Sworn To Secrecy: Courtlight #4 (10 page)

Grimacing Thanar pushed her hand away, “I didn’t need a healer on the battlefields of the north and I don’t need one now.”

She got up, “Suit yourself then.”

“Look out,” said Kane.

Ciardis’s head snapped up to see that the under-dragon still standing on the ledge.

With a grunt he pulled the fire poker out of his chest and threw it away with a clatter.

Smiling the under-dragon taunted, “Is that all you’ve got Weathervane?”

He crouched down like a bull ready to gorge his opponent and his true form burst forth. On the ledge stood a massive brown dragon. Brown of scale and wings, with breath of brimstone and fire, and eyes like hot coals, he roared.

And his roar was returned with a fury.

The ambassador from Sahalia didn’t bother with pleasantries. Raisa leapt from the floor into the air, transforming more swiftly and less gruesomely than the under-dragon had in mere seconds. A mighty green dragon with horns and a size three times that of the under-dragon came forth. Raisa leapt forward, claws extended to tackle the smaller black under-dragon. He met her head-on, her weight forcing him to fall backwards.

Realizing that Kane and Inga stood closest to the far wall Ciardis ran to help them escape the furious battle of teeth, fire, and claws. Her hand was itching. Checking into her power from the Cold Ones as she leapt over a pile of rubble, she realized that she had enough juice left for another magical blast. Calling up the power that felt like frost and light all at once, she thrust it out through her hand, hoping it would do as commanded. When she’d done that accidently in the Sarvinian mines in an attempt to escape the blast triggered by Caemon, she had created a
geist tor
, a ghost gate, that had transported Inga and herself to a snowy landscape blessedly free of the blast.

They had landed wounded. But alive.

This time, the power of the Cold Ones acted in a decidedly different manner. Instead of a gate, the miniature mage core in her hand blasted a hole straight through the adjacent wall. With the power drawing them in like a whirlpool, both dragons were thrown through the hole into the library next door, which lay destroyed in their wake, and out into the surrounding gardens.

Breathing harshly Ciardis stumbled over to Kane, “Inga’s too vulnerable. We need to get her out of the front – away from them.”

“No time,” shouted Thanar from where he stood, whole and healthy, watching the battling dragons draw back towards them.

“Put her in the fireplace,” said the lord chamberlain.

“What?” said Ciardis with serious side-eye at the man crouched behind a marble table.

“It’s the safest place in the house that’s near us,” he said impatiently. “The stone was created from the foundation of the house and made to withstand the harshest of attacks.”

Thanar eyed the fireplace, which looked like it could hold a whole roasted cow. “It’s certainly big enough.”

They all pitched in to carry the comatose frost giant over to the nearby pit and tuck her inside. Thomas was pushed in next.

“Watch over them,” she snapped to Caemon and Kane.

With Lillian and Thanar by her side, she ran through the parlor and to the edge of the now wall-free library.  Swooping through the sky with blasts of fire and outstretched claws, the dragons continued their desperate bid for supremacy.

“How long can this last?” Ciardis asked.

“I don’t know,” said Lillian.

Neither seemed capable of gaining the advantage by air. With loud thumps they landed in the garden of the manor. With snarls and wicked snaps of their teeth, they each tried to get close enough to pin the other dragon and end the combat. But the under-dragon was fast enough to avoid Raisa’s lumbering bulk on the ground. Fortunately, the worst he seemed able to do was harry her as his blasts of fire had no effect on her massive bulk.

Then Ciardis heard the war-cry of the frost giant race.

She turned to Inga in amazement before she realized the sound wasn’t coming from behind her but rather
below
her.

She watched as the three frost giantesses who had journeyed with Inga rushed towards the battle with cleavers and battle-axes in hand.

“What in the world?” said Thanar.

“What do they think they’re doing?” snapped Lillian, “No one interferes in a duel between dragons.”

“These people do,” Ciardis said as she watched, “Inga would be proud.”

Before the under-dragon realized it they were on top of his back, hacking away with their weapons.

He didn’t appreciate the interruption. Turning from snapping at the bigger green dragon’s neck he lifted his head on his long neck and spewed fire.

They couldn’t get out of the way fast enough and fell from his back afire with screams.

“We need to be doing something!” said Ciardis.

“Like what?” said Thanar.

“That was exactly what Ambassador Raisa needed,” said Lillian in satisfaction.

She was right. Ciardis watched as the distraction gave Raisa the opening she needed to grab on to his scaled neck and snap her teeth down hard. Blood gushed everywhere, but it wasn’t enough to separate his head from his body. So Raisa began to gnaw through his throat, the black brown dragon thrashing under all the while in panic, fear, and pain. His thrashes became weaker and weaker as she pushed forward.

With a final crunch, her maw buried deep in his neck, she snapped clean through the vertebrae of the smaller under-dragon’s neck. And that was the end of the battle between the empress’s representative and her bestial brethren.

Raisa turned away with a bloody maw and roared her supremacy to the sky.

Ciardis watched – disturbed. Had they just vanquished one enemy only to gain an uncertain ally?

When Raisa stopped roaring she settled back on her haunches and began the transformation back to her human form.

“Come on,” said Thanar while turning away.

“For what?” Ciardis said with her knuckles to her mouth as she watched the display before them.

“It’s rude to stare,” he said.

Ciardis turned to look him in the eyes, expecting irony to be there.

Instead irritation lined his face.

“You’re kidding right?” she said while dropping her hand. “After watching the under-dragon
and
Raisa transform and seeing them beat the bloody hell out of each other, it’s
rude
to stare at her transforming back?”

Thanar’s mouth set in a displeased line, “Yes.”

He left.

“You know Ciardis,” said Lillian, “There are rules for everything. This is one of them. One that humans honor for the
kith
just as we expect the dragons not to eat their dead before us.”

Ciardis looked at her mother. “An agreement of races?”

Lillian smiled. “Exactly.”

They left the library ledge together.

W
hen they walked into the parlor, she was surprised to see Sebastian among the group. That should have been her first warning. Her delight was quickly overtaken as he spoke with Caemon.

“One thing at a time, eh?” said Caemon, “We’re all tired and struggling to stay standing right now.”

“Yes,” said Sebastian, “But we need to figure out what to do with our unwelcome guest.”

“Do?” said Ciardis as she looked over at Thomas.

“Do?” echoed Thomas in alarm.

Sebastian said flatly, “I meant the dead under-dragon.”

Walking past the piles of broken shelving, glass and shattered stone, he came up to Ciardis. Taking her hand gently in his, he lifted her arm.

“What?” she said.

“You’re bleeding,” Sebastian said.

Blinking Ciardis looked down and saw slashes on her arm, “So I am.”

She felt detached from the scene, from the battle, from life.

Staring at Sebastian, she watched as his eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on her wrist.

“Come with me,” he said shortly.

“Not a chance,” said Thanar.

“I don’t believe I asked you.”

Thanar’s wings arced up in anger as he said. “Do you want her bleeding all over the floor or do you want my help?”

Sebastian smiled. “I prefer my own remedy.”

Turning to Ciardis, he repeated. “Come with me.”

She looked between the two and then nodded her head. Leading her out the door, Sebastian didn’t look back. Neither did she.

He took her down the hall and across the manor to their living quarters. It was like another world. Untouched by the destructive nature of their enemies. Clean, quiet, serene.

Opening the door to a room they sat on the bed.

She had time to wonder,
When did he get here? Mid-battle?
But watched silent as he took out bandages, sterilized ointment and needles from a pack he carried.

Before he began Sebastian ran a finger along the edge of her arm. As his finger traced her flesh, the skin went numb, and she gasped in relief as the pain disappeared.

He smiled. “A trick I learned from my childhood nurse.”

He proceeded to stitch her arm properly and as he finished Sebastian snipped off the end of the thread and said, “Better.”

She smiled, “Much better.”

As he looked into her eyes, she leaned forward in happiness. Glad that he was here. Glad that the miles that separated them had disappeared in a moment. She wanted him with her, near her and beside her. She
needed
him here. And with that need Ciardis realized there was an ache in her heat whenever he wasn’t there. An ache that hadn’t receded yet. It only grew stronger as she looked into his eyes.

With sharp regret she knew that this wasn’t real. That the vision of him before was a mirage of her own mind. Her eyes clouded in sorrow as she reached out to touch his face, as if to dispel the myth and touch the reality. Her hand went through him. Sebastian’s smile turned into a puzzled frown as he disappeared and she woke up on the floor of the library with a raging headache and the sound of the ceiling caving in.

Lillian leaned over her and so did Thanar. They both looked down at her with concern.

Dazed Ciardis lifted her arm, looking for the wound that Sebastian had stitched up and wondering if she had really dreamed the entire conversation. Perhaps everything else that happened from before as well? No marks showed on her arm, no stiches sealed a wound and no blood splatter was in evidence on her vest underneath. So what had just happened then?

Turning confused eyes to Thanar, she said. “Did you heal me?”

Looking around she could tell that from the condition of the room, the battle had certainly been real.

He raised a curious eyebrow. “Not this time sweetheart.”

She blinked. “Don’t call me that.”

To her mother, Ciardis asked. “What happened?”

Lillian answered. “We were walking back to the parlor to see to the others. You collapsed on the floor, muttering Sebastian’s name.”

An arc of pain raced through Ciardis at the mention of the prince heir.

Desperate to know, she asked. “Is he here?”

“No,” said Thanar tightly.

“No, dear,” said Lillian, “But you know that wherever you go, he isn’t too far behind. We just have to get through these tribulations first.”

Ciardis’s eyes twitched as she fought to hold back a lone tear. It escaped as she hastily sat up and reached for her mother’s hand.

“What happened to me? Why do I feel like this?”

“What – tense and unhappy that your love is gone?” That was her mother.

“Delusionary and weak from loss of power?” That was Thanar.

Ciardis grimaced. “The power thing.”

“Well for one thing you almost fully drained the Cold Ones core of magic that resided in harmony with your own magic,” said Lillian while shooting a poisonous glare at Thanar, “That’s bound to give any mage whiplash. Including young and inexperienced Weathervanes.”

Thanar snorted. “Should have thought of that before you used the gift.”

Ciardis dropped her hand from her forehead where she was trying to rub out a headache. With a glare she said, “Well, excuse me for trying to help.”

He stood. “You’ll feel like shit until tomorrow.”

“Great,” Ciardis said, “Mother, will you help me into the parlor?”

“Of course dear,” said Lillian as she wrapped an arm about her waist to help her stand. They walked back over the debris, leaving the glaring daemoni in the background. As she walked Ciardis took a mental catalogue of her body, she was tired, delirious, bruised and, if possible, her gown was in further ruin. It had descended from merely blood-soaked and stinking to blood-soaked, stinking, and shredded. Which seemed to be a fairly consistent theme around her. She remembered with bitter amusement that the same thing had happened in the north.

She thought about Barnaren as she took in the destroyed second floor. He had been the first of the patrons to formally declare his intentions for her hand in the Patron Hunt and had even sought her out in a test of skills during the Blood Hunt to spear the white hart elk. The general had been the one who had ended up spread-eagled on the forest floor, speared by the tine of the very beast he had sought to hunt. He had lived to fight more battles, but unfortunately nothing could have stopped that wyvern’s bite.

“This reminds me of General Barnaren,” she whispered.

“What, dear? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Ciardis said, “I was there at Barnaren’s side when drew his last breath. He said we now have more time to prepare for the
blutgott’s
advance.”

“That’s nice dear.” Her mother clearly thought she was delusional.

Ciardis left out the fact that he hadn’t said
how
to defeat it
.
The only clue was to ally with the dragons.
And right now
, Ciardis thought miserably as the corpse of the under-dragon with its scales like brown jewels, appeared in front of her on the garden grounds.
It looks like the dragons want us dead.

As they entered the library, a sharp whistle caught her attention. The sound had come from around the corner in the reading area offset from the main library.

“Over here,” said Caemon sharply.