“You were right,” he acknowledged.
The barest smile touched the man’s lips. He flicked a glance skyward. “So, I see.”
“What did you see?”
The younger man unfurled his chart again and the astrologers of the court clustered around him. “That Prince Cantos would decline to wed Princess Drakina, that he would send a minion to the ceremony in his own stead, that Princess Drakina would take exception to this.”
“And?” Kraw prompted.
He winced. “That she would retaliate.”
“That none would be able to stop her,” added the oldest astrologer, pointing to the new arrival’s chart.
The astrologers winced and sighed as one. “And that there would be tumult between the two royal families as a result.”
“How did you make these calculations?” Astrum demanded, suspicion in his tone. “Our charts of the day look vastly different from this one.”
“I was taught a method that reveals secrets more readily than traditional methods…”
“Who taught you?” Astrum boomed, but the viceroy pushed the astrologer aside.
“There is no time to compare technique,” Kraw declared with an impatience he thought justifiable. “What is the princess Drakina going to do?”
The astrologers turned to the new arrival, letting him share the news.
“Whatever she does, sir, he doesn’t survive it.”
Kraw pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away, thinking furiously. He had thought this a poor match from the outset, not only because there was no sign that Cantos was the Carrier of the Seed, but because the natures of the betrothed pair were so different. It made no sense to him to arrange a dynastic match to ensure an alliance, knowing it would be barren.
But King Ouros was not to be defied.
It also didn’t seem right to Kraw that a man would show such fear of his intended, even before the nuptials. It certainly wasn’t fitting for a crown prince to cower. It was sensible to have a measure of caution when dealing with the royal family of Incendium, but showing fear, in Kraw’s experience was a strategic error. There was not a predator in all of the galaxy that did not become more predatory when taunted with the scent of terror. It was in their very making.
And now, Cantos had insulted the dragon shifter he feared. In fact, he had insulted the entire house of Incendium. Kraw doubted the matter would end well. He suspected, in fact, that it would end in a conflagration. The only possible advantage to the situation was that so many dignitaries and diplomats were gathered in the palace and had witnessed the insult. A tribunal might find justification in whatever actions were taken.
There were a thousand things to do to manage the situation, and only one individual Kraw could dispatch to do the most important one.
“You,” he said, pointing at the newly arrived astrologer. “What is your name?”
“Nero, sir.” He bowed, his manner expectant.
“Can you fly a Starpod?”
The would-be astrologer straightened and his eyes brightened. “I’ve flown the sim at the annual fair and won a prize.”
The other astrologers chortled at this. “It is not the same,” Astrum muttered, then reached for the chart. “Just as this is not the same as our calculations. I would review your findings.”
The arrival flicked the chart out of Astrum’s hands and rolled it again. “It is mine.” Tension crackled between them.
“Where are you from?” Astrum demanded but Kraw silenced him with a gesture.
“Your sim experience will have to suffice,” he said. “Go to the star station and take a Starpod. Tell them it is on my authority, if they ask. Follow the princess and try to stop her from doing anything rash.”
The younger man looked skeptical, which Kraw took as another sign of his intelligence. “Is that possible, sir?”
“Probably not, but I expect a full report upon your return.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
There was an explosion from the star station and even from this distance, flames and smoke could be discerned. Kraw feared that was just the beginning. The green dragon soared into the sky again, carrying something.
Probably an injured clerk.
Kraw grimaced. “You had better hurry, Nero. Good luck.”
* * *
The Starpod wasn’t at all like the sim at the annual fair.
Nero had expected it to be newer and more sophisticated. He wasn’t expecting it to be so radically different that it might have been a different vessel altogether. He supposed that Mola was a long way from the bright lights of the capital city.
There was a clear sphere in the middle of the dash, which appeared to float in its holder. At least that was familiar—even if it didn’t have directions inscribed on it like the one at the fair. He considered the smooth control panel with something like horror, which the attendant took for awe.
What if he crashed it?
“Only the newest and the best for the imperial fleet,” that man said. “Voice activated. You’re going to love it.” He patted the dash and it illuminated with a thousand pinpoints of light. “These babies rock.” He grinned. “Of course, you’ll need all the help you can get if you’re going to catch Drakina.”
With that, he was gone, the door sealed, and Nero strapped in. There was nothing on the dash that resembled the controls he knew.
Voice activated.
“Prepare for departure,” he commanded, feeling a little silly talking to himself. The engine purred to life, which meant he wasn’t actually talking to himself. “Mission is to pursue Princess Drakina,” he said with more confidence. “Please request clearance from Incendium Control for lift-off and for departure trajectory.” Glittering light surrounded the vehicle, which was a hundred times better than the sim.
Nero’s heart was racing.
“You have right of way, Incendium six-five-nine,” came a voice, which must have been from Incendium Control. “All pathways are cleared for you. At your leisure.”
Nero surveyed the smooth dash again.
“At your leisure,” repeated the ship.
Well, there was no reason to delay.
“Loose moorings. Power thrusters.” Nero nodded as the ship followed his command. The station was crowded with vehicles, and he knew that he was being watched by others. Even the most junior mechanic probably had more flight experience than Nero did.
The princess was barely a speck in the sky.
“Lock coordinates on Princess Drakina,” he commanded. The floating sphere illuminated and Nero closed his hand around it. He saw a crosshair of light appear on the inside of the windshield and rolled the ball until the crosshair locked on the silhouetted dragon. He tapped it when nothing happened and a light flashed.
“Coordinates set,” the ship declared. “Departure imminent. Six, five, four…”
At zero, it rose from the landing pad, so smoothly and quietly that Nero wanted to applaud.
“Trajectory is verified to be clear,” the ship continued. “All systems go.”
Nero gripped the armrests, sensing that the ship waited on him. “Pursue,” he declared and nearly laughed out loud when the ship shot through the air. He’d never felt or witnessed such acceleration and he had no doubt that there had been a sonic boom over Incendium behind him. If they’d made sims like this, every boy in Incendium would want to be a star pilot.
Instead of just most of them.
Best of all, Nero was closing on the princess, even though she had a head start.
Drakina flew high in the sky. He’d thought she intended to drop the clerk and let him die from impact, but maybe she meant for the poor man to suffocate. Nero’s mouth went dry as he realized the perils of service in the vicinity of royal dragon shifters.
The price of being a messenger with bad tidings.
It was easy to see that he could find himself in the clerk’s company.
Suddenly Drakina was surrounded by a clear sphere, and Nero knew that t
he stories about the abilities of the royal dragons to create a crystal orb were all true.
He also knew what she was going to do, right before she disappeared.
She only needed an orb if she was going to transport, and she could only use the orb to transport somewhere comparatively close.
Nero’s mouth went dry when he guessed her destination.
Regalia.
The twin planet in this system.
The home of Prince Canto, the betrothed of Drakina.
She was going after him.
“Target is generating an orb,” Nero informed the ship. “What destinations are in range?”
“There are three wormholes on the target’s trajectory,” the ship said. “The first…”
“Does one go to Regalia?” Nero demanded.
“Yes.” The ship sounded a bit huffy, perhaps because it had been interrupted. “Only one of the three.”
The orb shone and Nero knew it was complete. The princess, orb and clerk vanished from view. Only a wink of light flashed where they’d last been. Then it faded as well.
“Target has entered transport,” the ship reported. “Please advise.”
“Pursue,” he commanded. “Use the wormhole to Regalia.”
“Be advised that entering a wormhole so quickly after another vessel will result in turbulence,” the ship said.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Various life forms find it uncomfortable or even painful. The ship’s integrity will not be compromised.”
“Pursue,” Nero repeated, hoping it wasn’t too awful. He didn’t have time to wait for the turbulence to subside.
“Prepare for transport in ten seconds,” the ship declared. “Ten, nine, eight…” The ship counted down as they shot even higher into the sky. Nero knew they had to be close to the point where Drakina had disappeared. He knew that the wormholes were mapped and hard to discern with the naked eye.
Suddenly, the Starpod shimmered, shuddered, and Nero’s ears popped. A maelstrom swirled around the ship, obscuring the view. Even though he’d only ridden the sim, he knew this was the effect of the transport.
They had entered the wormhole.
The reality was much worse than the sim. He felt as if his skin had been turned inside out, his bones folded and his muscles stretched taut. His stomach heaved. Nero closed his eyes and said a prayer, wishing he’d been a little more diligent in his attendance of religious services.
Maybe he should have cast his own horoscope. At least then he’d know whether he would survive this adventure.
This day.
But no, Sapior had always warned against that.
A second later, the ship shimmered and shuddered again. The maelstrom swirled, looking more like spinning stars. Nero’s skin was turned back the way he preferred it to be, his bones were unfolded and his muscles contracted to their usual dimensions. He willed his stomach to settle.
He was very glad—and intrigued—to see the forests of another planet beneath him. They were different from the forests he knew, but reassuringly like the vids he’d seen of Regalia. The tree branches glittered with a coating of hoarfrost, a chilly sight that made him shiver, even though he was warm inside the Starpod. The sun seemed fainter here and its light more cold. He had the strange feeling that he was being watched.
“Cruising altitude over Regalia, Frost Pole,” the ship informed him. “Closing on target. Sixteen hundred seconds to rendezvous.”
Nero could see the silhouette of Drakina far ahead of him. The crystal sphere popped and its shards scattered before they sparkled and disappeared. She was still in her dragon form and flew a circle around a turret perched on the top of a jagged peak. There was snow on the roof of the building, and the clouds that wreathed the peak made it look as if it towered high over Regalia. A pennant tugged at the top of the tower roof, and Nero saw it was emblazoned with the insignia of the royal house of Regalia.
A gold shield on a blue ground, with lances crossed behind it.
The dragon princess landed in the walled courtyard beside the tower, and Nero admired the accuracy of her landing. The ship was close enough for him to see that the man in her grasp was a clerk, because he was dressed in the livery of Regalia. She set him down in a courtyard with some care, and he ran for the portal without delay.
Did he flee her, or had she sent him to fetch the crown prince? Nero saw Drakina settle back on her haunches, her eyes glowing as she apparently waited, and guessed the latter.
Then she turned her gaze upon him, her eyes narrowing as the Starpod landed beside her in the courtyard. “Target reached,” the ship informed Nero. It then told him the coordinates of their location, the exterior temperature and wind direction, their proximity to the crown princess, and the amount of time he could remain and still have sufficient fuel to return to Incendium. It then opened the portal and wished him a pleasant day.
The way the princess was watching him left Nero skeptical of that possibility.
He hoped that dragons weren’t as perceptive as they were rumored to be. He liked his secrets hidden.
But there was no question of returning to Incendium without tidings. The only way forward was through, and he’d come this far. Nero straightened his tabard, gripped the hilt of his very small knife, and left the ship with as much dignity as he could muster.
A flock of dark birds took flight suddenly, revealing that they had been nestled in the crenellations of the surrounding wall. They looked black against the cold sky, and were oddly silent. They flew away in a tight formation, and Nero had the sense that they had been summoned.
Or maybe they went to report what they had seen.
He shivered again. The princess Drakina smiled at the sight of him, and Nero stood tall before her, refusing to show any fear.
Chapter Two
Drakina didn’t know him.
She would have remembered a man as beautiful as this. He was tall and muscled, broad shouldered and trim through the hips. His skin was as dark as ebony and his eyes the color of fine amber. She inhaled deeply, not really surprised to get a whiff of the grain fields of Medior, the gushing river at Mola, the seductive tinge of dreamweed.
He was from the equatorial zone of Incendium, or at least he had been there recently.
His clothing was simple but well made. He took care of his boots, and she could see that the ridiculously small blade he carried had been polished and honed. A thoughtful man, then, one who tended his responsibilities.
And one who was intrepid. He walked toward her, armed with only that small knife, wary but without hesitation.
She could have shifted shape to reassure him about her intentions, but Drakina wasn’t in a mood to reassure anyone. Instead she lowered her head, her chin almost brushing the ground, so that their gazes were level.
He flinched, but only a dragon would have seen the fleeting reaction.
She was impressed.
“Sent to witness the carnage?” she asked, keeping her voice to a low rumble.
“I believe I was sent to stop the carnage, Highness,” he said with a bow. He had a pleasing voice. Melodic. Deep. Drakina imagined he would sing well. There was a gleam in his eyes that made her think he was smarter than most. “But I know better.”
“You know better than the command of my father?”
“It was the viceroy Kraw who sent me, Highness. I would not dare to challenge an edict from the king.”
“Why do you think it can’t be stopped?” Drakina was curious, despite herself. Fury simmered within her, but the faithlessness of Canto was not this man’s fault.
He smiled ever so briefly, inclined his head as if to beg her forgiveness, then unfurled a scroll that he had been carrying on his back. She immediately saw that it was a horoscope. “If you see here, Highness, the death of Cantos at your talon is indicated in this quadrant of the chart…”
“You’re an astrologer?” He didn’t look like any of the royal astrologers. He was too young, too handsome…too charming
.
“Yes, Highness. This chart and its portent brought me to the capital city, for I sought to warn your father…”
“But you didn’t arrive in time?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Drakina smiled that he had some diplomacy. More than she did, at least. “You did arrive in time, but were not allowed to deliver your message.”
“The viceroy was very busy with so many guests.”
Drakina dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I am glad. It would have been most awkward if my father had forbidden me to avenge the insult.”
He looked discomfited with this.
“It is a question of honor,” Drakina insisted. “And the insult to my father in his own home. It could not pass unchallenged, and it is better if I do the honors, so to speak.”
“Of course, Highness.” He fixed her with a look that was surprisingly courageous. “But you surely must understand that there will be repercussions.”
“I should hope so! What kind of queen would let her son’s death go unremarked?” Drakina straightened. “I expect a massive diplomatic incident. Maybe even war.”
He was watching her. “But you guess that the inevitable tribunal will find in your favor.”
“Will they?”
He nodded, proving that he was completely unlike the royal astrologers. They never gave straight answers, must less absolute ones.
“We need more astrologers like you at court,” Drakina said. “Where are you from? Are there more like you?”
“Mola, Highness. A small town…”
“In Medior, where wizards are said to lurk in every shadow and all citizens partake of the pleasures of dreamweed.”
“Not all, Highness.”
Drakina waited.
“Children don’t partake, for example.”
She laughed but he cleared his throat.
“There are no more like me. My tutor Sapior taught me his methods before he died, for he had no child. I am the last to know his way of casting a horoscope.”
“Was he self-taught?”
“He attended the university, Highness, but was cast out for his attempt to add an unconventional methodology to the curriculum.”
Nero's Dream: A Dragons of Incendium Short Story Page 2