When Dragons Rage

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “Sure, tonight, after all this is over. It’ll be fun.” Will let his voice sink. “Sorry if seeing him was unsettling. I just needed to prove that I am the Norrington.”

  Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Was that ever in doubt, really?”

  Will shrugged. “Never hurts to have more proof?”

  Crow patted him on the shoulder. “None of us has ever doubted it, Will. You’ve proved it over and over again.” He looked past Will and at the dragons. “And here you’ll have a chance to prove it yet one more time.”

  CHAPTER 72

  D espite his having dozed on Vriisureol’s back as they flew to Vael, Kerrigan hardly felt rested upon his arrival. Two of the ten-foot-tall dracomorphs guided him and Bok to the chambers they would occupy. The cozy suite reminded him of an urZrethi coric, though it had been built to more human proportions and had only three rooms off the main chamber. He occupied one, and Bok took another.

  Kerrigan was uncertain how long he had slept, but the scent in his nose and the rumble in his belly seemed to decide between them it was more than long enough. Out of the clothing Bok had unpacked and laid on a shelf, he pulled a tunic and trousers, then stamped his feet into worn boots. He knew he looked nothing like a mage, but that didn’t matter to him. He was hungry.

  Still, the ease with which he shed his concern about what was proper raiment for a mage, and the distance he felt between himself and Vilwan, marked how much his experiences had changed him. Some of it, he knew, was the fellowship he felt with Will, Alexia, and the others. He was more a part of their group than he was a citizen of Vilwan. On Vilwan he had been a thing to be trained, a weapon to be honed—though exactly for what purpose no one ever bothered to tell him. But, then, Crow does not tell his sword what he intends to do with it. To his friends he was more than an object, and to him they were more than dulls who had to be tolerated.

  Another piece of it was because of the revelations Rym Ramoch had made about Vilwan and the nature of magick. He’d seen more of that in Muroso. Vilwan was not the wellspring of all magickal knowledge. Even the Conservatory in Aurolan had found other ways of approaching things. That all made sense in a way it never had before. Kerrigan never would have supposed there was only one way to make a chair, or only one thing that would function as a chair, so why would the same be expected of a spell? There are many paths to the same result.

  In a very short time, he’d learned more about magick and how to handle it than he had after years at Vilwan. Granted, his training on Vilwan had made him able to see and master these new things, but Vilwan’s encouragement of inefficiency struck him as totally wrong. They did that so mages would be less powerful and easier to control, but in making them so, Vilwan made them less able to deal with a mage who might actually be more efficient.

  He wondered for a moment if that was what Kirûn had seen. But the simple fact was that Kerrigan now could do more than any of his contemporaries, and he had a working spell that could detect the presence of DragonCrown fragments. With that spell, he could help undo what Kirûn had done so long ago.

  Smiling, he shoved himself off his bed and wandered out into the main chamber. There he found a round table set with a steaming ham, fresh bread, cheeses, vegetables in sauces, and a host of other things that he did not recognize per se. It all smelled delicious and his mouth watered before he could even dream of where he would start.

  All of that quickly went by the board, however, when he saw Rym Ramoch emerging from the suite’s third room. “Master, when did you get here?”

  “It seems as if I’ve been here forever, Kerrigan.”

  “How did you get here?”

  Ramoch laughed. “Vriisureol is not the only dragon on Vael, you know.”

  Kerrigan nodded, and waited for his master to take a seat at the table. Ramoch strode to the far side, drew the chair back, and sat. He seemed a bit more animated than in the past, but the excitement of being in Vael could easily explain that. The crimson-robed mage waved Kerrigan to his chair, and Bok appeared from beneath the table to slide a heavily laden plate in front of him.

  The young mage looked down at it. He couldn’t tell if it had been picked over or not, but the rumble in his stomach told him that it really didn’t matter. He smiled, forked a small strip of ham into his mouth, then closed his eyes and moaned. “Very good.”

  “Good, good. The thralls do as they are told, but one does not always know if they understand the orders they have been given.” Ramoch nodded slowly. “Your work on the detection spell, and your actions at Navval, were impressive. You amaze me.”

  Kerrigan smiled, and in between mouthfuls explained a lot of what he had done. In fact he became so engrossed in the discussion that he left off eating entirely, shoving the gold plate aside so he could lean his elbows on the table as he pondered the many questions Ramoch asked.

  The questions were not easy, but Kerrigan tackled each one happily. He realized that he’d greatly enjoyed fashioning the spells, and that he’d been happy they had worked. But here, for the first time in forever, he had someone with whom he could discuss his work. Rym Ramoch understood what he had been trying to do. His previous mentors, save Orla, had only been interested in making sure he mastered whatever they were teaching him. While some casual conversations might nibble at the edges of the theoretical, most of his mentors failed to have a broad grasp of magick. They knew their specialized areas, but without a generalist’s grasp of things, they had no hope of understanding the connections between the underpinnings of the various disciplines.

  He remembered how Orla had seemed surprised when he re-created for her the staff she’d lost. He’d used wood as a raw material and woven several different spells together to get it right. For him it had been effortless. It was a spell he’d created so he could replace things he’d broken, but to her it was a minor miracle. Ramoch, while he might be impressed with the spell, was capable of understanding how Kerrigan did what he did.

  Their discussions continued through the morning and past lunch. Kerrigan picked at food as they talked and noticed things disappearing beneath the table from time to time. Bok’s rolling burps confirmed where these items had gone. Ramoch ate nothing, but Kerrigan did not find that terribly remarkable since the man still wore his mask and was thin enough that he probably didn’t eat more than once a month.

  In the middle of the afternoon, a dracomorph with ivory scales and red dots over breast and back came and spoke to Ramoch in hisses and snaps—all quite respectful-sounding. The mage nodded, then shooed the creature away with a gloved hand. “We have been summoned, but we have some time before our appointment. I would show you some of Vael, if you wish.”

  “I’d like that. I think Princess Alexia would, too. Shouldn’t we get her?”

  Ramoch pressed his fingertips together. “She is otherwise occupied, I’m afraid. Much of your company from Meredo arrived this morning before you wakened. You’ll see them soon enough, but the princess joined them straight away.”

  Kerrigan smiled. “Will and everyone else?”

  “Yes, including Dranae. He is a dragon.”

  “A dragon!” The young mage thought for a moment. “Was he the one who healed Will?”

  “Partly, I believe. There were likely other influences.” Ramoch stood and smoothed his robe. “We shall investigate properly later. First, I want you to see some of Vael. Come, Bok.”

  The urZrethi slid from beneath the table and followed the two of them out of the suite. They exited onto a path perhaps ten feet wide, with columns of stone spaced every dozen feet or so. On the right side the wall was solid, but on the left, it was open to a large gallery. Kerrigan could see other walkways as small as this one, then much larger ones below. The walkways themselves, while smooth, dipped and climbed like termite trails in wood.

  Ramoch led the young mage along. “These pathways were built for the thralls and dracomorphs. They are, in essence, servants’ corridors—though they serve humans quite well. I hope you are not offended.�
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  “No, Master.”

  Ramoch nodded. “You know, of course, that dragons and the urZrethi are enemies. The urZrethi raise great mountains, then dragons dispossess them of their hard work. Vael itself was once a much larger place. Alcida never had a coast and the urZrethi home bordered Loquellyn. In ancient times, the dragons and urZrethi fought a grand war over it. When the dragons destroyed it, all but Vael sank.”

  Kerrigan glanced at Bok. “Is he safe here?”

  “Bok? Yes. He is known to be my companion, so my friends are his friends. You are under similar protection.” Ramoch opened his hands. “You have seen Bokagul, so you can imagine what the grand halls of Vareshagul must have been like. Alas, no more. Since it was lost, no urZrethi construction has risen so high, nor been so ambitious.”

  The young mage puffed his way up an incline. “Why did the dragons destroy Vareshagul?”

  Ramoch shrugged. “Who knows the mind of dragons? It could be they thought this would be a wonderful place to live. Or some of the more sinister tales could be true.”

  “Such as?”

  Bok hissed.

  Ramoch petted the urZrethi’s head. “Dragons have been around since the founding of the world. There are legends that suggest they fought a war with other creatures, which were even more terrible than they. The dragons won and forced those things deep into the bowels of the earth, imprisoning them and their evil. Those creatures created the urZrethi to raise mountains and dig deep enough to release them.”

  “Who, then, created elves and men and the other races?”

  Ramoch looked at him slowly. “These are all legends, Kerrigan. The source of the conflict between dragons and urZrethi is hidden in the mists of antiquity. It is just important to know the conflict exists. Origins that distant mean nothing today.”

  “But if we knew how it started, there might be a way to establish peace.”

  Ramoch laughed. “Eliminate Chytrine and you might be able to accomplish the impossible and establish peace between the urZrethi and dragons. But first things first.”

  The three of them moved through Vael at a leisurely pace, but always down and deeper. Kerrigan looked for hints of what had once been urZrethi construction, but it eluded him. Everything appeared to be natural stone, despite the fact it clearly had been shaped. The columns were spaced so evenly that nature could not have played a part, which meant magick had been used to guide things. Even so, he did not get the impression it had been done hastily. Instead, he imagined spells that would allow the stone to flow naturally, building the columns. It would take lifetimes, he calculated, then amended his thought. Human lifetimes.

  For a dragon, that would be nothing.

  Finally, Ramoch led him into a chamber so enormous, it was beyond his ability to truly grasp. It could have housed all of Navval, and perhaps even Caledo and Lake Calessa. In fact, the chamber had a lake of molten rock as its basis. The edge of the rock shelf onto which Kerrigan emerged had been worked with odd sigils in an arc. They pulsed with power and he assumed they were what prevented those standing on the shelf from bursting into flame. Above the lake, a huge stone arch held the chamber’s roof in place.

  The lake itself had a number of tall stone formations with craggy sides that rose like flattopped mountains. Elsewhere, cut into the rock walls were other perches, large and small. The ones above the shelf remained empty, but those on the lake and surrounding it had dragons sitting or lying on them. Dragons of every size and color were present. Some were missing toes or eyes, others had broken horns and tails and jagged scars devoid of scales. Kerrigan noticed some appeared to be asleep, and one or two, he could have sworn, were actually just stone statues tucked into a niche.

  Kerrigan took all that in before the shouts of others brought him back to the world. Lombo scrambled over, and Qwc circled him happily, then returned to a place at the apex of the shelf’s curve. Alexia was there with Crow, both of them looking very happy. He recognized Prince Erlestoke of Oriosa, and saw he was carrying a fragment of the DragonCrown. Resolute stood beside him and had a hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

  Kerrigan smiled and waved, scratching Lombo behind an ear. Seeing them all made his heart swell. Throughout his life he had always felt he was an outsider, but these people accepted him and even liked him. He saw the joy he felt reflected on their faces, and that made him happier yet.

  Will, bright-eyed, came running over as Lombo withdrew. “Kerrigan, have you seen this place? It’s huge, like Bokagul, but huger!”

  “I know. My master was giving me a tour.” Kerrigan looked hard at Will, for the ghostly shape of a man was clinging to him like a shadow. “Will, what is . . . ?”

  “That?” Will jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “A thing Dranae did with dracomagick. He’s a dragon, you know. He’s the one who healed me, using dracomagick; that’s why your spells didn’t quite figure out what was going on. He’s called Dravothrak here. That’s him, the big green one, right over there.”

  Kerrigan nodded, but the green dragon gave no sign he’d seen him.

  Rym Ramoch took a step toward Will, then looked over at Dravothrak. “Dravothrak, have you any idea what you have done?”

  The green’s head came up, but the ghostly form flowed from behind Will to eclipse the dragon. The phantom went from translucent white to black, fire erupting from its eye sockets. I’ve seen him before! Ice flushed through Kerrigan’s guts. That is Nefrai-laysh!

  Nefrai-laysh’s left hand darted forward, fingers stiffened into a blade. He plunged his hands into Rym Ramoch’s chest with a great snapping sound and the tearing of cloth. As the sullanciri ripped his hand free, the sorcerer collapsed on the ground, his arms and legs twisted unnaturally. Worse yet, the hole in his chest let Kerrigan see that Ramoch was nothing more than a huge wooden doll. The mask had been knocked askew when he fell, revealing a blank face.

  The sullanciri danced back, holding aloft a glowing ruby stone. It pulsed with life strong enough to radiate light through Nefrai-laysh’s black flesh, outlining his bones. The sullanciri gathered his feet beneath him, then leaped back and away from the crowd, landing gracefully on one of the flat perches above the shelf.

  “Hark unto me, dragonkind; my mistress would have you know her mind. Things here, you will debate, and your decision rests much on fate.” Chytrine’s herald laughed aloud. “Discuss as you must, discuss as you will. Discuss wisely and I won’t have to kill. Listen to them, listen to me, then the world’s fate decided shall be.”

  CHAPTER 73

  N efrai-laysh spoke in a dismal rhyme, but Will barely heard his words. He looked from the broken manikin and up at Kerrigan’s face. Shock and betrayal dragged at the mage’s cheeks, and they drained of color. His eyes began to glaze over, but Will grabbed two fistfuls of his tunic. “I’m sorry, Kerrigan, I’m sorry, but I need you here. This is bad and we have to fix it.”

  Bok reached out, his arm transforming, and swept Will away. The thief spun and fell, landing on his butt not ten feet away from Qwc. As his head came up, he saw Nefrai-laysh on the shelf. His form had become completely black save for the fire burning in his eye sockets and his flaming cloak. He held the glowing gem aloft as if he were going to throw it down and dash it into a million pieces.

  A large dragon, with dark blue scales striped with lighter blue, shifted on his stone pedestal. “This Congress would accept testimony from a representative of the court of Aurolan. You need not threaten Rymramoch that way.”

  “Alas, parity with them I desire, those before the lake of fire.” The sullanciri pointed at Erlestoke. “A Truestone has he, so even are we.”

  The blue tilted its head to the right. “We would treat you with equanimity regardless. You are all guests here, and are bound by the Peace of our Congress. Violence one upon the other is not permitted. Violate the peace and earn our ire.”

  Crow pointed to the broken puppet. “This was not violence?”

  Another dragon, this one a mottled grey with one broken horn,
pointed its muzzle toward a dragon resting in a niche. The one he indicated had red scales, but their color was muted, as if it lay beneath an inch of dust. “Rymramoch is not a guest and Rymramoch put Rymramoch in jeopardy. Foolishness paid is foolishness bought.”

  Dravothrak spoke. “And totally beside the point. I was sent to travel among men and so I have. We have been told that men mean to collect the Truestones and re-create the Crown to force us to abandon our duty. That is not true. They have held the pieces apart to prevent Chytrine from recreating the Crown and using it to destroy all that lives.”

  The grey snorted two jets of flame. “There is a problem with the extermination of men? We created the Panqui to keep men away from our homes, but they still encroach. Chytrine does us a minor service in pursuit of a greater one.”

  A black dragon with red stripes spoke, and Will realized two things. The first was that he’d seen that dragon before, at Vilwan. The second was that the wall between him and the lake not only served to keep the heat out, but was functioning to translate the hissing of dragons into words they could understand. I wonder if Resolute hears them speaking Elvish?

  Vriisureol’s voice rumbled through the invisible wall. “For how long does she serve us? Now she offers to be our ally. She uses the Truestones in her possession to summon some, then lets them offer her their service. She has enslaved no one, but will this always be the way?”

  The blue replied. “The Crown is ever a threat as long as it exists. Chytrine says that when she gets all the pieces and fits them together, she will unmake the Crown, freeing the Truestones and us of their tyranny forever. She is gathering them for this purpose.”

  “Yes, yes, that is right. She gathers them with all her might, facing death and mankind’s spite.” Nefrai-laysh pointed at Erlestoke. “His stone, give it to me. I’ll bear it to her, you see.”

  Resolute drew Syverce. “It will be your death to take that stone.”