Silver Dragon Codex (23 page)

Jace burst up from the wreckage in the rear, sword in his hand, feeling more alive than he had in years. He shouted—not a cry of fear or rage, but a sheer exultation of joy. With a whoop he jumped out of the shreds of canvas and the broken boards and used his short sword to block Worver’s first attack, smashing through the ringmaster’s hastily raised forearm to land a punch right on Worver’s thick chin.

The ringmaster staggered and dropped the reins. The
horses ran wild, racing through the woods and dragging the broken wagon behind them, panicked by the dragon in the air. No longer shackled by leather reins, Worver was able to make his second attack come faster, and his whip scored a long red welt across Jace’s cheek and neck, ripping open the shoulder of his tunic as it hit.

From behind, there was a high-pitched shriek. Scrabbling claws sank into Jace’s back, tearing into his flesh as if they were a handful of needles stabbing at his skin. Jace reached back over his shoulder, trying to grasp Tsusu, but the creature scrambled back and forth, evading Jace’s grip. “My quasit has you now, boy!” Worver snarled, raising the whip again. “You’re just like your father, always poking into things. If he hadn’t been so interested in the new dancer and her background, I might not have had Tsusu loosen his tightrope!”

Shocked and enraged, Jace felt as if he had all the power of a dragon. He slammed himself backward against the ruins of the wagon top, crushing Tsusu against the wood. The wretched creature cried out and fell. Jace used the opportunity to kick Worver directly in the stomach. The ringmaster toppled, falling to the side of the wagon. He gripped the railing in order to stay on. The wagon wheels spun only inches from the man’s face, flicking mud all over his splendid red jacket.

Jace spun, thrusting his sword down toward the creature. Tsusu wriggled to the side and the blade missed him. The creature spat a thick, poisonous goo up toward Jace’s face. The boy ducked aside just in time, and the spittle landed on the wooden wreckage, hissing and eating through the wood in seconds. Jace twisted, stabbing down again—and this time his sword caught the quasit squarely. The creature let out a burbling wail as it clutched the sword blade, and then began to laugh. As Jace watched, the creature melted away, turning to goo and slime right on his sword. The metal blade hissed and melted along with Tsusu, obliterated by the horrible gunk. Jace dropped the ruined hilt, staring at the smoking, hissing spot where the quasit had once been.

“Tsusu!” Worver was pulling himself up onto the wagon once more, grabbing his whip back for another strike. He spun on Jace in a fury. “You wretched little boy!”

Jace ducked and felt the burn of Worver’s whip as it lashed along his injured back. The stroke burned like fire, opening welts between his shoulder blades. Trees flashed past on both sides as the woods enveloped the two, casting shadows across the wagon. Occasional bursts of sunlight shone through the trees, blinding Jace in patches. Worver reached back again to bring the whip about, and Jace stepped in to grapple him.

The ringmaster was much larger than Jace and more used to fighting in tight quarters—likely due to his background taming circus animals—but Jace had the advantage of steady footing. He was used to shifting surfaces, so the loping, teetering wagon was no problem at all. Worver tugged, trying to hurl the boy off the wagon, but Jace balanced himself against the ringmaster’s weight, twisting around so that Worver was on the outside. Worver continued the motion unexpectedly, lurching forward and toppling Jace to the wooden floor of the driver’s seat.

“I’ll kill you,” Worver hissed, struggling to get his hands around the boy’s neck. “I’ll kill you, just like I killed that red-haired juggler girl!”

Rage surged through Jace, giving him the strength to shove Worver off. He rolled, gripped the reins that dangled on the wagon seat, and pulled with all of his might. The horses screamed in protest, turning in their tracks, dragging the broken wagon to the side. Worver stood over Jace, raising his whip once more and aiming at the boy’s throat.

The wagon careened into a tree. There was a horrible impact, and Jace was thrown from the wagon as if he were a feed bag, turning end over end until he landed amid brush and pine needles. Jace knew how to fall, so he rolled with it, feeling every sharp spike of thorn and needle against his injured back. He raised his head from the ground and
saw the horses run off into the forest, dragging their traces behind them. The wagon remained, a broken pile of wood wrapped halfway around a majestic oak.

Jace dragged himself to his feet and picked up a broken board that had been flung from the wreckage. He marched toward the wagon, every step full of pain. There, near the tree, Worver was climbing to his feet, still holding the whip in his hand. His red coat was torn to shreds, his tie twisted to one side and his top hat lost amid the wreckage. Fixing his blinking eyes on Jace, Worver shakily raised the whip to hit him again.

Jace hit him squarely in the face with the board, planting him flat on his back. He lifted the cord from the unconscious Worver’s neck, taking away the little wooden whistle that controlled the stone of Angvale. “The people of Angvale are about to become your greatest audience of all, ringmaster. For your final trick, you’re going to give them back everything you took away.” Jace held up the whistle, imagining the smile Cerisse would give him when he told her he’d saved the day.

he sound of drums and flute music echoed through the dell, and the trees seemed alight with happiness and sunlight. Amid the dell, the restoration of the houses and buildings of Angvale had paused for a day of celebration and amusement. The circus had come to town.

In the center of the white-cobblestone square, the stone of Chislev—festooned with ribbons and flowers—rose from a flower bed, marking the center of the village. Children chased one another, carrying brightly colored pinwheels made of paper, shouting about the acrobats that were building a human pyramid near the center of the square. White sparkling lights darted here and there, dodging from branch to branch in a whirling, frenetic dance to the sounds of laughter.

“I see the pukah are getting along well.” Jace smiled at the sight of them, his eyes following their whirling
acrobatics. “Looks like they might have spent too much time with the circus.”

Belen laughed. “Can you blame them for being excited? Their stone is home again, the curse is broken, and the priestess of Chislev has declared a holiday in celebration.” Her gray eyes gleamed with delight and she spun, silver hair flying. “It’s a wonderful day!”

“Lady Belen.” The white-robed mage had caught sight of them and was crossing the cobbled street through the press of crowds to greet them. “I see you’re in fine spirits.”

“Wizard Mysos!” Belen curtsied. “Thank you. You’ve done so much for Angvale!”

“Thank me? For what? Nearly putting you in jail? Missing the mark so completely that I nearly bound you to an evil man’s service?” Mysos shook his head. The wrinkles around his eyes were deeper than they had been only a few weeks ago, his countenance even more stonelike and sober. “No, lady. I may have been a catalyst, but I am not the one who helped you discover the truth.” Mysos bowed to Jace, inclining his head in respect. “Without this boy and his friends, I fear this happy village might be a very different place.”

Pride swelled Jace’s chest. “I’m glad to have helped.”

“Have you seen that fellow Ebano about?” Mysos craned his head to see over a rank of fire-breathers lighting
up the air with their craft. “I’ve managed to pick up a few words of his language and was rather hoping to say farewell before I head back to Palanthas.”

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere. He wouldn’t miss the big day!” Jace took in the bright colors and flash of the festival, reveling in the joy of the villagers. Mysos took his leave of them, catching someone else in the crowd whom he wanted to greet, and Belen and Jace headed for the central square. They walked onward through the press of people to watch as the fire-breathers finished their act to raucous applause. Quickly clearing away their equipment, they fled the square with waves and cheers to let the next group come in. These were the jugglers, dancing with painted belaying pins, brightly colored balls, or gleaming silver hoops in their hand.

“Jace, look!” Belen pointed ahead through the crowd. An old woman was lifting children onto a pony, her brown and green robes beautifully embroidered despite the simple homespun from which they were made. Her hair was still wild and twiglike, but now it looked more like branches in springtime than a barren or twisted tree. The wooden whistle hung on a simple leather cord around her neck. “The priestess of Chislev!”

“She’s still scary.” Jace shivered. “Even without a pack of werewolves following her around.”

Belen’s laugh was as bright as the sunlight through the trees. “You were more afraid of her than you were of Worver.”

“Yeah, well, Worver was a known evil. I’m glad that the White Robes of Palanthas have taken him away. He’ll make a really great street sweeper.”

“If Worver scrubs Palanthas’s streets for seventy-three years, do you think he can get them all clean?”

“I’ll stop by and stomp mud on them every day just to keep him busy.” Jace scowled playfully.

“I don’t think you’re going anywhere near Palanthas,” Belen said. “Not with your new responsibilities.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m told there’s a very good up-and-comer ready to try the quadruple tuck flip.” Jace raised his eyebrows.

“This is why I had a rope strung between the school-house and the general store, so he can show me what he’s made of.”

“You’re kidding!”

She took his hand and pulled him toward the school-house with a gentle smile. Indeed, there above the little garden plaza hung a taut thread of thick acrobatic rope, secured professionally at both ends. Jace stared at it, half thrilled, half terrified. “Jace,” Belen pulled him to a stop
a little distance from the ladder. “You need to stop being afraid.”

“I won’t be afraid if you’re here.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go with the circus. I have to stay here in Angvale and help repair the damage I caused. These people are rebuilding their houses and their lives—and I need to help make that happen.”

Jace turned to her, a lump in his throat. “But … Belen. I need you.”

“No, Jace. You don’t.”

“But I lov—”

“Jace.” Her stern expression stopped him midword. “Stop. You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. I’m a dragon, not a woman. I’m much older than you, and our lives are very different.”

“I don’t care, Belen!” he protested. “I’ll stay here with you. I’m sure I could be useful to Angvale.”

“You’d give up everything that you are, ruin your life, and stay here?” Her words were painful, but her expression was caring. “That would be wrong for you, Jace, and wrong for me to expect it. But more than that … the truth is, Jace, I care about you very much, but I don’t love you. Not in the way you want me to. But I don’t think you love me that way either.”

“I know what I feel.”

“You know you care for me, Jace, but you and I are so different that it’s easy for you to dream about me without risking anything. You know that it can never happen, so you don’t have to try and risk failing. That’s not what love is, Jace. Love is all about risk. It’s all about reaching out to someone, and finding—miraculously—that they share your dreams and hopes, and that you share theirs. I want you to find someone who can give you as much as you give them. That’s not me, Jace.”

He sighed. What Belen said made sense, and more, he could feel in his heart that she was right. He cared for Belen, and he could see himself with her—but how? As someone like the chimera might have been, doing nothing more important than cleaning Belen’s tower while she was doing important dragon things? “You’re right, as always. I hate that.”

They laughed together, and Jace felt a weight lift off of his shoulders.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to visit the circus when the village is rebuilt,” Belen said. I might even do a few command performances from time to time.” She smiled, hugging him. “Now hurry up. I want to see that high wire act. And Jace? Don’t be afraid to fall.”