The Flames of Dragons

by Josh VanBrakle

  “Not going to work,” Rondel said. “If we lose the masts, we’re stranded. We don’t have any oars.”

  Yet another swell lifted the ship fifty feet in the air and dropped it a second later. The impact knocked both Iren and Rondel to the floor.

  The Muryozaki healed Iren’s bruises, but Rondel looked battered after half an hour in the storm. Minawë was still at the helm, doing her best to keep the ship on track.

  At least, that’s where Iren hoped she was. He couldn’t see up there at the moment.

  “You’re the Storm Dragon Knight,” Iren said. “Can’t you do something about this?”

  “Maybe a thousand years ago,” Rondel replied. “This beast is beyond me.”

  “Grand. So we just hang on and hope for the best?”

  “Unless you have a better plan, slacker.”

  “What did you call me, you grumpy old hag?”

  A wave washed over them and sent them skidding across the deck. Iren crashed into the railing. Rondel hit a moment later.

  But Iren’s impact must have weakened the wood. As Rondel struck the rail, it cracked and shattered. With a curse, Rondel went overboard.

  Iren didn’t think. He rolled onto his belly and whipped out his hand. Flesh touched flesh. Fingers gripped fingers. Rondel hung from the side of the ship, kept from the water only by Iren’s grasp on her right hand.

  Time slowed. Rondel was helpless. Iren could get his revenge right now. He wouldn’t have to fight her. He wouldn’t have to use Muryoka. All he had to do was relax his grip. Minawë would never know. It was a storm; anything could happen.

  Their eyes locked, and Iren nearly dropped Rondel out of pure shock. In times past he had seen the old woman nervous, like before she’d fought that Oni in Akaku Forest. But he’d never seen her like this, with eyes wide in genuine terror. She knew her life was about to end, and that there was nothing she could do about it.

  Iren reached out with his other hand. He grabbed Rondel’s wrinkled arm and tugged. They flew back onto the deck together, panting as they lay on the slick wood.

  “Why?” Rondel asked.

  Iren shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  He forced himself to rise. Now wasn’t the time to think about it. “Get up,” he spat. “Let’s figure out how to survive this thing.”

  The old woman stood and brushed herself off. “You’re right; the masts have to go,” she said. It sure hadn’t taken her long to recover from her near-death experience. “At least the tallest ones. We can still sail with two.”

  Iren was already running to the first. The Muryozaki flashed from its sheath and cut through the three-foot-wide mast in a single slice. He pushed with his shoulder, and the mighty timber and its jointed sail crashed overboard. Three more fell in quick succession.

  With the weight removed, the ship floated steadier. The rushing winds yanked on the remaining sails, but the force wasn’t enough to throw the junk off balance.

  Iren took his first steady breath in what felt like years. “Let’s check on Minawë,” he said. “She’ll have noticed the masts dropping. She’ll be worried about us.”

  Rondel threw out her sarcastic grin. “Or perhaps you’re worried about her?”

  Iren rolled his eyes. “Give it up. I know you are too. Come on.”

  The two of them rushed up the steps to the top deck. Minawë stood at the helm. Her white-knuckled hands gripped the wheel. She held firm to the deck by tree roots that grew out of the wood and wrapped around her legs.

  “What on Raa were you two doing down there?” she asked when Iren and Rondel arrived.

  Iren cocked an eyebrow. “Nice to see you too. We were keeping this bucket afloat.”

  “We aren’t safe yet,” Rondel said. “The waves are getting bigger. A large enough one could still topple us.”

  “I take it you have a plan to deal with that,” Minawë replied.

  “I do.” The hag activated Lightning Sight. “From this vantage point I should be able to give us at least a few seconds’ warning.”

  “And do what?” Iren asked. “Warning or not, we’re going overboard.”

  “Not if you can still make a shield like you used to protect me from Feng.”

  Iren squeezed the rail between this deck and the one below it. Could he create a shield that large and strong again? He hadn’t tried to make one back then; he’d cast it instinctively out of his desire to keep Rondel safe. He didn’t have that desire now.

  Didn’t he?

  “One’s coming in!” Rondel cried. “Portside!”

  Iren couldn’t create a shield to protect Rondel, but that was all right. There was someone else on this ship, someone he did want to keep safe.

  White light shot from his outstretched palm and wrapped around the junk’s side. The wave smashed into it, as powerful a blow as Feng had managed. The shield held, but it sapped Iren’s strength more than he’d expected.

  “Another one! This one aft!”

  “Can’t you just say back like a normal person?” Iren shouted, but he pushed the magic out all the same. The wave split and ran along both sides of the ship, the water as tall as the remaining masts.

  Iren kept up the dance another half hour. Between waves he dropped the shield to save magic.

  Even so, the duration wore him out. Against the Fire Dragon he had maintained a shield for just a few minutes, and it had been small compared with what he needed to protect the junk. His control over magic had improved since Feng, but it wasn’t enough.

  He went down on one knee. As he did, Divinion’s mind brushed against his. “You’re at your limit,” the dragon said. “You can’t afford to go over the edge here.”

  “If I became a dragon, you would protect the ship.”

  “Not necessarily,” Divinion replied. “I can’t fly in these conditions, and my weight would make the ship too top-heavy. We’d capsize.”

  “Then let me become the Dragoon,” Iren said. “We have to survive. We’re only a day or two from Lodia. We’ve come so far; we can’t die now.”

  “I know that, but you can’t become the Dragoon. If you do, you’ll lose the ability to use magic again. I wouldn’t count on Melwar helping you regain it a second time.”

  “Ok then, I’ll use biological magic like Father.”

  “Iren, wait!” Minawë cried.

  Iren had forgotten that Minawë and Rondel could hear his half of the conversation. Minawë knelt and took his hand in hers. She pulled him to his feet.

  “Use my magic,” she said. “I’m a Kodama. I can draw magic from other living things, and I can give it to them too.”

  “Minawë, there’s a fine line between giving Iren magic and killing yourself,” Rondel warned.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Minawë replied. “If this ship sinks, we’re dead anyway.”

  Iren knew better than to argue with her. He relaxed, and he felt a slow current through his body as Minawë transferred her magic to him.

  The energy was foreign, yet it was comforting too. It knew he could handle this. It knew he could save them.

  Lightning Sight danced as Rondel spun in a circle on the lookout for waves. Each time she called one out, Iren beat it back. And every time he was about to fall, Minawë gave him a little more magic.

  At last Rondel cried, “I see the end of the storm. We’re almost through!”

  Iren loosed a long sigh of relief. Even with Minawë’s help, he was exhausted.

  After what seemed an eternity, the rain slowed. The wind slackened. The sea calmed. Iren released Minawë’s hand, and unlike that time with the whale, tonight she seemed reluctant to let him go.

  “We made it,” Rondel breathed.

  Iren dropped to the deck. “Awesome,” he said. “I think I’ll take a little nap now.”

  He was out before Rondel replied.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The Overlook

  Balear sat on the bluff above Kataile, his gaze falling north across the morning fields. Two months.
He couldn’t believe it. There were only five of them. Politicians sure could talk. A group of five soldiers would have sorted out their differences and chosen a leader in half an hour.

  Instead, discussions among the mayors had degenerated into minutia over trade agreements, taxation, and positions of favor in the new government. New feuds and rivalries cropped up almost daily. Kras continued to insist that Dirio had no place at the talks, and he used Balear’s traitor status to weaken Elyssa whenever possible.

  Fortunately, that strategy was working against him. The other mayors had stopped listening to Kras’s outbursts. Even Otto of Caardit no longer unconditionally defended his hotheaded western ally.

  But what Kras had lost in favor, Horace of Terkou had gained. Signs now indicated that Otto might switch sides and support Horace, although that wouldn’t end the stalemate.

  Balear shook his head to clear away yesterday’s meeting. Today’s talks started in an hour. He had to think about politics enough without it intruding on his down time.

  In reality, he was less concerned about the talks than the effect so many new entrants to the region might have. The western cities’ army had the makings of famine, disease, and revolution. In two months the force had split into different camps by city, each claiming territory for itself. Many of the soldiers were farmers, so they’d taken advantage of the surrounding fields to grow crops for their compatriots. Others had taken up positions near the sea to collect food from it.

  It wasn’t enough though. These lands weren’t used to supporting so many people. Balear hadn’t entered the camps to be certain, but like Elyssa, he had done the math. Time was running out. If the mayors didn’t reach a deal soon and disperse their armies, hunger would prompt a battle.

  “May I join you?” a voice from behind Balear said. Balear looked over his shoulder. Dirio was walking toward him.

  Balear smiled and gestured for the Veliafan to take a seat on the rock beside him. Dirio was the one bright point in all the political nonsense. While the other mayors bickered, he kept focused on solving the crisis. Alone among them, Dirio seemed to recognize that the best thing for Veliaf—and all of Lodia—was to end these talks and choose a new king as quickly as possible.

  Dirio sat. “What brings you up here?” he asked.

  “I come up here every day before going to the talks,” Balear replied. “From here you can see most of southern Lodia. It reminds me what’s at stake.”

  “You don’t even get a say in the negotiations. Why beat yourself up over them?”

  Balear shrugged. “Because I’m a defender of Lodia. I’m present during the meetings. That’s reason enough to pay attention. Besides, who says I don’t get a say? I’m the reason you’re involved, after all.”

  Dirio frowned in such a way that Balear couldn’t tell whether the man was angry or just sarcastic. “Don’t remind me,” the mayor said. “I’m not like those other four. I’m a miner. I don’t get into all this politicking.”

  “Maybe that’s what Lodia needs.”

  “Don’t even start. It’s bad enough that I’m part of these talks. Lodia doesn’t need a past-his-prime miner for a king. Even if it did, none of the other mayors would support me. I have the least clout of any of them.”

  “Best personality though.”

  Dirio laughed at that. “You say that now, but remember the time I knocked you on your ass? You didn’t feel that way back then.”

  Balear reddened. “Well, I suppose there was that. I see now why you did it, though. You wanted to help me.” He paused to clear his throat. “You know something, Dirio? You could lead this country. You’d certainly be better at it than those four, even Elyssa. She’s all numbers. One thing I learned from Amroth—the real Amroth, before Feng took him over—is that leaders need heart. You can’t force people to do what you want them to do. The best you can do is guide them along the path.”

  The Veliafan cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe you should be king.”

  Balear blinked twice. “What do you mean? I’m ineligible.”

  Dirio shrugged. “A pity.”

  They sat in silence after that, watching the fields together. The sun had come up just an hour ago, but already the men below were hard at work tending crops and fishing.

  At length Dirio stood. “I should get going. The negotiations will end today, and I need to be ready.”

  “I’m impressed you can be that optimistic,” Balear said. “Do you tell yourself that every day to keep going?”

  Dirio shook his head. “No. I’m switching my vote. I’m supporting Horace.”

  Balear was stunned. “You’re what? Elyssa’s sheltered your people all this time! It’s a betrayal of her!”

  “Maybe, but it’s for the good of Lodia. Otto’s ready to switch too. He knows Kras hasn’t a chance of winning, not the way he’s alienated me and Elyssa. When I switch to support Horace, Otto will too. That’ll give Horace a majority, and that will be that. There won’t even be a chance for fighting afterward, because the two defeated forces—Orcsthia and Kataile—will be separated by city walls and the length of a country.”

  Balear couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Horace had the same calculating mind as Elyssa, but while Elyssa put that nature to work for Kataile, Horace used his for personal gain. He would be a miserable king.

  Then again, even a miserable king was better than a civil war. “I believe in you,” Balear said. “Do what you have to do. I’ll support you.”

  Dirio grinned. “That’s why I came up here to see you. Officially, you don’t have a place in these negotiations, but you were right before. You do have a say. A big one.”

  The mayor rose and started toward the cliff stairs. Balear put his attention back to the north. At last, Lodia would have peace. Balear could return to Haldessa and help them rebuild. Horace would owe Dirio a huge favor for switching his vote; maybe Dirio could convince the Terkouan to pardon Balear.

  And what then? Horace would need to reform the Castle Guard to serve as peacekeepers, and Balear was the obvious choice to lead them. The young general smiled. He would make the guard better and stronger than it had ever been. It all started today.

  Balear stood and stretched. For the first time in two months, he looked forward to entering that stuffy tent.

  He was about to head across the plateau and out to the fields when he saw a cloud of dust above the northern horizon. He frowned. He called for Dirio, but the mayor wasn’t in earshot anymore.

  Balear watched the cloud grow. It was huge, stretching for miles. The sky was clear, and it hadn’t been dry enough for a dust storm. It didn’t seem natural. In fact, it looked like . . .

  Balear tore across the plateau. He yelled out for Dirio. When he reached the steps, the Veliafan was puffing his way back up them.

  “What’s the matter?” Dirio asked, his hands on his knees.

  “We need to find Elyssa,” Balear said. “Now.”

  “Why?”

  “Because another army is on its way.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Moving Forward

  Iren awoke to bright sun and a seagull on his face.

  “Bah!” he shouted as he leapt into a seated position. The bird flew away with an indignant squawk.

  A high-pitched cackle came from the helm. “Did you have a peaceful sleep?” Rondel asked. “That gull sure seemed to think so.”

  “At least he didn’t leave me any nasty surprises,” Iren replied. He climbed to his feet and checked himself anyway. “What’s our situation?”

  “The storm’s moved off to the northeast, and I don’t see any others. I wouldn’t expect to either. The storms are so powerful they blow everything else out of the way. There usually aren’t two close together.”

  “So we’re safe.”

  Rondel shrugged. “More or less. We survived; how’s that?”

  “Good enough for now,” Iren said. “We’re still moving. That’s better than I expected with just two sails.”

  Rondel�
�s fake grin sprouted. “Oh, it’s not the sails. I thought I could get the remaining ones working while you slept, but this ship’s just too heavy.”

  Iren’s brow furrowed. “Then how are we moving?”

  “Look off the bow.”

  Iren walked to the front of the ship. He whistled.

  Rondel had released all the ropes from the surviving battens and tied them together into multiple strands. Those in turn tied off at different points near the ship’s bow and led down into the water.

  And there, tugging the ship along with the ropes gripped in its mouth, was a whale.

  Iren faced Rondel. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “I take it that’s no random whale.”

  Rondel raised a mischievous eyebrow. “Well, I was planning some joke about how we roped it into helping us.”

  Ouch. It was better not to even entertain that bad of a pun. “Minawë sure has come a long way since Ziorsecth,” Iren said instead. “She gave me magic last night, and she still had enough to transform into a whale this morning?”

  “That girl is stronger than us both,” Rondel replied. Her eyes looked past Iren to the horizon. A softness Iren wasn’t used to seeing in the fierce old woman appeared on her face.

  Then Rondel seemed to realize she’d spoken aloud. She flushed. “Don’t tell Minawë I said that.”

  Iren couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Reunion on the Beach

  Elyssa Orianna lowered her spyglass. “Who could they be?” she asked. “No city uses purple banners.”

  “Maybe it’s Ceere,” Dirio replied. “Perhaps they heard about the negotiations and have come to join.”

  “Who would have told them?” Balear put in. “Besides, hardly anyone’s left in Ceere. There’s no way they could gather an army that large.”

  “What about Tacumsah?” Elyssa asked. “We’ve continued to trade with them. Word of the civil war will have spread across the islands by now. They might have decided to take advantage of our weakness and invade. They could land easily at the Bay of Ceere.”