Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Her skirts flounced as she strode over to yank out her knives. “I can use them to gut an enemy as well.”

  “Where did you learn that? Have you been practicing?”

  “I’ve been practicing since we moved to Norterra. Not a week goes by in the kitchens when I don’t have to throw a cooking knife to skewer a rat in a corner, where he didn’t think I could see him.” Her lips curved upward. “The entire kitchen staff is terrified of me.”

  “I love you,” he said, “and I’ll be glad to have your protection. I hope the wreths are terrified of you as well.”

  While thinking about what had happened at Lake Bakal, and now knowing that Lasis was missing, if not dead, Koll hardened his anger and made his plans. Lasis had occasionally talked about the hatred all Bravas held toward the Isharans because of their ancient massacred colony. Long ago Bravas had declared a “vengewar,” which passed from one generation to the next.

  At the time, Kollanan had thought that holding on to such blind hatred for centuries was unproductive, but considering what the frostwreths had done to Lake Bakal in such an offhanded manner, and knowing the wreths were planning to destroy the world because the previous holocaust hadn’t been enough for them … yes, now Koll understood that hatred. He would declare his own sort of vengewar. There was no logic to it, just emotions fed by blood, fire, and ice.

  Tafira stepped back, faced the second pumpkin, and in a blindingly swift gesture, flung both knives at the same time. They impacted less than an inch apart, and Pokle let out a little squeak of surprise from where he watched.

  “We can defend ourselves, beloved,” Koll said. “But simply waiting here to become victims, hoping we can protect our homes and our people when an attack comes—that’s not enough. I never should have believed it would be enough.”

  Tafira retrieved her knives and was about to wipe the orange smears of pumpkin on her skirts, but instead she threw the knives in a more leisurely fashion, one and then the second. She never missed. “Across the kingdom, our people are making weapons, building defenses. The vassal lords are erecting high walls. The veterans are training a new group of soldiers.”

  “According to the scouts, the frostwreths are still building their fortress,” Koll said. “They don’t seem worried about humans at all.”

  Looking pale and angry, Pokle blurted out, “Attack them and kill them for what they did at Lake Bakal! We have to find a way.”

  “I’d like nothing more, boy.” Koll swung his hammer casually, felt its deadly weight tugging on his arm and remembered the many times he had charged into battle holding the weapon high. He had hunched down over his horse as he swung the hammer to crack the helmeted heads of Isharan warriors.

  Making up his mind, Koll turned to his wife and said in a hard voice, “We have to act. The frostwreths don’t care that we exist. They don’t consider us to be living, thinking beings.” He ground his teeth together. “But I will not be ignored by them, and I won’t just wait for them to destroy the world. We aren’t their meek servants anymore. We control our own destiny, and we must push back, make them hesitate before they attack humans again.”

  “You mean, fight them directly?” Tafira yanked the knives back out of the pumpkin. “Take a battle to the wreths? They would likely wipe us out.”

  Koll smacked the end of his hammer against his palm. “We have to stand up for ourselves, even if we fail, because if humans sit back and do nothing, if we cower and whimper and beg, we will be overrun. They are coming, no matter what we do, even if the war has nothing to do with us. They will sweep over us regardless.” He smiled. “Better to give them something to think about.”

  Pokle looked frightened, but Tafira’s expression grew more determined. “Yes, and giving up would be worse.” She threw the knives one more time and slew the enemy pumpkins. “Still, is it wise to provoke the wreths? Shouldn’t we leave them be, for as long as we can?”

  “They will never leave us be.” Koll had the idea firmly in his head now. “They trampled the village at Lake Bakal because it was in their way. They’ll do the same across all three kingdoms in their war against the sandwreths. They won’t even pay attention as they destroy our world and crush us.” He strode toward the wall of the stable. “They need to respect us, beloved. We have to be like a fierce dog growling in the yard to keep bandits at bay. I doubt we’ll defeat them, but maybe at least they’ll think twice.”

  Gripping his war hammer with both hands, he raised it overhead and swung down with all his might. The pumpkin burst in an explosion of orange rind and spraying seeds, all too much like bloody gore.

  71

  WHEN he saw the Utauk trader sail into Serepol Harbor, Key Priestlord Klovus knew that something was amiss. He recognized the mystifying circle symbol on the Glissand’s sails and remembered the one-handed merchant captain who had so flippantly debated with Empra Iluris. “Why would the same ship return so soon? There has barely been enough time to get to Osterra and back.” Maybe the merchant captain had changed his mind about spying for Ishara.

  He hurried along the waterfront as the foreign ship approached the available pier. On the way, he commanded five city guardsmen to follow. “We have to interrogate the crew of that ship and find out what they are up to.”

  The head guard’s brow furrowed at Klovus’s imperious tone. “They’re Utauks, Priestlord. They’ll bring items for sale, as they’ve always done. Maybe they have more to sell after their last successful trip.”

  “Not after less than two weeks,” Klovus snapped. “I want to know why he’s back.”

  The Utauk sailors lashed the Glissand to the pier before preparing to unload. This time, they moved only a dozen crates of merchandise onto the docks, a meager haul of goods, which reaffirmed Klovus’s suspicions that they were here for reasons other than trade. They hadn’t even bothered to restock their cargo.

  Hale Orr stood at the rail of the ship, his gold front tooth glinting as he smiled. With surprising agility, he swung over the side onto the dock.

  Klovus approached him. “Did you forget something here? Leave behind a sock, perhaps?”

  The city guards chuckled. Hale Orr said, “My daughter made these socks many years ago, and they’ve been mended repeatedly. They are soft and comfortable. Even so, if I forgot them I wouldn’t think they warranted a return voyage.” He propped the stump of his hand on his left hip, got down to business. “I’m glad you came, Key Priestlord. Now I won’t have to bother finding an appropriate escort. Please take me to the empra. I have important business.”

  Klovus felt sweat prickle on his bald scalp. “She asked you to spy on Osterra, to gather information about the enemy navy and their movements. Have you done so? You may report to me what you found.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t the information I have. This time I come in a diplomatic capacity.” The shadowglass pendant in his ear dangled as he moved. “A disaster has happened in the Dragonspine Mountains, and I need to present a report to her. It has grave implications for the human race.”

  “What do we care about your mountains?” Klovus asked.

  “Because it might mean the end of the world.”

  The key priestlord considered. “The end of your world, perhaps, but we live in Ishara. Why should we worry about a land that is already dead?”

  “Konag Conndur believes your empra will feel differently. My letter comes directly from him.” He pressed a leather satchel at his hip.

  Klovus stepped forward. “Show me this letter.”

  The merchant captain’s expression darkened, and his thick brows drew together. “Our ship has only been gone a short time, Priestlord. Have you become emprir since we left?”

  “I’m key priestlord of Serepol,” Klovus said with a sniff. “You don’t understand the political power in this land.”

  “But I do understand my instructions from the konag. I’m to deliver a letter to Empra Iluris. Personally.”

  “And I gave you instructions, as well. I want to see this
letter so I can determine whether it is worth the empra’s while.” He gestured and spoke in firm command to the head guard. “Bring me the letter.”

  Hale stiffened, stepped back. The head guard frowned, since priests did not normally command soldiers, but he moved forward and took the leather pouch from the trader’s hip. Though clearly angry, Hale didn’t resist.

  The guard handed the leather pouch to Klovus, who undid the laces and pulled out a folded letter. He frowned at the open-hand symbol stamped into red sealing wax, broke the seal, and read Konag Conndur’s astonishing invitation for a parley meeting. His eyes widened, and he read it a second time before the laughter came. “This is absurd.” He looked at the Utauk merchant captain, then at the city guards. “He wants the empra to sail to Fulcor Island for a secret rendezvous.”

  “Apparently not secret anymore,” Hale muttered.

  Klovus glanced down at the letter again. “She will never agree to this.”

  Hale shrugged. “Still, the empra needs to read it for herself. Or do you make decisions for her now?”

  The city guards muttered, and their leader stepped forward. “We will escort him to the palace now. This is the empra’s business.” He reached out to take the letter back from the priestlord. “Come with us, Merchant Captain.”

  Klovus pulled the letter away, quickly making up his mind. “Yes, we’ll go now. I’ll present this to the empra myself. Bring the Utauk and follow me.”

  Klovus walked at a brisk pace as one of the city guards ran ahead to inform Iluris of their arrival. They passed statues of Isharan heroes, ornate bubbling fountains, and a water-clock tower in front of the palace. He led them through the arched entrance and down the wide corridor to the throne room where the empra awaited them.

  Klovus grimaced with distaste when he saw Cemi at a side table piled with open books. The girl studied columns of mathematical symbols, using an abacus to flick beads back and forth. Chamberlain Nerev sat close to her, watching the girl do her mathematics exercises. A third chair, now empty, had been slid back from the study table.

  Empra Iluris sat on her throne on the dais, waiting to receive them. As they entered, her gaze slid past Klovus, and she brightened upon seeing Hale Orr. “You came back, Merchant Captain. Have you changed your mind about the mission I offered you?”

  Hale bowed. “I am observant, Excellency, and I do have urgent news to report, whether or not you wish to call me a spy. I brought a sealed message from Konag Conndur that was meant for your eyes only.” He flicked a glare at Klovus. “Unfortunately, your key priestlord feels that his eyes are more important than yours.”

  The empra’s expression darkened. “What does he mean, Klovus?”

  The priestlord stepped forward, extending the opened letter. “I had to protect you, Excellency. I wanted to inspect this mysterious letter before you—”

  “Protect me? You were afraid that if I unfolded the paper, daggers might fly out and stab me in the heart? You’ve certainly made Konag Conndur into a most terrible enemy.”

  At her table, Cemi snickered.

  Klovus felt a burn of embarrassment in his cheeks. “Words can be dangerous as well.” He opened the letter, held it up for her to see the writing. “The konag says that the ancient wreths have returned to wake the dragon and launch devastating wars. He wants us to join their preposterous war and fight at the side of the Commonwealth.” He chuckled.

  “At the side of the human race,” Hale Orr said.

  Iluris leaned forward on the throne, speaking to the merchant captain. “Is the konag playing some sort of joke? Does he think I’m a fool?”

  “Wait,” Hale interjected. “You should read the letter for yourself, Excellency. Konag Conndur asked me as a neutral party to carry this message.” He lowered his voice. “As we just witnessed out in the harbor, Osterran fishing boats don’t fare well in your waters, so it’s good that this was brought to you on an Utauk ship.”

  The people in the court began to mutter angrily, while the gold-armored hawk guards against the walls remained as silent as statues. Iluris said, “If he is worried about how we treat trespassing enemy ships, maybe he should stop his navy from sinking ours. Konag Conndur has given us no reason to trust his intentions. We also hear he has a brutal camp where he holds Isharan slaves to do dangerous work.”

  Hale frowned. “An enslavement camp? I honestly know nothing of that, and the Utauks have an extensive information network.” He got back to his main point. “I can, however, speak about the wreths from personal experience, as I mentioned during my last visit here. What the konag says is true. I was present when the sandwreths returned to Suderra. I heard their queen speak of a great, new war they intended to fight against their rival frostwreths. We both know the human race barely survived the last war.”

  “But we did survive,” Iluris said. “And our people came to this new world where we are now strong and stable. I want nothing to do with a devastating war—not with the Commonwealth or with wreths.”

  Hale spoke in an ominous voice. “What happens if the wreths destroy the dragon, and their god does return to remake the entire world? Do you think Ishara will remain unscathed? We will all be erased.”

  “If these silly stories are true, our godlings will protect us,” Klovus said.

  Iluris ignored his outburst and said to the merchant captain, “What does Konag Conndur want from me?”

  Klovus held up the letter and said, “He claims that the entire human race should put aside their differences, that we should become allies for this greatest battle.” He snorted, then continued in a mocking tone. “He suggests that we become friends and asks that you meet with him in a neutral place: Fulcor Island.”

  Hale added, “He’s quite serious, Excellency. To show you his sincerity, the konag has offered to return Fulcor to you if Ishara does agree to fight alongside the Commonwealth. That’s how much peace means to him.”

  The empra’s brows drew together, and she frowned at Klovus. “Why would he do this if it’s just a joke, Priestlord?”

  Klovus blurted out, “Because it is likely a trap.”

  With an impatient frown, she reached out for the letter, forcing the priestlord to climb the steps so he could give it to her. She read the paper carefully. Cemi left her abacus and papers and joined the empra, bending close to read over her shoulder.

  After pondering for a moment, Iluris turned to Hale Orr. “We will consider this seriously.”

  72

  IN the dead of night, a vicious pounding struck Bannriya’s closed western gate.

  Seenan rode hard for the castle and roused the king immediately. “Sire, the wreth man, the one called Quo, is demanding to see you!” The Banner guard waited outside the royal chambers, shifting from one boot to the other. “Shall I open the gates and let him in?”

  Adan felt instantly wary. “No. I will go there to hear what he has to say. Don’t let him into the city unless I allow it.” He sent a bleary-eyed Hom to run and ready horses in the stables. He and Penda dressed in a rush. Before they left the royal chambers, Xar hopped off his perch and settled on her shoulder, as if he was ready to handle whatever the situation required.

  Within minutes, they were mounted, and the green ska flew ahead of them, as if to scout. They followed Seenan to the thick sandstone wall, where the pounding on the gate sounded like slow, repetitive thunder. “I think he’s losing patience,” Seenan said. “We told him we were bringing you with all possible speed.”

  Adan pulled his horse to a halt at the base of the walls. The heavy pounding was uneven and ponderous, like an attack.

  “Ancestors’ blood, what is causing it?”

  Seenan was pale-faced, sweating. “It’s a monster trying to break down the gates, Sire.”

  Another loud blow rang against the wooden barrier, and Penda flinched. “He will shatter the wood if we don’t let him in.” Her ska circled in the air, whistling and clicking, demanding attention, but she ignored him.

  “Such threats don
’t make me feel more hospitable toward him,” Adan said, dismounting quickly and handing the reins to Seenan. “Let’s go have a look from above the gate. We can call down to him.”

  Another relentless thud slammed the gate every twenty heartbeats or so—a loud, wet blow, as if a giant were hammering with a bloodied fist. At the apex of the stone steps that led to the top of the wall, two guards met the king and queen holding torches.

  “It’s one of those wreth lizards, ramming and ramming,” a guard said, managing to look both apologetic and nauseated. “It’ll kill itself.”

  Adan felt a chill at what Quo was doing to get attention. He went to where he could look over the sandstone wall at the dark landscape. He saw a flickering, shadowy movement outside, and then another loud blow struck.

  The king shouted down into the darkness. “I am here, Quo!” He fought to control his anger and barked to the guards in the turret, “Throw torches down there so I can see!”

  The guards removed torches from racks and tossed them to the ground. Scattered pools of firelight illuminated the sealed gate and the road that led west into the foothills.

  Adan shouted to the unseen visitor, “You should have waited. I came—”

  A reptilian beast with a large head and two massive legs lumbered forward, picking up speed, and mindlessly rammed itself into the wooden door. By now the auga had battered itself bloody and senseless. With a wet, bone-crunching impact, it smashed the gate, then reeled backward, a living battering ram. Several wooden beams had already splintered and cracked. The creature staggered back, barely able to keep its balance. Its head was pulped, its mouth broken and bloody. One eye was little more than dripping jelly. After only a moment to regain its energy, the auga charged forward again and collided with the gate.

  Sickened, Adan yelled, “Stop, Quo! Why are you doing this?”

  A lean figure stepped out of the shadows below, a tall golden-skinned man with long yellow hair adorned with glittering bangles. Quo picked up a fallen torch and held it in one hand like a curiosity. In his other hand he held a deadly-looking spear. “King Adan Starfall! You finally answered my summons,” he said brightly. “It takes humans a great deal of time to respond to a knock on the door.”