The Dragon Heir (35 page)

Before dawn, the Roses woke
the remaining residents of Trinity with a fusillade of magical projectiles—cannisters of ligfyr—launched from atop the
wizard barrier. They burst against the rebels' elaborate inner wall with
bone-rattling force, drenching the territory between with wizard fire. Toxic
smoke boiled up from the fires between the walls, bloodying the underbelly of
the lowering clouds. Defenders toppled from the inner wall like rotten fruit,
clutching their throats. The rebels answered with withering fire of their own,
raking over the top of the outer wall, clearing it of wizards and weapons.
Jessamine leaned forward, squinting into the murk, gripping the parapet. A
tall, spare figure strode to the battlement at the front of the barbican over
the rebel gate, ignoring the shells exploding all around him. McCauley. Again.
He raised both arms, and the smoke roiled back, away from the rebels,
enveloping the Rose fortifications in a cloud of poison.

Jess charged out of her
bastion and attempted to drive the smoke back where it belonged, then dove for
cover as a blast of fire slammed into the wall just beneath her.

Peering over the edge, she
surveyed the damage: a huge bite had been taken out of the smooth surface of
the wizard wall, and great chunks of stone lay scattered on the ground beneath.
Much more of that, and the wall would be porous as a sieve.

How did he do it? Their
barrier was built to withstand magical assault—that was the whole point. She stormed back along the wall, sweeping
past the wizards flinging flaming ligfyr stones against the rebels from
heavy cover.

“Send a patrol down to
repair the wall immediately,” she ordered. “And kill McCauley,”
she added, as an afterthought.

Outside the gate, the army of
the Roses sprawled across farm fields and littered the wooded groves. Wizards,
mostly, with a few sullen sorcerers stirring cauldrons of magically enhanced ligfyr.
Others beat out throwing stars of glowing metal, infused with deadly
enchantments.

D'Orsay's famous hoard had
been disappointing to say the least. Jess couldn't help wondering if he was
holding back—if he had a secret stash
someplace. They'd been forced to use the weapons sparingly—more to inspire
panic among the defenders than anything else. Some were delightfully
horrible—like the glass spheres that broke open on impact, releasing hundred of
deadly naedercynn vipers within the sanctuary. Or the gliwdream pipes
whose high-pitched music drove the defenders insane.

Jessamine stopped to question
her operatives at the gate. Still no sign of Haley.

Out on the drilling field,
Geoffrey Wylie struggled to bludgeon hordes of wizards into order. Wizards were
not terribly good at teamwork. It hadn't been considered a virtue up to now.
When he saw Jess, he broke off his harangue and turned the command over to a
handsome young wizard in Red Rose garb. Hays was his name, if she remembered
right.

“I don't like this
dual-wall system,” Wylie said, brushing ice from his shoulders (the latest
Weirstorm had overshot its mark a bit). “We could be trapped in between
and annihilated. We'd better take the outer wall down when the time comes to
attack.”

Jessamine brushed away the
suggestion. “And have them scatter like quail and regroup somewhere else?
I think not. We need to teach them a lesson. Besides, we can't risk the
possibility of losing the Dragonheart.”

“You're not the one who
has to lead the charge through the gate against an unknown weapon.”

Jessamine twitched with irritation.
Wylie had been chosen as commander because he'd attended West Point a century
ago. And he looked the part, certainly, being tall and commanding.

But Wylie belonged to the
wrong house. The second worse thing to losing the Dragonheart to the rebels
would be to have it fall into the hands of the Red Rose.

“They're as good as
they're going to be,” Wylie persisted. “If we're going to breach the
walls, we should do it soon.” Wylie tilted his head toward his magical
army. “If we keep this many wizards together much longer, they'll be
killing each other.”

“Why don't you assign
troublemakers to repairing the wall? McCauley is ripping holes in it, God knows
how.”

Jess preferred to wait for
Haley for a number of reasons. Anything could happen during a melee inside the
fortress walls. Anyone could come up with the Dragonheart. Wylie, for instance.
That would be a disaster.

But she knew she couldn't
stall much longer.

Ellen couldn't help tensing
and squinching her eyes shut as she heard the familiar whistle of incoming.
Followed by the boom of impact. Another one had gotten by her.

She twisted round, gazing over
the park and up Library Street. A column of ruddy flame and smoke rose from the
town center. That one must have landed somewhere on the commons. There wasn't
much left on the green to destroy, save a spectacularly ugly fountain that
would no doubt survive the entire war.

The Roses fired canisters of
wizard fire that exploded into wildfires. Squads of sorcerers were kept busy
all day and night, putting out blazes, else the town would have long since
burned to the ground.

But some of the missiles were
booby-trapped, spewing gemynd bana and worse when approached by the fire
teams. Those who weren't killed were disabled for days. And they couldn't
afford the loss of a single hand.

Ellen preferred to face her
enemies sword-to-sword, on the ground. This faceless assault from the air was
unnerving. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look across the black
abyss of no-man's-land, to where spots of light moved like fireflies atop the
wizard wall. Wizards readying the next onslaught. It was her third night in a
row on the perimeter, and she was exhausted enough to make mistakes. But the
work she and Jack did on the wall kept the bombardment somewhat in
check.

Across the way, one of the
fireflies brightened—a wizard gathering
power, preparing to fire. Ellen fished a throwing star from the pouch under her
arm and sent it whistling off into the dark, then rolled sideways, banging her
elbow into the wall as a blast of fire came toward her.

Across the way, someone
screamed. The firefly launched awkwardly from the wall, spiraling down into the
darkness to be extinguished at the base of the wall.

“Catch a falling
star,” Ellen muttered, blotting blood from her elbow and looking for
another target.

Off to her left, an enormous
gout of flame and smoke signified that Seph was at work. Several times during
the night, he'd spun past her, the hot ripple of magic in his wake identifying
him. He was constantly on the move, scouring the wizard wall clean of
bombardiers, providing cover for the warrior patrols between the walls.
Blasting ruinous holes in the wizard wall opposite.

Ellen and Jack and Iris
Bolingame and some of the other wizards helped, but Ellen had to admit that so
far it was Seph that kept the Roses at bay. They'd soon be forced to make
repairs to their wall, which was beginning to resemble sinister black Swiss
cheese.

Let them try, Ellen thought,
peering through the embrasure to the ground below, judging the firing distance
to the base of the wall. They'd be ducks on a pond.

Why don't they try to breach
the walls? she thought. We're totally outnumbered. What are they waiting for?
How long could this bombardment go on? How long would the Anaweir stay on the
Sisters before the Roses became aware of them? Before they ran out of food?

A slight sound behind her
caused her to swivel, gripping the hilt of her knife.

“Whoa. Don't stab the
messenger.” It was Fitch, still in his Resistance garb. He shoved a parcel
into her hands. “More stars.” And another. “Midnight
snack.”

The Weir had laid a
scaffolding over their wall on the sanctuary side, to allow the Anaweir to
navigate it. The wall itself was still invisible to them.

Ellen ripped open the package
of throwing stars and poured them into her pouch. “Tell Mercedes
thanks.” And turned back to her work. She wouldn't let another one past
her, not if she could help it.

Fitch put his hand on her arm.
“Jack says he's got the wall, so take ten to eat.”

Ellen looked down the curtain
wall to where Jack must be. She missed his solid presence at her side. It
would've been great to have him next to her, but this way, if her position was
hit, only one of them would go down.

Fighting always made her
ravenous. She slid into a sitting position and unwrapped her dinner, resting it
on her knees.

Fitch held out a water bottle
filled with green liquid.

“What's this?” she
asked suspiciously, turning it in her hand.

“Some kind of powerade
potion Mercedes whipped up.”

“No dope,” Ellen
said, trying to hand the bottle back to Fitch.

“I don't think it's dope,
exactly,” Fitch said, with a what-do-I-know shrug. “Just like—you know—an energy drink.”

“Hmpf.”  She  
took   an   experimental   sip. And   then
another. It tasted like fresh air in some
unsullied part of the world.

She drained half the bottle,
set it down, and bit into her sandwich.

Fitch still hung on the
scaffolding and pulled out a digital camera. He took several photographs of
Ellen.

“You're photographing me
eating my dinner?” She waved a chicken leg at him. “That's
exciting. What for?”

“Somebody has to do
it,” he said, gazing out at the fires beyond the walls, his face solemn
and ruddy in the sanguineous light. “Like there was this photographer
during the Civil War. Mathew Brady. He was assigned by the U.S. government to
document the war.”

“Fitch, you are such a
nerd.”

He said nothing.

She finished the sandwich and
wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You think we're going to lose,
don't you?”

“What makes you say
that?” he said.

Ellen noticed he didn't deny
it. “Because the winners always write the history. You want to make sure
something survives. Of us.”

He smiled at that, looking a
little embarrassed. “Even if it's only digital.”

It was that breathless hour
before sunrise. Up on Booker Mountain, Maddie might be preparing for the
breaking of light to the east, for the reliable hills shouldering forward out
of the dark.

But Maddie was not on Booker
Mountain. She was creeping through the underbrush of Perry Park, following
Jason Haley, wondering what kind of fool's errand she was on.

For a city boy, he was
sure-footed in the woods. Maddie had only to follow his illuminated form, like
a cloud that had passed in front of the sun.

Now she could see lights
bleeding through the trees up ahead. Jason paused, waiting for her to catch up.
“Camps of the Rose armies,” he whispered in her ear.

Here the underbrush thinned as
they entered a decimated grove of old-growth forest. Ancient oaks lay toppled—wizards had knocked down trees, creating scattered clearings where
they could raise their pavilions and post wards and guards against their
brethren.

A great bulking mass rose
above the trees beyond the camps, blotting out the dying stars. “What is
that?” Madison whispered, conscious of the surrounding wizards.

“That's the wizard
wall,” Jason muttered.

“I don't get it. Why can
I see it?” She was familiar with Weirnets, which captured the Weir, but
were invisible to anyone else—the Anaweir
and elicitors.

Jason shook his head. “I
was hoping you could just walk through it. It's not a Weirnet, it's a wizard
wall. It's built by wizard magic, but constructed of stone, like any fortress.
This complicates things. We'll have to go in through the gate,” he said,
glancing at her, then away. He'd been doing a lot of that slide-away looking,
lately.

She said nothing, waiting for
him to go on.

“So there's a chance
we'll be caught. If that happens, can you just trust me?”

“What?” Her voice
rose, and Jason flinched, putting a finger to his lips to shush her. She
continued, in a hoarse whisper, “What kind of a question is that?”

“I'll get you through, I
promise, but…just… play along, okay? Can you not ask questions?” He
actually looked embarrassed.

“Um. Okay.”

And so they went on, Madison
turning over what he'd said and wondering just what she'd committed herself to.

The closer they got to the
barrier, the more difficult it became to remain undiscovered. They had to stop
a hundred yards from the gate. Their cover was gone—trees had been cleared close in to the wall. Wizards
massed around the gate, seemingly in preparation for imminent
battle.

Munitions masters passed out
backpacks, armor, and supplies to the gathered troops. Flaming missiles arced
overhead, disappearing behind the sanctuary wall. The ground shook as they
struck their targets. Smoke and flame roiled into the sky. Trinity had been
transformed into a fortress during her absence.

She could feel the seductive
pull of the Dragonheart from within the walls. Her own heart beat faster—fear and dread warring with excitement.

Jason danced restlessly in
place. “We're running out of time. Guess we have to take the direct
approach.” He grabbed Madison's hand and bulldozed through the jostling
crowds of wizard soldiers and support staff.

In all the chaos and
confusion, no one seemed to notice them until they were within a few paces of
the gate. Then a half-dozen wizards in Red Rose livery stepped out of the crowd
and surrounded them, shields fully raised. Madison drew closer to Jason,
remembering what he'd said.

“Haley? It is you.
The famous Dragonheart thief.” The speaker, a tall, scarred wizard, looked
vaguely familiar.

Jason studied him a moment, as
if debating the possibility of denying it, then nodded grudgingly.
“Wylie.”

Wylie grinned. “This is a
surprise. Wandering through enemy lines, are you? I knew you were foolhardy,
but it seems you have a death wish.” He glanced at Madison, then did a
double-take. “I know you! You were the girl at Second Sister. With McCauley.”

Madison blinked at him and
opened her mouth to reply, then flinched in surprise as Jason draped an arm
around her and pulled her in close. He gripped her chin and turned her face up,
kissing her convincingly on the lips. Still holding her tight, he said,
“She's with me now.”

The Red Rose wizards laughed,
elbowing each other like high school boys BS-ing under the bleachers.

Maddie wanted to stomp on
Jason's foot, wriggle free, and ask him what he thought he was doing, but the
rigidity of his body was a warning.

“What do you mean? I
thought she and McCauley were going out,” Wylie said.

“Were,” Jason said, grinning.

Madison bristled. They were
talking about her in front of her, like she was deaf or stupid.

Her mood must have shown on
her face, because Jason looked at Madison and shook his head almost
imperceptibly, then turned back to Wylie. “Anyway. Great to catch up. But
we've got to get going.”

Two of Wylie s companions took
hold of Jason's arms. “Oh, no,” Wylie said, getting in Jason's face.
“You're both coming back with me. You're going to tell me all about the
Dragonheart and what's happening in the sanctuary.” He smiled savagely and
patted Jason on the cheek. “I'm really looking forward to our
conversation.”

Jason jerked his head away.
“Didn't Dr. Longbranch tell you?”

Wylie's smile faded fast.
“What do you mean?”

“Ask her. It's all
arranged. She'll explain.”

Madison looked from Jason to
Wylie. If it was a bluff, it was a good one.

Wylie went white with anger.
“The hell I will. You're my prisoners, and…”

Suddenly they were surrounded
by a full dozen White Rose wizards.

“Mr. Wylie, sir, Dr.
Longbranch is waiting for these two,” one of them said.

There was nothing to do but be
hustled along toward an elaborate peaked tent flying the banner of the White
Rose. Wylie and his wizards trailed unhappily behind. Jason stared straight
ahead, but kept a hard hold on Madison's elbow. Madison couldn't help looking
back at the gate. What was Jason thinking? Did he really think he'd have better
luck with Longbranch?

Dr. Longbranch's tent was
guarded by a dozen more wizards in White Rose garb. One of the guards
disappeared inside. He returned and nodded to Jason and Madison. “You two.
Inside. The rest of you stay out here.”

Wylie watched sullenly as the
guards ushered his prisoners in.

Inside, it was as much like a
palace as a tent can be. Fancy rugs were spread over the ground, and velvet and
satin hangings draped the walls and curtained off a sleeping area on one side.
At the other end of the tent, chairs were gathered around a conference table.
Wizard lights cast long shadows. Soft music floated in, somehow countering the
sounds of the battle at the wall, and incense burners obscured the reek of
warfare.

Madison just had time to take
this all in before a tall witch-woman swept toward them, the velvet hem of her
gown sliding over the carpets. She had green eyes and a long fall of pitch-dark
hair. Ignoring Jason, she gripped both of Madison's hands and looked into her
eyes. Unlike most wizards, she seemed to have no fear of Maddie's touch, but was careful not
to let any Persuasion trickle through.

“Madison,” she said.
“I'm so pleased you've come. I'm Jessamine Longbranch.”

“Hel…hello,” Madison
stammered, while her mind raced a mile a
minute. She knows who I am. She was expecting me. She
glanced over at Jason, who was all stony-faced except for his eyes, which
glittered in the wizard light.

“I understand you're an
artist,” Longbranch continued.

“Yes, ma'am,”
Madison said, reclaiming her hands.

“I'm something of a
patron of the arts myself. Perhaps I could make some introductions.”

“Well. Sure,”
Madison said. “That'd be great.” All of a sudden, everyone was
interested in her art. Because they had another agenda.

“But first, we have to
end this war,” Longbranch continued. “So much bloodshed. So
unnecessary.”

“You're getting ready to
attack?” Jason asked.

“We are.” Dr.
Longbranch nodded. “We were waiting for you.”

“Right,” Jason said,
squeezing Madison's arm: a warning. “So we'd better get going.”

Dr. Longbranch raised her hand
to quash any notion of an imminent departure and turned to Madison. “The
rebels won't surrender as long as they hold the Dragonheart. That's where you
come in.” She paused. “Jason says you can go into the sanctuary and
bring it to us.”

It was like a punch to the
gut. “What?” Madison looked from Jason to Dr. Longbranch.

“Hey, Maddie. You know.
The stone we talked about, remember?” Jason said quickly, facing Madison
and putting his hands on her shoulders, looking intently into her eyes. “All we
have to do is bring it to Dr. Longbranch, and the war's over. We'll have more
money than we'll ever need. We can go wherever you want. Paris. London. Bali. You
can paint full time. We can be together.” And then he kissed her again,
probably to quiet her mouth.

Dr. Longbranch laughed.
“You are a piece of work, Haley. Does McCauley know you've stolen his
girl?”

Everybody's crazy, Madison
thought, as Jason released her. But it doesn't matter. I have to get into the
sanctuary. And if this is the way to do it, well … She'd have to make it up as
she went along.

“Seph never had any time
for me,” she said, wishing for the hundredth time she'd inherited the
lying gene. “It's his own fault if someone comes along who knows how to
treat a person.” I sound like Mama, Madison thought. Always trading the
devil she knew for the one she didn't.

“Right,” Dr.
Longbranch said, smiling. “It is his own fault.”

“Should we go,
then?” Jason asked, jumpy as always when he had to wait.

“Yes and no,” Dr.
Longbranch said. “Madison will go and get the Dragonheart. Haley, you'll
stay here to make sure she comes back.”

“What?” Madison
swung round and glared at the wizard. “No way. I'm not going without
Jason.” She latched onto his arm as if the two of them were soldered
together.

At a nod from Longbranch, two
White Rose guards stepped out of the shadows and grabbed Jason's arms, pulling
him free of Madison's grasp. “Take him to our detention area and keep him
close,” she ordered.

She turned back to Madison.
“My dear, be reasonable,” Longbranch said. “Go and get the Dragonheart and
bring it to me. Your young sweetheart will be free in a trice, and you'll come
away with a fortune in walking-around money. Refuse, and I'll kill him
now.”

“Go on, Madison,”
Jason said, giving her a Shut up kind of look. “I'll be fine. The
sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back.”

“Just be sure you give
the stone directly to me,” Longbranch said. “We don't want it falling
into the wrong hands.”

Madison looked from Jason, who
jerked his head toward the gate, signaling her to get moving, to Longbranch,
whose cold, direct gaze said Jason would pay in blood for any kind of double
cross.

One thing was clear: Jason
Haley had been lying to her since the moment he set foot on her porch. Was he
really plotting with the Roses? Or had he decided to sacrifice himself to get
her into the sanctuary?

Madison threw her arms around
Jason's neck as if she couldn't face being parted from him and whispered
fiercely in his ear, “You lying lunatic bastard. They're going to kill you.”

“I love you, too,”
he murmured. “Go find Seph. Help him.”

She let go of him and turned
and stalked toward the gate, flanked by a wedge of White Rose soldiers,
oblivious to the chaos around her.

It was a mess. An absolute,
total mess, since no matter what she did, she'd end up with blood on her hands.

Because there was no way she
could bring the Dragonheart back to Jessamine Longbranch.

Geoffrey Wylie watched as
White Rose soldiers escorted the elicitor Madison Moss toward the gate, hands
twitching as he fought back the impulse to incinerate them. Moments later, more
of Longbranch's wizards hustled Jason Haley off the other way, toward the
middle of the White Rose camp.

The stench of betrayal was in
the air. And it centered on Haley, the girl, and the Dragonheart. He could feel
power building behind the walls, like a cataclysm in the making. What would
happen if they breached the wall? Would they be vaporized, annihilated in an
instant?

Longbranch was up to
something, and Wylie didn't plan on being the sacrificial lamb.

He turned to his Red Rose
captain, Bruce Hays, who stood, awaiting orders. “How many wizards do we
have?”

“For the Red Rose?”
The officer considered. “About three hundred, give or take a few
infiltrators and spies for the other sides.”

Wylie smiled. Three hundred wizards
was an army larger than any seen since the Wars of the Roses.

“Here's what we'll do.
Collect the Red Rose wizards and get them to the gate. We're not waiting for
Longbranch's signal. The White Rose can fight the rebels while we go after the
girl and the Dragonheart.”

Longbranch's jailers didn't
seem to consider Jason much of a threat. Though they clapped sefa manacles
around his wrists, they didn't bother to disable him or search him for
heartstones before they hustled him between the tents.

So he figured if he was going
to make a move, he'd better  do  it before  they  threw  him  in  whatever
dungeon Longbranch had contrived. He had a feeling it was the kind of place
it'd be hard to get out of. But he didn't want to tip off Longbranch before
Madison was well away.

The camp had been emptied out,
most of the soldiers having deployed to the wall in preparation for the
upcoming assault. Just as Jason and his guards reached a secluded spot where he
thought his escape might go unnoticed, the White Rose wizards on either side of
him crumpled silently to the ground and a band of Red Rose liveried wizards
jerked him around and dragged him back the way they'd come.