The Seventh Magic (Book 3) (17 page)

"Before we go," Murden said loud enough for all to hear, "there is one last thing I can do to repay you. The Seventh Magic was once beautiful. So it should be again."

Reaching out, she stroked the crystalline walls. While it had no outward effect at first, it soon became clear there would be widespread consequences. Like the workings of a woodsmith's toy, the interlocking blocks supporting the Noonspire and those forming the smooth stone ring around it began to shift and move. Some lifted upward and rotated; others dropped down, leaving cavernous openings. Those who stood surrounding the spire remained rooted in place, the stones on which they stood the only ones not moving.

Murden once again melted into the light, which dimmed behind her as the sun reached its zenith. Whatever doorway or portal they had passed through was now gone, and Sinjin suspected it would not return for thousands of years. Outside the spire, the transformation continued. What had been smooth and flat was no more. An entire city, as if premade, arose from the heart of the Jaga, hidden for millennia. Here was the fabled city written of long ago--not lost but transformed. Seeing the city in its original state was awe inspiring, even if its true nature was now known. Perhaps this place could evolve into something greater than a prison, Sinjin thought. Another hand on his shoulder made him wince.

Benjin Hawk gave him a knowing smile. "There'll be a lot of work to get done."

Good old Benjin, always reliable and ready to remind him of his duties. Sinjin grinned back. "I'm sure we'll find someone to do it."

Laughing, Benjin squeezed Sinjin's shoulder a little too hard. It was all he could do to remain standing. When his mother came to him, her eyes filled with knowing sadness, his resolve failed and his lip quivered.

"It is to you, my son, I owe the greatest apology," Catrin said, her voice calm and smooth despite the pain in her eyes. "I was stolen from you, over and over again, and there are years I can never give you back. It matters not what authority or responsibilities I had; it only matters that I was not there when you needed me most. I can promise no better in the future, my Sinjin. For that I am most truly and humbly sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Sinjin said through barely contained emotion. "You just have to be my mom."

Chapter 17

The spirit's true might is not known until duly tested.

--Ain Giest, sleepless one

* * *

The return to Dragonhold was like a dream. So much had changed in Sinjin Volker's life since he called this place home, and indeed even the face of the Godfist had changed. From above, the gaping chasm created during Mael's escape stood as a colossal reminder of dangers they yet faced. It was otherwise easy to forget. The sun shone brightly once again, and peace had come to most of the world. It would not always be so. Best to enjoy good times while they lasted.

Beside him, Kendra whistled. "I never believed Trinda when she said the Fifth Magic might break the Godfist, but it looks like she wasn't far from the mark."

"She said a lot of things I didn't believe," Sinjin agreed, Valterius taking him closer to Kendra and Gerhonda so he did not have to shout to be heard.

"You can't blame yourself," Kendra said--not for the first time.

"I know. But I must learn from my mistakes and, at the very least, not make them again."

"You will be a good leader, my son." The words came from above as Kyrien descended from the clouds. No matter how much he'd been through, Sinjin still had trouble believing it. "It's true no matter what you believe. This was a lesson I learned and a mistake I'll not make again."

Riding behind her, resplendent in his fine blue silks, Pelivor nodded in agreement. Part of Sinjin lamented his father's absence; it was he who should ride with his mother, but the thought was fleeting. Prios was gone and nothing could change that. Pelivor and his mother deserved happiness no matter how Sinjin wished the past to change. "How far out is the fleet?" he asked, knowing his mother and Kyrien flew in escort.

"Close. We flew ahead to make sure there were no surprises."

It was a wise move. Though Aggrezjhon and Murden no longer presented a threat, there were no guarantees regarding the rest of the world. This was an age of power, and change was inevitable. No matter how much Sinjin wanted to let down his guard and live a carefree life, he knew better. Moments later, he spotted the
Dragon's Wing
moving at high speed off the Godfist's west coast. Benjin and Gwen were visible, even from afar, and Sinjin smiled. The ship's masthead, carved in Kyrien's likeness, now boasted much larger wings that extended over starboard and port sides. At mid deck stood a device resembling a giant ballista, only in place of a bolt, it was loaded with an aircraft. Sinjin shook his head; the girl was as bad as her uncle.

The three dragons circled above the Chinawpa and Pinook valleys, looking down on a scarred land only beginning to heal. When the
Dragon's Wing
drew close, an old sailors' tune became audible. "Give me a fair wind and gentle seas, and no one will be happier than me. Give me waves capped in white, I'll find me an inn and bid you good night."

Sinjin added his own verse to the tune, "Give me a dragon who obeys my commands, I'll have no need of inns or lands. Give me a dragon with a will his own, perhaps I'd best just stay at home." His words brought laughter, and the healing continued. There had been times it felt as if brevity would never again exist, but somehow they had overcome. It was among the most magical parts of his life. Some he'd thought lost had been returned to him, which made it a little easier to bear the thought of those who had not.

Soon the main body of the trade fleet materialized on the horizon. No more would Kenward Trell be forced to carry a pittance of freight between continents. Now he and his family dominated the air aboard the
Vengeful Shark
, the
Kraken's Ghost
and the
Trader's Skies
. Regal dragons patrolled the area, accompanied by aircraft of ever-evolving design. So much had changed, yet so much stayed the same.

Seeing the fleet, Benjin eased the
Dragon's Wing
back out to deeper waters and lowered her into the sea. Within moments, Gwen was strapped in to the stinger perched atop the giant ballista. Sinjin could almost hear Benjin grumbling and admonishing his daughter to be careful. He did hear her command, "Release!"

Like an arrow shot from the mightiest bow, Gwen and her aircraft launched into the air. Had it not been for the thrust she applied, they would have plunged directly back into dark water, but she knew her business. Growing in volume and pitch, the sound that had given the original howler its name filled the air and echoed through the valleys below. Fingering the thrust sphere in his pocket, Sinjin considered his friend's unspoken challenge, but one glance at his wife made him think better of it. There would be time for that to come.

No one knew what they would find within Dragonhold save devastation, which was obvious from above. They'd had no word of survivors and so far had seen no signs of life from below. Sinjin's guts twisted, knowing so many people he cared about had been left here to fend for themselves. It wasn't something he or any of them were proud of, but it was another thing he'd been told he could not blame himself for. Sadly he'd been told that about a great many things of late, but still he felt responsible. So many seek influence and power, but no one ever mentioned the cost: innocence and peace of mind.

After passing them at high speed, Gwen raced through the Pinook Valley, apparently trying to get a better understanding of what they faced. Sinjin turned to Kendra, and she nodded; the two soon cut the air in Gwen's wake, seeing what she saw and finally having some sense everything would be as it should. Here and there, people worked in the Pinook Valley, planting crops and cleaning up the debris left after so much destruction. Shy and fearful at first, the people looked up in surprise, never having seen the likes of Gwen and her stinger before. When the dragons came behind, however, a cheer rose up from the valley below, and when at last Kyrien showed himself, with Catrin and Pelivor on his back, great jubilance erupted from those who must have thought themselves lost and abandoned.

A single pass showed Gwen what she needed, and she sailed upward, across the peaks and back over the Arghast Desert. Even there, cheers rose from tribesmen racing toward Dragonhold, their horses' manes flowing in dark, glossy waves.

"Send someone to the top of the peak!" Sinjin yelled as he and Kendra made another pass through the valley. More people heard his command and moved back toward Dragonhold. Even seeing a dozen survivors eased anxiety and allowed him once again to hope. When he saw Miss Mariss and Martik Tillerman standing within Dragonhold's main entrance and waving to them, Sinjin could not keep the tears from his eyes. So much guilt and worry washed away then, and when he looked over to his wife, she dabbed at her eyes.

It took time for people to make their way through the hold, and only a few were privy to Dragonhold's inner workings, but before too long, Miss Mariss and Martik stood atop the tallest spire within the Pinook Mountains. Valterius soared in close and landed gracefully beside them.

"You’re a sight to see," Miss Mariss said, her voice cracking with emotion. "We thought you all lost."

"And figured we weren't far behind you," Martik said. "Dragonhold is an indefensible mess."

Having seen the gaping crater near what Sinjin thought was the center of the mountain fortress, he understood where Martik was coming from, but it was the dark gray grit coating everything that made it obvious.

"Whatever that dragon did," Miss Mariss said, looking as if she might spit, "he ground half the keep to dust and spread it thick throughout the entire hold."

"It might be a complete loss," Martik said, earning a glare from Miss Mariss.

"Nonsense. It might take a few years to clean it up and mend what we can, but it'll still be livable. You young people just have no patience or the stomach for hard work."

It was clear Martik had heard this before and already knew there was no sense arguing. "What on all of Godsland is that?" he asked instead, pointing out over the Arghast Desert.

Grinning, Sinjin said, "The Trell family has been hard at work."

"May the gods help us all," Miss Mariss said. "My nephew is fool enough for all of us, but this is beyond even his audacity. This has my sister written all over it."

Sinjin would have laughed, but something else lay beneath the humor: Admiration? Respect?

"That can't be real," Martik whispered, watching the mighty airships approach, smaller craft and dragons of varied sizes surrounding them.

"Onin," Miss Mariss whispered, allowing the true nature of her heart to be seen. It was a rare occasion for one who prided herself on keeping her own counsel, and it only made Sinjin think more highly of her. She'd been a difficult taskmaster in his youth, and he'd sometimes wanted to avoid her, but she'd always been fair and mostly kind. Durin might have argued otherwise, but even he had come to see the value of lessons she'd taught them. Faced with feeding and entire hold, Miss Mariss had never shied from duties she'd essentially volunteered for. She'd been in no way responsible for Dragonhold or its occupants, but it was simply her nature to take charge of a situation and make sure what needed doing got done.

Now though, she faced an even more daunting task. Gerhonda landed beside Valterius a moment later, and Miss Mariss rushed to embrace Sinjin's wife before she could even release her straps and climb down. "It is so good to see you! I can't tell you how happy I am that your husband and mother-in-law did not manage to get you killed."

This brought a grin to Sinjin's face, and Kyrien flew in close. The circular pedestal upon which they stood wasn't large enough to hold them all at once, and the larger regent dragon was forced to cling to the mountainside, just as Seethe had once done. No feral dragons had been seen since Aggrezjhon and Murden departed this world, but no one forgot.

"It is good to see you as well, Catrin, Pelivor, and Kyrien!" Miss Mariss shouted, blowing them kisses.

No words were said as the
Trader's Skies
approached. The airship dwarfed any ship ever built on Godsland, even the
Trader's Wind
, which had made the Trell family their fortunes. The
Trader's Skies
represented a bright future if one cared to see it, and it left those gathered with a collective sense of awe. Thrustmasters and flightmasters stood at attention near the giant thrust tubes resting upon articulating mounts that allowed a wide range of mobility. The massive airship moved with quiet grace, unlike the stingers and growlers patrolling the skies around them.

Jehregard left the formation and soared closer, allowing Onin the opportunity to speak without shouting. "Nora's going to bring the ship in and dock," he said with a nod to Miss Mariss. "It might be best if you all give her some room to maneuver." Without another word, Jehregard tilted to one side and soared away.

Reaching out, Sinjin offered Martik his hand to pull the man up behind him on the saddle. The man who'd accomplished so much already in his life paled and did not extend his grip. Kendra made the same offer to Miss Mariss, who giggled and moved without hesitation. Perhaps shamed by his fear and her bravery, Martik took Sinjin's hand. Kyrien pushed himself away from the peak and soared lower, still circling the spire. After helping Martik strap himself in, Sinjin prepared to make his intentions known to Valterius. The dragon turned his head, looked Martik in the eye, and came as close to grinning as his visage would allow.

"Maybe I should--" Martik managed to say before Valterius leaped from the heights, trimmed his wings, and dropped toward the valley floor. His screams could be heard for miles.

Edging ever closer, the
Trader's Skies
backed up her growing reputation. With graceful ease, she hovered close enough to the flat-topped spire to extend a loading ramp. The air beneath the ship sent loose rock and scree into the wind, but otherwise did no harm. Using a polished wooden cane with a kraken's likeness wrapped around it, Nora Trell walked down the ramp. "You all didn't have to run and hide," she said. "You'd think I didn't know how to dock my own ship!"

After Kendra returned Miss Mariss to the platform, she crossed the distance and embraced her sister. "Then perhaps you should not have sent Onin of the Old Guard to shoo us away."

"Men," was all Nora said, and the two sisters shared a hearty laugh along with more than a few knowing looks.

"You know I'm grateful for all you've brought," Miss Mariss said softly, the humor gone from her voice. "But I don't know what to do with it. The hold is a disaster. If we take stores in, they'll only end up fouled with this forsaken dust." She reached down and grabbed a handful of the coarse grit still covering much of the circular stone platform.

"Sinjin warned us," Nora said. "And I think we may be able to help. First, though, we've got to preserve what supplies remain within."

It took three days to seal off the kitchens and smithies, along with the entrance to the God's Eye and a few other places where Dragonhold's survivors had already made progress clearing away the dust and debris. Even after those people had spent weeks cleaning, it would have taken them years at the pace they moved. Miss Mariss had been right about Sinjin and his generation lacking the patience for such work, though he didn't necessarily see this as a bad thing. Impatience was sometimes the force that drove innovation, and this case was no different.