Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Glik drew a circle around her heart. She took a cautious swig of water, called her ska back for now, and set off again into the great empty expanse.

  As she walked in the utter silence, hearing only the hiss of blowing dust and the patter of dislodged pebbles, Glik once more pondered the sealed grotto where she had taken Ari’s egg, the immense shape inside that mysterious translucent shell, the moving faceted eye.

  Maybe, in fact, she had already seen a dragon.…

  85

  ON the first night in the desert camp, Adan and Penda dined with Queen Voo and her brother, five wreth nobles, and their intense mages. The food was strange, some form of reptile meat along with cubes of sweetened cactus, a sliced starchy tuber baked into delicate pastries, and goblets of chilled spring water to accompany small vials of a golden liqueur so potent that a mere sip sent Adan’s head spinning. He set it aside, preferring to keep his wits about him among the possibly dangerous strangers. Perched on a nearby rock, Xar observed the activity, but when Penda offered him a morsel of wreth cuisine he turned away.

  Afterward, Adan and Penda lay down on soft sand in a gauzy brown tent that let cool breezes pass through. They dozed off while listening to raucous wreth conversations. Adan awoke in the middle of the night and slipped out of their tent to stand on the canyon floor, looking up at the desert sky. He studied the constellations and thought of the konag, wondering what Conndur would do in a situation like this. He missed his father and also missed the peaceful days when he was a young prince, contemplating the gentle path of a future like a slow-moving river current. Adan feared that such times were now gone forever. The wide and languid river of the future had turned into a furious white cascade of uncertainty.

  He knew he needed to arrange a meeting between the sandwreth queen and the Commonwealth’s konag. As soon as the dragon hunt was over, Adan assumed they would discuss their possible alliance in greater detail, unless the event went disastrously wrong.

  He woke into a hazy dawn, the air stirred by breezes that raised a fine powder of dust. The sandwreths broke camp like magic, moving so swiftly and cooperatively that the pavilions seemed to vanish, packed up and stored on the augas. They left the shade of the red rock canyons and rode their reptile mounts out into the arid devastation.

  The sandwreth queen was eager to hunt. Voo’s hospitality left much to be desired, but Adan was in no position to argue. He made sure that Penda was rested well enough, especially given her pregnancy, although she seemed as tough and prepared for rigorous travel as he was. Utauk women did not let childbearing slow them down until their water broke, and Penda had several months to go yet.…

  From what Adan could see, Queen Voo considered the expedition an exhilarating party. Heat thrummed around the Furnace wastes like a living thing. Shimmering curls in the air made the empty sky look like molten glass.

  Queen Voo rode high on her auga, her gold-flecked hair flying behind her. “The dragon awaits!” she called in a voice like a war song. The sandwreths hooted and cheered. Quo raised his long, bone-tipped spear, jabbing at the sky as if to poke the dragon out of hiding.

  The loping augas churned up dust, leaving three-toed footprints in the sand. The heat slammed down upon them by midday, but Penda had come prepared, wrapping a long strip of white cloth around her head and face; she handed another scarf to Adan, who likewise covered himself from the baking sun.

  Preoccupied with the hunt, Voo was oblivious to their discomfort. Adan could feel his skin chafe and burn, and he worried about Penda. When he finally asked to stop so they could share water, the queen was surprised to realize their need. “Of course!” The wreths provided waterskins, and after his wife had quenched her thirst, Adan drank deeply of cold and pure water that tasted as if it had just been dipped out of a snowmelt stream.

  Voo said, “I apologize, Adan Starfall. It is easy to forget how fragile you are.” She scolded one of the mages. “Axus, do not let this happen again. We must keep our human allies comfortable for the dragon hunt.”

  The craggy-featured mage nodded, and the seams on his face deepened as he concentrated. When he lifted his arms, his brown leather robe flapped in the breeze he had summoned. The air dimmed over their heads, and Adan looked up in surprise as the temperature noticeably dropped around them.

  “It is a trivial spell to filter out some of the sun,” Axus grumbled. He seemed offended by their weakness. “I diverted the light and heat elsewhere, so you will remain comfortable. The desert does not mind.”

  Penda took no insult. “Thank you. Now, let us find the dragon.” She urged her auga forward, nearly dislodging the ska from her shoulder. Xar flapped his wings and gripped the leather pad.

  The red rocks and pinnacles gave way to an open baked pan of cracked dirt, blistered sands, and white powder. They followed a line of stark mountains that looked like mounds of coal and hardened ash. The day’s heat increased as the sun burned high overhead, but the mage’s atmospheric shield made the heat tolerable. Adan concluded that without the wreths, he and Penda would have perished swiftly here.

  In the early afternoon, Voo called a halt, and the augas milled about as the riders conversed. “We will set up camp here at the edge of the mountains, and the mages can make preparations to call the dragon.” She stared at the vacant sky. “This is a perfect place for our ambush.”

  Adan looked around, saw the flat expanse of sand and dust, the rugged black peaks and the open sky that offered no shelter. “Ambush? The dragon will see us.”

  “We want it to see us.” Quo lazily twirled his spear. “It will not know what to expect. No dragon has seen wreths for a very long time.”

  86

  AFTER hearing Iluris and the godless konag speak so openly and cooperatively, Priestlord Klovus was unnerved. He often disagreed with her priorities, especially when she basked too much in peacetime contentment. Even though she caused harm by stifling the godlings in favor of building schools and roads for the people, in his heart Klovus had always believed that both he and the empra wanted the strongest future for Ishara. Now, though, he feared she had gone entirely mad.

  An alliance with an enemy who had been abandoned by gods and unable to create their own? Iluris actually believed the konag’s ramblings about a restless dragon and a long-vanished race. She had to be stopped by any means possible, for the good of Ishara, and Klovus had to do it before she caused irrevocable damage.

  After nightfall, with his thoughts in turmoil, the key priestlord climbed to an isolated section of the wall behind the keep. The empra and her entourage had separate quarters away from the Commonwealth representatives. Her own hawk guards were stationed near her private chambers, while handpicked Isharan soldiers patrolled nearby. Iluris seemed oblivious to her danger.

  Outside on the wall, Klovus did not let his guard down in the chill and windy night. His blue caftan did little to keep him warm against the breezes as a storm whipped up over the sea. Thick clouds obscured the stars, and the air smelled heavy and damp. He waited alone on the rampart.

  A lone Isharan soldier on patrol walked up to him, as planned. “I am here at your bidding, Key Priestlord.”

  Klovus looked at the plain-featured man in his Isharan armor, a regular soldier wearing a leather chest plate, a short sword, dark boots, a leather-and-steel helmet. His bland features were easily forgettable, exactly as they were supposed to be. The priestlord nodded. “I’ve come to a conclusion, Zaha. It’s time I gave you an important mission.”

  The soldier straightened, ready to receive instructions. Four Black Eels had accompanied the expedition, posing as nondescript soldiers. He still hoped to insert one among the empra’s hawk guards, but her adopted sons were much too tightly knit for a Black Eel to maintain the disguise for long. Because Iluris considered them part of her own family, she knew each of her guards, understood their personalities, their memories.

  “I am ready, Key Priestlord,” said Zaha.

  Klovus considered the inevitability of what he was abou
t to do. He was a loyal Isharan, but his faith belonged to the land itself, to the magic there and the godlings his people had created. His ultimate loyalty was not to any one woman, especially not Iluris, and she refused to choose a worthy successor. Without Iluris standing in their way, the priestlords would achieve their rightful place, guide the Isharan people, complete the Magnifica temple, and further strengthen the godlings throughout the land.

  He had to look at the ultimate good. Empra Iluris would bring them all to ruin.

  Klovus kept his voice low as he spoke with his trained assassin. The crash of waves and the wind from the approaching storm snatched away his words before anyone could eavesdrop from the guard posts. “The empra is our leader, but she is naïve and dangerous, maybe even willfully oblivious. Despite many warnings, she has already fallen into the enemy’s trap.…” He ground his teeth in anger.

  In the guise of a typical soldier, Zaha stared back at him with an expressionless face.

  Klovus continued, “The key to ruling a land, to binding its people together, is to unify them with a common goal. If their attention isn’t fixed on the same point, they will be distracted by other problems. They will see what their own lives lack, and they will grow restless.” He looked over the wall to the luminescent white foam curling around the reefs. “The key to holding power and controlling a population is to direct unrest outward, at a target of our choosing—an external enemy.”

  “The Commonwealth,” said Zaha.

  “The godless,” Klovus corrected. “Konag Conndur and how he lured our dear Iluris into a vulnerable position. His treachery is shocking.” He clucked his tongue against his teeth. “It is terrible and tragic.”

  “You uncovered a plot, Priestlord?”

  “Uncovered? No … but we will create one.” He crossed his arms, slipped his hands into the opposite sleeves of his caftan. “Even though we are far from Ishara, you’re one of my Black Eels. Your magic is strong. Are you still able to control it, as needed?”

  “We bring our magic with us, Priestlord.” The soldier held up his hand, turned the palm toward his face. The soft flesh on the back of his hand crackled, turned gray and stony. “I can create my own armor to deflect the blow of any blade, if that’s what you need.”

  “And fire?”

  Zaha cupped his palm, extended his arm. Orange fire flickered upward, brightening to an intense heat.

  Klovus waved his hands. “Enough! Extinguish that before anyone sees.”

  The Black Eel closed his fingers, snuffed the flame.

  Klovus said, “That’s not the same as a Brava’s ramer, but none of our people have ever seen a ramer. Your fire will burn bright and hot, and that will be enough. Afterward, the evidence will speak for itself.” He stepped closer, regarding the man’s plain face. “Most importantly, I need your camouflage spell. Shift your skin and bones, your features, change your height, your hair color.”

  “Easily done. Who would you like me to be?”

  “You’ve seen the bonded Brava who guards Konag Conndur. Utho is his name. Can you become him?”

  The unremarkable Isharan soldier removed his helmet and concentrated. He hunched his shoulders, pressed his arms close against his sides as if squeezing the material of his body, stretching his bones. He became taller. His features flattened, his cheeks widened, his eyes grew distinctive to suggest wreth heritage. His hair thickened, turned steel gray, his chin became more square. The soldier’s armor fit more tightly now because the body was larger, and Zaha loosened the leather breastplate. He stood ready, a perfect duplicate of Utho. “Is there a way we can obtain the black uniform of a Brava, Priestlord? Witnesses will more readily identify him that way.”

  “I’m afraid not, but that will be part of our tale. Obviously, the murderous Utho would disguise himself in order to slip into the Isharan wing of the keep. We’ll say he stole the uniform of one of our soldiers, probably killed the poor man.” Klovus nodded as he made up his tale. “Yes. I’m certain that’s what happened. See that a body is provided, the garments removed.”

  The storm was closing in, the air heavy with the smell of rain. Thunder rumbled far out to sea, and he watched a play of lightning hidden inside the clouds. “Restore your appearance as a common Isharan soldier until you’re actually close to the empra’s chambers. You need to make certain you can get inside, past her hawk guards. Kill them and let their bodies be found after you’re done. The other Black Eels can help, if necessary.”

  “One of us is already in position.” Zaha stared at him through Utho’s eyes. “And what am I to say to the empra, Priestlord?”

  Klovus sniffed. “Say? There is nothing you can say. I want you to kill her. And when you escape, make sure that others see you. They have to know that Konag Conndur’s personal Brava is responsible for the heinous act. Use your fire so that everyone believes she was attacked by a ramer.” He smiled. “Then we’ll never again have to worry about an Isharan alliance with the godless.”

  That would solve many problems.

  87

  FURTHER discussion would not diminish the risks of the strike on Lake Bakal, nor would it make the plan seem any more sensible. But he believed what Lasis had seen. His grandson was still alive, possibly held captive in the wreth fortress, and Kollanan’s mind was set. Since the moment he understood what had happened to that poor unsuspecting town, he had wanted to fight back, to punish and warn the frostwreths. No one could argue with his reasons, and he didn’t dare wait longer.

  Lasis was much recovered and strong again. Elliel and Thon were ready, and the wreth stranger assured Koll he could do the magic he had promised. The chosen soldiers understood what they were about to do.

  During the final preparations, the council members had bolstered each other’s courage, raising loud shouts in the echoing conference hall, but their cheers had been offered in a safe warm room, where it was easy to make dangerous boasts. But now as the war party looked at the open gates and the reality of the confrontation sank in, the king feared they might slide on a slippery slope of doubt. He was anxious to get moving, to start the inevitable wheels turning.

  Dressed in new black leather armor and a finemail-lined cape, Lasis faced forward, a distant expression in his eyes. All his weapons were in place, including a new ramer at his belt, which he had received from one of the Brava training camps in Norterra. Beside him on an ash-gray mare, Elliel wore Brava garb similar to his, while Thon wore his odd silver leggings, heavy shoulder plates, and chest armor. Lord Cerus had also brought along his bonded Brava, Urok.

  Standing beside his warhorse Storm, Koll slipped his arms around Tafira’s waist and looked into her flecked brown eyes. Her face was achingly beautiful to him, still reminding him of the frightened young girl he had rescued in the burning town of Sarcen. As decades went by, Koll had not noticed the lines or wrinkles on her face, the widening of her hips as she became a mother as well as a queen. Now he kissed her lightly, tenderly, tasting her breath.

  “You know I want to go with you,” Tafira said. “I can fight as well as these others. I can help save Birch.”

  He was sorely tempted as he held her, but remained firm in his decision. “Someone needs to rule these people if anything happens to me. You know that. Stay and be their queen. Be their protector. I will find Birch and bring him back, if I can.”

  “I should have brought my wife along,” said gruff Lord Ogno with a forlorn look in his eyes.

  When Koll pulled away, Lords Alcock, Cerus, and Ogno sat high in their saddles, impatient to be off. Before their doubts could delay them, the king mounted Storm and urged him through the gate, leading his vassal lords, three Bravas, Thon, and fifty heavily armed soldiers. Tafira shouted after them, “Sting, Husband! Be a wasp and sting them! Then come home to me with our grandson.”

  As they rode off, the fighters lifted their swords high, like bright steel stingers. Lord Alcock called back to her, “And we’ll try not to get swatted.”

  Kollanan carried his war ham
mer. That was how he wanted the wreths to remember him. In the next few days, he intended to add a new part to his legacy: King Kollanan the Hammer fighting for his people.

  According to news brought by an Utauk trader, Conndur finally believed the warnings about the wreths—apparently convinced by what he had seen at Mount Vada. The konag was willing to go to unusual lengths, even meeting with Empra Iluris on Fulcor Island, of all places. Though the idea of an Isharan alliance made him uneasy, Koll was glad his brother finally saw the danger, and that made his heart stronger. Now there was a chance the entire Commonwealth army would come to help defend Norterra, and if the forces of Ishara joined the three kingdoms to stand against the wreths, the human race might even win.

  But any advantages from those negotiations on Fulcor Island would occur far too late to affect this mission to rescue his grandson. For now, Norterra was on its own, and Koll would sting first.

  After their showy departure, the horses galloped hard up the northern road for half an hour, then slowed to a sustainable pace for the long trip. As the war party strung out along the road, Lasis rode in preoccupied silence. The gaunt Brava man had physically recovered from his ordeal, but he clearly was not eager to face the wreths again. Nevertheless, he would not be dissuaded from joining the assault force.

  Lord Bahlen dropped back with his personal Brava, who rode alongside him. Bahlen had a thin face and dark goatee that emphasized his high cheekbones, and his arched eyebrows seemed too low on his forehead. The lord cleared road dust out of his mouth and spat before he spoke. “As we head farther north, Sire, should we keep our horses to the trees, stay off the road? There may be wreth spies about.”

  Koll shook his head. “That would slow us down by at least a day. Our scouts have already given us a report. Although these ancient enemies are mysterious, they are also arrogant. They won’t be watching for an attack from us. They’re not thinking of us at all. Humans have no relevance to them.”