Dragontiarna: Thieves

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Moriah felt Accolon’s eyes on her, felt the puzzled recognition go over his face. She looked enough like Caitrin that she probably reminded the Crown Prince of his murdered lover.

  Archbishop Caelmark stepped forward, something like relief going over his stern features. “Sir Rufinius?”

  “Father,” said the ragged knight. “I am pleased to report that I have accomplished my mission, though it took somewhat longer than I hoped. I have learned what the Drakocenti sought in the darkness below the city. But I would have failed in my mission if not for this woman.” He gestured at Moriah. “She saved my life at great risk to her own. Without her aid, I would have perished at the hands of Cyprian and the foul Drakocenti.”

  “Then you have my gratitude,” said Caelmark. “Might I ask who you are?”

  She decided to throw the dice.

  “My name is Moriah Rhosmor,” she said. Accolon flinched as if she had slapped him. “The half-sister of Caitrin Rhosmor.” She took a deep breath. “But a year ago, the Drakocenti murdered my two best friends. Ever since then, I have sought vengeance on them, using some of the magical relics we found in the Shadow Ways. So, you might know me as the Wraith.”

  Dead silence answered her pronouncement.

  For a long time, no one moved. Then the Shield Knight and Lady Third looked at each other, and some silent communication seemed to pass between them. The corner of Ridmark’s mouth curled in a smile.

  Moriah hoped that was a good sign.

  “The Wraith,” said Tristan, his eyes wide. “You’re the Wraith? But you’re a woman.”

  “All my life,” said Moriah.

  “But you’re a woman!”

  “Your command of the obvious, Sir Tristan, is indeed profound,” said Jager.

  “You…you robbed me three times!” said Tristan.

  “No, no, of course not,” said Moriah. “I didn’t rob you three times. I robbed you four times. No one noticed the fourth time.”

  “But you robbed me!” protested Tristan.

  “Given that you just renounced the Drakocenti,” said Caelmark, “I think you have larger concerns just now. Remember the Dominus Christus’s parable of the ungrateful debtor.” That shut Tristan up, but Caelmark’s cold gaze swung back to Moriah. “You knew of the Drakocenti. Why did you not inform the proper authorities?”

  “Because the proper authorities were the Drakocenti,” said Moriah. “Cyprian is the High One of the cult, and he controls the Regency Council. You know that as well as I do, archbishop, else you would sit on the Council. To whom would I go? I am the bastard daughter of a very minor noble house. No one would believe me. I had no proof. I had to act, to find the proof and expose the Drakocenti for what they were.”

  “Which is why you left Hadrian Vindon tied up at the banquet,” said Accolon.

  “Yes,” said Moriah. “I didn’t kill him if that’s what you were wondering. I don’t know who did that.”

  “One of the Drakocenti, as it happens,” said Lord Ridmark. “Sir Tristan just told us.”

  “I had hoped that would force you to investigate the Regency Council, to find proof that they were Drakocenti,” said Moriah. “Seems like it worked, since we’re all standing here.”

  “Then you were not a master thief,” said Lord Ridmark, his voice quiet.

  “I’m pretty sure that I just said that I was,” said Moriah.

  “You were not a thief, but a vigilante,” said Ridmark. “In times when lords become corrupt, and laws are ignored, it falls upon loyal subjects to restore good governance to their lands. That, I think, is what you were doing.”

  “We need the Wraith’s help, my lords,” said Sir Rufinius. “She knows the path to the Great Eye, the magical relic the Drakocenti have sought. I would not be able to retrace my path through the Shadow Ways, but the Wraith could.”

  “Will you help us?” said Accolon.

  “I will,” said Moriah. Accolon’s expression seemed haunted as he looked at her. “The Drakocenti murdered my two best friends when we stumbled across one of their expeditions. I wasn’t all that close to Caitrin, but I still want to avenge her.”

  “As do I,” said Accolon. “Then I will make a deal with you, Lady Moriah Rhosmor.” Moriah felt herself smile despite herself. It had been a long, long time since anyone had called her Lady Moriah. “Lead us to the Great Eye, and I shall give you a full royal pardon for everything you have done in opposition to the Drakocenti.”

  Tristan started to protest, thought better of it, and remained silent.

  Moriah blinked. She would have helped anyway, but she would happily take the pardon. As Gunther had often said, never interrupt your enemy when he was making a mistake…and likewise, never interrupt someone when they wanted to help you.

  “I accept,” said Moriah. “I will lead you to the Great Eye at once if you wish it.”

  “A moment,” said Accolon. “Before we depart, I know you have spent a great deal of time hindering the Drakocenti. You likely have a fuller idea of their members than Sir Tristan.”

  “Of course,” said Moriah, and she rattled off the list of every member of the Drakocenti that she knew. Tristan looked surprised at a few of the names, but knowing Cyprian, he had not shared the names of all the members of his stupid cult with each other.

  Accolon rubbed his jaw. “We shall have to act swiftly to arrest as many of them as possible before the rest take flight.”

  “Lady Moriah,” said Calliande, “could you describe the Great Eye?”

  “It is in the elven ruins of the Shadow Ways, the deepest level before you descend to the Deeps proper,” said Moriah. “I don’t know exactly what the Eye is. It looks like a giant ring of silvery metal. I’d say it’s about thirty or forty yards across. It’s covered with glyphs and symbols. Probably elven symbols, but damned if I know.” To her surprise, she felt a little bad about using uncouth language in front of an archbishop, but Moriah did not let that slow her. “It’s on an artificial island of white stone in a natural cavern, and there is a ring of twenty-seven menhirs around it.”

  “Menhirs?” said Calliande, frowning. “Are they about nine or ten feet tall, made from rough white stone, and carved with more elven symbols?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Moriah. “Have you seen such menhirs before?”

  “They are called Dwyrstones,” said Calliande, “and I’ve seen exactly one.”

  “Cyprian is going to open the Great Eye as soon as he can,” said Moriah. “He’s got Prince Tywall with him – that story about illness was nonsense – and he needs a sacrifice of royal blood to empower the spell to open the Eye. When it opens, Cyprian says he and the Drakocenti will become dragon gods, whatever the hell that means.”

  “That’s nonsense,” said Calliande.

  “Of course it is,” said Moriah.

  “No, I mean that either Cyprian is lying to his followers or he thinks he’s telling the truth and the Theophract has fooled him,” said Calliande. “Based on what you’ve described, Lady Moriah, I don’t think the Great Eye is a well of power or a source of magical strength.”

  “What is it, then, aunt?” said Rufinius.

  “I think it’s a world gate,” said Calliande. “A world gate built by one of the nations of the gray elves in ancient days when they left this world.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Moriah.

  “Fifteen thousand years ago, the gray elves split off from the high elves,” said Calliande. “There were twelve kingdoms of gray elves. One of those kingdoms settled in what became Owyllain. The other eleven, as far as I know, left this world to seek out new homes far from the reach of the urdmordar and the dark elves. I think the Great Eye is the world gate they used to leave. And that’s how the Dwyrstone in Castarium could open rifts. It drew on the dormant power of the Great Eye.”

  “If they open this gate, where will it go?” said Ridmark.

  “I have no idea,” said Calliande. “Maybe it will go to wherever the other gray elves fled. Or ma
ybe there are horrors on the other side, something like the Frostborn or even worse.”

  “We have spent enough time talking,” said Archbishop Caelmark. “It is time to act. Thanks to you, my son, and to you, Lady Moriah, we have just enough time to avert a magical catastrophe on the scale of the wars against the Frostborn.”

  “Aye, I agree,” said Ridmark. “And we should…”

  He frowned and went silent, seeming to stare at nothing.

  “Ridmark?” said Calliande, touching her husband’s arm.

  ###

  Ridmark’s mind raced with what Sir Rufinius and the Wraith had told them.

  To his surprise, he found that he liked the Wraith. Or Moriah Rhosmor, to use her proper name. Certainly, she was an attractive woman, with bright red hair and vivid green eyes. But he remembered how she had presented Hadrian at the banquet, accusing him and the other Drakocenti, and how she had escaped from Third. Few had ever done that, and Ridmark knew Hadrian’s humiliation had taken planning and daring.

  But they needed to act at once. They had identified the Drakocenti, and they knew the goals of the cult, even if Cyprian was deluded about what the opening of the Great Eye would accomplish. Ridmark thought that they would have to divide their strength. He, Calliande, and Third could stop the Drakocenti at the Great Eye, while Accolon brought his forces into the city and arrested any of the Drakocenti who were not in the Shadow Ways.

  Ridmark drew breath to suggest just that.

  Then the world went gray around him, draining of all color.

  He had seen this happen before. The others had frozen around him, caught between moments, and the world had shifted to shades of misty gray.

  The only source of color was the woman who stood before him.

  Like Moriah, the Guardian Morigna had red hair and green eyes. Unlike Moriah, she had the alien features and pointed ears of the elven kindred. She wore golden elven armor and a gray cloak and leaned heavily on a black staff, the symbols carved into its length flickering with white light every so often. When Ridmark had last seen Morigna in a vision at Castarium, she had looked wounded. Now she only looked exhausted, a gray tinge to her skin, and there were scorch marks on the plates of her golden armor.

  “Ridmark,” said Morigna. “I do not have much time before Agravhask and the priestesses find me, and I have to move again. Listen to me. You must stop the opening of the Great Eye at all costs.” She looked at Moriah and Sir Rufinius and sighed. “I see you have already learned much. I am sorry that I could not speak to you sooner, but I have been hard-pressed to survive.” The vivid green eyes swung back to Ridmark. “Do not let the Drakocenti open the Great Eye. The Drakocenti, the Dragon Cult of the Frankish Empire, and Aeliana are all different faces of the unseen evil that now moves against you.” She took a deep breath. “Trust the Wraith. For her destiny is entangled with that of the knight who bears the soulblade called Starflame. May God be with you, and I am sorry I could not be with you in person.”

  With that, Morigna vanished, and the world exploded into color and motion once more.

  “Ridmark?” said Calliande, touching his hand.

  “It was Morigna,” he said. “I saw her again. She said that we need to stop the Great Eye from opening, that someone named Agravhask was hunting her. She…” He shook his head and rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his thoughts. God and the saints, his life had gone through more strange paths than he had ever dreamed. He had only wanted to be a knight and a Swordbearer. Now he had the power to make himself all but invincible for a few moments, to open gates that let him traverse hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye. He had borne the near-limitless power of the Dragon Knight, and he had seen more strange visions and dreams that he could easily recall. “She confirmed everything we said here.”

  “Morigna?” said Moriah. She looked confused, a little dubious. “Who is Morigna?”

  “The Guardian of mankind,” said Calliande, still looking at Ridmark. “She aided us in Owyllain in the War of the Seven Swords. Sometimes she sends visions to my husband, to warn him of coming dangers. I am surprised she is not here.”

  “She said someone named Agravhask was trying to kill her,” said Ridmark, rubbing his jaw. “She also said that the Drakocenti, the Dragon Cult that Tyrcamber told us about, and Aeliana are all servants of the same evil.”

  “Then let us act against that evil,” said Accolon. “Shield Knight, how do you counsel us to proceed?”

  Ridmark took a deep breath, forcing aside his fears and doubts. “Lord Prince, I think that you and Archbishop Caelmark should proceed to the Prince’s Palace for the day’s court and arrest every member of the Drakocenti and the Regency Council who have arrived. Meanwhile, we should send parties of armed men to their houses and arrest those who do not show.”

  “Though likely many of them will be at the Great Eye with Cyprian,” said Calliande.

  Ridmark nodded. “Which is why Moriah is going to guide me there.”

  “Forgive me, Lord Ridmark,” said Moriah, “but however towering your reputation, we are going to need more than you to fight all those Drakocenti.”

  “I agree,” said Ridmark. “Which is why my wife, Lady Third, Lady Selene, and Sir Rufinius will accompany us. Together, I think, we can overcome any opposition Cyprian throws at us.”

  “Will you require the aid of the Anathgrimm?” said Mara.

  “I think it would be best if you avoided taking any sides in Andomhaim’s civil war,” said Ridmark. “Because if the Regency Council and the Drakocenti try to make a fight of it, we shall have a civil war.”

  “But I ask that you have the Anathgrimm ready to march,” said Accolon. “Because if they do make a fight of it, we must win. For the future of Cintarra, and perhaps for the good of the entire realm. We must stop whatever the Drakocenti intend to do here and now.”

  “We shall be ready, Prince Accolon,” said Mara.

  “Then let us move,” said Ridmark.

  ###

  A short time later Ridmark rode with Calliande and Accolon towards the gates of Cintarra, Moriah Rhosmor, Sir Rufinius, Third, and Selene following him. Rufinius had gratefully accepted the offer of armor from Mara, and now he wore Anathgrimm chain mail and plate. It was a heavy load of armor for a human, but the power of his soulblade Starflame would give him the strength to move and fight in the armor.

  Behind them rode and marched the royal knights and men-at-arms who had accompanied Accolon from Castarium, fifteen hundred strong. The blue banners of the Pendragons flew overhead, adorned with the red dragon sigil. If it came to a fight, Accolon had more troops than any single Cintarran noble, numerous allies within the city, and the blessing of Archbishop Caelmark, who had more moral authority than anyone else within Cintarra.

  But Ridmark knew battles never went according to plan, and he had no idea what sort of resources or allies the Drakocenti might command. Once Cyprian realized that the game was over, the Drakocenti would have no choice but to fight. And if Aeliana was in the city, she might open more rifts to summon allies for the Drakocenti, goblins and ogres and perhaps worse things. Ridmark looked at the walls and towers of Cintarra, the Great Northern Gate standing open, and cursed aloud.

  “What is it?” said Calliande.

  “Look,” said Ridmark, pointing.

  The Great Northern Gate was unguarded.

  The men-at-arms in the Prince’s colors were not there. Ridmark saw men running through the forum beyond the gate, heard shouting and the clangor of steel against steel. And as he looked closer, he saw black plumes of smoke rising in the distance.

  It seemed that fighting had already begun in Cintarra.

  ***

  Chapter 20: Dragonmaeloch

  Drums boomed and war horns wailed as the army of Prince Everard Roland and Duke Chilmar Rigamond arrayed itself to face the host of Duke Merovech Valdraxis, traitor, apostate, and Dragonmaeloch.

  The booming of the drums seemed to match the throbbing of Tyrcamber’s heart, growing
in tension with every beat.

  They were four or five miles north of Castle Valdraxis and its surrounding town. To the south rose the mountains of Roxaria like a grim, stark wall, their peaks crowned with snow and clouds. Tyrcamber could just make out the distant towers of Castle Valdraxis and the town surrounding it.

  The army of the Dragonmaeloch was a far more imposing sight.

  The full strength of the duchy of Swabathia had drawn up to fight under its traitorous Duke, with thousands of men-at-arms, levied militia, and armored knights on horseback. Tyrcamber wondered how many of them were true followers of the Dragon Cult, and how many followed Merovech out of fear or misplaced loyalty. Merovech also had levies from the parts of the duchy of Temnost he had conquered, and his ranks had swollen with Dragon Cultists who had fled from across the Empire to join him.

  He had additional allies. Pagan gnolls from Monoloch strengthened his army, and Tyrcamber heard their growling barks drifting across the distance. Tribes of mountain goblins, thousands of them, had descended to follow the mighty Dragonmaeloch. Merovech ruled only a small portion of the Empire, but he had managed to assemble a force strong enough to face the loyalists.

  An army, perhaps, that might be able to prevail.

  The host of Prince Everard moved into formation, serjeant-captains and knights shouting orders. The massed footmen gathered in the center, thousands strong. The men-at-arms of the various nobles and the conscripted militias made up the first line. The more reliable serjeant footmen of the five Imperial Orders waited behind them, ready to advance. On the right, Prince Everard massed the army’s horsemen, both vassal knights and the knights of the five Orders. On the left gathered the baptized gnollish tribes of Culachar, eager to fight against their hated cousins of Monoloch. Overhead circled the griffins and the stormhawks of the Order of the Griffin. It was as strong of an army as the Empire had ever fielded, even in the days of unity, and with the aid of the Guardian and a Dragontiarna Knight, victory ought have been assured.