Dragon's Fire

by Gwynn White

  Axel hadn’t even let her visit her family in Norin. Lukan had two thousand guardsmen standing by for the day she appeared at the Norin caravan. She would have been the only Norin to survive. But selfish Axel had hogged her to himself.

  “How astute of you, sire. Very few men would reason with your acuity. As for the plans, just tell me what to do. I will assist in any way I can.”

  “I need a drone with stealth properties to breach Axel’s security network around Oldfort. Something along the lines of Axel’s new design for the Light-Bearer, I surmise.”

  “Hmm. Interesting notion.” Felix’s face lit with that strange inner glow he always got when confronted by a new project. Lukan had exploited his uncle’s love of new technological challenges mercilessly over the years. “Leave it with me, sire. Vasily and I will put our heads together to see what we can come up with.” He paused and then pointed at Lukan’s side. “Will you trigger this attack in the same way as you would have the original Burning?”

  Felix had never agreed with Lukan’s decision to carry the only trigger for the dirigibles on his person. Lukan stared at him to assess the emotion behind that question. As usual, Felix’s face said nothing.

  “I want Stefan to control all the commands for this sortie. He is to key in the coordinates for the drone’s destination, fire the launch from a base in Treven, and best of all, explode the canisters of Dragon’s Fire over Oldfort.” Lukan’s scar throbbed with pent-up hatred for Stefan who, as Axel’s sidekick, had tormented him so much in his youth.

  Felix’s face split into a gash of a smile. “A fitting irony that he be the one to kill his erstwhile friend.”

  “Poetic.”

  “I can tell Stefan of our plans?”

  “Not until we are ready to launch. I want you to send operatives into Oldfort to hide cameras, so I can watch it all unfold.” In truth, he would be looking for one person only: Axel. He desperately wanted to see his cousin die. “You are also in charge of travel arrangements. Let Stefan know we are coming to visit for the solstice. Once the filters on the dirigible report that the air above the town is breathable, we’ll fly with Stefan to Oldfort to retrieve Axel’s body.”

  “Not leaving him for the crows, sire?”

  “Not a chance. I want him here, in the family crypt, where, if I listen carefully, I can hear his flesh rotting.”

  Felix chortled. “That would explain where Nicholas gets his powerful ears.”

  Lukan hit the coffee table. “Don’t you dare pretend that the traitor is anything like me. He’s not.”

  “Quite, sire. I merely spoke in jest. But I find myself in full agreement with you, actually. You are nothing like the Light-Bearer.”

  “Good, and never forget it. We will stay in Treven until my guardsmen breach those mines. When Lynx is found, I want her brought to me.” She would not be permitted to leave his side until he had her locked up safely in the bunker.

  “As you wish, sire. I will inform Stefan of your plans.”

  Lukan’s hands shot up. “You will say nothing of the Burning. Merely tell him that I am coming to inspect things in Treven.”

  “That will be shock enough.” Felix pulled out his handkerchief, and Lukan wondered what his uncle was about to spring on him. After a moment of blowing and nose-wiping, Felix extracted his informa. “Now, sire, perhaps you will allow me to show you last night’s escapade in the dining room.”

  Lukan watched in mounting rage as Meka—who else?—instigated a fight with two well-respected high-born teens. Worse, Grigor allowed himself to be led straight into that conflict.

  As the image faded, Felix creaked up and hobbled to Lukan’s drinks cabinet. Lukan didn’t object when his uncle placed a glass of chenna down in front of him. He picked it up and gulped a mouthful. It tasted bitter. He grimaced, swallowed, and put the glass down. “I have finally figured out what bothers me about Meka.”

  “Sire?”

  Deep in thought, Lukan ignored Felix.

  Strange that he had never noticed Meka’s resemblance to Nicholas before. But it was there. The same defiant set of the jaw, the same rebellious cast of features, and the same mocking eyes.

  No, not the same eyes. No one had eyes like Nicholas.

  But Meka’s antagonistic, cobalt bullets were equally shocking. Meka was another Nicholas in Lukan’s bosom.

  Lukan looked up at Felix. “Meka is irredeemable.”

  “Irredeemable? That a little harsh, considering we have only just started our experiment to integrate the boys.”

  Why was Lukan the only one to see the obvious? So many of his days were spent explaining the self-explanatory to so-called intelligent people. Sadly, on rare occasions, that included Felix.

  “Cursed Norin blood, I think. My father made a grievous mistake when he brought Kestrel here to marry Tao. She has bred another Nicholas.”

  Felix laughed, a patronizing sound that made Lukan’s hair stand. He was about to crack down when Felix said, “Another Nicholas? Come, sire, there was no prophecy that said anything about Kestrel’s children destroying the empire.”

  “You dare question me?”

  Felix brushed his hair away from his face. “Of course not, sire. I merely point out that your concerns are not founded in fact. I agree, Meka is a troublemaker, but he is not a Nicholas.”

  Lukan didn’t have time to trade semantics. “While Meka is around, Grigor will always be in his shadow. Until Axel and Nicholas are dead, I have to keep the Sixteen happy. For that, I need a credible crown prince. Grigor cannot be that person while his brother struts around.”

  “So what do you propose?”

  “My gut reaction is to unleash Morass on Meka.”

  Felix chortled a mirthless laugh. “That’s your answer to most of life’s challenges, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “You make it sound as if you have a wider repertoire of solutions. You don’t. Even the babies in the palace cringe when you walk by.”

  Felix smiled. “I am softening in my old age. I find that I have a more pragmatic approach to problems these days.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “Oh, indeed yes. Killing Meka is a bad idea.”

  “How can killing another Nicholas be a bad idea? He is at least a Nicholas we can kill.”

  “Don’t let your frustration cloud your vision, nephew. The dead have a tendency to travel.”

  Lukan closed his eyes. How had he not considered that? A dead Meka undermining Grigor would be worse even than a dead Tao. “So what do we do with the bastard?”

  When Felix coughed, he braced himself for a radical reply.

  “We continue to educate him. You started with Morass and the guardsmen. Now let’s take it to the next level. Let’s send him to Vasily and then on to Stefan in Treven. He can even have a grandstand seat at the Burning of Oldfort.”

  Lukan shifted in his seat, unable to believe what he was hearing.

  It didn’t deter Felix. “Meka is second in line to the most powerful throne this world has ever known. It’s time he saw what goes on behind the scenes, just in case he ever gets it in mind to fight against us. Like Nicholas, he needs to learn about overwhelming odds.”

  That wasn’t just a radical idea; it was absurd.

  Lukan shot to his feet. “Very risky, with no guarantees. Meka’s a Norin, not a Chenayan. No different than Lynx.”

  He winced and gulped a large mouthful of chenna. He forced himself to sit.

  “It’s all about balancing the risk, sire. Meka and Grigor have been overprotected. They have no concept my lair even exists; their knowledge of ice crystals is nonexistent. They have never wondered about anything other than what catches the biggest fish. They are both as ignorant as any low-born pulling weeds in the remotest, most benighted village in the empire.”

  Had the discussion circled back to Lukan’s parenting skills?

  Felix had never agreed with keeping the princes ignorant. He claimed there was more to be had in educating them. He always argued t
hat by exposing Lukan’s heirs to technology, Lukan and Felix could guide them on how to use that technology to stay in power.

  Lukan had disagreed then and still disagreed now. “It is enough that Nicholas wants my crown. I don’t need my heirs plotting to slaughter me in my sleep. Better to keep them ignorant.”

  Felix gave a tired head shake. “The Sixteen want credible heirs who know how to use an informa.”

  Lukan threw his head back and sighed. “Why do the dead have to meddle? The easiest thing would be to kill Meka.”

  “Such is Dmitri’s confounded curse.” Felix steepled his remaining fingers. “No one can argue that Tao managed to pulled Meka and Grigor together in a way nothing else ever did.” From the cameras in the princes’ room, they had learned about Tao’s stunt with the bees. “They now stand united. If you harm Meka, you could very well harm Grigor. And if Grigor revolts, then we have no succession. The Sixteen will not stand for it. Until we know for sure that Axel is dead, it would be better to frighten Meka into compliance.”

  Lukan glared at Felix, angry at all these complications. “So let’s get Morass to break the little bastard’s legs. That will frighten him.”

  “But it would not serve our ultimate objective, sire.”

  This conversation was going nowhere. Lukan paced. “Aren’t we just giving him more ammunition? Knowledge is power he can use against us.”

  “Sire, have I ever failed you? Has my judgment ever been wrong in the past?”

  Lukan scowled; he hated it when Felix used that angle, because, unfortunately, Felix was rarely wrong when it counted.

  Felix waited, expectant.

  “No, I guess not,” Lukan admitted grudgingly.

  “Good. Now trust me with the boy. Meka will yet surprise us all.”

  “Nasty shocks are surprises, too, Felix.”

  Felix stood. “Sire, I give you my word. If, in the end, I think Meka is unredeemable, I will shoot him myself.”

  “Now you’re beginning to make sense.”

  “Does that mean I can announce that he will be leaving for the tour I propose?”

  Lukan walked to the glass door to his patio. Too cold outside to open, he pressed his forehead against the pane. The icy glass was soothing. “Don’t my heirs have a birthday soon?”

  “Yes. A month before the solstice.”

  Lukan remembered now; he had been visiting Lynx when Kestrel had gone into labor.

  Speaking to the window pane, he said, “Meka has until his birthday to prove that he can fit in with the other youth. If he fails, you can have him.” He caught a reflection of Felix’s smug smile in the window and spun. Finger wagging, he barked, “On the condition that you get rid of him if he proves irredeemable after his education. I have no problem leaving his body rotting on the streets of Oldfort.”

  “Of course, sire.” Felix grabbed his cane, heaved himself up, and bobbed a bow. “I will ensure it is all attended to.”

  “My sanction to educate Meka does not extend to his brother. Grigor is to be told nothing of informas or ice crystals. As far as he is concerned, we still live in the steam age.”

  Felix stiffened, but Lukan cut him off.

  “No, Felix, I will not be crossed on this. Grigor remains ignorant until I choose to enlighten him.” At least that way, Lukan would retain some control over his key heir. “Now go. I have to see Taras.”

  Face livid at his dismissal—Lukan always did it on purpose to annoy his uncle—Felix bowed and headed for the door. Hand hovering over the handle, he said, “Leave it all to me, sire. I’ll ensure the Lapisians have a spring solstice that goes down in memory as to what happens to those who defy the Dragon.”

  Chapter 39

  Felix had not gone more than a few paces from Lukan’s office when Dmitri fell into step next to him.

  The seer looked very satisfied with himself. “So, Axel is back in the cross hairs. Not to mention young Meka. That certainly puts steam in your boiler.”

  Startled, Felix looked around to see if anyone else traversing the busy passageway noticed the visitation. Apart from shuffling away from him—something Felix was used to—no one seemed aware of the strangely dressed man with the glowing skin talking to him. Felix would have loved to know how Dmitri managed that, but to ask would show weakness.

  “And your plan for Nicholas is now suicide?” Dmitri shook his head. “Felix, you disappoint me if you think that will work to stop my curse. My Light-Bearer is made of sterner stuff.” His eyes actually twinkled. “You do seem to like playing with your redemption in the most cavalier of fashions.”

  Felix clasped his cane tighter. He didn’t want to have this conversation in a public thoroughfare. Dmitri may have been invisible, but people would see him talking to himself. They would think he had gone senile. He guessed Dmitri had set that up on purpose.

  A smile from the seer confirmed it was just another move on the board.

  Felix sighed. Then he pulled out his handkerchief and mumbled behind it, “I find myself in a difficult position.”

  “Pray, do share. What could possibly be worse than trying to warn Stefan of the danger without also alerting Lukan that you have betrayed him? Just think how enraged the emperor will be if he arrives in Oldfort and finds nothing but the poor gathering coins and everyone else with a massive hangover.”

  “And you find that amusing?” Felix asked into his handkerchief.

  “I do so enjoy seeing you connive. You have elevated it to an art form.”

  Felix glared at Dmitri. “If today’s threat isn’t hostile enough, thanks to you, I am faced with an another challenge.” He deepened his glower, sending a high-born man and his wife scuttling. Felix buried his face deeper into his handkerchief. “I may own the best tile in the game, but his position on the board is . . . less than satisfactory.”

  “Ah, you’re a poor strategist, then.”

  Felix swallowed his chagrin. As much as he wanted to deny it, Dmitri was right: He had willingly agreed to place his best tile—the Light-Bearer—on the worst block on the map when he had plotted with Lukan to imprison Nicholas in that slaughterhouse. Just as he had helped Lukan make the gas that now threatened Axel’s life. Not to mention the new stealth craft Lukan required.

  To top it all, in order to keep on Lukan’s good side, he would have to sacrifice another good tile—Meka—to bolster the same bad strategy. Not even he would be able to avoid shooting Meka if Lukan commanded it.

  Even though that dolt Lukan had fallen willingly into Felix’s schemes for all three boys, the game with Dmitri seemed lost before he had even begun playing.

  “Do not give into despair, Felix. It is most unbecoming.” A sharp eye skewered Felix. “Especially when I have given you the ultimate tile to success in the game.”

  “I suppose you mean me joining the Pathfinder Alliance, which aims to destroy everything I’ve spent my life building?” Felix only just managed to resist hitting Dmitri with his cane.

  “Your choice, Felix. Always your choice.”

  Felix grunted.

  They walked in silence down passages and staircases until reaching Felix’s lair. Felix leered at the eye scanner, and the door to his office slid open.

  Dmitri followed him in and sat at one of Felix’s leather chairs. The seer pulled his robe away from his chest, a familiar action from everyone who found Felix’s delightfully warm office too hot. Felix supposed Dmitri felt no physical stimuli and that the action was intended as a slight.

  Needing a hot chocolate fix, Felix flicked on his kettle. “I don’t suppose you indulge?”

  “I do.”

  Felix tried to veil his surprise.

  “What would eternity be without the occasional treat?”

  Felix allowed his face to show all his incredulity. “The dead can eat?”

  “Only the ones with resurrected bodies. The ghosts, a bit like your Dreaded, have no such power.”

  “And what determines the distinction?”

  “Choices.” />
  Felix turned away, not wanting to acknowledge the implication in Dmitri’s tone or words.

  “I don’t use cream.” Felix snorted, as if anyone needed a reminder of his sinus problem. Imbibing chocolate was bad enough for his chronic condition. He picked up a second bone-china cup and placed it on a saucer. With meticulous precision, he measured out chunks of orange-and-cinnamon-flavored chocolate into each cup.

  Grudgingly, Felix said, “I can’t help admire the boy. Not many could have endured what he has and remained sane.” He shot Dmitri a sour look. “But then I guess you knew that would happen. Planned for it, even, when you said in your cavalier fashion that I could imprison him.”

  The kettle clicked, and Felix filled each cup with boiling water. He dropped four sugar lumps into his cup and waved the tongs at Dmitri.

  “It’s quite sweet enough. Thank you.” Dmitri took the cup and saucer.

  Felix shoved a coaster toward the seer.

  Dmitri nodded his thanks. “I have known Nicholas for a very long time, long before he was born.” A smile of satisfaction and affection. “Headstrong, that he is. His own worst enemy at times, but I’ll not discourage that when it is also his greatest strength.”

  Felix stirred his chocolate, placed the cup on a coaster on his desk, and sat opposite his adversary. “I suppose you knew Meka and Grigor, too?”

  “What do you think, Felix?”

  Felix didn’t bother answering, although he wished he knew the two princes as well as Dmitri clearly did. He sipped his hot chocolate, wondering how different life would have been if, as a youth, he had taken up Dmitri’s offer to be the crown prince who changed the world.

  A sobering thought struck.

  He glowered at Dmitri. “I could never have been that boy. Mott was in power when I was crown prince. He was my brother, not my father.”

  “Slow, Felix. Very slow.” A roguish smile from Dmitri. “It was for this day that you were born.”

  Another grunt from Felix. He didn’t like the idea of preordination; it brought way too much pressure when he wasn’t in control. “So, what do I do about my son? Not to mention the dilemma you raise with alerting Stefan?”