Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

by Margaret Weis

  “His Majesty … uh … is fine … I suppose,” said Kate. She started to sidle away. “I should really catch up with Dalgren—”

  “Did Thomas send the black ship to attack the Brigade, Kate?” Cecile asked. Her face was pale, her voice cold. “Is he declaring war on Rosia?”

  Kate whirled to face her, indignant and angry. “No, my lady! Of course not! How could you think such a thing? He sent me here to warn the Brigade. Thomas has been doing what he could to stop this madness. King Ullr and that evil man, Smythe, are behind all of this. Thomas spied on the king and discovered Ullr is planning to invade Freya on Hallen Day.”

  “So Sir Henry feared,” said Cecile. “He did not know the date, but he feared it would be soon, and I agree. The Rosian navy has been tracking the movements of the Guundaran fleets. They are massing near Freya.”

  She was silent, thinking. She walked back over to the wall and suddenly stiffened. Leaning over the wall, she stared intently down into the Breath.

  “What is that out there?” Cecile asked, pointing off shore.

  Kate ran to the wall and looked down. The mists were boiling, frothing and bubbling in the moonlight as something darker than the darkness rose up out of the Deep Breath.

  “The black ship!” Kate gasped.

  She cast a desperate glance back at the fort, at the dragons and humans.

  Cecile continued to watch. “The ship is rising fast, Kate. I can see the tops of the masts.”

  Kate looked out into the Breath. The ship was wreathed with mists and she could not see what was happening on deck. But she had served aboard that ship, and she didn’t need to see. Commander Franklin would be standing at the green-beam gun, prepared to open fire the moment he had a target in sight. Kate had a vivid memory of the green beam blasting a hole in the side of the cliff.

  “Get down, my lady! Take cover behind the wall! Dalgren, to me!” Kate shouted. “You have to warn them!”

  The dragon whipped his head around. He looked first at her, then looked past her. He went rigid, his tail thudded on the ground in anger, his eyes glittered in the moonlight, and flames flickered between his clenched jaws.

  Dalgren threw back his head and trumpeted the warning. His furious roar echoed off the mountains and rebounded down the side of the cliff. He emphasized his call by belching forth a blazing ball of fire.

  Kate cast a fearful glance back at the Naofa. The fog stirred up by the ship began to flow over the wall in silver-gray waves. She could now see Commander Franklin, illuminated by the faint glow of magic cast by the green-beam gun, crouching behind it, preparing it to fire. The green glow of the gun strengthened as she watched, growing brighter until it was almost blinding.

  Cecile remained standing at the wall, gazing at the ship. Kate grabbed hold of her and dragged her to the ground, using the wall as cover. She looked back at Dalgren, back at the fort.

  Dalgren’s call had alerted humans and dragons to the danger. They might not be able to see the black ship, but they could certainly see the green glow of contramagic. Several dragons leaped into the air, the moonlight flashing on their wings. Brigade officers summoned their mounts. Dalgren was still bellowing the alarm.

  “Look out!” Kate shouted at him, though she knew he couldn’t hear her and he wouldn’t have listened anyhow.

  The Naofa fired.

  The green beam lanced high above Kate and Cecile, bathing them in bright, piercing green light. The light hurt her eyes and Kate shut them against the glare. Even then, she could still see the light blaze through her eyelids.

  Dalgren suddenly ceased to bellow. Frightened, Kate scrambled to her feet, terrified to see what had become of him.

  Dalgren had taken flight, soaring into the sky before the green beam hit. Silver moonlight flashed on his scales and shone through the thin membrane of his wings. Kate shouted and waved her arms to draw his attention as he flew overhead.

  “Strike quickly before Franklin has a chance to fire again!”

  Dalgren dipped his head in a nod and sped on.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Oh, my God!” Cecile breathed.

  She had pushed herself to a sitting position. Her hood had fallen from her head, her beautifully coiffed hair straggled over her face and into her eyes. Staring at the fort, she impatiently pushed her hair aside and Kate saw a look of horror on her face.

  “What is it, my lady?” Kate asked, frightened. “Are you hurt?”

  “I am not hurt, but I fear others are,” said Cecile. She rose unsteadily to her feet.

  Kate looked back at the fort. The beam had struck about midway between the ground level and the top of the north wall, and the green glow of contramagic was spreading from there, devouring the magical constructs. The builders had mixed magic into the mortar and used magic to strengthen walls and ceilings, and to fortify the wooden support beams.

  But the fort was old, and so were the magical constructs. Gigantic cracks opened in the walls. Huge chunks of stone broke off and smashed to the ground. And then the walls suddenly gave way and the fort broke apart and collapsed in on itself with a dull roaring groan.

  Most of the dragons inside the fort had heard Dalgren’s warning and had taken flight. Judging by the terrible screams, at least one dragon was trapped inside. Humans and the other dragons ran to the rescue, heedless of their own danger.

  “I must go,” said Cecile. “They will need my help.”

  “Warn them that the ship will fire again as soon as they recharge the weapon,” Kate told her. “I would tell them myself, but I cannot leave Dalgren.”

  “God be with him,” said Cecile.

  She glanced at the black ship and Dalgren flying rapidly to the attack. The green glow of contramagic had faded to almost nothing now, but it would strengthen as Franklin used his magic to recharge the weapon.

  Cecile gathered up her skirts and ran toward the ruin of the fort. Kate watched Dalgren.

  She wished desperately she was out there with him, but he had to take on this battle alone. At least she could let him know she was with him in spirit. She waited by the wall, her fists clenched, watching as he swooped down on the black ship.

  “Hit the masts! The balloons!” Kate yelled, beating her fists on the wall, shouting directions he couldn’t possibly hear.

  The crew had caught sight of the dragon by now and opened fire with the swivel guns mounted on the rails. Dalgren was a moving target, however, and dragons are difficult to hit under the best of circumstances. The spray of bullets from a swivel gun were far more dangerous to a dragon than cannon fire. The bullets could not penetrate his scaly hide, but they could rip holes in his wings, strike him in the eyes or shatter his legs.

  But the sailors manning the swivel guns had never fought a dragon, as Kate knew, and they were making the common mistake of aiming for Dalgren’s massive body instead of trying to hit him in the head or wings. Dalgren, though, was trained in battling an enemy ship.

  He sucked in a huge breath, dove down on the ship and breathed out a sheet of flame. Fire enveloped the tops of the masts, the rigging, the sails and the balloons.

  Most ships had protective spells that would shield against flame and cannon attack. Kate had offered to place such constructs on the ship, but Franklin had been far more concerned with her work on the green-beam gun.

  Kate watched the silk balloons disappear in a whoosh of fire and howled in glee and clapped her hands.

  Dalgren circled back around to strike again.

  Flaming rigging snaked down around the crew and burning spars crashed onto the deck. The crew had to abandon the swivel guns to deal with the fires. Sailors ran to man the water pumps and grab buckets and axes.

  Two Brigade dragons who had been in the fort flew out to join in the attack, roaring defiance and fury as they came. At the sight of two more dragons, the crew gave up trying to save the ship and ran to the lifeboats to save themselves.

  Franklin alone was still on board, remaining with the green-beam gun, waitin
g with terrible calm to fire again. Kate could tell by the green glow that the gun was fully operational by now. Franklin shifted the gun on its swiveling platform and Kate saw that he was not aiming at the fort. He was aiming at Dalgren.

  The dragon was planning to rake the foredeck with flame and destroy the gun and he was in the direct line of fire. Kate shouted, attempting to warn him.

  Dalgren saw his danger, but he continued flying straight toward the gun. Franklin stood behind it, holding his nerve, waiting to take his shot. The beam would strike Dalgren full in the breast.

  Kate held her breath, watching in terror.

  Dalgren snaked his body around, twisting out of range as Franklin fired. The beam lanced harmlessly into the mists. Dalgren struck the gun with his tail, lashing the weapon with a blow that pulverized the gun and smashed Franklin into a bloody ruin. The mangled gun toppled over into the Breath, along with whatever was left of Commander Franklin.

  The brigade dragons and their riders arrived in time to see the Naofa sink into the Breath in a ball of fire. Dalgren gave a proud roar and turned a somersault in midair. The brigade dragons and their riders saluted him, then flew off in pursuit of the crew, who were desperately trying to flee in lifeboats.

  Dalgren landed on the cliff near Kate and she could see bloody trails along his flanks. One of his foreclaws oozed blood, and he had an ugly gash across his snout. She shuddered, realizing how perilously close the bullets had come to blinding him.

  Dalgren didn’t see her. He was breathing heavily and staring, stricken, at the ruins of the fort where humans and dragons were working desperately to try to free the dragon trapped in the rubble.

  “I have to go help.”

  “Take me with you!” said Kate.

  She climbed onto his back, clinging to his mane, and he took to the air again. Kate could now see the extent of the destruction. The fort was nothing but a heap of shattered stone and broken beams, dust still rising from it. The dragon was trapped alive somewhere inside the ruins, screaming in agony. She had likely been asleep when the beam hit and now lay in the ruin, her body crushed beneath tons of stone.

  Kate pointed to a building near the fort.

  “Set me down on that rooftop!”

  Dalgren flew as low to the roof as he could manage. Kate slid off Dalgren’s back and managed an awkward landing, coming down on her hands and knees. She was wearing enough heavy clothing to protect her from scrapes and, blessing Amelia, she dashed down the stairs and out into the street.

  She came to a stop, arrested by a tragic sight. A Brigade officer was attempting to shift a block of stone as big as he was with his bare hands, all the while shouting encouragement to the trapped dragon. He was able to move the stone a fraction, but the movement caused one of the wooden beams to collapse, launching an avalanche of rock that struck him on the shoulder and a glancing blow to the head.

  Captain Thorgrimson shouted a warning.

  “Keep clear, Reynard! It’s not safe!”

  “She’s my partner, damn it!” the officer returned, and despite the fact that he could scarcely see for the blood pouring down his face, he continued his frantic efforts to free the trapped dragon.

  Kate judged by the horrible screams that the dragon was mortally wounded, and her heart ached for them both. Thorgrimson went over to try to persuade the man to leave.

  “I will not abandon her!” the officer cried, and aimed a savage blow at him.

  Thorgrimson calmly ducked the wild swing, then put his arm around the man’s shoulders.

  “Let the dragons do their work,” said the captain. “You’re only in the way.”

  The officer seemed to realize the truth of this, for he backed off, though he did not go far.

  Dalgren had joined a party of dragons who were shouting back and forth, devising a plan. Working together, they began to carefully lift the huge chunks of stone and mangled beams. They had to work with agonizing slowness, figuring out which blocks were safe to move, stopping if it appeared the rubble would shift and do even more damage.

  Kate felt helpless, standing around watching. Humans, too, had been injured, and she joined Cecile, who was organizing parties of litter bearers to carry people to the infirmary.

  “What can I do?” Kate asked.

  “The surgeon needs help,” said Cecile.

  She pointed toward the infirmary.

  Kate climbed through the rubble to reach it and offered her assistance to the Brigade surgeon. He was too busy to wonder who she was or how she got there, but set her to work. Under his direction, she splinted broken bones and bandaged lacerations.

  Cecile appeared in the doorway, the hem of her silk velvet dress filthy and soaked in blood. She had tied her hair back to be out of her way, and her face was streaked with dirt.

  “Sir, you are needed,” she said to the surgeon.

  He was wrapping a bandage around the chest of a man who had broken several ribs. He cast her a questioning glance and everyone in the infirmary stopped talking to hear her answer.

  “The dragons have managed to reach Lady Rowan,” Cecile said. “There is nothing they can do for her. Her partner is with her. He is injured, but he refuses to leave her.”

  “I will come,” said the surgeon.

  He left with Cecile.

  “Poor Reynard,” said someone. “He will take this loss hard. He and Lady Rowan have been riding together since the Brigade was re-formed after the war.”

  Kate thought about how she would feel if she lost Dalgren and she went outside to see how he was faring. He would take the death hard.

  The dying dragon lay on the stone amid the rubble, her breath coming in shuddering, pain-filled gasps. Her partner was on his knees at her side, kneeling in her blood. He rested his hand on her head, gently stroking her and talking to her in a low voice, his words for her alone.

  As he kept talking, eventually the painful gasps eased. The dragon gazed up at him, her breathing slowed.

  “Fly free, Rowan,” he said to her.

  Her breathing stopped.

  The officer reached out to gently close her eyes. Those gathered around them allowed him a quiet moment to be alone with the dead, then Cecile glided forward and put her hand on his arm and whispered something to him. The surgeon approached, saying he needed to tend to his injury. The officer shook his head.

  Covered in blood, he pushed away both the surgeon and Cecile and walked off by himself.

  Countess Anasi raised her voice in a keening wail. Dalgren and the other dragons formed a ring around the body of their dead comrade and joined Anasi, singing in their own language, lifting Lady Rowan’s spirit skyward so that she might forever fly free.

  The song was beautiful and haunting. Many in the crowd bowed their heads, some began to pray, and others joined in. Kate wiped her eyes.

  After the song ended, the dragons set to work building a pyre. They would spend the night keeping watch over the dead, then, with the coming of dawn, consign the body to flames. Dalgren was about to join them, to fly to the forests to gather firewood.

  “Do not go with them, Nameless Dragon!” Countess Anasi shouted.

  “Bloody hell!” Kate swore and started to intervene, only to find Captain Thorgrimson and the Countess de Marjolaine blocking her way.

  “Leave them be, Kate,” the countess advised. “This is between dragons.”

  “Not if that old biddy is going to keep tormenting him! I’ll … I’ll rip out her scales!” Kate cried fiercely.

  Thorgrimson gave a faint smile. His face was pale beneath his dark beard. He had a long night’s work ahead of him and undoubtedly many more sleepless nights after that.

  “The dragons are not going to torment him, Captain,” he said.

  Dalgren stood stiffly at attention. He was wounded and weary, but he faced them with dignity, his head held high.

  “They are going to thank him and lift the Banishing,” said Cecile.

  “Lord Dalgren is a hero this night, and so are you, Ca
ptain,” said Thorgrimson. “If you had not warned us, the attack could have killed a great many more dragons and humans and might well have meant the end of the Brigade.”

  Kate didn’t know where to look or how to respond. In the newspaper, Captain Kate and her Dragon Corsairs were heroes in every issue, capturing Rosian treasure ships and outwitting evil barons. Her fictional self always made some gallant and witty remark before boldly flying off to fight again in the next installment.

  Kate did not feel gallant or bold or proud. She was sick to her stomach, shaking with fatigue, and emotionally drained. She could still see the deadly green glow of contramagic and hear Lady Rowan’s screams. Kate wanted only to find somewhere dark and safe where she could sleep until the screaming in her head stopped.

  She guessed that Dalgren was feeling the same, only worse.

  “Thank you, sir, but I need to be with my friend,” Kate said.

  “I understand how you feel, Captain, but first I need to know who sent this black ship and why,” Thorgrimson stated. “Lives are at stake. Was this attack a Freyan declaration of war against Rosia? How did you know about it? Are more black ships coming?”

  “You don’t have to worry about any more black ships,” said Kate. “The Naofa was the last one. Now I need to be with my friend.”

  “Captain, this is important—” Cecile said.

  “So is Dalgren,” Kate said.

  She walked away before they could stop her.

  Anasi was speaking in the dragons’ language as Kate took her place at Dalgren’s side. Anasi acknowledged her presence with a look and a nod. Kate rested her hand on Dalgren’s foreclaw to let him know she was with him, and stood in silent support.

  Anasi concluded her speech by speaking Dalgren’s dragon name. Kate could not pronounce his name in his own language, but she recognized the sounds and understood their import.

  Anasi had called Dalgren by his name. He was no longer Nameless Dragon.

  Dalgren replied in Freyan in deference to Kate, so she could understand.

  “I thank you for your commendation, Countess Anasi, but I do not feel I have done anything that would warrant lifting the Banishing. I was only doing my duty. I deserve my punishment and when time permits I will return to Glasearrach to work with Father Jacob.”