Spine of the Dragon

by Kevin J. Anderson

  He thought again of the child’s frozen fingers clutched around the carved wooden pig, the two small figures covered with snow. Had it been Tomko and some other neighbor boy? He could hardly believe Birch was still alive. Now he regretted not going back for the bodies so that his daughter and her family could have a proper burial. They deserved it! Then he would have realized that Birch was not among the dead.… Koll squeezed his eyes shut and let Storm continue trotting along.

  Back in Fellstaff, he and Tafira had spent hours in the remembrance shrine, writing down all they remembered about the grandsons, how they would squabble and then become the best of friends again within the space of minutes, how Birch liked to chase chickens, how proud Tomko was of his ability to climb trees, although more than once he had been trapped up in the high branches without the courage to climb back down.

  He clung to the golden thread of hope. Oh, if Birch was still alive …

  Tafira had written down memories about their daughter Jhaqi, the tall girl with an Isharan caste to her features and a big heart that broke so easily. Jhaqi’s first love had been the handsome son of a prominent baker; he had made the thirteen-year-old girl giddy with infatuation, then crushed to the deepest despair when his romantic interest wandered elsewhere. But Jhaqi found true love when she was courted by the young town leader of Lake Bakal; then, when she and Gannon had come riding in during a harvest festival, she had told them she was expecting her first child. Birch.

  As he rode along, Koll narrowed his eyes as if he could focus those sad memories down to a pinprick.

  * * *

  When they finally reached the forested ridge overlooking Lake Bakal, Koll called the warriors to a halt as the afternoon sun lowered behind them. Still on horseback, he and Lasis looked out over the frozen lake and discussed the next step.

  “We must keep to the cover of the trees,” Lasis said.

  Koll agreed. “Even if the wreths aren’t watching for an invasion, they have eyes, and sunlight glinting on our armor might draw their attention. We’ll wait until dusk before we move closer.”

  Together, they observed their distant target across the lake. Lasis described in detail what he knew of the fortress and settlement, although he had not seen all of it before his capture, and it was much larger now. Outside the milky walls of the fortress stood many wooden buildings, storage sheds, stockpiles, and squalid dwellings for their odd drone workers. The fortress walls and towers showed expansive windows of transparent crystal, so the wreth commanders could survey what they intended to conquer.

  Koll’s mind kept returning to his grandson, who might be held prisoner somewhere over there. Lasis knew only that Birch was alive, but not where. Koll could not understand why the wreths had captured him in the first place, but he would do everything he could to save the boy. His grandson might be held among the drones in their hovels, or he might be inside the immense fortress … or somewhere else completely. The king held on to hope. Regardless, Kollanan intended to strike these wreths who had already killed so many people.

  Not far away, Elliel conversed with Urok, Lord Bahlen’s Brava, both of them clad in their traditional black armor-lined cloaks, while Thon stood nearby, distracted and intent. The wreth man touched one of the bare aspen trees and blended into the crosshatched shadows of the naked branches, as if marveling at the simple wonder of the gray bark. He looked up and stared at the fortress, the solid ice-block walls, the rising towers, as if astonished by the sight of that as well.

  Lord Ogno clenched his massive hand around the hilt of his broadsword as he approached the small group. Wary of the vassal lord’s intention, Koll dismounted and walked closer as Ogno confronted Thon. “Does the sight tempt you, wreth? Does it make you want to join them and betray us?”

  Thon turned to him with a curious expression. “No. Observing the handiwork of these wreths clarifies one thing: I don’t know who I am or what I am, only that I am not one of them.”

  “Right now, you’re our ally,” Koll said. “That is what matters tonight.”

  Thon reached out to take Elliel’s hand. “We know what to do, King Kollanan the Hammer. I have my instructions, and Elliel and Lasis have theirs.”

  Lasis joined them. “She and I will find the boy, if he is there. The rest of you simply need to battle all the other frostwreths.”

  While waiting for night to fall, the soldiers tended to their horses, screwing studs into holes drilled in the iron horseshoes, which would give the mounts traction for when they had to gallop on ice.

  Standing on the shore under the cover of trees, Koll and his lords made their final plans for the attack. When darkness closed in and ice-chip stars twinkled overhead, Elliel kissed Thon goodbye as he set off by himself down the slope to the boulder-strewn shore of Lake Bakal. He had made his promises to the king, and Kollanan counted on him.

  As Elliel and Lasis prepared to slip away, Koll bade his two Bravas farewell. “My hopes go with you. Find Birch if he is there. Save him.”

  On foot, Elliel and Lasis crept around the lakeshore in the shelter of the trees, heading for the outskirts of the fortress and the site of the destroyed town, where they would wait for their opportunity and make their move as soon as the major distraction began. The main assault should provide all the diversion they needed.

  For the frontal attack, the king and his strike force—his wasps—rode over the ridge and down along the main road to the shore of Lake Bakal. On horseback, they gathered on a gravelly crescent of beach where children had once gone to swim. The frozen lake was a field of dark ice, likely solid all the way to its bottom. They carried no torches, but relied on starlight to show them the way across the flat expanse of ice to the looming fortress.

  As the soldiers assembled on the frozen shore, their horses’ iron shoes and studded screws clinking on the rocks, Koll raised his hammer high. “We will make them feel our sting. Draw their attention so that Lasis and Elliel can do what they must.”

  “The frostwreths might kill us all,” grumbled Lord Cerus. He had always been dubious about the plan, yet was one of the first to volunteer. “But they’ll try to wipe us out sooner or later. Maybe they won’t succeed tonight, though, and we’ll never have another chance like this.”

  Urok mounted up next to Lord Bahlen, and Koll gave the Brava man a nod of appreciation. “Ignite your ramer when we get halfway across the lake. The fire will be our beacon for the charge.”

  “I’ll make sure the frostwreths see it, Sire,” Urok said.

  The horses were traveling light, with only the tack needed for riding hard and fast. The soldiers wore fur-lined cloaks, leather armor, and carried their weapons of choice. Each archer carried a goodly supply of pitch-wrapped arrows, and a group of soldiers brought Y-shaped aspen stands, each as tall as a man’s shoulders, with an elastic leather cord. That afternoon, they had assembled the catapults, which could each fire stones the size of a small melon.

  Koll regarded his fighting troops in the starlight and saw that they were as ready as he was. Carefully, he led Storm out onto the ice, testing the grip of the studded horseshoes and the strength of the ice. It was as solid as granite, and the screws gave the warhorse plenty of traction. He set off toward the distant shore across the expanse of ice, and the rest of his attack party followed.

  As the wind whistled over the frozen lake, fifty fighters cantered forward, heading toward the frostwreth fortress.

  * * *

  Crouched in the rocks on the shore, Thon scanned across the ice toward the giant structure. Its frozen towers rose above the site of what had been a peaceful village. Though he had never seen the original town, he could imagine that it must have been pleasant like Scrabbleton.

  Thon extended his long fingers to sense the thickness of the ice, the depth of the cold. His dark hair hung loose and his sapphire eyes glittered in the starlight.

  From out on the lake, he heard battle cries, the ringing of studded iron shoes as horses galloped toward their target. He saw the spray of la
unched fire arrows, like sparks from a grinding wheel, and a brighter fire as Urok ignited his ramer.

  The sight made him think of sweet Elliel. He hoped that she and Lasis would complete their mission. He needed her to return safely to him.

  Cold glowing lights intensified inside the fortress as the wreths flared into wakefulness. From where he crouched, he could hear the shouts of Kollanan’s fighters, drawing the enemy’s attention so Elliel and Lasis could search for the boy.

  He got ready to do his part.

  88

  ONCE Conndur retired to his private suite in the keep on Fulcor Island, Utho knew he had time. Watchman Osler had vacated his own quarters for the konag, moving to the barracks with the other soldiers during the days of the diplomatic meeting. Utho would visit his old friend Conndur later, for he had a terrible thing to do, but first, he devoted his attention to Prince Mandan.

  As thunder rumbled over the ocean, the young prince grew noticeably anxious in his room. Mandan shivered, despite the warm blanket over his shoulders and the fire in his hearth. He flinched away from the narrow window, avoiding the black clouds, the lightning. “I don’t like stormy nights,” he said, with Utho standing beside him. “Bad things happen on stormy nights.”

  “A bad thing happened to you one time long ago, my prince, and the storm wasn’t the cause of it. If your mother had died on a sunny day, would you be afraid of all sunny days?”

  “I would still hate the fact that she was dead.” Mandan’s eyes were haunted.

  “Try to sleep. We don’t know how many more days we’ll be on the island, but I’m sure we’ll go home soon … whatever happens here.” Utho’s voice became brittle. Ever since their arrival, the Brava had struggled with his inner turmoil. He couldn’t allow the konag to make such a terrible mistake, and he had hoped—a thin fraying thread of hope—that Conndur and Iluris would quarrel and depart with their hatred properly in place.

  “I’d be calmer if I had my paints.” Mandan winced as the rumbling thunder drowned out the crash of waves outside. “There’s nothing to do here.”

  “Maybe you can sketch Empra Iluris and give it to her as a gift from the Commonwealth,” Utho suggested. He knew full well the prince’s penchant for adding subtle insults to his portraits.

  Mandan scowled at the suggestion. “I can barely look at her, knowing how the Isharans murdered all those Brava pioneers who settled in Valaera. Such a terrible story.” He turned from the window to look at Utho. “Although, if your people had remained in Ishara, then we wouldn’t have any Bravas left in the Commonwealth. And we need you, now more than ever.”

  “I wouldn’t want to live in a world where I didn’t know you, my prince,” Utho admitted, “but I wish my people hadn’t suffered such great losses. And think also of all those poor victims in Mirrabay, slaughtered by the Isharan animals.”

  “We all suffer,” the young man muttered petulantly, slumping down on his bed. He set aside his lead stylus and the papers he had used for sketching. “I don’t have any heart for drawing either. I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll lie awake and listen to the storm.”

  “You need to rest. I could go to the garrison’s apothecary, find a potion to help you doze off. Maybe a few drops of blue poppy milk?”

  Mandan shuddered. “Never that!”

  The prince’s reaction answered a question that Utho had always wondered about. Although the official story was that Lady Maire had died from a mysterious “sleeping sickness,” the truth was that she had consumed too much poppy milk and died in a permanent slumber on a stormy night like this. Finding her body had shattered her sensitive young son. Until now, Utho had thought that Mandan believed the polite fiction, but it seemed that the prince knew all along that his mother had really killed herself.

  The Brava had cared for young Mandan of the Colors, knowing the prince was too soft to be a ruthless leader in times of war. That would have to change, and Utho would make it happen. He would teach Mandan the necessary lessons, the hard lessons. Peace was for the weak, and the prince was the best hope for the Commonwealth’s future.

  That meant, however, that Mandan was going to have another very difficult night.

  The prince flinched as more lightning flashed outside. Utho would steady him and guide him, to make sure he made the proper choices. Utho would salvage the situation that Konag Conndur had created.

  For now, though, he had to go. “The fire in your hearth has plenty of wood, my prince, and you’ll be warm enough through the night. I’ll check on you later, but I have to attend your father. I am his Brava.”

  Though clearly disappointed, Mandan nodded. Utho left the prince’s chambers, closed the door most of the way, and walked down the quiet corridor to the main chambers. He knocked on the wooden door, waited for Conndur to acknowledge him, and entered.

  The temporary quarters had been made into an acceptable royal residence. Attendants had changed the sheets, added new blankets, and hung his standard, a forest-green banner with the open-hand symbol of the Commonwealth. A plate of dried fruit and smoked fish sat on the writing desk, but Conndur had not touched the food. He had been documenting his thoughts at the writing desk.

  The konag brightened upon seeing his Brava enter. He scratched the graying beard around his chin. “This meeting is going well, old friend. Even though I know you had your reservations about an alliance, I think we are going to find acceptable terms, and then the three kingdoms can devote all of our military resources to preparing for war with the wreths. It will be for the best.”

  Utho closed the heavy door and slid the lock bolt into place, blocking the view with his body.

  Conndur continued, “My legacy weighs heavily upon me. What we do here will change the state of our world more than any konag has in centuries. If the wreths mean to wake the dragon and destroy the world, it is time to put aside old hatreds.”

  “The world has already changed greatly, Sire.” Utho remained straight-backed, showing no emotion, although his stomach roiled. His heart hammered. “Konag Cronin declared war on Ishara thirty years ago, and we survived. Those were terrible times, too, and we will survive these—unless we do something foolish.”

  “My father’s war served no purpose,” Conndur said impatiently. “This is different.”

  Utho whispered in disbelief, “Served no purpose…?” He wanted to scream. His wife and family had died in that war while he was away from home, at the konag’s orders! No purpose?

  Mareka and his daughters had been gutted, their throats slit, their bodies burned. They were long buried by the time he returned from saving Fulcor Island, but Utho could not stop thinking of what the animals had done to them. No purpose? Conndur didn’t even realize what he had said. “It has to be for something, Sire!”

  “I’m sorry. So many tragedies, so much senseless killing.” The konag looked down at his open ledger, blotted the ink. “The crisis we face now might shake the very world to its core. You saw Mount Vada! Even with the armies of the Commonwealth combined with the fighting force of Ishara, would that be enough against Ossus? Against the wreths? This is far more important than the old war.” Conndur inspected the last sentences he had written, blew on the ink to dry it. “You understand what’s at stake, and I hope you can support me. If the Isharans do agree to an alliance, I want you to work with them. It’ll be a difficult transition for all of us, but they may be our best hope.”

  “More likely they’ll betray us and kill us all,” Utho said. “Don’t let yourself be duped.”

  Conndur let out a nervous chuckle. “Blunt and honest, exactly as I need you to be. I value your wisdom and experience, old friend. You’re a wise sounding board, but you must also listen to me. Maybe I can change your opinion.”

  “The facts cannot be changed, Sire.” The pounding in Utho’s head was louder than the thunder outside. “History can’t be changed.” He knew what he had to do, and he hated it. With every word he spoke, he felt more anguished, but Conndur was forcing his hand. His words
came out sharp and harsh. “You are too naïve, even gullible. You refuse to see how treacherous the Isharans are.”

  Conndur’s expression fell. “You still hold that opinion, even now that you’ve met Empra Iluris? She seems perfectly reasonable. She wants the best for her people. She wants an end to this senseless conflict between our lands.”

  “She also brought her despicable priestlord,” Utho said. “What if they have a vile godling hidden in one of their anchored warships? They could unleash the monster to tear us limb from limb, just as my Brava ancestors were ripped apart at Valaera, those innocent people who just wanted to make a new home for themselves!”

  Conndur’s brow furrowed at the other man’s vehemence. “That was many centuries ago, and it has no real bearing now. What if Iluris is sincere, and they can help us against the wreths? I know the real danger to my people. As a Brava, you are sworn to protect the Commonwealth. We have to concentrate on the wreths, and put aside old differences.”

  Utho trembled inside as his thoughts raged. He felt ready to explode with as much fire and fury as Mount Vada. With an aching heart, he whispered, “I’m afraid I cannot allow that.”

  He had roiled through his decisions, not daring to consult even his two fellow Bravas on the island, but he knew Gant and Klea would agree with him. Fulcor was a point of balance, and island halfway between two warring continents, and Utho needed to disrupt that balance. As a Brava, he had sworn his loyalty to protect and defend the land, and by extension to guard the konag with his very life. But sometimes those two duties were irreconcilable, and Utho’s dedication had to extend beyond this one misguided man. His duty was to the Commonwealth and to the future.

  When he took a step closer, Conndur looked up at him curiously. Utho said, “I have always liked you, Sire. I considered you my friend, but we all have our duties to perform, and you, as konag, have the greatest duty of all. This will be your legacy.”