Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

by Margaret Weis

  “Sophia, what’s wrong?” Kate asked softly, resting her hand on Sophia’s shoulder.

  “I am sorry I woke you,” Sophia whispered. She sucked in a pain-filled breath and shuddered.

  “Sophia, please, tell me!” Kate urged. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Magic!” Sophia said in a choked voice. She half turned to peer up at Kate. Her forehead was covered in sweat. Her eyes glistened with tears and her words were disjointed. “Powerful magic. Splintered shards … inside my head. The contramagic … the drums of the Bottom Dwellers…”

  She moaned again, closing her eyes.

  “Bottom Dwellers…” Kate repeated, bewildered. “Drums?”

  Sophia only nodded and moaned again.

  Kate had only a vague idea what she was talking about. During the war, the Bottom Dwellers beat drums that sent waves of contramagic to destroy the magic in the world Above.

  “But the drumming ended years ago, Sophia,” Kate told her. “They can’t hurt you now.”

  She brushed Sophia’s hair back from her clammy forehead and tried to think what she could do to ease the pain.

  “I will fetch a cold cloth,” she offered. “Maybe that would help. I won’t be gone long.”

  Sophia didn’t answer, but she nodded.

  Kate reached for her red kerchief, only to remember it was serving as a jewelry box. She was still wearing the ridiculous apron tied around her waist and she took that off, dumped the diamonds and rubies into the apron and bundled them up. She shook the wrinkles from her kerchief and crept out of the snug chamber where they had been sleeping, padding quietly so as not to disturb Sophia.

  Kate came to a sudden stop, frozen, afraid to move.

  The blue glow of magic lit the cavern, emanating from what appeared to be a linen scroll spread out on the stone floor. By the eerie light, she could see a man crouching over the glowing scroll, staring at it intently and muttering to himself. The distance from where Kate was standing to the man was about twenty feet, allowing her to see his face clearly in the blue light of the magic.

  She was shocked to realize the man was Trubgek. Kate recognized the scroll because she had seen it once before and she would never forget it. The scroll was covered from top to bottom, corner to corner, with hundreds of sigils strung together to form a single magical construct that was designed to kill dragons.

  A white mist tinged with a faint blue light began to flow from the scroll into the chamber where Dalgren lay sleeping.

  Kate shrank from the light, afraid Trubgek would see her. She turned around to run and nearly fell over Bandit, who was glaring at Trubgek and growling softly, hackles raised.

  Kate grabbed the dog, clamped her hand over his muzzle, and crept back to Sophia. She knelt down beside her and gripped her shoulder tightly.

  “Hush!” Kate breathed. “Don’t make a sound!”

  Her fear and intensity penetrated Sophia’s pain. She gulped and fell silent, staring up at her.

  “What is it?” she whispered. “What is wrong?”

  “The magic that is hurting you is right outside this room!” Kate said, not daring to speak above a whisper. “A man is casting a spell that will kill Dalgren! I know this man,” she added, shivering. “His name is Trubgek and he is horrible and very powerful, and he knows dragon magic. The same spell killed Lady Odila. I warned the dragons about him, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Sophia sat up, wincing in pain. “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Kate. “The spell is very complex. He has to concentrate on it.”

  “How did it kill Lady Odila?”

  “The spell itself didn’t kill her. The magic created fumes that paralyzed her, so she couldn’t defend herself. Smythe used a sword to murder her, stabbing her over and over. Miss Amelia was there. She saw the body. I can’t let him do that to Dalgren!”

  Kate reached for the pistol she had rested on the boulder. “I have one shot. Only one. You have to help me, Sophia. Use your magic. I know it hurts, but we must stop him!”

  Sophia pressed her lips together, closed her eyes a moment, then said in a trembling voice, “Yes, I’ll try … Oh, God!”

  She stuffed her cloak in her mouth and doubled over, rocking back and forth in agony. The magic was not only going to kill Dalgren. It was killing Sophia.

  Bandit struggled in Kate’s grasp and tried to bite her. As she set the dog on the floor, she saw wisps of fumes snaking into the chamber, crawling over the stone.

  Kate had not heard a sound from Dalgren, not even so much as the rustle of a wing, and she feared the magic was already working on him. He was probably lying there, helpless, unable to move, knowing he was going to die as Lady Odila had died.

  Kate jumped to her feet. She was angry, as angry as she had ever been in her life, and determined. She walked out of the room and down the passage. The fumes swirled around her skirts as she swept through them.

  Trubgek knelt on the ground. Concentrating on his magic, muttering the words of the spell, he did not hear Kate coming until she was almost upon him. He raised his head and stared at her.

  “Stop!” Kate ordered him.

  She pulled back the hammer, cocked the pistol, and aimed it at his head. She felt no compunction about killing him, but she feared that if he was dead and she could not stop the magic, Sophia would die, Dalgren would remain paralyzed, and he would die a slow and terrible death.

  “Stop the spell,” Kate ordered. “Reverse it. End it. Do whatever you have to do to make the magic stop or I will put a bullet in your skull. You know me. You know I will.”

  Trubgek gazed up at her. His eyes reflected the blue glow of the magic radiating up from the linen scroll. He was no longer speaking the words, however, and the blue glow slowly started to fade.

  Holding the gun on him, keeping her eyes on him, Kate reached down, grabbed the linen scroll, and thrust it behind her back.

  “Now stop the magic,” she said.

  The glow faded from Trubgek’s eyes, leaving them dark and empty. He slowly rose to his feet and reached out his hand for the scroll.

  Kate crumpled the linen, clutched it tightly, and shook her head. “It’s my fault you have this magic. I stole the scroll. I had no idea what it did, but now I do know and you won’t get it back, Trubgek.”

  “My name is Petar,” he said.

  Kate blinked, confused. “What? Who is Petar?”

  “Petar is my name. Not Trubgek. You know what ‘trubgek’ means. You are the only human who ever did, who ever understood. Trubgek is a foul word, the most insulting term a dragon can use for a human. Coreg gloated over me, the monster he had created, and he named me. Not human. Not dragon. Less than either.”

  He spoke in a monotone with no emotion, as though he were talking about someone else. Kate said nothing, letting him talk. She cast a swift, agonized glance into Dalgren’s chamber. She could not see him or hear him.

  “I was a child,” Trubgek continued. “He forced me to learn dragon magic. ‘It’s in your blood,’ Coreg would tell me. He should know. He spilled enough of mine.”

  Trubgek gazed into the darkness as into a mirror. “I was with Coreg when he died. He was paralyzed. He couldn’t move. I could have saved him. He knew I could. He begged me to save him. I made him say my name. My real name when I was a little boy. Petar. I made him say ‘Petar.’ He said it. And then he died.”

  Trubgek stomped on the ground with his boot, and the stone shook beneath Kate’s feet. Small chunks of rock cascaded down from the ceiling.

  “See that? I can bring down this mountain if I choose.” Trubgek gazed at her and, in that moment, the empty eyes were not empty. Kate saw a flicker in them that lit the darkness and hiding there was a small boy, alone and suffering and desperately afraid.

  “I am sorry,” Kate said. “Coreg is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. But if you kill and keep killing, you are still Trubgek, doing his bidding. You can be free of him. You can be Petar. He would never hurt anyone, wo
uld he?”

  Trubgek seemed to consider. And then the flicker faded, the eyes were dark and empty.

  “You keep the scroll,” he said. “I know now that I don’t need it. The magic Coreg made me learn is powerful enough.”

  He started to walk off.

  “Please, help me!” Kate cried. “Don’t leave! Don’t let Dalgren die!”

  Trubgek walked out of the cave, then stopped, turned back. “I think the magic will wear off in time.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know.”

  He walked away. The sky was a pale yellow-blue, but night’s shadows clung to Trubgek. Kate soon lost sight of him. She could hear his boots crunching on the stone, however, and she stood at the entrance with the pistol until the sound faded away.

  She drew in a shivering breath, released the hammer, and lowered the pistol. Then she began to shake in reaction to her anger and her fear. Sophia came to join her. She looked pale and haggard, and her movements seemed a little unsure, but her eyes were clear. Bandit followed her, still growling.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Kate.

  “I’m fine,” said Kate. “What about you?”

  “The pain has stopped,” said Sophia. “Who was that man? How do you know him?”

  Ignoring the questions, Kate said, “I have to check on Dalgren. I hate to ask, but could you keep watch? I don’t think Trubgek will come back, but if he does…”

  Sophia nodded. “Give me the pistol.”

  Kate handed the pistol to Sophia, who sat down on a boulder near the entrance. Kate gave Bandit a pat.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  She had to find her way into Dalgren’s chamber in the dark, for the light from the walls did not extend that deep into the cave. She called his name. He didn’t answer, but she thought she heard a rasping, indrawn breath, which gave her hope.

  She pressed close to the wall and groped her way along the passage until it came to an end. She could not see, but the air smelled of sulfur and she had the impression of a vast chamber opening up before her. She called Dalgren’s name again, and again heard the rasping breath. She crept toward the sound, feeling her way with her hands outthrust until she bumped into him.

  He lay sprawled on the floor. He was still breathing, but each breath was a shuddering struggle.

  Frightened, Kate sank down beside his head and wrapped her arms around as much of his snout as she could reach.

  “I am here, Dalgren! You are safe now. Trubgek is gone. He thinks the spell will wear off in time.”

  She heard his breath sigh out of him. And though she waited, he did not draw breath again.

  “No! Don’t stop breathing!” she cried. “Fight! You have to fight!”

  Dalgren did not stir. Kate laid her cheek on his snout, on the cool, smooth scales.

  “Breathe, Dalgren,” she said softly. “I need you.”

  She waited and waited and knew he was dead, and then Dalgren shuddered and drew in a long, slow breath. He let it out and drew in another, each breath seeming to come a little more easily than the last.

  Kate sighed in relief and smiled, tasting tears in her mouth.

  “I’m getting you all wet,” she said, wiping his snout with her kerchief.

  Dalgren grunted and croaked feebly, “The spell…”

  “I have it,” said Kate. “Don’t worry.”

  Dalgren grunted again. His front claws scraped against the floor. He thumped the stone with his tail.

  “Put the scroll on the ground in front of me. Then go back to Sophia. It won’t be safe for you in here.”

  “You’re too weak to do any spell casting,” Kate argued. “I’m not leaving—”

  “Do as I say, Kate,” said Dalgren harshly.

  He had never used that tone with her before. She placed the linen scroll on the stone floor and smoothed it with her hands, then stood up and made her way out of the chamber. She didn’t go back to Sophia, however. She stayed where she could keep watch on him.

  Dalgren breathed a jet of fire on the scroll. The linen instantly burst into flame, but the constructs were more difficult to destroy. Etched in fire, they rose into the air, as though trying to flee destruction, and hung in front of Dalgren. He breathed on them again, not fire, but magic.

  The constructs had been laid down in layers, overlapping one another. As his breath destroyed the outer sigils, they began to blaze and give off sparks. He breathed again and the magic ate away at the sigils, breaking the constructs. The fire burned hotter and brighter. The sigils glowed, white hot, searing Kate’s eyes. She had to close them to avoid the intense heat.

  When the blaze died, Kate opened her eyes and rubbed them to try to see again, then stole back into the room. Dalgren had collapsed onto the floor, his strength gone. He looked at Kate, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. In front of him lay a pile of smoldering ashes.

  “This will never kill another dragon,” he said.

  Kate ground the ashes into the stone with the heel of her boot. “Trubgek said he didn’t need the spell to kill dragons.”

  “He doesn’t,” Dalgren growled. “You should have shot him.”

  “Fine words, coming from a dragon who vowed never to take a human life,” Kate scoffed.

  She sat down by his side on the stone floor. Daylight was starting to filter into the cave, enough to allow her to see.

  “Anyway, he’s gone. The dragon-killing spell is gone and that’s an end to it and to him,” she said. “We have to decide what to do. We can’t stay here. Sophia and I are starving. We need to eat and then we have to find a way for her to return to Rosia—”

  “I’m not going to Rosia,” said Sophia, walking into the chamber. “I won’t leave while Thomas and Phillip are in danger.”

  “I thought you were standing guard,” said Kate.

  “I left Bandit to keep watch. He’ll warn us,” said Sophia.

  She saw the startled look on Kate’s face and laughed. “I was teasing. I don’t think we need to worry. That man won’t be back. We know Dalgren took a vow never to kill a human, but Trubgek doesn’t know that.”

  “True enough,” Kate conceded.

  Sophia returned the pistol to Kate and then sat down beside her. She wrapped herself in her cloak and drew her knees up to her chin. “I wish you hadn’t mentioned food. I wasn’t hungry before. How is Dalgren?”

  The dragon lay sprawled on the floor, legs splayed, his chin resting on the stone. He scraped his claws on the floor and twitched his tail.

  “The spell is wearing off. It’s going to take time. So if you won’t leave Haever, where can you go that is safe? No one will recognize me, but you can’t walk down a street without drawing a crowd.”

  Sophia smiled. “On the contrary, everyone in Haever knows the notorious Captain Kate.”

  “That’s an idea,” Kate said thoughtfully. “Captain Kate! We will go to Miss Amelia’s house. She will know what to do. She might know where to find Sir Henry.”

  “And we can tell her what we found out about Smythe,” Sophia added eagerly. “She can expose him in the newspaper, tell the world he assassinated Queen Mary—”

  “The queen is dead?” Dalgren gasped, appalled. “How? What happened?”

  “I forgot you’ve been living in a cave,” Kate said, rubbing his snout with affection.

  “You need to tell me what is going on,” Dalgren said, glowering. “Why is the Freyan army chasing you? How did you meet up with the princess?”

  “It’s a long story, Dalgren,” said Kate, sighing. “A long, long story.”

  “Apparently I’m not going anywhere until this spell wears off,” said Dalgren, adding gruffly, “So you might as well start at the beginning.”

  TEN

  Henry Wallace was annoyed. Someone was flicking water in his face and refused to stop. He kept shouting at the person to go away and leave him alone, but the person paid no heed to him. Finally Henry grew extremely angry and lashed out with his fist.

  “Ah, good,” said Alan. “He’s c
oming around.”

  “About goddamn time,” Randolph said.

  Just as Simon flicked more water into his face, Henry opened his eyes.

  “Stop that!” Henry shouted, or at least he thought he had shouted. His words came out a pitiable mumble.

  He tried to sit up, only to feel what seemed to be rockets explode inside his skull. He groaned, and Alan gently pressed him back down.

  “Steady, there. Take it easy. You’ve had a nasty knock on the head.”

  “For a time we feared we were going to goddamn lose you,” said Randolph gruffly. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose.

  “What is your name?” Simon asked him. “What year is it?”

  “Why? Have you forgotten?” Henry demanded, annoyed.

  “He’s all right,” said Alan, smiling.

  Henry grunted. He was in Simon’s bedroom, lying on the bed with his friends gathered around him. Alan sat next to him on the bed, Randolph stood at the foot, and Simon was beside the bed in his chair. They were all disheveled and dirty, bruised and bloodied. Randolph’s left wrist was tied up in a sling, and Alan had a bandage wrapped around his arm.

  “Seriously, how do you feel?” Simon asked Henry, taking his pulse. “I know your head must hurt like the devil, but are you experiencing pain anywhere else? Stomach? Liver? I’m checking for internal injuries.”

  “My liver is fine,” Henry snapped. He shoved aside Simon’s hand and tried again to sit up.

  Pain sliced through his skull, seeming to crack it open and lay bare his brains for all the world to see. A wave of nausea swept over him.

  “He’s going to be sick,” Simon predicted. “Hold his head, Alan. Randolph, fetch the wastebasket.”

  Henry threw up and then fell back with a groan. He closed his eyes, but that made him feel worse, so he opened them again. The room was bright with sunlight and he was puzzled. Last he remembered, it had been night.

  Henry looked out the door of the bedroom into Simon’s office. Books covered the floor. Most astonishingly, he could see trees through the window.