The Grand Crusade (74 page)

cleanly, but somehow Nefrai-kesh kept his grip on his sword, and his arm connected to the wrist.

His left hand came up and around in an open-handed slap that caught Crow over the ear, spinning him one way and launching his helmet another. Crow went to one knee, then turned fast in a cloud of dust, knocking a level slash high. His return cut snapped his blade through thesullanciri’sright hip. A portion of Nefrai-kesh’s belt flew free, his scabbard dropping clear of the other hip, but Chytrine’s creature showed no sign of injury as he backed away, kicking the sword belt from beneath his feet.

Crow stood and swiped at more blood. “It’s not possible.”

The king of thesullancirilaughed low and coldly. “No? Temmer destroyed her other Dark Lancers. Why would she not proof us against it?”

“But if she could do that, why not proof you againstallmagickal weapons?”

Nefrai-kesh shrugged. “She is powerful, not omnipotent. The gifts she gives are the gifts we desire. Certain invulnerability was what I desired, and what I have. I regret this means I will be your death.”

Crow spat. “You regret nothing of the kind.”

“So true.”

Nefrai-kesh flew at him, slashing high and low, lunging swiftly, his cloak a swirl of shadow. Thesullanciriattacked without fear of injury and Crow was hard-pressed to turn the attacks. He blocked and parried, but could do nothing beyond that. Even if he were able to disarm thesullanciri, what then? His sword could not kill him. Might Nefrai-kesh’s blade do the job?

Crow fought with the valor of a thousand heroes. He parried cuts low, driving Nefrai-kesh’s black blade into the ground, then kicking out to knock him back. The very fact that Crow could touch him and affect him gave Alexia hope, but she knew the elbows and kicks with which Crow hit thesullanciriwere doing no serious damage. Thesullancirias a lot had been incredibly resilient, so chances were that even if the blows did hurt, he healed quickly from them.

Her mind raced. If Nefrai-kesh could not be hurt by magickal weapons, perhaps the opposite was true, that mundane weapons might affect him. But while the physical attacks Crow made against him with hand, elbow, and foot would seem to support that idea, she rejected it. Being vulnerable to normal things would have made Nefrai-kesh useless, not to mentiondeadlong ago. It had to be something else that allowed Crow to hurt him. But what? Their blood, or something else?

Nefrai-kesh backhanded a slash at Crow’s head. The white-haired man half ducked, half spun away from the blow. The black blade carved through the mail on his shoulder, taking away slices of jerkin, flesh, and muscle. It traveled on, twisting, and slapped almost sideways into the right side of Crow’s head. It clipped the top of his ear off and opened his scalp with enough force to lift him from his feet.

He completed his spin and smashed down hard on his back. Crow shook his

head to clear it, spraying blood from the scalp wound, then started back up at his brother. Nefrai-kesh loomed over him, his sword poised to plunge down through Crow’s chest.

Thesullancirislowly shook his head. “I thought you, of all people, knew me well enough to slay me.”

“I do.” Crow’s left hand tightened around a burning bit of debris. “I remember. A Phoenix Knight has to be burned.”

Lunging up, he thrust the jagged piece of wood into Nefrai-kesh’s stomach. Thesullancirijerked back, flinging the sword away. He looked down at the fiery stick in his guts. For a heartbeat the flames illuminated the surprise on his face, then his expression shifted. It became serene.

His eyes closed and Nefrai-kesh became an inferno.

Crow rolled away, then whatever had maintained the perimeter around them collapsed. Alexia spurred her horse forward, reached down, and, taking Crow’s arm, swung him into the saddle behind her. Her horse leaped away from the burning figure a heartbeat before it exploded.

The Alcidese Iron Horse rallied around them, but the Aurolani were already fleeing. General Caro and Adrogans’ cavalry had swept up the hill from the north, slaughtering the resistance there, and had already turned their attention to the eastern hilltop. Beyond it, Aurolani troops had begun to flee north, past the pyres that the dragon had made of earlier deserters.

Crow clung to Alexia from behind. “I think it is over, beloved.”

“If not yet, Crow, then soon. Very soon.” Alexia raised Heart and pointed it east. “With me, armies of the south. We have more work to do.”

The Norrington stood in a circle of gemstone shards. He lowered his hands to his sides stiffly, as he had done when he was larger. His eyes remained glowing spots in his face, but at least he had a face. When he looked up, he smiled. Not fully, the way Will had done, but he smiled nonetheless.

Sayce ran to him and hugged him tightly. The Norrington’s expression betrayed no surprise, but his arms were slow to come up and enfold her. Resolute actually read no reluctance to do so in his action, but just a fear of hurting so delicate a creature as a human. His arms and hands became as smooth as river stone as he rubbed her back.

Sayce pulled away, tears staining her face and his chest. “I know you’re not the Will I love, but I want you to know that our child will never want for love or peace or wonder what sort of man her father was. You will come with us, live in Muroso, be with us.”

Resolute stepped up and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Princess, I believe you are thinking much too far ahead.”

She looked up at him. “What are you talking about? Do you think I care what people will say about whom I choose to be my consort?”

The Vorquelf shook his head. “No, Highness, I do not. It’s just that we’re in Chytrine’s stronghold, and we’ve just killed her. In about as much time as it will take for us to walk back to the entrance, the magickers from the Conservatory will be there—unless they chose to wait for the troops we saw on the edge of the valley. And there is no telling how many other creatures lurk here that aren’t going to be pleasantly disposed toward us.”

Isaura nodded as she sat up. “Resolute is right. She once told me that even if she were to die, she had forces in place to make sure her goals were accomplished.”

Trawyn frowned. “Let’s hope Alexia has been able to deal with them.”

“I don’t think it was her armies to which she referred.”

Resolute held his hands up. “Debating her meaning comes later. We need to leave. How do we do that, Isaura?”

She shook her head. “Through the caves, perhaps, but they are home to the gibberers. That, or back the way we came.”

Trawyn turned toward the Grand Hall’s entrance. “We have visitors.”

Resolute sighed. “We have to get out of here. Lead us.”

Isaura nodded and stood, then directed them to the room’s back corner. She touched a piece of stonework and a small passage opened. They entered and started up a set of stairs that curved around and around. They kept going up until she opened another passage, then entered a large hall that, at the far end, had windows and doors that overlooked the valley.

She touched two other stones beside the door. One closed it. “This other stone activates wards that will keep us safe for a while.” She marched across the room and led them to the doors, which she threw open, waving them out onto the balcony.

Resolute came first and his heart sank. A dark line of gibberers snaked across the white snowfields. “A couple of regiments. Your mother must have recalled them from the pass when Ferxigo died.”

Trawyn stepped up beside him and looked down at the throng. “As good as you are, Resolute, you’re not going to be able to carve us free of this place.”

“I know.” He half smiled. “Despite your predilections, I bet you would enjoy seeing a wing of Gyrkyme in the skies right now, coming to carry us away.”

Sayce snorted. “Doesn’t have to be Gyrkyme. I’d settle for eagles.”

“I’d settle for crows.” Trawyn smiled, but it died quickly. “How do you think the war in the south is going?”

“Well enough, I hope.” Resolute broadened his smile. “Now, were Crow here, wecouldfight our way free.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” Sayce rubbed her hands over her belly. “They’ll know in the south that we succeeded, won’t they?”

“I think so.” The Vorquelf looked at Isaura. “Do you know where your mother kept her fragments of the DragonCrown?”

“In this room. I can get them.”

He shook his head. “Just work some nasty spells on the hiding place so your mother’s subjects don’t make away with them.”

“I will.”

Before Isaura could move, a dark shape swept past the fortress’ top. Broad wings spread and a black dragon sailed down. His head thrust toward the ground, then a golden light silhouetted him. As his right wing dipped and he came back around toward the fortress, a column of steam rose from a boiling lake in which gibberers floated in black lumps. All around it gibberers broke and

ran.

The dragon landed on a small tower and furled his wings. “You are Resolute. You were at Vael with this little Spritha.” His voice came higher and tighter than Resolute remembered, but the dragon had spoken his own tongue on Vael, with translation accomplished through magick.

“And you are Vrüsuroel. You destroyed Aurolani waiting to ambush us on the way here.”

The dragon’s eyes half lidded. “Even I can get bored as events unfold.”

“What prevents you from being bored right now?”

Vrüsuroel’s lower jaw gaped for a moment. Spittle flowed and burned down the tower’s black stone. “I wish to see if you will strike a bargain. The fragments here for your safe conduct south.”

Trawyn frowned. “If you know the fragments are here, why not just take the tower down and sift the debris?”

“Would Trawyn of Loquellyn wish reconsideration of my part of the bargain?”

Resolute laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll accept, with one caveat. You will take us south to Princess Alexia and her army, and you will aid me in one other task.”

“And that would be?”

Resolute shook his head. “Wondering about it will prevent you from being bored.”

Vrüsuroel raised his head and snorted, sending twin jets of flame into the frigid air. “Very well. Provide the Truestones, make a riding harness, and away south will you go.”

ORIOSA

King Scrainwood peered out the window of his throne room and watched the people dancing in the streets. Torches and lanterns burned brightly in the night, and bonfires blazed at crossroads despite the early summer’s heat. Gyrkyme had brought the news of Chytrine’s defeat within a day of its happening, and the celebrations had continued for the half week since.

Scrainwood had known instantly when she died. She had made him one of hersullanciri, but he had not known what power she’d given him. Upon her death it manifested. Thoughts and images, rushes of power, filled him so swiftly that he literally fainted and had spent two days in bed. He had even raved feverishly, but those attending him put it down to his fear of Erlestoke’s return rather than any fundamental transformation on his part.

While he lay in the throes of these changes, Scrainwood did what he did best: he schemed. Part of the knowledge he’d been given was of Chytrine’s life—literally, her life flashed before his eyes as she died. He did his best to ignore all the forces that shaped her, for he found those boring. But the Oromise fascinated him, and he expected them to reach him somehow. He even contemplated a trip north to finish what Chytrine had started, but not quite yet.

She, it seemed, had failed in her quest because of her failure to recognize when she was at her best. Her disguise as Tatyana of Okrannel had been brilliant and did more to sow discord and chaos in the south than any military action she undertook. Had she remained in the shadows, she could have sundered the south and conquered them at her leisure.

He would not repeat her mistake, and had an advantage in that he already dwelt in the shadows. No one knew he was asullanciri, so they would not fear him on those grounds. In fact, given that his nation had proved itself in defeating Chytrine, he would be courted by many. While Erlestoke might be a

bother, Scrainwood knew he did not really want to govern Oriosa.If I give my support to others, they will support my suggestion that Erlestoke become the new Draconis baron.

Scrainwood smiled. The moment he’d recovered from his transformation he’d usedarcanslatato propose that the crowns who had so recently met at Narriz come to Meredo for another conference that would decide the fate of the world after Chytrine. He pointed out that the problem of the DragonCrown would have to be solved once and for all, as well as the political situations in Sebcia, Noriva, and Muroso. Either those nations would be rebuilt or partitioned, and meeting to divide the spoils was something no one would avoid.

And once I have them here

He idly twisted the ring he wore and sensed no hostility toward him beyond a few malcontents somewhere in the city. With the powers Chytrine had given him, he could have reached out and found them easily. Depending on their strength of will and the distance, he could even have influenced their thoughts to the point of having them kill themselves.

That, however, was too trivial a use for his power. Once he had the crowns together, then he could manipulate them into hating each other. Little wars would blossom all through the land. Played correctly one against another, the nations would be weakened to the point where he could establish an empire.Once I do that, the decision to release the Oromise will be mine. They will find I bargain far harder than Chytrine ever did.

He turned from the window and caught a flash of motion from the shadows across the room. Something whirred through the air, then the bladestar hit him square in the chest. One of the blades cracked his breastbone and drove into his heart. The metal tore tissue and the poison on the weapon began to spread throughout his body. He could feel it burning through his arteries. They weakened, and blood began to leak through them.

Scrainwood absently calculated that if he were mortal he would have been dead before he could pull the weapon free. Even as he tugged at it, his lip curled in a snarl at the figure emerging from the shadows. “You know this can’t hurt me.”