Spark the Fire

by Melissa McShane

  Harshod’s smile faltered briefly. “It’s already too late,” he said. “Gonjiri will go to war against the dragons, and it will be decimated.”

  “Leaving Tekentriya in a position to take over,” Lamprophyre said.

  Harshod’s thick eyebrows drew even more closely together. “Tekentriya?” he said, sounding surprised. “Yes, of course.”

  Rokshan said that curt mystery word. “It’s not Gonjiri,” he said. “Are you even Gonjirian?”

  “I told you I’m not interested in answering your questions.” Harshod shifted his weight as if preparing to run. Lamprophyre smiled and blew out a puff of smoke that drifted away on the light breeze. Harshod’s gaze never left Lamprophyre’s face. “So maybe you should ask yourselves,” he continued, “if I didn’t come to talk, why did I let you lure me in?”

  “Are you working for Fanishkor? Or does Gonjiri have an enemy we don’t know about?” Rokshan persisted.

  “I don’t care about your motives,” Lamprophyre said. “You’re going to answer my questions, or I’ll peel the skin from your flesh until you do.”

  “I’m terrified. See how I’m shaking?” Harshod extended a hand that was perfectly steady. On his middle finger he wore a ring set with an oversized lump of what Lamprophyre realized was erythronite crystal, sparkling like a cut ruby but paler and gaudier. A bracelet set with aquamarines dangled around his wrist. “No, I think you’ll find Gonjiri only has one true enemy.”

  “And who’s that?” Rokshan said.

  Harshod’s hand closed into a fist. “Dragons,” he said.

  A blast of bright yellow fire streaked from Harshod’s clenched hand to strike Rokshan full in the chest. Rokshan screamed as fire engulfed him, blazing hot enough that even Lamprophyre felt it.

  Her own scream came less than a beat after his. Rokshan threw himself on the ground and rolled madly, trying to extinguish the flames, but the fire burned as if no human agency could put it out.

  Lamprophyre picked up Rokshan and wrapped her left wing around him, beating the flames licking at his head and face with her opposite hand. Distantly, she felt someone grab her right leg and climb up her body. Harshod. He dared touch her—! She twisted, trying to dislodge him, but he’d gotten hold of her ruff and was hanging on as if his life were in the balance. The fire was nearly out, but Rokshan was disturbingly limp in her arm, and her terror for him outweighed her concern for what Harshod was doing.

  Then something struck the back of her head, exactly at the sensitive spot, sending sharp agony shooting through her whole body. Her vision blurred and darkened, but instead of the sweet release of unconsciousness, the pain increased until she screamed and flung Rokshan away. Seizures racked her, and she vomited her last meal all down her side. Desperately, she sucked in air in great harsh breaths, unable to control any part of her body but her lungs. She’d never felt pain like it before. She needed to recover so she could capture Harshod, because if he could do this to her, if he had another dragon-hurting weapon, no dragon anywhere was safe.

  Gradually, the seizures stopped, and she lay numb and barely conscious on the floor of the coliseum. Part of her mind was screaming at her to get up and find Rokshan, to see how badly hurt he was, but movement was beyond her. She practiced breathing, which was still all she could control, until the black haze in front of her vision disappeared and she could see the ruddy ground and a segment of the wall of the coliseum. Rokshan wasn’t there. She hoped that meant she wasn’t looking the right way.

  “Rokshan?” she called out. Her thin, reedy voice didn’t carry beyond her own ears. “Rokshan!” she tried again. She heard nothing but the distant sounds of the city. Nobody cared about the screaming. If Harshod—

  Fear jolted through her, and she managed to lift her head and one arm before collapsing. Harshod couldn’t still be here, but what if he was finishing Rokshan off? With a tremendous effort, she got her arms beneath her and pushed herself to a crouching position. Immediately, she saw Rokshan lying on the ground about a dragonlength away, his back to her.

  She dragged herself to his side. The dragonlength felt more like a thousand as she crept along, hauling her still-inert legs and drooping wings behind her. When she reached him, she gently turned him onto his back. His face was streaked with burns from the chin up, his clothes were nearly burned away, and his chest was blackened where Harshod’s fire had first struck.

  “Get away from him!”

  Startled, Lamprophyre twisted to see where the voice had come from. Soldiers poured through the eastern entrances, swords and pikes held ready to attack. They surrounded her and Rokshan, their thoughts filled with fear and anger. Lamprophyre turned her attention back to Rokshan, leaning her face close to his mouth. “I said get back!” the same voice shouted, but she ignored it.

  “He’s still breathing,” she said. “Isn’t there someone—a healer, or a physician, or something? I know humans take—”

  “Step away from the prince,” a new voice said, one she recognized. General Sajan entered the coliseum and pushed through the soldiers to the front of their ranks. “Back up,” he added, “or by Jiwanyil we will find a way to kill a dragon.”

  Lamprophyre took three steps back, raising her hands the way she’d seen Rokshan do to indicate harmlessness, as if she wasn’t herself a weapon. “Harshod did it,” she said. “He had a ring that blasts fire. If we go now, we can still catch him.”

  “We saw no one else leave this place,” General Sajan said, “and found only you standing over the burned body of Prince Rokshan. I hope you have a better explanation than that.”

  Lamprophyre’s heart sped up once again. “It’s true,” she said. “We were trying to find Harshod—he’s part of a plot to set Gonjiri against the dragons—”

  “Because a dragon attacking a prince of Gonjiri wouldn’t do that itself,” General Sajan said. “You’re coming with us. If you’re innocent, you have nothing to fear.”

  “I can’t! Harshod is getting away, and we’ll never know who was behind the plot!”

  General Sajan motioned to his soldiers. She heard him think we’re all going to die here, wonder what Rokshan thought when she attacked him, and then soldiers advanced on her, hemming her in with their weapons. “Why are you here?” she asked, struck by a sudden thought.

  “We were warned there was danger,” General Sajan said. “That someone intended to start a riot in the city, trying to get the people to rise up against you. I never thought—” He shook his head. “Come quietly, and no one has to get hurt.”

  “You have to take care of Rokshan first,” Lamprophyre said. “He might be dying.”

  “You should have thought of that before you burned him,” General Sajan said, but his thoughts were less certain: why care if she meant him dead? Something’s wrong.

  “It wasn’t me,” she insisted. “Rokshan is my friend, and I would never hurt him. Please, help him!”

  General Sajan approached close enough to look more closely at Rokshan, staying outside Lamprophyre’s grabbing distance. The soldiers relaxed slightly, watching their leader, and Lamprophyre took to the skies before any of them could try to stop her.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  She heard shouts, and twisted to look behind her, but the soldiers hadn’t brought archers, and she was well out of their reach. Her heart ached at leaving Rokshan behind. If he died… She didn’t know how to end that thought, because he was closer to her than any other person and she couldn’t bear the idea of him being gone. The soldiers would take care of him. They had to.

  So, the Army had heard there would be a riot? Lamprophyre would wager all her money and Rokshan’s, too, that Harshod was behind that rumor. He’d planned all of this, though she had no idea how he’d managed it. All that stone. If it were magical, it might give him all sorts of advantages. If she didn’t follow him immediately, she might lose him, but chasing after him could be suicidal depending on what artifacts he had at his command. She needed to know what he was capable of if she wan
ted to counter him and ultimately capture him.

  Soon enough, General Sajan would mobilize more forces, and then nowhere would be safe. She had only a slim advantage in being able to get anywhere within the city faster than a human. She wheeled in the sky and headed for Manishi’s workshop.

  As she flew, she argued with herself. What was she thinking? If General Sajan believed she had attacked Rokshan, so would the king and everyone else. And Ekanath might not like Rokshan much, but he was still his son, and the king couldn’t let his son be attacked and not retaliate. So Gonjiri would go to war against the dragons, the dragons would slaughter the humans, and Harshod’s masters would have the war they wanted.

  Harshod had been surprised when she brought up Tekentriya, which suggested she wasn’t part of his plot. So either it was some other group of Gonjirians, or Rokshan was right and those masters were Fanishkorites. She was tempted to act as if the latter were true, but that might be a mistake, and Lamprophyre didn’t like making assumptions, especially since she’d just learned all their earlier assumptions were wrong.

  Maybe war was inevitable. She certainly couldn’t convince Gonjiri not to attack. But she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. And this was the only trail she had: Harshod, and whoever gave him orders.

  People screamed and fled when Lamprophyre landed in the narrow street beside Manishi’s workshop. Lamprophyre didn’t care. The fewer people in the street, the less chance she had of trampling someone accidentally. She turned carefully in the cramped confines, wishing Tanajital had been built for dragons, and tried the door. Manishi’s shed was closed tight. Without windows, Lamprophyre couldn’t see if Manishi was inside. She thumped the door with her fist, making the rickety structure shake and dust go flying off the roof.

  “She left,” a small voice said. Lamprophyre turned her head, which was all she could manage, and regarded the tiny human child standing surprisingly close.

  “Did you see her go?” Lamprophyre asked.

  The child nodded. “We’re not supposed to play around here because mam says she’s no better than she should be. I don’t know what that means.”

  “Neither do I. Thank you.” Lamprophyre squatted, then said, “You should move away. The wind from my wings will knock you over and I’d hate for you to be hurt.”

  The child nodded again and backed away, probably not far enough, but Lamprophyre was in no mood to be patient. She leaped into the sky and looked back at the child, who had, in fact, fallen on its rump. It tilted its head to stare at her with wide, round eyes, and despite her heartache and sense of urgency, Lamprophyre waved and was heartened when the child waved back.

  So. Manishi had likely gone back to the palace. Not somewhere Lamprophyre was welcome at the moment. She hesitated for only a few beats before winging her way toward the academy and the Atrium.

  She crashed through the foliage and startled several humans into screaming and running. Breathing heavily from the speed of her flight, she gasped, “Wait! I need someone to talk to Sabarna! Please!”

  No one responded. In despair, Lamprophyre closed her eyes and sagged. This was hopeless. She should go back to the flight and warn them, give Hyaloclast a chance to figure out what to do.

  “Excuse me?”

  Lamprophyre opened her eyes and regarded the male standing before her. “I’ll go,” she said dully. “I’m sorry I intruded.”

  “You want to speak with Lector Sabarna? I can send her a message. You know she won’t come outside, right?”

  “I know,” Lamprophyre said. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Why not?” the male said. “Besides, if you’re looking for Lector Sabarna, you must be desperate. I’ve never taken any of her lecture courses, but she terrifies me. Wait here.” He turned and headed for the narrow entrance to the Atrium. Lamprophyre watched him go, feeling stunned. She’d become so accustomed to feeling like a dangerous outsider she didn’t know what to do with someone willing to help so altruistically. Maybe this quest wasn’t so hopeless, after all.

  Shortly, the male returned. “She says she’ll speak to you where she did before,” he said. “How in Jiwanyil’s name do you fit inside?”

  “Only part of me does, but that’s enough.” Lamprophyre made her way beneath the branches to the Atrium, crouched, and stuck her head and neck through the entrance. The tall room felt warmer than it had before, and the sunlight flowing through the sheets of glass heated her skin more than was comfortable for a dragon. She tilted her head back and looked far, far up to where the stairs emerged from the wall. No one was present, and she couldn’t hear or smell anyone approaching. She sighed, and settled in to wait, hoping the soldiers were too busy helping Rokshan to pursue her.

  After almost a hundred beats, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Lamprophyre once more tilted her head to watch Sabarna descend the steps. She looked irritated. “I hope this is important,” she said before Lamprophyre could say anything. “I have a lecture in twenty minutes.”

  “This won’t take long,” Lamprophyre said. “Lector Sabarna, Rokshan and I have been trying to find someone who wants to start a war between Gonjiri and the dragons. The human we were chasing attacked Rokshan and made it look like I burned him. He also knew we were following him and arranged for soldiers to try to arrest me. He has a lot of magic at his disposal, and I need your help learning what he’s capable of. Please, help me.”

  Sabarna blinked. “How much magic?” she asked.

  “Ah, I don’t know. He had six different types of stone on him. I remember the smells.”

  “Tell me the stones.”

  “Erythronite—that almost has to be how he created fire, because it was in a ring he pointed at us. Aquamarine in a bracelet. I didn’t see the others, but there was agate, chalcedony, pyrite, and sapphire. Sapphire and ruby smell almost the same, but I’m certain it was sapphire.”

  Sabarna’s eyes narrowed. “He burned Rokshan with a stone?”

  “Yes. He pointed his fist at him, and fire shot out of the stone and hit him.”

  “You’re right, erythronite is the only thing that will do that. It’s very rare and comes from far away—how do you even know what it is? You can’t possibly have seen it before.”

  Lamprophyre wanted to scream at the irrelevant aside, but she was depending on this woman for help, and satisfying her curiosity might make her more cooperative. “It’s in our bones,” she said. “All dragons have a connection to Mother Stone, who is the source of all stone everywhere. I know what a stone is, even if I’ve never seen it before, because there is a part of me in it. Or it in me. It’s part of our religion.”

  “Fascinating.” Sabarna paced in a tight circle before Lamprophyre. “Erythronite for fire. Pyrite focuses elemental power, either inwardly or outwardly. If this man intends to fight a dragon, I assume that means an outward focus. It will create a blast of force similar in power to the blast of fire.”

  “I know. I’ve seen it done. It can’t hurt me.”

  “A large enough stone or concentration of stones might be able to. Something small, like a ring or a pendant, probably not. But—don’t get in its way, just in case.” Sabarna tapped one short, stubby finger against her lips. “Agate will enhance his strength. You said he knew where you were? That’s probably the aquamarine. It’s good for producing the non-religious kind of visions.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  Sabarna waved her hand in the air in a gesture Lamprophyre didn’t recognize. “Visions like opening a window on some other location to see what’s beyond. Far seeing.”

  “Oh. I understand.”

  “Chalcedony. That’s an unusual one. It allows two people to communicate at a distance, but it’s never been implemented, to my knowledge. The Army might know how. This world is in a sad state if good things only have military uses. If you catch this man, I’d like his chalcedony artifact. Something to study. At any rate, it might be how he receives his orders.”

  “You said before sapphire is for
mental focus. How would that benefit someone like him?” Or was it another dragon-confusing stone? But if he’d attacked her with it, the effect hadn’t been anything like what she’d experienced aboard the bandits’ boat.

  “I admit that’s a strange choice. Sapphire gives you the kind of focus you usually only need in performing a difficult task. It might help you block out distractions, for example, or bring important details to mind. Perhaps he just wanted clarity for this attack.”

  “Maybe.” The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that it was actually a variation on the sapphire wand. “So are there ways to counter his magic? Or do I have to get his artifacts off him?”

  “Well, ideally you’d take them from him,” Sabarna said, “but…” She looked Lamprophyre up and down as if gauging her size. “Wait here.”

  Lamprophyre waited impatiently, imagining she could hear the marching steps of soldiers coming to capture her while she was stuck helplessly in this stone and glass cage. Eventually, Sabarna returned. The adept carried a chunk of faceted topaz the size of her fist attached to a slim gold chain. “It hangs to my navel when I wear it,” she said, “which means it should be a snug fit for you. This will disperse some of the blow from a physical attack, though as I said, I’m not sure the pyrite will have any effect on someone your size. But—just in case.”

  “This is so generous,” Lamprophyre said. “I don’t have a way to pay you.”

  “Just bring it back when you’re done, and don’t forget about the chalcedony artifact,” Sabarna said. “You said Rokshan was burned? How badly?”

  Lamprophyre swallowed, the memory of her friend’s ravaged body making her heart hurt again. “Badly. He was still breathing, but I hope they got him help. Is that something human healing can fix?”

  “I can’t say without seeing him,” Sabarna said, “but in principle, there’s very little a good healer armed with jade or moonstone can’t repair. Don’t be afraid. He’s a prince—they won’t let him die.” She set the topaz pendant around Lamprophyre’s neck and patted her hand just as if Lamprophyre were her child. “Good luck,” she said. “I don’t want to see Tanajital in flames.”