, raising the mask up in the air as Tamerlan struggled to his feet.
“Behold!” he cried. “The treasure!”
“It’s just a mask!”
“That’s no amulet!”
“What is it?” a girl in a pretty red cloak asked quietly.
“A joke,” Tamerlan said and the crowd stilled, listening.
“It’s not very funny,” the girl said.
“It is if you’re Lila Cherrylocks,” Tamerlan said wryly.
Etienne shot a warning glance back at him. But it wasn’t like Tamerlan was giving anything away. Lila hadn’t been lying about the mask, and that meant she wasn’t lying about who really had the amulet last. She’d said it was Deathless Pirate. That, he would keep to himself.
He heard her name ripple through the crowd.
“Lila Cherrylocks.”
Yes! They call to me! They speak my name! Keep telling them of my wonders, alchemist!
At least he’d made someone happy.
I might know...
“She stole it many years ago,” Tamerlan said. “And now her mask mocks us in our hunt.”
“Lila,” the crowd muttered, but there were sparks in their eyes. By tonight, every place Lila had ever visited in the city would be ripped apart as they looked for the amulet.
My glory increases! My renown is great!
He shouldn’t tell anyone else about her. She liked it way too much.
Haven’t you heard? She said, slyly. Our power increases with the renown of the masses. I should have been smart like Grandfather Timeless and founded my own religion. Then I’d really be powerful.
Tamerlan didn’t even get to think about what she might mean. At that moment, a gasp rippled through the crowd. Etienne spun, his face filling with horror as he looked past Tamerlan.
Tamerlan spun just in time to see a guard tower along the southern wall go up in flame as the dragon sped toward their city.
“Jingen,” he gasped and Etienne echoed him.
Etienne rocked forward, his hands gripping the railing as he leaned forward. Whatever he was trying to do had no effect, but even with the dragon still far away, the wind of his wings made Tamerlan’s cloak flap in the wind behind him.
“We need to get off this bridge,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “His wings alone might destroy it!”
There were screams from the crowd and Tamerlan heard the sounds of hurrying, but though he tugged at Etienne the other man wouldn’t move.
“Come on! We’ll die here!”
“This isn’t working,” Etienne said, fists clenched and brow furrowed.
“Tell me about it!”
Tamerlan looked back at the approaching dragon and then at Etienne. Whatever magic he was trying to work wasn’t doing anything at all. And the man was going to die if he didn’t move. The wind of the dragon’s approach was already making it hard to hear his words.
Gritting his teeth, Tamerlan grabbed his belt knife, slashed the safety rope around his waist, sheathed the knife and then turned to Etienne. He’d have to act. The other man was too obsessed with whatever he was trying to do.
Grabbing the smaller man in a bearhug, Tamerlan pushed forward, knocking Etienne off his feet and then hurtling to the nearest end of the Bridge.
Screams filled the air around them.
Tamerlan glanced over his shoulder in time to see the dragon’s head plunge down into the city and snatch up a tall building up in his jaws, cracking and crunching it, as masonry fell from his jaws. Houses and streets still clung to his back, bits of their structures raining off of the creature like dust from a shaken mat.
Tamerlan gritted his teeth, his heart pounding in his head as he turned his back on the dragon completely and plunged forward toward the end of the bridge. The structure was shaking under his feet, swaying with the wind of the dragon’s every flap.
He followed the screaming crowd toward the heart of the University District, his feet pounding on the wavering ground, his arms trembling as he bore the other man to safety.
When his feet finally found street cobbles and left the bridge. he stumbled to a halt, releasing Etienne.
Behind him, a cracking sound met his ears and then the sound of rock on rock. He spun to see the center of the Bridge cave in.
There wasn’t time to investigate or wait for the next thing to happen.
“Come on!” he yelled, plunging toward where the buildings were the thickest, where maybe, possibly, they could escape the devastation of the winds.
Tamerlan dove into the first narrow alley he found, turning to help Etienne in behind him. He stayed anchored in that spot, bucking the high winds and reaching out pulling in one person after another to this tiny shelter until suddenly, there was a powerful force of air pushing down on them and then nothing.
Nothing but silence and sobs and ringing ears.
They stumbled out of the alley together.
It was hard to see very far into the city here among the clustered buildings, but one thing was easy to see – plumes of smoke filled the air in angry black swirls.
The dragon Jingen was back.
Their time to stop him was running out.
22: Spiral to Destiny
&
nbsp; Tamerlan
IT WAS LONG HOURS BEFORE they reached Spellspinner’s Cures again. Long hours of helping to douse fires, gather the injured, and clear the streets. The hunt was on hold. Every face that Tamerlan and Etienne passed was full of wariness. Was the dragon going to return? Had this only been the beginning? The same question rang in Tamerlan’s head as he looked up to the sky every few minutes.
But the dragon had not returned, and the city had slumped into quiet waiting as dusk descended.
They opened the doors of Spellspinner’s Cures to a burst of voices and bustling people. Women in white aprons trotted briskly across the shop floor carrying bowls and pestles, jars and bales.
Allegra glanced up from her counter with a harried look in her eyes. “No room for you here today. Go next door. Marielle will sort you out.”
“Can we help?” Tamerlan said, sagging against the doorpost.
She snorted. “You’re in no state for that. You should be in bed. But your bed is full. Every bed is full, and the storeroom besides, and I have orders for poultices and feverfew and healing teas from every District. Two untrained fools would only get in the way.” She wiped her brow wearily before her eyes narrowed again. “Out!”
Etienne pulled Tamerlan away and to a small door in the side wall.
“It adjoins with the inn,” he said tiredly, leading Tamerlan through a long corridor and up a flight of stairs to a door that looked like every other door in the hall. Even in the inn, a quiet hush had fallen.
Etienne knocked while Tamerlan watched the hall warily. He’d seen sorrows today that he wished he could forget. People trampled in terrified crowds. The ruins of people’s livelihoods. A child’s shoe left in the middle of one street had him the most worried. What had happened to the child? Was he safe – or was he one more victim of this madness?
Dawnspell Page 13
