The Dragonprince's Heir

by Aaron Pogue

Before any of my wardens could respond, a shadow pulled itself off the wall and came to stand over me. The apprentice wizard. "It is too late for that," he hissed. "The Justice has arrived."

  I shook my head. "I am of no interest to him!"

  "Oh, but you are. You are of great interest to all the Masters now. My master, most of all."

  "But it's a lie. I am not Daven's son!"

  "It matters not," Dellis said. "Not seeing how you fought against my working. A hungry beggar should not have such power. But Master Seriphenes believes it is the dragon's taint at work, passed down from your father's blood."

  "Well...." I swallowed hard. "Every dragonrider's blood bears that taint. It isn't proof—"

  His grin flashed in the darkness. "My master needs no proof. He will learn the truth by your own tongue, in time. And until then, we'll get to test your talents."

  He flicked a hand almost lazily, as though striking with a whip, and something invisible curled through the air and coiled painfully around my shoulder. Reflexes I'd learned in the practice hall flung my hand up to catch the lash of the imaginary whip.

  My hand closed on invisible substance, but before I could tug the wizard off balance, the lash dissolved within my hand. It faded from around my shoulder, too. Outside the cell, Dellis whispered, "Fascinating."

  He raised his hands to strike again, but a new voice cut in with sharp authority. "Enough!"

  I turned to see another living shadow in the dungeon's narrow corridor. This one too wore the wizards' heavy black robes, but at his waist was a belt of crimson. He wore a strip of the same fabric around his right hand, almost like a bandage, and around his temple so it almost hid his eyes.

  Four soldiers came with him, carrying crossbows at the ready and swords upon their hips. The crimson-banded wizard seemed unaware of them and of the wardens ranged around my cell. He only glanced at me then turned his attention to the apprentice. "Your master sends his greeting and thanks you for your missive, but he bids you stay and serve your purpose here."

  "But Justice—"

  "No!" The wizard spoke with quiet power. "I see that you delight in toying with children, but we have higher responsibilities. You'll serve Tirah as you were bid or answer to a Justice of your own."

  The apprentice almost argued, but a moment later he dropped his head and slipped away. I watched him go, then turned to find the Justice watching me.

  Beneath the crimson strip, his eyes were grayish blue. They reminded me of Mother's eyes, and a desperate, homesick pang twisted at my gut. The Justice made it worse, belying the comfort in those eyes with a hand thrust out and a demanding bellow. "Taryn Dragonprince! Your name has come before the Court of Justices. You stand accused of insurrection, villainy, and armed violence upon an unarmed man."

  I shook my head frantically. "That isn't me! I'm not his son. I've never fought the king."

  "And yet Tirah and Dellis both brought testimony against you."

  "I lied. I said I was, before I knew his crimes. But I'm no son of Daven's. I'm no son of Isabelle."

  The wizard frowned within his cowl. For several silent, pounding heartbeats he just stood there looking down at me. Then he gave a little sigh. "Your very nature testifies against you. You have his hair and her family's nose. You are the Dragonprince's heir."

  "No! It's...it's just coincidence—"

  "It's proof enough for now." He turned on his heel and seemed almost surprised to see the soldiers there. "He comes with me."

  I struggled forward, chains clanging as I grabbed the prison bars. "Where? Where will you take me?"

  He turned to me, slow and terrible. "To the capitol, of course. To the Halls of Justice. We will judge you by the crown and by the cowl."

  The nearest warden stepped forward, head bowed in respect. "Forgive me, Justice, but the Grand Marshall had special instructions for—"

  The Justice only half turned toward the warden, but it was enough to silence the larger man. "I do not care what Othin says. The Masters of the Academy have a say in this one's doom. I cannot convene a trial here."

  The warden retreated, head low, and said miserably, "I would not challenge you, but the Grand Marshall gave orders—"

  The Justice growled low in his throat. "I will go and speak with him myself. He will not dare defy me. And you have your orders. Find him a fast horse and undo those chains. I want nothing to slow us down."

  "Bu-but he is said to have some talent."

  The Justice was already three steps down the corridor, but now he turned back and swept me with a condescending gaze. "I have talents of my own, jailer. I will wrap this child in power if I must. But I will see he stands before the king. You have my word."

  His proclamation ringing in the air, the Justice stormed away. My wardens spoke among themselves and left me chained, sending the soldiers who'd escorted the Justice to hear the Grand Marshall's orders.

  I sat there in the dark and tried to guess what might come next. The Justice had defied Dellis and the Grand Marshall both, though he seemed intent on taking me away. Not to the Academy, though. There was hope in that. I did not relish the thought of standing trial in the Halls of Justice, but it would still be better than meeting Seriphenes.

  And it would be in the capitol. I might find some support from Mother or Caleb there. But even as I thought it, I shook my head. That was no victory. I'd left them in Cara to spare her precisely this kind of political trouble. No, I needed to stay away from the City. I needed to get back home.

  Still, I felt a glimmer of hope. It was a long trip to the capitol, and this Justice seemed willing to take his time getting there. He'd said, "Find him a fast horse." That suggested we would not go by portals, but by ground. It would take days at least. Probably weeks.

  More promising still, he'd been so dismissive of the guards and chains alike. If he took me north alone, leaving the escort behind so we could travel faster, I had only to subdue one man. And if he let me ride without the chains....

  He seemed prepared to do just that, but had he not seen Dellis's demonstration? Or had he not understood? Something in my nature seemed to defy the wizard's workings. I didn't know the extent of that ability yet, but let this Justice wrap me up in power! There'd be time enough to wriggle free upon the road.

  So I waited, quiet as a summer lamb, while my guards debated and, somewhere far away, the arrogant Justice pressed his claim against the Grand Marshall's. In time, the Justice returned. He thrust a sealed order into a warden's hand and, without waiting for him to read it, threw open my cage's doors. He didn't bother with a key. He touched my chains and the locks fell open. All my bindings dropped away.

  Despite my situation, I stared in awe at open locks. There was a magic I had to respect. Excitement danced in my stomach. All my life I'd dreamed of seeing real magic at work, and here it was all around me.

  I rubbed at my sore wrists, but the iron cuffs were still there. And the heavy collar was still on my neck, though the chain had fallen away. The Justice touched the collar for a moment, considering, then he straightened and spoke a word. Ropes of living fire slithered through the air and latched securely to cuffs and collar. He tugged them, and ethereal flame somehow exerted enough pressure to haul me to my feet.

  And fixed to the iron cuffs, not my flesh, the magic seemed to survive. I remembered shrugging off the apprentice's bond and breaking his lash with a casual grip. I suspected I could do the same to these leads. My plan depended on it. But I had no desire to tip my hand while we were yet surrounded by the Grand Marshall's soldiers. I was not the least afraid of the magical construct, but still I watched it with every possible care, desperate not to touch it with my skin.

  Mercifully, the metal of the collar did not grow hot, but the cords burned painfully bright with tempered power. Their fire lit the dirty dungeon so it danced with shadows, and all the wardens shrank away. For the look of it, I strained my eyes wide in half-feigned fear of the burning bonds. The Justice watched us all with a mocking grin. Then he tu
rned away, utterly confident in his powers, and headed from the cell without a backward glance.

  I ran along behind him, afraid to let the ropes go taut, and no one said a word or blocked our way. He took me to the courtyard where my own horse stood waiting. The saddlebags were still in place, too, though now they bulged as much as they had when I first left the Tower.

  The Justice chivvied me into the saddle, and that created a new challenge. He left me enough play in the conjured chains to climb into the saddle, but it was a great challenge to do it without letting them touch me anywhere. Worse still, my horse fretted and danced, trying to watch the unreal fire and clearly afraid. Even after I'd found my seat, I wrestled with my mount all the way down the city streets, terrified he might bolt at any moment. Even if he didn't trample me in panic, I'd likely snap the ropes in the fall.

  I was so caught in this delicate dance that I didn't notice the crowds that must have gathered to watch our procession down the streets. I didn't notice the guards at the gates. I was wholly focused on controlling the nervous horse until long after the Justice had led me out the gates and from Tirah.

  We left the city by the west gate but quickly abandoned the overgrown Whitefalls Road to push north across long-abandoned fields. The land here was open and wild, but nothing like the cracked earth and red rocks around my home. This was tall green grass beneath a wide blue sky. It might have been a lovely ride without the skittish beast beneath me and the dreadful fate awaiting me at the end of this journey.

  The ride was agony. After days bent beneath the weight of chains and sleeping on the cold, hard ground, my body ached. My muscles screamed and trembled. But I didn't dare alert him to my plan, so I sat forward in the saddle and spurred my horse hard on the wizard's heels, anxious to keep some slack always in the fiery chains. He glanced back often but never really met my eyes. His attention seemed to be on something behind me.

  When I looked that way, I saw nothing but the distant shadow of the city. A nervous fear began to itch between my shoulder blades. Every time he glanced, I turned instinctively, too, but the horizon was always empty.

  I searched the sky as well, with thoughts of dragonriders still sharp in my mind. I even entertained some hope that it was Mother's dragon that had spooked the gaunt Justice. Perhaps he feared some rescue coming for me across the plains. I strained my eyes and begged of Haven, but I saw no sign of aid.

  More than an hour we pressed through the tall grasses. He looked again, and I checked as well, and I noticed the city no longer loomed behind us. Perhaps I could see some stain of smoke from its forge fires, but the lines of its walls and the glow of the high palace alike had fallen beneath the horizon. Apart from that, I saw no change to the scenery.

  But somehow the Justice seemed soothed. He slowed to a canter and then a walk. I breathed a long, low sigh as I settled back in my saddle, enjoying the easier pace. The wizard fished a waterskin from a saddlebag and tossed it to me. I caught it clumsily, afraid to stretch too hard against the manacles of fire. He saw, gave a little tut, and waved a hand. To my surprise, the fire disappeared—not only from my hands, but from around my throat as well.

  For a moment I did not react at all. I took one long, slow drink from the heavy waterskin. Then I stoppered it carefully, heeled the horse closer, and met the wizard's eyes with my best attempt at heartfelt gratitude. "You have my thanks," I said, another pace closer.

  Then I swung the waterskin. I gave no warning before scything the seamed edge at the side of his head like a blunt-edged ax. He had one instant to react, and I saw my devastation flash in his eyes. But he hesitated, biting down against the word of power in his confusion, and then my weapon struck him a great clout on the side of the head.

  It didn't quite dislodge him, but he fell limp and awkward in his saddle. In the same instant I turned my horse to the west and galloped hard for freedom.

  I made it perhaps a hundred paces before I heard him shout behind me. I'd hoped for more, but the waterskin had made a clumsy weapon. He cried out again, and I felt the power of his will crackle through the air like unspent lightning.

  There should have come searing fire or air like bars of steel to trip my horse and pin my arms. There could have been another leash of flame or a sudden pit beneath my feet, opened like a maw. A Justice was a Master of the Academy, a high and mighty wizard. He should have crushed me in his power.

  Instead, my horse slowed to a walk. He turned, no matter how I hauled on the reins, and trotted lightly back toward the wizard. It was an elegant trick, but I had no time to appreciate the wizard's finesse. I threw myself from the saddle, and in my frenzy I landed wrong. I turned a fall into a tumbling roll and came up running, but my legs were weak and my back cried out in agony. I fought through the pain and, at a frantic, shambling lurch, made my bid for freedom.

  The Justice came up a-canter by my side. I cut away, but he turned to follow and easily kept pace. I stumbled, and he stopped, waiting patiently while I scrambled to my feet. I ran away again. He came along.

  "We could go faster if you rode." He made it sound a friendly suggestion.

  "I will not stand before your court!"

  "You can barely stand at all." He sighed. "Taryn, please."

  I ignored him. I dug for some inner reserve of strength, but I could not outrun a horse. I certainly could not outrun the wizard's power. But I could not give up, not knowing what waited for me.

  So I pounded on, through the tall grass, and then somehow the horse began to fall away. I felt a moment's irrational thrill, and then I saw the flash of steel an instant before a humming hiss cut through the air right by my ear. A sword buried itself to half the length of the blade in the earth before my feet. It shuddered from the force of its flight.

  And it was my father's sword. The gift he'd made me. I spun in awe and found the wizard smiling down at me. I fell back, curling around my middle until I nearly sprawled on the grass, but at the last moment I grasped the hilt and rolled away and sprang up again.

  I held the sword unwavering between us. He smiled down.

  "Do not think I'll hesitate to cut you down!" I said.

  He smirked. "You have had quite a sheltered life."

  I jabbed with the sword, trying to threaten him. "I have done no wrong against the king."

  "Of course you have. You are."

  He didn't budge, but he made no move to subdue me, either. That mocking calm wore me down. I lowered the weapon and turned my gaze to it. It truly was a lovely blade. How many of my enemies had said as much? I sighed. "My father was a hero."

  "He was."

  "I only wanted to set my mother free."

  He said nothing.

  I watched a tear drop to the blade's edge and blinked more from my eyes. "I have no love for that king."

  "And for your father?"

  The question struck within me like a lightning bolt. As a child I had loved him. I had worshiped him as a hero. But then he'd disappeared. Then he'd left my mother under the whole weight of his mighty tower. I'd come to hate him. Without ever realizing it, I'd come to hate him.

  But now? I thought about the stories I'd been told, about everything Caleb had been forced to explain to me.

  I thought about the city of Cara that would have fallen under the reign of a dragonlord if not for my father. I thought about the captain from Tirah and dragons digging survivors out of desperate burrows in the sand. I thought of the king and the Grand Marshall who hated my father for being such a hero as that, and I could not align myself with them.

  So I met his eyes and raised my chin and pronounced, "I am my father's son. I love this land and all its people more than your wretched king possibly could."

  He opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then nodded to my horse on its invisible lead. "Get in your saddle."

  I shook my head. "You can strike me down, but you will not take me to your king."

  "I have no desire to take you to the king, but if we are spotted tarrying in this field someon
e who does will come see that it happens."

  "What?"

  "Haven's name, Taryn, get on your horse! I will explain while we ride."

  I frowned up at him. "Do you...know me?"

  He rolled his eyes so like my mother's. "Since the day you were born, child. Isabelle is—"

  "Your sister." I laughed out loud. "You are my uncle Themmichus?"

  "And you have grown like a weed. Now get on that horse or, by wind and by rain, I shall make you."

  My uncle. I had barely heard his name in years, and I had certainly never met him. Mother's brother was a wizard, though—a powerful young Master, as I recalled. He had taken away my chains and chastised the guards. And he had never really threatened me. He had dragged me at a hurried pace, but he had done nothing to hurt me. And the leash of flame had not singed at all. It had only been a show.

  When I struggled up into my saddle, I found the wizard once again searching the southern horizon, and now I understood. He was watching for the Grand Marshall's pursuit. Or the wizards'. I settled into as comfortable a position as I could find and heeled up beside him. Still twisted in his saddle and staring south, he started us north.

  "You really think they will follow us?" I asked.

  He glanced my way, then turned his attention forward and pressed us harder still. "It was but chance that I received Dellis's message to Seriphenes, and more fortunate still that Othin didn't recognize me. If he had...."

  I swallowed hard. "What would happen?"

  He shrugged. "He would have sent away for more wizards. And they would not treat you kindly in the circumstances."

  "The Grand Marshall would dare defy a Justice?"

  "That man would defy the living Winds if he thought them a threat to the king. He's a rabid dog who once served as the crown's thief catcher and has never forgotten the instincts he learned in that role."

  "So how did you fool him? Did you disguise yourself with power?"

  He laughed. "I disguised myself with arrogant self-importance. He saw a Justice, not a man. And that is just the sort of authority Othin most respects."

  "He doesn't know you, then?"