Dragon Blood h-2

by Patricia Briggs

  She swore softly to herself. "Gods, Ward. With such a small party, he'll be able to hear approaching groups easily. We'll have to be mounted, or we'll never catch up to him, and that will make us noisy. Not more than ten, I'd say."

  "So I thought," I agreed. "We'll need Axiel. He has some knowledge of magic—it might make the difference between survival and not."

  "I've seen him fight," she said, nodding in approval. "I can find him for you—and Tosten, too. He knows which end of his blade is which."

  "I know where Garranon is," I said. "I don't know if he'll leave his wife now, but I thought he deserved a chance to avenge Buril if he wants it."

  "Lys is tough," said Tisala. "She'll pull herself together if he needs to go."

  "If he doesn't come, I'll talk to Duraugh," I said. "I don't want to. If I don't make it, Kellen and Beckram both will need his experience, but it will take more than four people. Rosem would be nice, but I don't want to try and take him without Kellen."

  "What about Oreg?" Tisala asked.

  "No," I said. "You know what he is. For longer than I care to think about, he was a slave of the Hurogmeten. When I first met him … " I tried to think of a way to describe the terrified, defiant soul who'd offered himself to me with the platinum ring I still wore, though its spell was broken.

  I decided finally that his condition after a thousand years of slavery was something I didn't need to share, not even with Tisala. "When I met him, he asked me a riddle as we stood over the bones of a dragon one of my ancestors had killed. He asked me if I would have let the dragon go free, knowing that by chaining it I could have saved Hurog."

  I looked away briefly, remembering the sight of the chains that held the dragon long after its death. "I told him no. But he, wise man that he was, didn't believe me. In the end I proved that to save the world I would not only sacrifice Hurog, which I was sworn to protect, but also Oreg himself." I met her eyes. "I won't do it again. This is not Oreg's fight. I won't use him as my ancestor used that poor dragon who died in her chains."

  "Out to save the world by yourself again, Ward?" she said.

  I flinched at the truth of that, but I answered as honestly as I could. "I am the Hurogmeten. It is my job to protect the dragons that are left, not place them in jeopardy. Even if Jakoven uses the Bane to level the world, Oreg will survive."

  "Will he?" she asked softly. "I don't think that he'd survive your death. Everyone needs a reason to live, Ward, even dragons. You didn't see him when you were in the Asylum and he couldn't get to you. I think that if you leave Oreg behind, even if you survive and win, Oreg won't. Letting the dragon go free is more than keeping it safe, you know."

  "I won't use him," I said, but the battle was already lost, and even I knew it.

  The door at my back opened and I turned on my heel to see Oreg slip in looking apologetic. "I spent a long time," he said to Tisala without looking at me, "spying on people and hearing things that I had no business hearing. For the last few years, I've been trying to drop old habits. So when I was walking to my room, and I grew tired and rested my head against the door to Ward's room, it wasn't to eavesdrop. But you can imagine my surprise when instead of Ward declaring his undying love, I heard my own name. Naturally, I had to listen to what he had to say."

  "Naturally," agreed Tisala, smiling.

  He held out a hand and she gave him hers, which he brought to his lips. "How good it is to hear someone else scold him on his tendency to usurp the rights of others under the pretext of protecting them."

  Finally he looked at me and I saw a touch of anger in his eyes. "Ward, if I had been more observant in those years when you were growing to manhood in Hurog, I would not have had to ask that riddle. You have never sacrificed anything except yourself. I have apologized for forcing you to do what you had to do to keep the dragon bones from the hands of evil. You suffered from that and I was freed."

  He took a deep breath and swallowed his anger. "There's a difference between using someone and asking them for help—which you know very well. You can't keep everyone safe, Ward." His voice gentled further. "I'm not a child—for all that I look younger than you. I'm not Ciarra or Tosten, who needed you to protect them."

  He put his hand behind my neck and pulled me down until my forehead rested against his as he said softly, "I am the dragon that would have eaten you, if you'd managed to go defeat Jakoven without asking me to play, too."

  I pulled away and laughed ruefully. "Fine. If you come, too, we just might manage to survive."

  "Now," he said, "why didn't I hear you proposing to Tisala when I all but told you to? I think you might have scared her off if you'd asked her when you wanted to" — he turned to Tisala—"which would have been within ten minutes of the first time he saw you handle your sword" — back to me—"but if you keep trying to seduce her without telling her how you feel, she's going to think that your purpose is other than honorable. It's not like you to miss your aim, but if you hesitate too long, the rabbit'll escape the snare."

  Tisala laughed and made little rabbit ears on the top of her head with her hands.

  "Enough, Oreg," I said. But the blush staining my cheeks robbed some of the force from my voice.

  "It's all right," said Tisala, still chuckling. "That's the first time anyone ever called me a rabbit. Actually, Oreg, if you'd started listening about five minutes earlier, you would have heard Ward's half of that very conversation. I haven't gotten around to my half yet. Why don't you go see if you can get Axiel and Tosten to meet us in the stables. Tell anyone who asks you that I suggested you three come out hunting with Ward and me." To me she explained, "My father just got word that the southern lords won't be here until late tomorrow. He'll think, at least for a while, that I took you out to entertain you."

  "As my lady commands," said Oreg, grinning. He turned on his heel with military precision and shut the door as he left.

  "He could still be listening," I said after the door closed behind Oreg.

  "I'm older than you," she said baldly.

  I waited.

  "I'll never be beautiful."

  "My dear lady," I said, exasperated. "I don't know if I ought to be angry that you think I am so shallow that I need an ornament at my side to be happy, or if I ought to tell you that when I first saw you wear court dress in your father's hall all those years ago, you made the other ladies fade into obscurity. Or if I should tell you of the heat in my blood every time I see you use your sword."

  "At least I don't take my shirt off during sword practice," she accused. "Did you honestly think that I believed you were hot? There was snow on the ground."

  I grinned at her, the butterflies in my stomach settling back to where they ought to be. Oreg, bless him, had been right about the effect of my embarrassing outburst on the raft.

  "You didn't have to look," I suggested.

  To my delight she snorted, sounding very much like Feather. "You're interrupting me," she said unfairly.

  I obediently closed my mouth. The humor drained out of her face to be replaced by something that made my heart pound. She stepped forward and touched the side of my face. I closed my eyes briefly and turned my head into her touch until she withdrew it.

  "I tried so hard not to love you," she whispered. "I didn't want to love a Shavig barbarian. Shavig's winters are too cold."

  "At least it doesn't rain all the time," I said, my voice hoarse.

  "Ward, I love you. If we both make it out of this alive, I will marry you—gods help you—if you still want to marry me."

  Yes! I caught my cry of triumph before it passed my lips, but I grabbed her around the waist and swung her high. She laughed, gripping my shoulders. The joy in my heart was matched by her eyes.

  I let her slide down my body, savoring the muscled curves of thighs and belly, the softer touch of her breasts. I stopped her when her mouth was level with mine and tasted her lips with more relief than passion—though that quickly changed.

  She hadn't been kissed often. I cou
ld tell from the occasional surprised sounds she made. I was out of practice and bit her bottom lip a little too sharply once. When I would have pulled back, though, she returned the favor.

  At last, nibbling on the corner of my mouth, Tisala said, "I'm too heavy for this."

  I laughed. Aroused as I was, I could have held her forever, but I used the excuse to set her down before I did something we'd both regret.

  "If we don't hurry, Oreg will be back up here," I said.

  She touched my chest lightly and the sensation burned into my skin. "I'll go tell my father that we're going out hunting."

  I knocked lightly.

  Garranon opened the door. "Ward?"

  "If you'll give me a minute," I said, "I have a proposition that might interest you."

  "Let him in," said his wife from somewhere behind him.

  Garranon stepped back and allowed me into his room, shutting the three of us in the small room—four if I counted the exhausted child sleeping in the bed.

  "My husband tells me that you believe that Jakoven holds Farsonsbane and that he used it to kill our people." Allysaian sat upright on the edge of the bed and Garranon took up a stance in front of the window. The separation between them was as vast and solid as ice.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Do you or your wizard have an idea of how to stop him?" she asked.

  "Yes, actually, that's what I came to talk to Garranon about, Lady," I said, and, as succinctly as possible, I told them what I intended to do.

  When I was through, Garranon shook his head, the expression on his face showing nothing but mild regret. "I have told my lady that I will not leave again."

  "He regrets that he had left me all these years and forced me to play the lord rather than the lady," said Allysaian expressionlessly.

  A muscle in Garranon's face tightened.

  I turned to Garranon. "Do you think that you could have prevented the deaths of your people where your wife did not?"

  His eyebrows climbed up his beautiful face. "Of course not." He made a sharp dismissive gesture with his hand. "The only way to have prevented this is if I'd had the courage to kill Jakoven while he slept."

  "If you had done that," his wife said hotly, "you would be dead. And Buril would have been razed to the ground as the holding of a regicide, and our people left to the bandits. This is not your fault."

  "Isn't it?" he asked.

  "No," she said. "No more than it is mine."

  "If I had not been his lover … " he began.

  "There's no profit in that," I said. "My father complained bitterly about you. He used to say that if it hadn't been for you, the king would have divided up Oranstone among his loyal followers, including him. I doubt that was completely true—but I don't know how much of his restraint was for your sake and neither do you."

  "My father," said Allysaian as she stood up and touched Garranon's rigid shoulder, "told me that the king gathered the children of the rebels together to kill them and break Oranstone's heart, but he changed his mind abruptly after walking through the cells where the children were held—after seeing you."

  Garranon took his wife's hand tightly and looked at me. "Jakoven won't be alone—why do you think you can take him?"

  "Oreg can handle anything the wizards throw at him," I said. "With you, Tisala, and Axiel to cover the sword work, I'll take on the Bane. It was my blood that woke it, and I think I know something about how it was made. Enough, maybe, to unmake it."

  Allysaian rose onto her toes and kissed Garranon on the cheek. "Go, my lord," she said. "Do what must be done and come back to me."

  He bent and kissed her, not a gentle kiss good-bye, but one full of promise.

  Axiel, Oreg, and Tosten were already mounted with a second horse tied to their saddles when we got to the stables. Tisala was arguing with one of the stablemen. When she saw us, she pointed at me, and the stableman followed her finger and frowned before turning abruptly and disappearing into the stable.

  Tisala handed off the two horses she'd been holding to Garranon and followed the stableman. She returned with another pair of horses.

  "Having trouble finding a horse up to my weight?" I asked, eyeing the small, narrow-chested, fine-boned horses she held.

  Tisala grinned at me. "These are mine. They could carry you all the way back to Hurog without showing the effects," she said, patting one arched neck fondly. "But you'd die of embarrassment before you'd ridden a mile with your feet dragging in the mud. We have a couple that will do you better, I think."

  The stableman came out with a young gray mare much taller and stouter than any of the other horses he'd brought out. There was something about her hindquarters that looked familiar, but her raw-boned head matched the other Oranstone horses. I took the reins and mounted.

  "She's not a trained warhorse," warned Tisala. "She's just coming four and is still pretty green."

  I nodded my head and sat still, letting the mare adjust to my weight. The stableman came out with my second mount and I took a good look at her before I turned a chiding expression at Tisala. The mare the stableman held was a dead ringer for my Pansy, except that she lacked his thick stallion's neck.

  Tisala laughed at my face. "We had your stallion for almost a month," she said. "Do you really think I wouldn't take advantage of it? My father was appalled that I did it without asking."

  "Be careful with the dark mare, my lord," advised the stableman as he reluctantly handed over her reins. "She loses her temper if she doesn't understand what you want of her."

  "Her sire's the same way," I told him, knowing from the way his hands lingered on her neck that she was a favorite. "I'll take good care of her."

  We left Callis without incident, moving at a steady trot. The mare I rode was sensible, for all that she was young, and it didn't take her long before she steadied under me and ignored the antics of her dark sister.

  "I thought you said Pansy was a cow," I said.

  Tisala snickered. "That was before I saw him in battle. It hurt, though, to write that name on her pedigree."

  Tosten, riding beside us, grinned. "The name our father gave him is Stygian, if you'd prefer. That's the one we use on the breeding papers."

  She shook her head. "My father's stable master doesn't speak Shavig, and I didn't tell him a pansy was a flower."

  It was raining, which surprised no one. Winter in Oranstone was one long rainstorm. But as evening approached, the water poured out of the skies as if some giant were dumping out her mop bucket on our heads—or so Oreg claimed.

  "At least we won't freeze to death," replied Garranon in exasperation at Oreg's complaints.

  Behind Garranon, Oreg grinned, having worked at getting a rise out of Garranon for the last ten miles. "But the snow you can dress for," whined the dragon in human seeming. "The wet seeps into everything and you can't get warm. And everything is covered in mud."

  "He's trying to cheer Garranon up," I told Tisala as the discussion descended into a series of childish comparisons of Oranstone to Shavig.

  She laughed and pushed her gelding ahead until she rode shoulder to shoulder with Oreg. "How many Shavigmen does it take to saddle a horse?" she asked.

  "At least in Shavig we ride horses instead of ponies," claimed Tosten, riding up to join them.

  "I hope you know what you're doing," said Axiel to me under the cover of the resulting hilarity.

  I shook my head. "But if I don't do something, Hurog will be next to fall to the Bane." I explained my reasoning and Axiel nodded agreement.

  "The Bane is powered by Hurog blood, Axiel," I told him. "I don't know that anyone other than Oreg and I have a chance at it. I thought about asking Haverness's wizard for help—but he's the most powerful wizard who's not bound to the king. If we fail here, he'll be the best chance they have."

  "If we fail," said Axiel soberly, "my father will join the fight. If we had the strength we had half a millennia ago that might be enough to turn the tides. But I'm afraid dwarvenkind will fall as eas
ily as the Empire did."

  "I hadn't thought of that," I said. "I only thought about having someone I trusted at my back." I thought a moment. "I wish I knew how many people he has with him. But I don't know Jakoven's private guard well enough to seek them, and I can't try to find his wizards without the risk of alerting them. If you think this is putting your people in danger, Axiel, you need to go back to Callis."

  He shook his head. "No. If the Bane survives us, everyone must join in the fight. At least this way my father will be spared endless debate. If I die, he is within his rights to declare war without consulting anyone else."

  I gave him a strained smile. "Let us hope it doesn't come to that, eh?"

  He nodded his head.

  We rode several hours in the dark, several hours past the time when Jakoven's party had stopped ahead of us. We only halted when Tisala determined that the swamp in front of us couldn't be crossed in the dark.

  Axiel, Tosten, and Oreg set up camp—such as it was—while Garranon, Tisala, and I consulted her father's maps by my magelight. Tisala showed me where we were and lined the map up with the trail. Then she and Garranon made educated guesses as to where Jakoven was from the information I could give them.

  There were only two passes through the mountains into Tallven that Jakoven could be headed for. The first was the pass I had taken into Oranstone four years ago, and the second was more difficult and less used.

  If we followed Jakoven at our present pace, we'd catch up to him well into Tallven, but still a day's travel from Estian. If we chose correctly, we had a chance of catching up much sooner, because the direct route to either pass was chock-full of swamp and mire. Jakoven'd have to ride around, and Tisala knew a better route to either pass. If we chose the wrong one, there was a chance that Jakoven would get to Estian before we caught him.

  I left Garranon and Tisala discussing the relative merits of both passes and approached Oreg, who was struggling with one of the oilskin tent coverings. My extra hand made short work of the problem.