“You can sing for the empress in a little while,” Samara said, stepping into the boat, setting it to rocking.
“Slayer, Sprinter!” Breon called. “Don’t forget. We’re sailing for Celesgarde, in the Weeping Sisters. Look for the bleeding earth.”
“Tell them to write it down so they don’t forget,” Samara said, rolling his eyes. With that, the crew cast off and the force of the current spun them away from the ledge and out toward the open sea.
65
THE PRICE OF WINNING
Since the recapture of Fellsmarch, Hal had been able to establish limited communication with Robert in Ardenscourt.
The downrealms were restless, testing the resolve of the new regime. The royal army was still in the Fells, still unpaid, and the royal coffers were empty.
It seemed that his brother was holding his own against the ambitious thanes and their intrigues. Either that, or he didn’t want to burden his brother with southern politics. To hear him tell it, he spent most of his time fielding marriage proposals.
“You can have your pick, Hal,” he said. “Every thane in the kingdom has a daughter, and they all want to marry her off to a Matelon. You, preferably, but I’ll do as a second choice.”
There were so many reasons to stay here in the north, doing what he was good at. That’s the thing about winning, Hal thought—eventually, you have to quit fighting and govern. He knew a lot about fighting, and very little about governing.
Still—it was better than losing.
It wasn’t like he even had good examples to go by. The kings of Arden won their thrones through connivery and force of arms, then ruled by fear and favor, populating the government with friends and family. The army was not immune to that. Blood and loyalty were more important than talent or training.
We might have won this war a long time ago if we’d done things differently.
When he was military governor in Delphi, he’d avoided involvement with civilians and their problems, preferring to focus on what he knew. And that had turned out to be a mistake.
He was realizing that he had a lot to learn from these northern queens, especially if he wanted to travel a different path from his predecessors.
Though Lyss claimed that she had little experience with governing, she did have experience with a good government. To his surprise, and to the disapproval of some, she allowed him to sit in with her as she assembled a new government from the remains of the old. With Jarat gone, some of the queendom’s longtime administrators emerged from hiding and went to work. She put Julianna Barrett in charge of logistics, with the help of Matelon’s quartermaster, Jan Rives. Micah Bayar resumed his role as High Wizard, then immediately hurried off to the war in the east. Demeter Farrow took charge of the city garrison.
After some debate, discussions with his officers, and a heart-to-heart with Eric Bellamy, Hal kept the royal army with him, under Bellamy’s command, and sent his loyalists home to Ardenscourt to back up his brother. He didn’t intend to make the mistakes that Jarat had by failing to protect his rear.
Now it was time to rejoin the war. Hal and his army began the long march east to Queen Court.
Lyss, Ash, and Sasha had flown on ahead with Goat and Slayer, so that the royal siblings could reunite with their mother and update the commanders of the war in the east with happenings in the west. Hal was happy to hand off the task of explaining everything to someone else.
He also wasn’t sorry to miss yet another happy reunion, since he hadn’t managed to locate his own family. He’d been disappointed that nobody in the capital of Fellsmarch seemed to know where the hostages had ended up. Could they have been intercepted on their way north? Could their ship have been lost at sea? Captured by pirates? There were so many possibilities in a world at war—most of them bad.
Lila Byrne, Shadow Dancer, and Destin Karn traveled with Hal and his army from Fellsmarch. Hal wondered if Shadow was there to keep an eye on Hal and Destin Karn and their southern army.
“Why do you think she trusts us?” Destin asked Hal one night as they sat outside the command tent after everyone else had climbed into their bedrolls. Karn and Matelon had become Destin and Hal after nightly conversations by the campfire.
“Why does who trust us?”
“Queen Alyssa,” Destin said.
“Does she trust us?” Hal raised an eyebrow.
“She’s letting two southerners travel through her queendom with an army,” Destin said.
“I think she’s taking a chance on us because she knows that the only way to defeat Celestine is to unite the Realms. She’s spent more time with the empress than any of us. She knows what we’re facing.”
Now Queen Court Vale spread before them, a green oasis amid the gray granite of the mountains. At the western end lay a sprawling military camp, with tents, corrals, field kitchens, and the like. So the empress’s armies had not broken through. They must still be stoppered up in the pass that had held against Hal’s green troops when General Karn had sent him here to fail.
After his defeat at Queen Court, Hal had dreamed of returning to the scene of his schooling with the kind of army that could win. His dream was coming true in ways he’d never have imagined. He led an army comprising Ardenine regulars—some of the best soldiers and officers he’d ever commanded—and recovering bloodsworn whose stamina and strength somewhat compensated for their lack of experience and mental edge.
In a way, it mirrored the strategy he’d proposed and the late General Karn had rejected—to partner experienced soldiers with his green recruits. Day by day, it seemed, the former bloodsworn improved. He hoped he wasn’t just seeing what he wanted to see.
At the center of the Vale lay the ruins of Queen Court, the meeting place of the queens of the Seven Realms. The place where Hal and Lyssa had kindled something that had smoldered ever since. The memory of that night had lodged next to Hal’s heart, or wherever such memories are kept. After everything that had happened, did she ever think of him in that way? Would it ever amount to more than that—a sudden spark in the dark?
She’s a queen, a voice in his head said, and you’re just a—you’re a king, he had to keep reminding himself.
Alyssa Gray was somewhere down below.
As they descended into the Vale, Pricker flew out ahead of them, soaring over the valley, calling out a challenge. Three specks appeared in the skies to the west, flying over the shoulder of Mount Alyssa and hurtling toward them. There followed a spectacular aerobatic and pyrotechnic show that left the uninitiated stunned and gaping.
Given the dragon early warning system, by the time they reached the relative flat of the valley floor, a welcoming committee of sorts had been assembled. Alyssa, the queen emeritus Raisa, Captain Byrne, Sasha, and General Dunedain. Ash, Jenna, Cas, and Goat were apparently flying reconnaissance missions east of the pass.
“Welcome, Your Majesty,” Raisa said to Hal. “Congratulations on your recent coronation.” She looked him up and down, as if searching for any surfacing signs of kingliness.
“Thank you . . .” Hal hesitated, then finished with, “. . . ma’am.” He still couldn’t understand how Lyss was queen when her mother was still very much alive.
She noticed. “You can call me Raisa Cennestre. It’s a title of honor in the uplands.”
“Thank you, Raisa Cennestre,” Hal said, trying it out.
“I understand that we owe you our thanks for assisting in the liberation of our capital,” she said. Hal had the sense that she was choosing her words carefully so as not to delegate any power in the queendom to him. She turned to Destin. “And you, Lieutenant Karn—thank you for uncovering the treason at the heart of our realm.”
Destin inclined his head. “I take no pleasure in being the bearer of bad news,” he said. “In Arden, we’re always alert to betrayal by family, because it’s a way of life.”
That’s true, Hal thought. For instance, Destin had killed his own father.
Raisa smiled. “We’ll talk further.”
She turned away.
Alyssa took over. “I’ve told General Dunedain to work with Lereaux and LeFevre to get your soldiers settled. Right now, you and Karn need to come with me to the supply tent.”
“To the supply tent?” Hal and Destin looked at each other.
“You both need some new clothes,” she said, eyeing them critically.
We’re in an army camp, not a salon, Hal thought, brushing at his uniform. Maybe it wasn’t as fresh as it had been, but he was surprised that Lyss would make an issue of it. “I have other clothes,” he said. “I just need to find a place to change.”
“We’ve been a week on the road,” Destin said, “but I was planning to bathe as soon as we arrived.”
“That’s not sufficient,” Lyss said. “Follow me.” She strode off, with Hal and Destin following, exchanging mystified looks. Was it the fact that her mother was there, and she was embarrassed by the stinking king of Arden?
When they entered the supply tent, it was filled with the familiar scent of leather, wool, and saddle soap. Three girls in clan garb were working behind the counter, pounding rivets and eyelets into leather and stitching pieces together. One of them rose and came to the counter to meet them. Her black hair was woven into a thick braid that reminded Hal of Lyss’s, but when she looked up at Hal, her eyes were a striking gray-green. Familiar.
“May I help y— Hal!” His name came out in a shriek of joy.
It was Harper. She vaulted over the counter and into his arms.
“They kept telling me you were alive, but I wasn’t ready to believe it until I saw you with my own eyes,” she said. “You’re scratchy,” she added, brushing her fingers over his chin.
“Harper,” Hal said with his usual eloquence. Gripping his arms, she danced him around the room, while everyone else watched, with mingled amusement and amazement.
“I had no idea you were a dancer, Matelon,” Lyss said.
“This must be your brother,” one of the other leatherworkers guessed.
“It is, it is! Hal, this is Sparrow, and this is Flicker Silvertree. They are geniuses. I’ve been learning so much.”
“Is Mother here, too?” Hal said.
“She’s up at Hunter’s Camp,” Harper said. “She’s been working with the matriarch there, Willo Cennestre, helping in the healing halls.”
Finally, Hal thought, I get the reunion I wanted. He veered from thanking all of the saints and the gods in the Seven Realms to new concerns about keeping them safe. A king’s family was another point of vulnerability that could be exploited by his enemies.
Harper caught sight of Destin Karn, who was lurking near the door. “Lieutenant Karn! Destin!” Releasing Hal, she embraced the spymaster, who looked rather startled at first.
“I never got to thank you for saving me from that despicable Granger,” she said.
“Ah. Lady Matelon,” Destin said, his confusion clearing. He bowed and kissed her hand. “You were the one who saved yourself, along with the rest of the hostages. I am in awe of you.”
Sparrow and Flicker stared at Harper, clearly impressed.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me they were here?” Hal looked accusingly at Lyss.
“As long as Jarat was on the move, we didn’t want anyone to know where the hostages were,” Lyss said. “Especially because we suspected that someone on the queen’s council was feeding information to Arden. We didn’t want Jarat coming to collect them. We had enough to contend with here.”
“Come on, Hal,” Harper said, pulling at his arm. “Let’s ride to Hunter’s Camp and see Mama. It’s not far.”
As he and Harper walked toward the horse corrals, Hal couldn’t help thinking, What if the empress makes it through the pass? What then? Nearly everyone he cared about was right in her path.
66
BLINDSIDED
This is a different kind of warfare, Jenna thought. She’d never served in the military, but in her role as a saboteur, she’d worked alone, mostly—up close and personal, setting the charges, laying the fuses, then igniting them. Though she watched from a safe distance, she was often close enough to hear the boom as the powder caught, feel the reverberations through her feet, and breathe in the musty, sulfuric smoke from black powder.
Now, she spent much of her time soaring over the carnage on the ground, descending only to contribute to it, then flying away. This seems wrong, she thought. When a predator makes a kill, she is engaged in an intimate dance of death. This is too easy.
An infantry, no matter how fierce, presents little risk to armored flyers swooping down on them, spouting flame and dropping boulders on them from above. The dragons’ role in reconnaissance also made it nearly impossible to ambush or outmaneuver the joined armies under Hal, Alyssa, and General Dunedain. The dragons scanned the ground, looking for the telltale glow that signified Celestine’s presence. Eventually, the empress learned to cloak herself, or take cover under a ledge or other obstacle to hide her presence. Still, Jenna’s magemark responded whenever she was close enough.
So, Celestine. How does it feel to be the hunted for a change?
Her luck can’t hold out forever, Jenna thought. But luck runs both ways.
Celestine was the only weapon that threatened the dragons themselves, although a skilled archer might be able to pick off one of the riders. Along the Desert Coast, weapons had been developed for use against dragons who preyed on livestock. It’s only a matter of time, Jenna thought, before they ship in more firepower through Chalk Cliffs—cannons that shot weapons-grade steel shrapnel that could penetrate the dragons’ armor; mammoth crossbows transported on wagons whose bolts were launched with such power that they could deliver a killing blow.
The joined armies of the Realms finally broke through the pass between Queen Court and Alyssa Plateau and pushed the empress’s troops east, toward the coast. The addition of Hal’s Ardenine regulars and the “reborn” bloodsworn made a potent difference on the plateau. Lyss had been training her soldiers for just this sort of fight, and they were able to counter the physical strength and stamina of the bloodsworn.
Jenna and Cas took to hunting at night. Not only were they harder to see from the ground, it was easier to spot the ruddy glow of bloodsworn magery in the dark. The empress’s army never knew when a dragon was going to hurtle out of the night sky, spewing flame.
One night they were soaring over the dark eastern end of Alyssa Plateau, just to the west of Wolf’s Head, when they saw what appeared to be a troop of horse soldiers riding hard for the coast. In their midst, they saw one small wagon with a canvas cover, pulled by four horses. And from inside, a telltale glow, like a ground-bound firefly.
Was it Celestine, with her bloodsworn escort? Gifted prisoners?
They circled lower, but even with Cas’s sharp eyesight they couldn’t tell whose side they were on. The riders all wore the fighting garb from the Desert Coast, but then, so did Lyss’s reborn soldiers. It could be a scouting party under the queen’s command.
“Can we go a little lower?” Jenna said.
The riders still seemed oblivious to their presence. Jenna’s magemark hadn’t responded, either, but it could be that they were still too far away.
Finally, several of the riders cried out and pointed at the sky. The horse troop stopped, forming a circle around the wagon. This seemed promising, but Jenna was still unsure. It could be prisoners in the wagon.
“Can you get close enough to rip off the covering, Cas?” Jenna said.
Cas made a wide circle, then swooped in low, crossbow bolts rattling against his armor, clawed feet extended to catch the tarp. As they closed in, the canvas rolled back, revealing not the empress but a cannon, primed and ready to fire. A trap.
“Up—up—up!”
Cas was already climbing, but too late.
Boom! Instinctively, Jenna closed her eyes and pressed her face against the saddle padding as a projectile exploded against Cas’s armored head at close range. Cas screamed, a heart-rending cry that sliced dee
p as his fear and pain muscled their way into her head. Jenna was coughing, eyes streaming, face burning, until her scales emerged, deadening the pain somewhat.
Afraid to open her eyes, Jenna felt rather than saw the dragon’s counterattack—blistering heat and the scent of burning flesh. And then Cas was climbing again, powering skyward with strong thrusts of his wings. When she opened her eyes, they’d passed the coastline, and she could smell the scent of the sea. Her eyes still stung and burned.
Ocean? Cas said, his desperation arrowing through the both of them. Smell ocean. Is that ocean?
“Yes,” Jenna said, bewildered. “Can’t you—?”
Jenna hold on.
She had time to take a quick breath before Cas plunged into the cold sea, driving salt water up her nose. The young dragon plowed forward, slicing through the surface before he broke free and launched skyward. Water streamed off them. Jenna coughed, trying to clear her throat of salt water.
Cas careened wildly sideways, all but dunking them a second time, then skimmed along the water’s surface, allowing the water to sluice over his head. Jenna could feel the panic rising in him.
“Cas! What is it?”
Eyes hurt. Can’t see.
Jenna pressed herself against Cas’s scales and looked out through the dragon’s eyes. She saw only a white haze.
Can’t see—can’t see—can’t see!
He careened sideways into the water again—this time, close to the rugged shoreline, in water so shallow that he could stand up, the water just breaking over his back. Still, he flailed his wings, splashing water everywhere in his panic, bucking and twisting so that Jenna could barely keep her seat.
Can’t see. Can’t see, Cas whimpered, over and over. Jenna understood. While dragons had excellent hearing and sense of smell, they were primarily visual creatures. Like birds, they relied on their vision to locate prey from high above, to find enemies and prospective mates. A dragon without eyes wouldn’t survive for long.
And then, when it seemed that things couldn’t get any worse, Jenna’s magemark began to burn.
Deathcaster (Shattered Realms) Page 48