“Yes, here in Luthcheq. Where some agency helped your friend Skulldark escape and a prodigious wind ruined the supplies. Where you looked me in the eye and urged me to consider my position in a game.”
Trying not to be obvious about it, Jhesrhi swallowed. “Majesty, we’ve already talked about the escape and what happened to the supplies, and I don’t understand why it was wrong for me to talk about war and statecraft in terms of a game. It’s common for people to talk that way.”
Tchazzar scowled. “I know that! And I don’t want you to be guilty. I want you to be my consort and my luck, like I imagined.”
“Then allow me to be those things,” Jhesrhi said. “Allow it by trusting me.”
“It isn’t that easy. You have to prove yourself, and do it before Alasklerbanbastos arrives. Otherwise-”
“Alasklerbanbastos?” She’d heard how the Great Bone Wyrm had escaped but, like her friends, had assumed the dracolich had simply gone to ground somewhere. Obviously not. “Now I understand! Majesty, that foul thing is your enemy! You can’t believe anything he says!”
“Yet I do. I believe I’ve been mired in lies since the day of my return, and now I’m free at last, which is bad luck for the liars. They’re about to find out the punishment for trying to trick a god.”
“Majesty, whatever you suspect, surely you’ll at least give them a trial.”
“When will you insects understand that I’m a god? I can judge and punish as I please, without the mortal rigmarole of courts and laws. In other words, your friends are already as good as dead. The only question left is whether you’ll join them in the Hells.”
“You said I could prove myself. How?” She assumed she knew and wondered if she could endure it any better in reality than she had in dream.
But Tchazzar surprised her by laughing at whatever he’d seen come into her face or heard in her voice. “Do you think I’m that besotted? That it will be that easy?”
Bewildered and, crazily, a little hurt in spite of everything, she said, “Majesty, I believe I’ve explained that it wouldn’t be easy for me.”
“Or perhaps you’ve just tantalized me endlessly because you judged that would be the best way to keep me obsessed and distracted.”
“I swear that isn’t so.”
“Well, you’ll have to prove it as worshipers have always proved themselves to the gods. By sacrifice. Your friend Ulraes is in the fortress. Now, I told Alasklerbanbastos that I wouldn’t move against any of you until he arrived. But I had to figure you out, and the archer is no wizard, just an insolent man-at-arms. Surely you can dispose of him without making enough fuss to rouse Captain Fezim, and then you and I will make love beside the corpse. That will make our first time all the more special.”
“Gaedynn helped rescue you. He had as much to do with it as I did.”
The world exploded into senselessness. When her shattered thoughts came partly back together, her head was ringing, her mouth tasted of blood, and she had her back against the wall. She realized that the dragon had lashed her across the jaw with the back of his hand, his arm whipping so fast that she hadn’t had time to react.
“I told you not to mention that again!” Tchazzar snarled. “I’m a god! I was never a prisoner, never bound in the dark, and never needed any mortal’s help! It’s blasphemy to say otherwise! And blasphemy’s the foulest treason of all!”
“Forgive me, Majesty,” Jhesrhi said. “I… don’t know why I said it. Some devil must have prompted me. Because I love and worship you and will do whatever I have to to prove it. Even kill my friend if that’s what you require.”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll get my staff.”
As before, she thought he might stop her, but he didn’t. Probably he rightly assumed he had little to fear from the instrument. He was largely impervious to the fire that had become her greatest weapon, and no other single spell in her arsenal was likely to hit him so hard that he’d be unable to retaliate.
It was late. But the corridors of the War College were seldom entirely deserted, and startled sentries and servants hastily saluted or bowed to their ruler, then no doubt eyed him and his companion curiously once they passed by. Jhesrhi’s nightclothes and bare feet probably made them think Tchazzar had whisked her out of her bed for some madcap escapade or tryst. Which, in a ghastly way, wasn’t far from the truth.
Tchazzar stopped in front of one carved, brassbound door in a row of them. He removed a silver key from the inside of his doublet, slid it into the keyhole, and twisted it. The lock yielded with a tiny click. He smirked, laid his finger across his lips, swung open the door, and ushered Jhesrhi into the dark room beyond.
At which point, she felt a pang of hope because Gaedynn wasn’t there. But when Tchazzar eased open a second door, they found the Aglarondan sprawled, snoring softly, in his bed. Despite everything, Jhesrhi’s mouth tightened when she made out the second shape all but hidden under the covers.
“See?” Tchazzar whispered, a hint of laughter in his tone. “He doesn’t care anything about you. So this shouldn’t be so difficult after all.”
“No.” Jhesrhi raised her staff, told it to be still when it begged for fire, and spoke to the wind instead.
Conjuring an actual gale wasn’t easy in a massive, enclosed structure such as the War College. But, like every wizard who’d ever cast a spell successfully, she made herself believe the magic would answer and it did. The air screamed, snatched her off her feet, and hurled her forward. Tchazzar grabbed for her, but at that moment, he was the one who was too slow.
Ahead of her, the wind rocked the bed and ripped Gaedynn, his companion, and the covers off the feather mattress. In the dark, Jhesrhi couldn’t tell if the blast of air smashed the cames and diamond-shaped panes out of the casement, or if the lovers’ bodies did it as they hurtled through.
An instant later, she, too, shot through to see that she and the others had burst out of the east face of the War College, on the opposite side from most of Luthcheq. Only a few scattered buildings bumped up from the ground below.
Jhesrhi spoke to the wind once more and felt it respond with a hint of reluctance. Flinging people around like a cat batting a ball suited it better than carrying them in a more precise and less violent manner. But it obeyed. It heaved her, Gaedynn, and his erstwhile bedmate upward.
And not a moment too soon. Flame blazed through the broken window but passed beneath them. Above, on the battlements atop the enormous sandstone edifice, a sentry cried out.
Certain Tchazzar would try again to burn them, Jhesrhi told the wind to bring her close to the wall and drew those she was carrying close to it also. That should give the dragon a difficult angle.
Although evidently not an impossible one, for a second streak of fiery breath shot up between Gaedynn and herself. Then, however, they were high enough to fly over the roof and use it for cover. Jhesrhi dumped Gaedynn’s wench beside one of the catapults, and she thumped down with a squeal.
Then, Jhesrhi judged, she could finally pause to catch her breath and think. The guards below looked astonished, not aggressive, although that could change at any moment. She made Gaedynn and herself float in the air.
To her relief, it didn’t appear that the window glass had cut him. Using his fingers to comb his tousled hair, he grinned at her. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble just to see me naked.”
“Shut up!” she snapped. “The plan’s come apart! Tchazzar wants us all dead!”
“I guessed that, actually. The gist, if not all the details. And I assume Aoth and Cera are still inside the fortress.”
“Yes. Do you know what quarters they were given?”
“Even if I did, I doubt I could spot it from the outside.”
“We can’t just leave them to be killed in their sleep.”
“No, but we can’t go back in and look for them either. That would only get us killed. You have to warn them from out here.”
“All right.” Growling harsh, pe
rcussive words derived from one of the languages of Elemental Chaos, she gripped her staff with both hands and jabbed it downward in time with the steady beat of the incantation.
Her power jolted the structure beneath her. The shocks made the sentries stumble back and forth.
When she finished, Gaedynn asked, “Are you sure that was enough? I mean, it was impressive in its way, but you didn’t break anything.”
“I’m not done,” she answered. She spun her staff over her head. The pseudo-mind inside cried out in joy when she willed the ends of the rod to burst into flame.
Fireballs shot from the ends of the staff and, arcing, fell down the four faces of the War College. Presumably the light they shed shined through all the windows.
Panting, she lowered the staff and willed out the fires at the ends. “That’s all I know to do.”
“Then it will have to be enough. Especially since the fellows below are finally readying their crossbows. We need to reach the Brotherhood.”
“I know.” She spoke to the wind, and it swept them onward.
*****
Jet prowled the muddy field where his fellow griffons lay sleeping. Still not quite recovered from the race back to Chessenta, he wished he could join them in their slumber. But a nagging uneasiness was keeping him awake.
He turned east and reached across the city with his thoughts. Are you there? Is everything all right?
But all that he sensed in response was a jumbled blur of a mind that sluggishly shifted away from his psychic touch. Aoth, too, was asleep. Happy that he’d outmaneuvered Tchazzar, he’d likely eaten too much, drunk too much, and spent himself mating with his female.
Idiot, Jet thought, although not without a certain amount of envy. Don’t drop your guard while you’re still in a dragon’s lair.
And at that moment, fire erupted from a point above the War College. The blazing orbs arced outward and spilled down the sides of the fortress like spray from a fountain.
Jet didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he very much doubted it was good. Are you awake now? he called.
No. Aoth wasn’t. Although it was possible that his sleep wasn’t quite as deep as before.
Jet trotted, unfurled his wings, lashed them, and rose into the air. “Danger!” he screeched. “Danger!” Then he drove on toward the War College.
Wake up! he cried, tearing at the barrier of Aoth’s unconsciousness as he would rend a foe with his talons. Wake up, wake up, wake up!
*****
Aoth dreamed that he was back on the mountaintop in Szass Tam’s private little hell, and somewhere amid all the undead giants and beholders, Jet was crying out in anguish. He fought madly to reach the griffon, but for every foe he destroyed or blasted aside, two more loomed before him, and he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of his steed.
His eyes snapped open. But Jet’s voice was still ringing inside his head. It made him feel addled.
What you are, the familiar rasped, is drunk! Sober yourself up!
Aoth touched one of the tattoos on his forearm. A surge of clarity and vitality washed his muddled daze away. What’s wrong? he asked.
Something was floating above the War College tossing balls of fire. It’s stopped now, but you still needed to know.
Aoth grabbed Cera’s shoulder and shook her. “Muh?” she murmured.
He shook her harder. “Wake up!”
She frowned up at him and knuckled her eye. “What’s wrong?”
“If we’re lucky, Tchazzar’s just amusing himself. Or the citadel’s under attack.”
“And if we’re not?”
“Then Jhesrhi just tried to warn us that the dragon’s turned on us. Dress fast. We don’t want to be in these rooms if somebody’s on the way to kill or arrest us. Jet’s coming to carry us to safety.”
Cera rolled out of bed and grabbed her shift. “What if Tchazzar does still trust us but then finds out we ran away?”
Aoth pulled on his breeches. “I’ll think of some excuse.”
Once they were dressed, he reached for his mail but then left it on the stand. It took time to put on armor, and he was afraid they didn’t have it. He thrust Cera’s mace and buckler into her hands, grabbed his spear, and led her into the sitting room.
He cracked the door open. No one was waiting right outside, but the War College had begun to echo with excited voices. He couldn’t tell if it was because people were simply reacting to the rain of fire or because Tchazzar and his officers were already giving orders.
He did know the closest staircase was to the left. Since it was a good idea to get off that level, he and Cera headed in that direction. I’m nearly there, said Jet.
Good, Aoth answered. We’ll get out on a balcony or someplace like that.
I had to swing wide to avoid Tchazzar. He was in the air in dragon form.
Was he chasing Jhesrhi? Or on his way to attack our camp?
All I know is he was headed west.
Curse it! Get here as soon as you can!
What do you think I’m trying to do? Several moments passed before the griffon spoke again. A couple of the buildings near the War College are on fire.
There may be a reason to care about that later. Right now, we have other problems.
Aoth reached the top of the stairs and led Cera to the left again. Every upper level of the fortress provided some sort of access to the open air. He just had to find one of the doors.
But before he could, a squad of Tchazzar’s guards armored in gilded breastplates and helms with scarlet horsehair crests came around a corner. Spying Aoth and Cera, they reached to draw their swords. Their leader sucked in a breath to shout.
Aoth shouted first. He bellowed a word of power and jabbed at the soldiers with his spear.
Magic amplified the shout in a boom like a thunderclap. Loud as it was, the noise didn’t hurt him or Cera, but the guards reeled and fell.
Aoth strode forward and looked down at the officer. The Chessentan was bleeding from the nose and ears and looked dazed. But his eyes were open.
Aoth poised his spear at the fellow’s throat. “My followers and I want out of Chessenta,” he said.
The officer goggled back at him.
“I don’t think he can hear you,” Cera said. She murmured a prayer that set her fingertips aglow with golden light, stooped, and touched the fallen man on each ear. “Try it again.”
“My men and I just want to leave,” Aoth said. “If Tchazzar allows it, there won’t be any trouble. But if he tries to stop us, I guarantee the battle will lay waste to Luthcheq.” He remembered the blazing aerial display and the burning buildings Jet had told him about. “In fact, I’ll burn the place to the ground. Tell him.” He waited for an answer, but the man just kept gawking. “Say you understand or I’ll kill you.”
“I… I understand,” the warrior stammered.
“Good,” Aoth took a look at the other battered soldiers. They were all still too groggy to cause any trouble. He and Cera picked their way through them then hurried on.
“You can’t burn Luthcheq,” she said. “There are tens of thousands of innocent people here.”
“I had to threaten them with something,” he said. Then, at last, he found what they were looking for.
The door opened on a walkway behind a row of merlons. He pulled it open, and wings beating, blacker than the night behind him, Jet lit on one of the sandstone blocks.
*****
“Tchazzar’s chasing us,” said Jhesrhi, her golden hair streaming and nightclothes flapping in the gale that swept her and Gaedynn along.
He looked around. He could see the War College, its walls stained by the wavering yellow light of the fires near its base, but nothing in the air.
“I assume the wind told you,” he said.
“Yes. We’re faster than he is, but…”
“But he’d catch us eventually. When you ran out of magic if not before.”
“Yes.”
“But it doesn’t matter. As long as we
reach the Brotherhood ahead of him, we’ll be all right.”
Inwardly he prayed to old Keen-Eye that that was true.
They soared over the site of Tchazzar’s new temple. The shops and homes that had stood there were mostly rubble, waiting for someone to cart it away. Fires burned in the shadow of the piles. Displaced paupers with nowhere else to go were surviving as best they could.
Gaedynn peered ahead, at the place where the city started to thin out and the army was encamped. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed a sigh when he spotted figures scurrying in the Brotherhood’s part of the sprawl. Something had alerted them that there was trouble in the city, and that meant they all had a chance.
Jhesrhi’s tame wind set them down in the center of their camp, then departed in a final howling swirl. People gawked at them. Her mouth hanging open, Son-liin in particular seemed unable to tear her gaze away from Gaedynn.
He grinned. “I know it’s magnificent, but now is not the time. Find me a bow and quiver. Go!”
The stormsoul scurried off, and Ramed strode out of the dark. “What’s happening?” he asked. “Jet cried that there was danger, then-”
“Tchazzar’s coming to attack us,” Gaedynn said, “but maybe we can make him reconsider. Get all the griffons in the air.”
“It’s only been a little while. Most of them aren’t saddled-”
“I don’t care. I don’t care if they have riders. They’re more intimidating on the wing than on the ground. I want every man showing he’s ready to fight too. Don’t worry about putting them in formation. There’s no time for that either. Just have them point their weapons at the sky.”
“Right.” Ramed hurried away, shouting orders.
“It isn’t going to be enough,” Jhesrhi said. “Tchazzar’s a warlord. He’ll see that we’re not prepared to stop him.” She looked around. “Oraxes! Meralaine!”
She kept shouting while Gaedynn scrutinized the sky above the city. His mouth was dry, and his hands ached with their emptiness. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime although he knew that it had really been only a few breaths, Son-liin came running back with a longbow and arrows. Then Oraxes and Meralaine trotted out of the dark aisle that ran away between two rows of tents.
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