A dragon had been there, that much was obvious. It looked like the beast was trying to cut off the route to the north wall; the road was full of debris, more than there would be if the dragon had simply torched the building. Brea doubted this was an isolated incident—where there was one attack, there were sure to be more.
“Keep your eyes on the skies,” she told Alacin.
He nodded but gave her a look that said, “Do you think I’m stupid?”
There were cracks in the chimney, Brea noticed. She knew the heat from dragons’ fire was far greater than even a blacksmith’s forge, but she hadn’t expected it to crack stone.
“I hope there wasn’t anyone inside,” she said.
Alacin said nothing.
There probably were people in the building. What with all the refugees from neighbouring farms, there was barely a corner, a nook, or an alcove, that didn’t have a blanket roll and pack laid out on it. It was infuriating; despite the warning from the palace, too many people had decided to stay. And if they were hiding in old warehouses, they could be anywhere. These people, whoever they had been, should be in Halem by now, or maybe Whitecliff, but now they were dead. Infuriating and needless.
“We should move on,” Alacin said. “This is taking too long.”
For a one-thousand-year-old man, Alacin could be very impatient at times.
He was right, though; she had to be in place before the Kel’madden sent Sek into the battle. It wouldn’t do them much good Calming him after the damage had been done.
Brushing down her skirt, she followed Alacin east towards what they hoped was the right tower. They could see three. But according to the guard they had spoken to, only one was accessible from the ground.
Brea heard a shout.
“Dragon!”
Looking up, she saw what looked like the same red dragon that had been burning the street back near those winding passageways. This time, it was carrying what looked like a tree trunk in its claws. Ribion was chasing it, but the bigger dragon wasn’t fast enough.
“Get inside,” Brea shouted to the people who stood to gawk at the scene.
None of them moved.
“Bloody well get inside!” Alacin bellowed.
The three women and two men started. They stared at Alacin for a moment, before turning around and darting back into what looked like a bakery.
Alacin was shaking his head. “They should have emptied this city. Forced them out, if that’s what was needed.”
The dragon flew over the bakery and dropped the “tree trunk” on the road opposite, right where the guards were standing. They split off in all directions, but still, the rolling tree hit four or five. It seemed that particular dragon’s job was to keep the Surabhan forces bottled up and away from the northern wall. That, or keep the Gan dragons busy so the Gaw could attack the gate without worry.
A few of the guards made a feeble attempt to fire arrows at the red dragon, but the beast was already out of range, flying back over the wall, probably to fetch another tree trunk.
If it weren’t for Ribion and the other Gan, the Surabhan would have no hope of defending the city. It was a frightening thought, especially considering Brea had left two of their best dragons in Eiras. Hopefully, Ban and Lyduk would be on their way back. But even if they were, they wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.
Ribion turned back towards the centre of the city. He was wearing a bracelet with a ribbon of white linen attached, Brea noticed. That was a good idea; too many of the guards had been firing at the Gan. Yes, a very good idea, as long as the Gaw didn’t copy it.
“They’re making a real nuisance of themselves, aren’t they?” Alacin said.
“You sound impressed.”
Alacin grinned. “No one ever won a battle who didn’t have respect for their enemy, Brea. Assume they have the better plan; that way, you won’t be disappointed when you have to change your own.”
“Well, we can’t change our plan.” She waved towards the tower. “What was that you were saying about us taking too long?”
Alacin gave her an elaborate bow before continuing. Yes, he definitely didn’t behave like an old man.
That was twice she’d been close to one of the Gaw dragons, and twice she had had that strange giddy feeling. The first time it happened, she had put it down to fear. But now… The presence of the Gaw had made her feel heady, a little drunk, maybe. And when she moved, everything seemed to slow down. The necklace around her neck was warm, too—not hot, like it had been in the blue tower, but definitely warmer than usual.
She should have realised that being close to the Gaw would have an effect. Next time that dragon came back, she would try reaching out to it. If she could get it to land, Alacin would be able to Turn it. It was worth a try.
She said as much to Alacin.
“Yes, it is worth a try, but only if you’re sure; it’s not our primary task, Brea. Don’t go off on a crusade, attempting to save all the Gaw. You need to stay alive.”
“That’s an idiotic thing to say. Of course I need to stay alive. But if we can Turn even two of the Gaw, we would even up the odds, almost.”
“I said it was worth a try, didn’t I? Just don’t go out of your way. I know what you Oracles are like; you’re always trying to save dragons, regardless of how dangerous they might be.”
Brea didn’t bother arguing, she knew he would never understand. She was connected to dragons—all dragons—and could no more see one hurt than she could have injured her own mother. But Alacin was right—again—she would have to resist the urge to help until Sek had been dealt with. That was assuming she could deal with him.
* * *
It was becoming obvious to Captain Nana Duran that the three small siege engines manned by the Toyan forces were nothing more than flaming pincushions for the Surabhan archers to aim at. They were only there to thin out the enemy defences. She had already lost a fifth of her men and, so far, had had no chance of getting close enough to the wall to deploy the ladders. The Toyans were being used.
Turasan. Where was Turasan? Nana scanned back and forth along the top of the Crescent. The man had to be there. Troopers gathered in thin lines along the summit, ready to move quickly when the Surabhan trebuchets fired a boulder in their direction. She could see some of the other captains, but no sign of the general. He had pledged to be there as the battle commenced, so where was he?
“He isn’t going to be standing up there,” Skelk said. “He’s probably back in camp, having a goblet of wine while one of his maids rubs his feet.”
Nana gave Skelk a weary glance; it was no time for his jokes. “He’s up there somewhere,” she said. “He wouldn’t miss this.”
“And if he is, then what?”
“I’m going to tell him to move my men back. We’re getting slaughtered, and for no gain.”
Skelk turned to the west and eyed the huge siege engine as it slowly made its way to the main gate. “Oh, there’s gain, just not for us.”
“So you think he’s using us, too.”
“We’re grunts, bodies to toy with. All officers use grunts, Nana, especially in a siege.”
“That may be true, but I, for one, am not having it. It’s a waste of good men.”
Skelk shrugged. “You can order our retreat, but your head will be on a spike before the last man leaves the field.”
“It might be worth it,” she whispered, looking back at the now burnt-out siege engines she had been “guarding.”
She turned back to Skelk. “Can you see any reason for us to stay?”
“We are following orders, Captain. Sometimes that’s all the reason there is.”
That wasn’t enough for Nana; she was not going to throw her men to the wolves. “I’m going up there. Tell the men to hold this position until I get back.”
Skelk blinked. “If you get back,” he said.
Nana sighed. “You’ll know soon enough, friend.”
She patted the sergeant on the shoulder and began trudging
up the now muddy slope towards the top of the Crescent. The general would listen to her. If the point was to get that siege engine to the gates, then that task was done. There was no need for more of her men to die. He must see the value of calling a retreat; what was the point in throwing good soldiers away?
* * *
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” the man was saying when Elspeth stopped at the well for a drink of water. “I swear by the gods, a silver dragon was running along the top of the wall.”
“You’re drunk,” another said.
“No, I sweared, didn’t I? I haven’t been near the ale in three days. It was a silver dragon—a silver dragon… real silver.”
“Which wall?” Elspeth asked.
The little man started. He seemed surprised that someone was taking him seriously. “It was a silver dragon, miss. Well, it didn’t have no wings, but I’m telling you, it was a dragon, a silver one.”
“Yes, yes, I believe you. But which wall was he running along?”
“Did you see it, too?” the man said, blinking. “How do you know it was a ‘he’? I never said nothing about that.” The little man turned to the other. “You see, I told you. Didn’t I tell you; a silver dragon, my word on it.”
“Sir, please, which wall?” Elspeth persisted.
The little man pointed to the east. “The harbour tower battlement, where the wall meets the cliffs.”
“Thank you,”
Dipping a mock curtsy, she sped off towards the east. She had run a hundred paces before realising she should have asked how long it had been since he had seen the “silver dragon.” But then, it didn’t matter, either she would catch up to him in time, or she wouldn’t. She certainly wasn’t going to follow Arfael beyond the wall.
Elspeth ran through the city as fast as she could. More than a few people peered behind her, likely expecting a dragon, or a horde of Kel’madden to be following. Some shouted after her, asking who was coming, or should they leave. Elspeth told them not to worry, and that she was just a messenger for the harbour master. It seemed a fitting lie—at least no one questioned it.
The cliffs were black against the grey of the harbour tower. Elspeth was pleased to find stone steps leading up to the parapet. Once on top, she looked along the thick wall. If he had been there, he was gone now. Still, she ran to the end and looked to the north.
Below her, the rocks ran down in jagged steps towards the sea. It was no surprise that this stretch of wall wasn’t guarded; no one would be able to set a ladder against that foundation. Further north, the black rocks rose up into another cliff; and beyond that, a flat area of grass stretched along the coast, until it met with the woods at Barrais’coi. If Arfael were going anywhere, it would be there. A single man could follow those cliffs and come up behind the Kel’madden. Well, a mad man could, which Arfael definitely was, at this point.
That’s it, Arfael. You’re on your own.
She crouched down to sit on the edge of the wall and rest a while before heading back. A stone gave way and she slipped. Frantically waving her arms, she tried to steady herself, but her balance was too far forward. Falling, she managed to grab the ledge below the parapet. She hung there a moment, catching her breath and cursing herself for not turning back earlier.
“Help!”
No one answered.
“Help me!”
Still, no one answered.
Her hands began to slip. Looking down, she judged the best place to fall, and then pushed herself away from the wall. Landing was going to hurt—a lot—but she couldn’t afford to fall to her left; a drop down those cliffs would kill her for sure. Letting go, she felt the weightlessness she had been accustomed to after jumping off the Miller’s haystack, but this lasted much longer, and no soft hay waited for her at the bottom. With a grunt, she landed and rolled into a ball. The impact pushed the air from her lung and she gasped for air.
“They’re going to think I did this on purpose,” she whispered when she got her breath back. Captured twice, now falling off a wall… You’d best get back, Elspeth Tanner, before they lock you in the palace for your own safety.
Looking up, there was no way to climb back to the parapet. She either stayed put or followed Arfael.
“Oh well, might as well, now that I’m here.”
Brushing down her clothes, she looked for the best way to proceed. No path seemed easy. Indeed, she wondered if she would end up stuck there. Arfael was probably long gone. She really should stay; wait for someone on the wall to find her. Shaking her head, she made for the cliffs. “Nope, they’re definitely not going to believe this.”
* * *
Gialyn opened his eyes. It took a while to focus—a long while—but when he did, he saw a pretty girl staring down at him, smiling.
“Who are you? Where am I?” he asked.
The girl looked familiar, vaguely, but the room was not. He was lying on an oversized bed. Pictures hung here and there on the bright yellow walls. The vaulted ceiling had carved stone lintels that ran the width of the room, and to his right, the view from the window told him he was up high, but where…
“I am Princess Olivia Eidred, Gialyn, and you are in the palace. Don’t you remember? You came here with your friends.”
She was a beautiful girl. A little younger than he was, she had long straw-coloured hair and big brown eyes. Her dress was a light, milky colour with a lace-up front that emphasised her slim waist. Her voice was gentle and sympathetic. All in all, a very—
“Of course he doesn’t remember,” a woman’s voice said.
Elucia nudged the Princess out of the way and pushed his eyelids up with her thumb. “How do you feel? Can you remember anything? You were talking in your sleep.”
Elucia’s voice was far from sympathetic, more like shrill and demanding.
“Was I?” Gialyn said, trying to scramble back out of Elucia’s reach.
A pain in his stomach screamed at him to stop moving, and then a white-haired old man appeared from out of nowhere and put a hand on his shoulder.
The old man pushed him back down. “You must rest. I’ve stitched you back up, but I’ll not do it a second time.”
The white-haired man scowled at Elucia as he sat back down on the stool next to the bed. He began fiddling with an array of small bottles arranged along the bedside table. All the while glancing back at Elucia and shaking his head slowly.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with the King?” Elucia said, glaring at the man.
“Master Roan is with His Majesty. Poisons are not my speciality.”
Poisons? How did they manage to poison the King? “Will he live?” Gialyn asked. He was no expert, but a dead monarch would likely stop the siege in its tracks. He remembered his father saying most people needed something—or someone—to rally around, and a lot of these folk would be fighting for their king. Without him…
“That’s nothing for you to worry about,” Elucia told him. “Now, are you sure you don’t remember anything?”
“Can’t you leave him to rest for a few minutes before you interrogate him?” the man said. He was speaking as if he knew Elucia. Just how long had he been asleep?
“There isn’t time to mollycoddle him. His dreams might be important.”
Elucia stared back at Gialyn expectantly.
Gialyn sighed. He could remember something: “I saw a white dragon and a black dragon fighting high above a hill surrounded by fog. Neither was winning. The black dragon was laughing and telling the white dragon that it wouldn’t be long now. The white dragon had to beat it back as if it was trying to stop the other from reaching something important. But I don’t know what it was, just that it was small and hard to see. Brea was there, too, holding a necklace, praying.”
Elucia sat back in her chair and began to nibble at her nails. “We know who the White Dragon is; maybe the black dragon is Vila?”
“Or maybe it’s the Black Dragon,” Olivia said. “She does have one with her.”
Elucia’s
expression said she hadn’t considered that. “Possibly, but Sek is under her control. One way or another, Bausamon is fighting with Vila.” She tapped her lip with a long fingernail, and then said, “Brea was there, you say. Now that is interesting. Anything else? How do you know this… thing—whatever it is—was small?”
“Olam,” Gialyn whispered.
Elucia’s gazed at her hands and bit her lip. She took in a deep breath before speaking. “I’m sorry, Gialyn, but your friend was killed a few days ago. I think… no, I’m sure he has become a guardian.”
“He has!” Gialyn answered in a strong voice. “He’s with Bausamon, guarding the Road. That’s it!” He tried to sit up again, only to be pushed back down by Olivia this time. “The Karakin, Bausamon needed another guardian to help hold off the Karakin. Olam… volunteered, I think. It’s a bit confusing. All I remember is that Olam was content, happy with his duties. That small—whatever it was—has something to do with it, something the Karakin wolves are searching for.”
Elucia nodded, a smile creased her lip. “That’s very good news,” she said. “If he’s on the Road, he will prove very useful. And I think I might know what it is they want.”
“What about Arfael?” Gialyn asked. “Olam was worried about Arfael, said he was going off to kill Vila. And something about my father not keeping a promise?”
Elucia and the princess looked at each other. There was silence for a long moment. Then, “Elspeth went looking for him,” the princess told him. “That was an hour ago. She hasn’t come back, and she’s not in the palace.”
Gialyn sank back into his cushion. How many times were they going to have to save that girl?
“She won’t leave the city,” Olivia said, sounding very sure of herself. “I’ll send someone to find her.”
“Better send two,” Gialyn said. “And tell them to carry her back, if needs be.”
CHAPTER 12
The Anvil
The stable was empty when Daric arrived; no sign of anyone, not even the two runners he had posted there. Blankets were on the floor, half rolled up. A fire, hastily covered with dirt and left to burn itself out was still smouldering on the harth. Wherever they went, they had left in a hurry.
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