Chapter 17
Searer of Bones
Yield to you? You may as well request the hurricane to succumb to your breath. The mountains to bow to your height. The fire to burn from your heat. - Harth
--
Jazlyn pulled apart the drapes that hung over her bed to discover a folded yellow parchment on her pillow. The note was written in unfamiliar handwriting: magi in Plague Room. Your father up to no good. You are in danger. Burn this note. It was signed Rebel.
She read the message thrice, then paced the room, contemplating. Who could have left it? Her new maid, Ravenna? Impossible, maids weren't literate. Could it have been Gol or Haldur? Neither would she have access to her room. Verica? Why would she bother to leave a cryptic note? Org? Now she was just being ridiculous.
“The note suggests I visit the Plague Room,” Jazlyn thought. “Perhaps I’ll do just that."
"Perhaps this Rebel wants you to go there, in the hope that you contract the disease and die,” Asgaroth said.
"Maybe I should die," Jazlyn mused. "Then you would die with me and the world would be safe."
"Safe?” Asgaroth asked. “You are badly misinformed. Do you know who started the Second Dark War? Darius Dragonking, King of Fire and Light. And his Sword of Luminosity brought death to so many. And your father is as bad as he ever was. You Red-Landers, you're red from the blood on your hands, not the fire in your veins."
Her head ached as one of Asgaroth’s memories pounded through her mind.
She was Asgaroth now, sitting across a stone table from Darius Dragonking. The fool didn’t even realize he had crumbs in his long red beard. He shouted about borders as usual. Asgaroth let his two young sons, still in their twenties, argue for him. Dakarth and Karsgoth were better at it than he was already, even at such a young age. They cared more. Asgaroth was tired of it. The same old argument that went nowhere.
Asgaroth found his eyes straying more to Darius’s wife, a mortal of such beauty that the Gods Above surely sculpted her: sparkling eyes, magic smile, and blonde curls cascading on sculpted bare shoulders. She was a work of art greater than any other, but the work of art was marred, a bruise inflicted upon her eye.
Darius’s work. To hit a woman was despicable. True, Asgaroth himself would hit the Shadowqueen or the Weaver, should he get the chance, but that would be in battle. To strike a woman like this was against the will of the Silver Lady. The Dragonking was a monster and deserved to die, and if his soldiers chose to support him, well, then they must die too. That was the way of it.
Asgaroth’s memory faded.
"You loved this Lyssa, didn't you?" Jazlyn thought. "I'm sorry you lost her. Finding out my mother dived into Cook’s Lake calling my name-."
"You dare compare your petty loss to mine?” Asgaroth said, “You’re a gnat."
“And you’re a voice inside a gnat’s head.”
“Not for long.”
There was smugness in Asgaroth’s tone that prickled Jazlyn’s skin. Did the Bone King have a plan to escape? And who left the note? How could someone have obtained access to her bedroom?
Ravenna might have seen something. Jazlyn went into the main room and shook Ravenna, who lay sleeping on a divan. She sputtered and sat up. "What ails My Lady? Is it your headaches again?"
"I require strong tea."
"Yes, My Lady.”
Aloud, she asked, "Did anyone enter my chamber today?"
Ravenna filled a kettle from a basin of water. "Not that I noticed, Your Highness. But I’m afraid I sleep most sound."
"I don't trust this Ravenna,” Asgaroth said.
"And I smell a distrusting dictator who thinks killing people is okay as long as you’re just making a monument out of their bones. How could a simple maid conduct espionage and rebellion?”
“Why not? Who better to spy than a maid who can overhear lords and ladies talking with ease? You lot keep your pompous noses up so high, you'd never see her. And consider this, she may not be a peasant at all. She speaks too well. I smell a spy." "
Jazlyn’s insides squirmed. She knew nothing about Ravenna's life before she came to work for her.
"Ravenna, I don't know much about you. What was your mother like?"
"If it pleases My Lady, I'd prefer not to talk about it."
“You see? She avoids the question,” Asgaroth said.
“Of course she avoids it. Her mother might have died, "Jazlyn thought. “When I found my mother died it made me…the note was signed rebel. Someone who’d have reason to hate our government.” Aloud, Jazlyn asked, "What do you think of the manner in which my father rules Helos?"
Ravenna let out a tiny chuckle before she made her face stone again.
Jazlyn raised an eyebrow. "That was a question, not a jest."
Ravenna placed the kettle over the hearth. "I'm sorry, My Lady. Why ask me? I'm just a maid, and never offer my opinions on matters of weight."
"Why not? Do maids not have brains?"
"In spades, Your Highness. That's why we don't offer our opinions."
This time it was Jazlyn who smiled. It was the first smile she’d produced since she’d found out the manner of her mother's death. She died in boiling water, screaming my name. The smile evaporated.
The amulet around Jazlyn's neck grew warm. For a moment, Jazlyn thought she heard a woman's voice whispering, but she couldn’t make out the words
”Did you hear something?” Jazlyn asked Asgaroth. “A woman’s voice?"
"Death-speech."
Jazlyn recalled what she knew about Death-speech. It was one of the forbidden forms of magic. There were no authorized Death-speech mages in Helos, but there was the Temple of Shadows in Kaldia where it was still practiced. Was the voice Jazlyn heard the voice of the dead? The thought sent a chill down her spine. She was being foolish, likely imagining things.
Jazlyn studied the portrait of the Dragonking that hung on the rear wall. Darius rode on the back of his dragon, an imperious look upon his bearded face.
"Did Dragonking truly beat and kill his own wife?" Jazlyn asked.
An image flashed through her mind. She was Asgaroth, holding back tears. She was dead. His world was over. Darius would pay. "Are you sure? He killed her?"
"Three of our contacts confirmed it, father," Karsgoth said. Asgaroth drew his Sword of Night. It swirled like stars. "Then he shall pay."
The memory disappeared, but Asgaroth's sadness and anger lingered inside Jazlyn, like a tide had just come in and washed away everything precious with it.
"I've been led to think of Asgaroth as the monster and Darius the saint, but things aren't that simple," Jazlyn thought.
"The Land of Light- more like the Land of Lies,” Asgaroth said, ”How do you think it feels for me, looking at his painting, seeing the face of the man who murdered my love? Darius did not love Lyssa. He kept wives like the Sky Raiders keeps wolves. She was nothing but chattel to him, and everything in the world to me."
"You Immortals were not Gods," Jazlyn mused. "You're just fools like us."
"I'm nothing like you."
“And I thank the Source for that.”
“One day, I’ll be free of you and then I’ll―”
“Tear my bones out?”
“One by one.”
"Are you alright, My Lady?" Ravenna asked. "You were lost in thought."
Jazlyn turned to face her maid. "Ravenna, I command you to answer my question honestly and plainly. I will breathe no word of reproach for an answer. However, silence I will consider deliberate insubordination."
Ravenna brushed her black curls behind her ears. "Very well, but I hold you to you oath, for what I speak might be construed as treason. These arrests of magi are unjust. Your father and others practice magic, and yet they arrest others for doing the same. What's more, it is unwise. The magi are one of the lines of the defense. Imprisoning them is as dangerous as surrendering our arms and dragon. My own parents are now in the pl...are in custody."
> "It's you!” Jazlyn exclaimed. “You left me the note."
Ravenna paled. "That wasn't me."
"What wasn’t you? You never asked what note. And you were about to say Plague Room."
Ravenna's face paled. The kettle was hissing.
This is my chance. Vengeance for what was done to my mother. Justice.
"Ravenna, you need not worry. I won't tell." Jazlyn squeezed Ravenna's hands. "Oh, Ravenna, don't you see? I want vengeance for my mother. I want to be a rebel."
--
"The dragon is here," Wayden meant for his voice to sound brave, but it came out in a squeak.
“I hear her. The deaf hear her.” Swiftrider’s brow creased and his eyes narrowed in determination. Green Lightning hissed, and flicked her tongue. Mist rose from her scaled snout.
Several sentries sank to their knees and nocked arrows. Others raised steel-tipped javelins. What good were spears and long bows against a dragon’s thick-scaled hide? How would chainmail protect against dragon fire? In the stories, the knights triumphed, but in the histories it was the dragons.
The wiry she-dragon was overhead now, morning sun glinting off her glistening white wings. The Flame’s description had been accurate: not much larger than a war horse, with a cat-like face. She let out a belch of flame. Wayden hoped the creature didn’t set the forest on fire.
Every emotion and its opposite seemed to be racing through his body: dread and excitement, terror and wonder, despair, and hope. Maybe he could do it- control the dragon. A vision of him on dragon back flying to the Nest. Gar Skymaster would be there trembling, when Wayden and the dragon came there, ready to consume him. He would beg for his life, before being engulfed in flame. He could do it. He just had to believe in himself. Wayden reached out with his mind, ready to command the ivory beast to land.
“By wing and fire I command you,” Wayden thought. “I seize your heart. Your scales are my armor. I wear you.”
When Wayden influenced a rat or a dog, their minds would bend like wet clay. The dragon was more like kiln-fired brick. "Man Child, your flesh is weak. What are you to Harth? Harth was born amongst earth and fire. Harth’s mother’s milk was lava. Harth is searer of bones, eater of flesh, and burner of worlds. The man child is nothing."
"I’m your master. You will yield to me!"
“My master?” The dragon was already flying away, disappearing into a patch of cloud. “Not you, weak child. Yield to you? You may as well request the hurricane to succumb to your breath. The mountains to bow to your height. The fire to burn from your heat."
“She’s getting away!” Ko shouted.
“I can’t control her!” Wayden retorted.
Ko grabbed at the spear-post fence. Ko’s veil quivered and a vein protruded from his forehead. "Failure is unacceptable. Swiftrider, take the Beast Tongue. Bring back that dragon or don’t come back at all."
"Aye, Lord Ko." The Royal Companion pulled Wayden onto Green Lightning. The scaled horse galloped, clawed hooves digging into the ground. Only two of the other Flickers had their horses ready, but they soon fell far behind Green Lightning’s reckless pace. The creature raced like a Tulkarian jungle cat, leaping over logs, boulders, and streams, swerving between tree trunks, forcing riders to duck beneath low lying branches. Trees whirred by, and Wayden held onto Swiftrider for his life.
"This isn’t going to work," Wayden shouted. "The dragon’s will is too strong for me. I've tried my hardest."
"Keep trying,” Swiftrider answered, ducking beneath a low-lying hickory branch. “Or Ko will have our hides."
“I’d rather Ko have it than the dragon.”
“Courage, boy.” Swiftrider steered Green Lightning around an elm. The horse leapt a downed log.
"Is this courage?” Wayden wondered. “It feels a bit like madness.”
“The Royal Companions often confuse one for the other,” Kolram said.
For a moment, Wayden was sure they had lost the dragon. He wished they had, but Green Lightning was too fast for his own good. The dragon turned around and was flying at them, instead of away.
“She’s tired of being chased.” Wayden thought.
“And decided to have us for a light snack.” Kolram replied.
Wayden’s shoulders tightened, and he tasted the fear deep in his throat.
Green Lightning leapt a large moss-covered boulder and burst into a grassy meadow dotted with fallen leaves.
"Wonderful, we'll be an easy target for dragon fire," Wayden thought.
As the dragon grew closer, Wayden balled up all the strength he could muster. “Dragon! Tail, claw, fangs, and flame, you are mine. You will bend like grass to me. I command it.”
“Puny man child. You will not own a single scale. I feel your wolf riders approaching, but they will avail no better than you did.”
“Wolf riders…Sky Raiders? Hart, listen to me, you have to get out of here. The leader of the Sky Raiders is a bad man and a powerful Beast Tongue. Don’t let him come in range of you.”
“Harth is scared of no man.”
Wayden could feel Gar's presence now. It was approaching like a storm.
"Please, Harth, listen to me. You must flee." But it was too late. Wayden could hear Gar's voice in the dragon's mind. It felt like nothing Wayden had ever experienced, it was like seeing a mountain for the first time, when all one had ever seen before was plains. Gar’s power dwarfed Harth’s, as Harth’s strength dwarfed Kolram’s.
"No...impossible…such strength. No mortal could possess...." the Dragon thought.
"Flee!" Wayden cried out, feeling the power of Gar’s magic seize the beast.
“Too late,” Harth thought.
“No! Gar can't win. It isn't fair.”
Wings beat overhead, furs and feather became the sky. Wayden's stomach churned. The Sky Raiders...they have Harth and they’ll have me next.
Wayden shouted to the Royal Companion, "Sir Swiftrider, I’ve lost. Gar Skymaster has control of the dragon. We have to get out of here.”
"Nay. We bring the dragon back with us, or we shall not return at all.”
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
"The fool won't understand this is a battle we cannot win," Kolram said.
The dragon landed in the clearing, not ten feet from Wayden and the stalwart Royal Companion. The dragon’s head was bowed, and her tongue flicked against her lips, a sign of submission.
"Take―" Whatever Swiftrider was going to say was as buried as the arrow that thudded into his neck. Blood spurted on Wayden's face and the Dragon Knight fell off Green Lightning, landing head-first against a rock. Wayden managed to hold onto the scaled horse, even with his eyes closed and his stomach roiling in horror.
"Swiftrider!” Wayden cried. “No! Am I cursed, that death follows me like a dog?"
"Remain calm, we have to escape," Kolram said, "Think. You cannot control the dragon, but you can control Green Lightning. Get us out of here."
Wayden spread his fingers and turned his wrists. He shouted aloud, "Hoof, and mane, run like thunder, save us from this colossal bl―"
A weighted net came down on top of Wayden, sending him sprawling off the horse, and onto the pine needle covered ground, in a tangled heap of hemp. The scaled horse bolted into the trees, several arrows embedded in her side.
The wolves descended, landing in a circle around Wayden. The more he struggled against the net, the more it ensnared him in its hempen tentacles. A tall Sky Raider wearing a lacquered goat's mask leapt off a winged wolf.
Wayden’s stomach lurched. The goat man that had taken Mavik was no hallucination. Here he was in all his horror. His goat’s face was a lacquered mask. He wore studded leather and his hands glowed, as he grabbed Wayden and dragged him from beneath the net.
"It's Kolram’s host," Goat said.
Gar Skymaster fingered his necklace. “I thought I felt a gnat pulling at Harth’s mind.”
The necklace...Rif had said Gar’s necklace might b
e Raylar’s God-weapon, a power amplifier. No wonder Gar was so powerful. It was all in the necklace. It didn’t matter though where the power came from, it just mattered that Gar possessed it. Wayden was helpless.
Wayden squirmed, but a second Sky Raider helped Goat tie him up, while a third stuffed a gag in his mouth. He wanted to retch, not so much from the taste of the filthy rag, but from the flavor of failure. A dozen feet away, Gar Skymaster might as well have been a million leagues out of Wayden's reach.
The Sky Raiders forced Wayden upon a skywolf, its matted fur stinking of dried and frozen excrement. Leg straps were tightened around him, binding him to the wolf. His wrists were bound and fastened to a hemp cord that stretched from the saddle through a leather loop.
There was no escape.
Soul Hosts Page 17