Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  According to the letter, as a wandering Brava, Elliel had served farming towns in the northern rural counties of Osterra. One day, maddened by a high fever, she had gone into a bloody rage, ignited her ramer, and charged into a school, where she used her fiery hand to massacre everyone—sixteen boys and girls, along with their teacher.

  When she came back to herself after the fever rage, Elliel fell into such despair that she tried to take her own life, but the great Brava Utho arrived in time. He seized her, disarmed her, and pronounced the sentence himself. Accepting his judgment, Elliel had let him tattoo the rune of forgetting on her face, wiping her legacy clean.

  That rainy day, as she had sat by the warm fire in the inn, she read the devastating account again and again, absorbing Utho’s damning words, trying to remember a single moment of it. She wanted to crumple the letter and throw it into the flames, but she didn’t dare. This document was all she had of her past. She had to keep it.…

  Now as she faced the mine boss across his desk, Elliel said, “For the past two years, I made my own life. I wandered across the Commonwealth, and I’ve been in the Dragonspine for a while now. Just surviving.”

  She had found work in towns, sometimes only for a day or two, other times for a month or more. She occasionally offered her services as a fighter or bodyguard because she was a former Brava, but she avoided that sort of work if she could, for fear she might fly into a rage again. What if she lost control? Who could defend themselves against her if she went on another rampage?

  Sixteen little boys and girls and their teacher, all dead …

  “I am strong and I will work hard, sir,” she said.

  “Let me read the note for myself,” Hallis said. “You must still have it.”

  She gave him the paper, and he squinted at the words, his bushy eyebrows drawing close as his frown deepened. His face was filled with questions and doubts as he handed the letter back.

  “I don’t remember any of what I did,” she insisted. She had neither the strength nor the desire to lie.

  “Bravas are always honorable,” he said. “You must still have some spark of that within you. And you are well now?”

  “Since the day I woke up in that wagon, I have never been … ill again.”

  He leaned heavily on his small desk, and the wood creaked. “If you give me any reason whatsoever, any hint of instability, I’ll cut you loose. Down in the mines everyone depends on each other.”

  “And they can depend on me, just as I’ll depend on them.”

  He nodded again and wrote her name in his book.

  5

  STANDING before the wreths that had emerged from the dust storm, Adan faced these alien strangers with a straight back and square shoulders. I am King Adan Starfall. His people needed him to be strong.

  Wreths. Legendary creators of the human race. And warriors who nearly tore the world apart in their endless thirst to destroy each other and kill the mythic dragon. How can this be? They vanished thousands of years ago.

  Their return could not bode well.

  As the silence drew out at the gate of the walled city, the reptile mounts shifted, flicking black tongues out of their wide mouths. The regal woman on the largest auga regarded him with eyes the color of cracked amber. Her long golden hair was flecked with a metallic sheen. With her right arm, she held a triangular green shield that looked like a single scale of some tremendous reptilian beast.

  The eerie wreths wore brown leather armor with a coating of scales, and they carried an assortment of sharp weapons: long spears with shafts twisted into a tight spiral, white blades fashioned from crystallized bone or daggers that looked like shards of oily black obsidian. Other wreths, clearly a different caste, were unarmed, their heads shaven, their faces craggy; these strange men wore heavy robes of brown leather stamped with looping spell patterns.

  Penda and her father stood close behind Adan at the city gate, flanked by nervous guards. Her ska croaked in alarm, peering cautiously over her head.

  Adan took one step closer to the visitors and spoke in a voice that was both neutral and firm. “I am the king of Suderra.” The golden woman seemed to be waiting for something more from him. Long ago, wreths had expected their humans to be subservient and bow. Could that be what she wanted? If so, she would be disappointed. “And I know my history. You are wreths?” Adan faced her as an equal, which seemed to put the woman off balance.

  She responded. “We did not think we were forgotten. I am Queen Voo of the sandwreths, and we have come from the deep desert.” Her evocative voice held a hint of amusement. “We would see what you have done with the land in our absence, as we might have need of you again.”

  Despite the warm sunshine, a chill ran down Adan’s back. Standing his ground, he said, “What have we done? We survived. We helped the land recover after the wreths almost destroyed the world.”

  Voo sounded wistful. “And yet the world endures.” She swung her long, bare leg over the back of the lizard creature and dropped to the dusty road. “I am glad we found you. We have much to discuss, your race and mine.” She gestured toward Bannriya’s thick sandstone walls, crowded buildings, and high towers. Colorful banners had already been restrung after the storm. “You rule this place? You built it?”

  “My ancestors built it long ago, after the wars. This is how our race survived the most difficult times.”

  “Interesting.” Her amber eyes sparkled. “Escort us into your city so we can discuss a matter of grave importance. Your world is about to change again, and we wish to make you an offer. An important offer.”

  Two riders beside her also dismounted, a tall, cocky wreth man who might have been Voo’s brother, and a bald older man with a deeply incised face and an embossed leather robe. Behind them, five more sandwreths slid from their augas.

  Penda took Adan’s hand, and he felt her strength flowing into him. In a clear voice, she said, “We welcome the wreths for an open discussion, but not your entire army.” She gestured to the hundred armed, lizard-mounted warriors. “They must stay outside our walls.”

  “Our entire army?” Voo gave an offhand glance to the numerous sandwreths on their burly augas. “But this is just the smallest honor guard! Once, our armies swarmed like locusts across the landscape, clashing with the frostwreths.” She sniffed in disappointment. “If you are truly worried about such a minimal party, then you may not be able to help us after all.”

  Help them? Adan’s thoughts spun. He had not offered any help, and if history was any guide, humanity owed the wreths no favors. As king, though, it was his duty to receive the delegation, if only to learn what they were about. “We would consider it a gesture of good faith if you left your honor guard outside, however small you think it is. We will speak with your representatives in the castle.”

  Standing in front of her auga, Voo appeared unperturbed. “I will bring my brother Quo and five wreth mages. The rest will remain here.” She glanced up at the sandstone walls and added in a dismissive tone, “It is not as if your defenses could stop them if they wished to enter.”

  On Penda’s shoulder, the ska made what sounded like a rude noise, but the wreths ignored it.

  Realizing the folly of insisting on an even smaller group, Adan led the queen and her party through the high gates and into the city, with Penda and Hale Orr at either side of him. Though clearly unaccustomed to following rather than leading, the wreths nevertheless walked behind the king and queen in a procession, all the while looking around curiously, as if judging Bannriya.

  Adan explained, “The dust storm blanketed our streets and buildings. We’ve just begun to clean up.”

  “Like everything else in the world, dust is a resource,” said the wreth queen. She nodded to the wreth mages, who in turn moved their bronzed hands to create breezes that scoured the dust from the street, blasting grit from the buildings and doorways ahead of them, doing the work of days in only an instant.

  Penda acknowledged the mages. “Thank you, although we
could have finished the sweeping ourselves, in time.”

  “Of course you could.” Voo’s tone had an oblivious lilt. “Humans have always been good at menial labor.”

  An indignant hiss from Xar covered the sound of Adan’s sharply indrawn breath. Penda shushed the ska, and the king forced himself to ignore the insult, for now. These strange wreths were obviously powerful, but not necessarily enemies—at the moment. He could not afford to take offense too easily. He sensed there was a great deal at stake here.

  People watched the procession from doorways and windows. A troop of armed Banner guards followed in close formation, weapons ready, though Adan doubted the sandwreths were afraid of his soldiers.

  Many millennia ago, the elder race had been created and blessed by their own god Kur, who was one among the many gods who made countless worlds. This was the first world created by Kur and he was fond of it, though because it was his first, it had many flaws. He gave the wreths the task of purging the world of all evil, which was manifested in the great dragon Ossus. If they succeeded, he promised to return, take his chosen wreths, and remake the world into its perfect form. That was their legend and their sincere belief.

  But the wreths broke into two great factions that warred over which ones would be Kur’s chosen. Using their own magic, trying to set themselves up as gods, the wreth race then created humans to be workers, breeding servants, and foot soldiers in their perpetual wars. Thousands of years of conflict followed before the tattered remnants of the wreth factions retreated into obscurity, leaving their humans to survive in the magic-depleted wasteland that remained.

  Every human knew about their race’s origin and the downfall of the wreths. Ruins of once-great wreth cities were scattered across the landscape. But so much time had passed, while human civilization thrived across the Commonwealth in the meantime, that no one gave much thought to the lost race or their long-departed god. Adan could not imagine why the sandwreths would reemerge from obscurity, unless they meant to cause great trouble.

  Your world is about to change again, Voo had said. A threat? A promise?

  Adan wrestled with his duty as king. He would do anything to defend his people, to keep them safe and prosperous, though he was not a bloodthirsty man. He didn’t dare declare war on their own creators.

  We wish to make you an offer. An important offer.

  King Adan Starfall would listen and then decide.

  The procession arrived at the castle in the center of the city. As they stood at the front stone archway, the brother of the sandwreth queen looked down at the toppled ancient statue at the gate with an oddly curious smile. “Look, Sister. They still have reminders of us.”

  Voo frowned at the weathered sculpture. “That one was not worth remembering. I am surprised they would keep it.”

  “The statue was brought here from the ruins many generations ago, by one of my predecessors. No one remembers its significance,” Adan said, hurrying them forward into Bannriya Castle.

  Inside, he took them to the parley hall, rather than his throne room. He had no idea whether Queen Voo might take insult if he sat looking down on her from a raised throne dais. He wouldn’t put the question to the test just to see her reaction.

  The queen, her warrior brother Quo, and the five wreth mages gathered around the table, as if they found it quaint. Penda’s dark eyes flashed with concern, as if she and her ska sensed something portentous, and Adan longed to hear what she thought. They took adjoining high-backed seats, and Voo chose the chair on the other side of Adan as if it were her due.

  Several vassal lords, out-of-place ministers, worried-looking advisers, and half a dozen functionaries joined the other courtiers, filling the room. They were still in the castle only because of the storm, but they were too fascinated by the strange visitors to leave.

  Fixing her amber eyes on the king, Voo spoke in a voice full of laughter and razors. “Adan Starfall … King Adan, we are impressed by what you humans managed to accomplish while we were gone. We expected to find only a few squalid remnants, if any of you survived at all. I never knew that humans had such ambition or independence! Your race seems surprisingly strong. Now that we have awakened from our long spellsleep, we want to know how you’ve thrived, how many cities you built, how large your population has grown. We feel … responsible.”

  “Why?” Penda asked, without tact.

  The wreth queen took no offense. Her answer startled them like the sharp drop of an executioner’s ax. “Because the final war to wake the dragon is coming, and we want you to be our allies against the vile frostwreths.”

  One of the servants dropped a tray of biscuits and jam in her shock.

  Adan answered slowly but firmly, sharpening his words. He could feel the agitation of all the observers in the chamber and knew they would have countless questions, but he was the king. “Your wars caused untold damage thousands of years ago, to the world and to us. The land recovered under our stewardship, and the Commonwealth is at peace under my father, the konag. We have no interest in your reasons for fighting each other, and we will certainly not assist you in waging war.”

  “But the real war is not over, and it never will be until we defeat the descendants of Suth,” Voo said. “The frostwreths will come down from the north, and when they do, your lands will be like a strip of metal between a hammer and an anvil.”

  Though his face burned, Adan kept his voice level. “If you came here to bring threats, then you and your people are not welcome in Bannriya.”

  The warrior Quo snorted. “Oh, there will be war, whether or not you welcome us. At least my sister brings you hope.”

  Voo nodded. “I offer you a chance, King Adan Starfall. Join with us. You humans have no gods watching over you, as we do. Nevertheless, you may prove useful as allies against our enemies. Join us and have our protection.” She smiled again. “It is in your best interests to accept.”

  6

  THE autumn skies were blue, and the changing aspens turned the hills honey-gold around the northern city of Fellstaff. Though Kollanan, king of Norterra, knew that winter was just around the corner, warm weather had lulled him into postponing repairs to the roof on the castle’s main keep. Still, he and the carpenters had to get the work done before the cold set in, and this was the perfect day to do so.

  Shirtless, wearing only leather boots and breeches, the king perched high on the sloped roof. He looked at least a decade younger than his fifty years, with broad shoulders, strong muscles, and a flat stomach. Relishing the sun on his bare back, he raised his hammer and pounded long nails through tarred shingles, anchoring them to the roof boards.

  He enjoyed the staccato patter of hammers, hearing a certain music in it, and he took satisfaction in the work. He would never command his people to do something he wasn’t willing to do himself, and he hated leaky ceilings. Now the keep would stay warm and dry throughout the cold winter and into the rainy spring.

  High above the crowded city, his view of Fellstaff’s winding streets and open marketplaces gave him a sense of peace and satisfaction. Koll felt comfortably at home. He was the king of all he could see, from the snowy mountains and expansive lakes in the north to the forested hills down toward Suderra, to the eastern farmlands and the scattered wreth ruins across the plains.

  Humming to himself, he brushed a hand over his thick beard, which was sprinkled with more gray than he liked to admit. Despite the cool air, he could feel the prickle of sweat in his hair—good sweat that came from work instead of from killing. He was no longer in the Commonwealth army, and the war with Ishara was over decades ago. This was his life now, and this was the kind of king he wanted to be, a paternal manager rather than a battle commander. He plucked a nail from between his lips, positioned it on a shingle, and pounded it into place—a carpenter’s hammer, not a war hammer.

  During the war in decades past, people had called him Kollanan the Hammer, because of his weapon of choice when he and his brother Conndur went to fight the Isharans. Now
, he found the Hammer epithet fitting because he liked to build things. His war hammer hung on a wall in his private study, where it would stay.

  Thirty years ago, he had returned to the Commonwealth with a new bride acquired as a spoil of war, but he had never bragged about his fighting in Ishara. He had left the war on the shores of that other continent, and when they came home he made certain the tales focused on his brother, who would become konag of the whole Commonwealth. Koll had been glad to retire to rule the distant northern kingdom with his queen, Tafira.

  He and Conndur were great friends. When they were young, they had been starry-eyed with imagined glory and eager for victory. Neither of them had bothered to consider the consequences of war, and now it was Conn’s duty as konag to consider the fate of the three kingdoms. Koll didn’t envy him the responsibility. As king of Norterra, he had more than enough to worry about: his people, his vassal lords, the crops, the mines, the roads … his wife, and his daughter and their two grandsons living in a village to the north … A good life. Not easy, but satisfying.

  The roof’s trapdoor hatch opened and an elegant figure emerged. With black hair and shapely curves, Tafira was like a manifestation from the gods—if wreth gods had ever paid attention to humans. “Early dinner is ready, Husband. Your presence is required, because I do not wish to dine alone.” His wife had a rich smoky voice that still held the hint of an Isharan accent, even thirty years after she’d come home with him.

  The other workers on the rooftop chuckled. Koll clipped his hammer to his belt, nimbly keeping his balance on the shingled slope. “Men, you’ve heard the ruler of the kingdom issue her commands. I am the Hammer, but I must bow to the nail.” He spread his hands. “Or face the consequences.”

  The rungs creaked under his boots as he climbed down through the hatch after Tafira. Alone with her in the shadows, he smelled the lingering spices that clung to her. “You cooked something very flavorful.”