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Authors: Michael A. Stackpole

Tags: #Fantasy, #Science Fiction

The Grand Crusade (18 page)

BOOK: The Grand Crusade
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“Will defied a dragon?”

“Yes, and in the same way he saved your life in Bokagul, he saved all of us from dragonfire. He saved a portion of the DragonCrown. He went to Vael to argue against his father for dragonkind to join us in opposing Chytrine.”

Resolute squeezed her hands, holding on tight to them. “Until he learned youcar ried his child, he was accepting the responsibility he’d been given for others. Your child made him complete. Your child gave him a future. His purpose always was to defeat Chytrine, and he was bent on it because of the prophecy, but at last he could see beyond the prophecy and that completed him.”

Sayce listened carefully and nodded solemnly. “So, where is he? Did the dragons require he remain on Vael?”

“His duty required that.” The Vorquelf hesitated for a moment. “Nefrai-laysh attempted to murder a dragon. Will prevented that murder. It cost him dearly. It cost him his life.”

The snap of the fire filled the silence. Sayce’s mouth opened soundlessly, then she slumped back in the chair. She tugged her hands free of Resolute’s and covered her face. Her whole body shook and tears rolled from beneath her mask to fall from her jaw and spatter her leathers.

Alyx started forward, but Resolute held up a hand and stopped her. She glared at him, angry that he would not let her comfort Sayce. She was almost as angry that he had so effortlessly lied to her. Alexia had not shared the news of Sayce’s condition with Will. Resolute was probably correct, that Will would have been happy with the news, but a conversation he’d had with Alexia indicated that the opposite was just as likely. Resolute had not lied about Will’s maturity, though, and she hoped that it would have made things turn out as Resolute described them.

The Vorquelf rested his hands on Sayce’s knees. “Listen to me, Princess. You and your childareWill Norrington’s future. He was willing to sacrifice himself to thwart Chytrine so that you and his child would thrive in a world without fear of her. All of us are determined to see that future become true. We need you to be part of our effort. When Will saved you—when he loved you, when he made a child with you—he bound you to us. And us to you. What seems an end now is a continuation. If you are with us, we cannot fail.”

Sayce lowered her hands. Red rimmed her blue eyes and tear tracks still glistened on her cheeks. “I love Will Norrington. I would follow him anywhere. Whatever must be done, will be.”

Resolute nodded once, then stood. Alexia stepped in and dragged Sayce up into a hug. Peri moved behind the Murosan Princess and likewise embraced her. Alyx and her sister hung on tightly as Sayce began to cry again. They pressed in close, holding her until the tremors had subsided into quivers. They eased her onto the bed and, mercifully, sleep claimed her.

Alexia pulled Resolute out of the room. “Why did you lie to her?”

“Not for the reason you think, Princess.”

“What reason would that be?”

Resolute lifted his chin. “You think I manipulated her with a lie so I would have my own Norrington to use. You know I’d told Will that if he did not suit my purposes, I’d have him getting children on women so there would be one

that would suffice. You’ve been steeped in a room of politicians. They lie, so you assume any lie is political.“

His assessment tightened her stomach. “Why did you do it, then?”

“For her. For Will.” The Vorquelf folded his arms over his chest. “In her grief she would have been a pawn. Now she has focus. She knows Will died to save her and her child. She is bound to us, now, as a group. She will seek counsel from us. Will you lead her wrong? No. Nor will Crow nor I. We will shield her from those who seek to manipulate her.”

“We can’t let anyone know. That is the first line of defense.”

“I agree, Princess, but I also know secrets have their own power. This one will not remain hidden.”

Alyx nodded. “What did you mean when you said you lied for Will?”

Resolute smiled ever so slightly. “Will had nothing but contempt for those who would use him. He would not want his child used. I do not believe she will be.”

“She?” The Okrans Princess gave him a hard violet stare. “What do you know, Resolute?”

He thought for a moment. “Prophecies, Princess, are always open to interpretation. Your aunt does it freely. Nuances of the Norrington Prophecy in the original Elvish are indefinite about the gender of the Norrington. Since Will was male, that left other possibilities to be explored.”

“You expected he would father a child?”

“You already know I did not rule that out.”

She frowned. “Did you know of his liaison with Sayce?”

“From the moment he stopped talking about her, yes.” The Vorquelf tilted his head to the side. “This surprises you?”

“That you didn’t do anything to stop it. With the creation of a child, Will might have been stripped of whatever he had in beingtheNorrington. You should have guarded against that.”

“I am anagentof that prophecy, not its master. I can only react, not control.” He pointed to the closed door. “As I reacted there, in speaking with Sayce. It was a duty demanded of me.”

Sayce slept until early evening, at which time she supped on soup and bread. As she ate, she told them of her last days in Muroso. As she was preparing to lead the troops in Nawal south in a flanking attack on the army besieging Caledo, she received an urgent message from her father, King Bowmar. There was no holding the capital, so he had ordered an evacuation. Her brother, Crown Prince Bowmar, was to lead the retreat southwest to Zamsina and make a stand there. She was to race along the coast road, gathering up all the people she could and bring them to Saporicia.

“I did the best I could to fulfill my command. I sent heralds ahead to prepare

the people, but they were not ready. Overburdened carts, the sick, the old.“ She shook her head ruefully. ”The road is littered with the dead, all staring barefaced. There was no cart, no family, not bearing at least one life mask of someone who died in the evacuation.“

Alyx, sitting on the edge of the bed, patted her knee. “What news of your brother? Your family?”

“My father died in Caledo. So did many others. My father engaged in magick duels with many of thekryalniriand slew all but one. Taking Caledo was not without cost for Chytrine, but survivors we met on the Zamsina road told of waves and waves of gibberers pouring over walls that dragonels had shattered. The white city of the plain is now the color of blood. Where it once was proud, it is now like a mouth full of broken teeth.

“My brother did make a stand at Zamsina, but all messages from him ceased two days ago. I am left to assume he is dead as well.” She touched her mask. “I will have to be notching this mask. As nearly as I know, I am the last member of the royal house still alive.”

Alexia smiled. “Then there is hope for Muroso yet.”

Sayce’s head came up. “Do you think they sent me out because they knew I was pregnant?”

“I don’t know, Sayce.” Alexia shrugged. “Will had confided in me concerning his feelings for you. In Nawal you were sick in the mornings, and I drew a conclusion.”

“On that, you told Will I was carrying his child?”

Alyx nodded. “It never occurred to me that there might be a mistake.”

Sayce smiled and patted the hand on her knee. “I’m glad he knew. I’m not sure I believed it from Resolute, but I know I can trust you, Alexia.”

“It is always my hope that you can, Sayce.”

“I do and will.” The Murosan Princess smiled. “Unless someone else comes to claim the throne, I will exercise my right and place all my troops under your control. You will find no more determined fighters in the world.”

“I know. Thank you.” Alyx sighed. “With them, we have a very good start. We’ll free Muroso.”

“And avenge Will.”

“Yes, Sayce, and avenge Will.”

Kerrigan’s eyes burned, less from fatigue than the vapors deep in Vael. After Bok had made his suggestion that they locate Chytrine’s mother and draw a magickal sample from her, they set about getting permission to do just that. Rymramoch agreed with the request, but Sarealnya’s family did not. At least, not immediately—and without their agreement, locating her would be all but impossible.

Sarealnya, as it turned out, had donated her Truestone for the DragonCrown. Some inquiry informed Kerrigan that she had produced the yellow stone, which made it all the more important for him to have access to her. He’d cast a spell on the yellow stone that, he hoped, had been triggered by Chytrine. He was counting on using traces of that spell as part of the spell that would locate her.

Prior to getting permission, Kerrigan worked on refining the spells he would need to cast in his hunt for Chytrine. The actual searching spell would check everyone it met against a list of criteria to determine if any of them was Chytrine. He ordered the criteria, starting with the traces of his spell, since that would be the easiest to reject and since he could easily define it. After that he would check for impressions of Bok and Sarealnya—provided he could get the information he needed about her.

He had to make other adjustments to the spell, and realized, as he worked, that he had been very lucky in the past since he had not been cautious. When his spell found a match, it triggered a pair of “heralds.” Those spells shot out north and south of the target, then angled home to Kerrigan and informed him of their success. Through simple triangulation he could determine where the target had been at the moment of discovery.

The problem with that set of spells was that, as with the sphere, they were linked directly to him. A sorceress of Chytrine’s abilities could easily analyze one

of his heralds and trace it back to him. The little demonstration Rymramoch had given him would be nothing compared to what Chytrine would exact in retribution. He needed to insulate himself from her revenge. He also needed to make sure she could not react quickly and kill the heralds.

His first refinement to the spell was to increase the number of heralds to a full dozen. They would shoot off in all directions, including up and down, before turning to report their success. Some he made very powerful, and very likely to attract her notice, while others he kept humble, so they might escape to report. If she figured out what the spell was and managed to kill some of the heralds, she might just think she got them all.

Then, instead of having them return to him, he designated fixed targets for them to head toward. There they would trigger other heralds who would then head directly for him. He could have continued linking spell to spell to spell to distance himself yet further, but he didn’t like the delay in reporting that would result. Some risk was unavoidable, and he accepted that.

When Sarealnya’s family agreed to show him where she lay, they sent a great-granddaughter of hers, Arimtara, to lead him. Arimtara had shifted her shape to appear human, but her attempt fell shy of perfection. Kerrigan could not tell if it was deliberate or not. She towered over him and was hairless, with ears closer to the sharp shape of an elf’s than a human’s. The sulfuric color of her irises was quite remarkable, but the way golden highlights swirled through them had a hypnotic quality. Broad-shouldered and thickly muscled, she wore a loincloth, sandals, and a studded leather jerkin that covered her upper arms and breasts, but not much more—and Kerrigan could not tell what creature had produced the leather.

At the head of a small company of thralls, Arimtara brought them down deep into Vael, through narrow passages with rough walls. Noxious gases made Kerrigan light-headed a time or two, but she and Bok carried him out of danger. The dragons and Rymramoch suffered no ill effects from the gases. If Bok even noticed them, Kerrigan couldn’t tell.

Finally, they reached a small hole Kerrigan could barely squeeze through. He did manage it, however, then straightened up in a tall, humid cavern. Puddles dotted the floor, and in the center of it lay a huge dragon with her wings furled and her tail curled around to cover her foreclaws, looking very feline.

Well, feline until you look at the head. Sarealnya boasted three pairs of horns, the last and largest of which spiraled back from her crown. A bit of fang showed at the edge of her mouth. Any single scale of her muzzle, delicately patterned and arranged as they were, could have served as a warrior’s shield and covered him from ankle to throat.

Bok perched himself on a stalagmite, shifting his hands and feet for a good grip. His form rippled for a moment with a shiver. “It makes sense she chose this place.”

“Yes, she loved it.”

Kerrigan almost asked why, then invoked a simple dracomagick spell Rymramoch had taught him. Dragons had an ability to read the impressions and resonances created by items through the passage of time. Looking through a dragon’s eyes, the cavern came alive with stone flowing from stalactites to stalagmites, dancing in the pools. Stalagmites, in a rainbow of hues, reached upward and glistened with the mineral wetness that made them grow.

“This is a very beautiful place.”

Arimtara looked at him as if he were watching the dawn and telling her what the sun was. “Get what you have come for.”

Blushing, Kerrigan made his way to where the dragon lay and approached the tip of the tail. Ideally he’d have liked a fragment of scale, but he’d agreed not to disturb her. It was believed that the dust that had gathered on her would have been connected to her for long enough that, according to the Law of Contagion, there would be traces of her essence that he could use.

He quickly gathered dust into a small pot, then cast a preliminary diagnostic spell on it. It would determine the strength of the essence and let him know if he needed to gather more dust. The results came back instantly and he frowned. “This isn’t going to work.”

The puppet wandered over. “What is the problem?”

“The Truestone is an embodiment of the dragon’s soul. It is the source of its essence. Without it being present in the body, those things close to the body don’t pick up an impression. While the wood of your body would be strong for your essence, Master, I doubt I would gain much of anything from the dust on your dragon form.”

BOOK: The Grand Crusade
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