Blood of Dragons

by Jack Campbell

  “Maybe there isn't an answer,” Kira said, darkness plucking at her spirit. “Maybe it's all random. Maybe who you are and what you're doing doesn't matter at all.”

  “Maybe,” her honorary uncle agreed. “Maybe life is totally random. But did you ever try to calculate the odds that out of all the billions of people on Urth, Jason would be among those who came to this world? And that when he came here, you'd be here and alive and about the same age?”

  “Why would the universe care that Jason and I got together?”

  “I don't know. But what were the odds, Kira? And you're not alone. What were the odds that Mari and Alain would meet, and talk to each other, and become friends, and then more than friends, and survive everything to be the ones who freed this world? What were the odds that Alli and I would both be Apprentices in Caer Lyn and be close to the same age?”

  Kira looked down at her hands, thinking. “Father says every person is an amazing thing, because every person is unique. There's no one else exactly like them anywhere. So everyone is sort of impossible, because the odds of them being them, the odds of that exact person even existing, are so very, very small.”

  Calu smiled. “He's right about that. If you look at the probabilities, not one single person should exist as who they are. But we do. So maybe who we are, and what we are trying to do, really does matter. Kira, you're alive. It's a priceless gift. If things start to feel dark, remember that. You survived. You've said that like it's not much of a thing. But it's a huge thing.”

  “It doesn't feel like it. It really doesn't.”

  “Try imagining a world in which you hadn't survived. Big difference, huh? You've got a lot to be happy about. And so do your parents and your friends and that guy Jason over there. Hey, did I ever tell you that when I was watching her at Dorcastle your mother insisted that I bring her some red wine and chocolate? The healers about threw a fit, but Mari insisted.”

  “Mother told me,” Kira said, smiling despite the lingering tension inside her. “She said that chocolate did her more good than all the medicines the healers were pushing at her.”

  “That's why I thought I might need this,” Calu added, pulling a small packet out of his coat pocket.

  “Chocolate? Seriously?” Kira started to take a bite, then turned a guilty glance on Jason where he lay asleep. “I should wait until Jason and I can share it.”

  Calu laughed. “Now I know it's love! Not only sharing your chocolate with Jason, but being willing to wait for it!”

  “What are the odds?” Kira joked. “Uncle Calu, I really am going to marry him someday. Unless he changes his mind about that.”

  “He's spent the last six months dreaming that one day you'd feel that way. I don't think Jason is going to be changing his mind.”

  “I just wish I knew who he saw when he looks at me. It doesn't seem to be any version of myself that I'd recognize.”

  “You're a lot like your mother that way,” Calu said. “And in other ways, too. Try to listen when Jason gives you advice.”

  “I do.” Kira looked at Calu. “There's something unsaid there that has you really tense. Is Aunt Alli all right?”

  “As far as I know.” He remained sitting next to her, but stared at the wall of the tent. “I just worry about people.”

  “People?” Kira shook her head at him. “What are you still not saying?”

  “You’re like your father Alain when you do that.”

  “I’m also like him in knowing when someone is trying to change the subject.”

  Calu nodded. “The truth is, I’m worried about Mari. This is threatening to be a big war, and if your mother sees any possible way to short-circuit that war, she’ll pursue it. Even if…”

  “Even if it’s really dangerous?” Kira finished. “But Mother is in Dorcastle. She should be safe there.”

  “Mari was in Dorcastle the last we heard,” Calu corrected her.

  “Mother wouldn’t—” Kira buried her face in her hands, realizing something else. “Yes, she would. She’s going to keep fighting for others. The Sharr Isles. Uncle Calu, there's a big attack planned. If Mother thinks she can fix things some other way, she'll do whatever she thinks she has to.”

  “Alain is with her. Your father will keep her safe.”

  Kira looked at him. “You're not very good at saying things you don't really believe, Uncle Calu. We know that he'll do everything he can. Do you know what my father has feared the most since learning Mother was the daughter of Jules?”

  “That she'd die.”

  The words almost stuck in her throat. “And that he wouldn’t be able to save her.”

  * * *

  From his position behind Mage Saburo, Alain watched the harbor of Caer Lyn come into view as their Roc cleared the heights leading down to Meg’s Point. Not far off to his left, Mari rode on another Roc guided by Mage Alera. From above, the island displayed large swaths of greenery and a riot of color where the famous brightly painted homes and doors were visible. The skies were full of tattered storm clouds just giving way to sun.

  Rocs could not land on the older sailing ships that once ruled the waters of Dematr. The masts and spars that held the sails, the rigging that supported and controlled it all, blocked the huge birds. But the new metal ships created by Mechanic arts had smaller masts, and the Julesport in particular boasted wide, flat tops on the “turrets” that held the massive Mechanic weapons that were called big guns. A Roc could land to perch there, if the Mage controlling the Roc had sufficient skill, and if the Roc didn't shift its illusory weight about enough to imperil the illusory stability of the ship.

  When Mari had received the messages from Caer Lyn over the Mechanic far-talkers she had resolved to take the necessary chances to travel there despite the risks and despite Alain's warnings. And where Mari went, so did he. Alain had boarded his own Roc after Mari's had lifted, following across the Sea of Bakre, leaving behind the ships of the invasion fleet headed for the Sharr Isles. Looking back from above, Alain had seen the warships—mostly older ships with billowing clouds of sails as well as new Mechanic boilers and weapons—led by the mighty Julesport, and the transports weighted with soldiers from both the Western Alliance and Bakre Confederation. The ships painted wakes across the surface of the blue sea, looking oddly beautiful from high in the sky as they proceeded on their grim mission.

  If something happened to Mari, if she and Alain were betrayed, Commodore Banda would go forward with that mission and enact an awful revenge. But that realization gave only cold comfort to Alain as he wondered yet again why Mari had to be so reckless when she had decided on a course of action.

  He knew one of the things that had driven her this time. “Kira is alive,” Mari had told him. “Your vision showed that. Now we have a chance to save a lot of other lives.”

  Alain could have argued that, but he did not want to dampen Mari's joy. Did not want to describe how Kira's face had looked in his vision, the grimness that haunted the face of their seventeen-year-old daughter as she gazed outward. Kira must have faced terrible trials, and survived them, but traces of those trials remained in the bandages she bore and in the set of her eyes and mouth. And what had become of Jason? Was the Kira that Alain had seen grieving the death of Jason as well as any harm done to her?

  When he thought of such things, Alain did not want to save lives. He wanted to destroy them. Every Imperial life, every tool of princes and emperors that was used to harm others.

  Mari would not, though. Even if his worst fears about Kira and Jason were proven true, Mari would still find a way to believe in life, still insist on giving others a chance. Because that was who she was.

  Alain's own thoughts sometimes fell into darkness, wondering what he might have become without Mari beside him in all things.

  Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Alain looked over the city and harbor, hoping his foresight would warn of the dangers he fully expected to encounter. Like Mari, he had not been back to this island, this port, for
twenty years. Unlike her, he had not grown up here. His experiences in Caer Lyn had been brief but intense. From the air, he could not identify the street where Mari's childhood home lay, or which street leading to the docks held the city government office in which he and Mari had been quickly and unceremoniously married.

  His gaze went to the north, thinking again of Kira somewhere in the Northern Ramparts.

  As if responding to Alain’s thought, the giant birds banked, offering a clear view of the blackened, torn wreckage of a warship, most of it sunk to the bottom of the harbor, the gutted upper portions rising above the surface of the water like a scorched monument to the wrath of his daughter.

  Kira did have a great deal in common with her mother.

  Mage Alera brought her Roc Swift to a landing in the large square surrounding the former Mechanics Guild Hall. Mage Saburo landed his Roc named Hunter nearby. Pools of recently fallen rainwater dotted the paving of the square, the wind-driven ripples on their surfaces the only movement visible.

  As promised by the Imperial officials in the Sharr Isles who had arranged this meeting, the square was empty. Alain, not comforted at all by that, looked around, searching for danger. The inhabitants of Caer Lyn, whether natives of the island or Imperial soldiers, were in their homes or their barracks, waiting to learn their fates. The resulting silence in the midst of a city felt unnatural. “I do not like this.”

  “You’ve told me that at least twenty times,” Mari replied, also studying the buildings and streets leading into the square. “Alain, if this offer is legitimate, it could save a lot of lives.”

  “And if it is a lie, a trap, it could cost the one life I care most about.”

  “Swift is nervous,” Mage Alera told Alain.

  “Swift is not the only nervous one,” he replied. “Be ready to depart quickly.” Alain reached out his Mage senses to feel for other Mages nearby and to judge the amount of power available in this square to feed his own spells if necessary. The closest Mages were some distance off, probably gathered in what had once been the Mage Guild Hall. And there was power here to use. Not a large amount, but more than enough.

  Three figures appeared on a broad avenue leading into the square and began walking toward Alain and Mari. Knowing that Mari would be watching those who approached, Alain kept swinging his gaze across the buildings around the square in the hopes that even if he couldn’t see any danger his unreliable foresight might offer some warning.

  The three came to a halt a short distance from Mari. One wore the fine suit of a high-level Imperial official, embellished with the addition of an ambassador’s shield on his left breast. Another was a woman in dress uniform bearing the eagles of a full legion commander. The pistol holster and sword scabbard at her belt were empty. The last was another man, this one in the style of clothing favored in the Sharr Isles. He spoke first, his smile wide. It did not take Alain’s Mage skills to see the nervousness behind that smile. “Welcome back to the Sharr Isles, Lady Mari. We are honored by your visit. I’m Councilor Glyn.”

  Mari’s return smile was smaller and polite. “Councilor Glyn. I’m glad we’re finally able to meet in person, and hopefully resolve this situation without bringing war to the streets of Caer Lyn.”

  “That is up to you,” the Imperial ambassador said. He wasn’t pretending to be happy, but was also worried. “We do not seek war here, but we have been advised that an attack on the Sharr Isles is being prepared at your command.”

  Alain's voice fell into the emotionless tones of a Mage, carrying all the greater menace because of their lack of feeling. “Do not seek to shift the blame for what will happen here. You are the aggressors.”

  “The Empire,” Mari said, her voice as unyielding as her expression, “has conducted an unprovoked attack on the Free Cities, invading the Northern Ramparts by sea and by land. It has also progressively violated the peace agreements reached twenty years ago by adding more and more military forces to an illegal garrison in the Sharr Isles. I will add that the Empire has also personally attacked me by kidnapping my daughter. I’m not in the mood for false displays of indignation.”

  The legion commander spoke up, her tone professionally neutral. “You know what will happen if western forces invade these islands. The destruction and loss of life will be immense.”

  “What I know,” Mari said, “is that Imperial forces engaging in illegal occupation of the Sharr Isles may be enough to overawe the small defense forces of the Isles, but would stand no chance against the Bakre Confederation, the Western Alliance, Tiae, and the Free Cities combining to free the Isles. I also know that blockading forces from the Confederation and the Alliance have already arrived off of Landfall and Sandurin. You’re cut off, unable to receive supplies or reinforcements. Are you and all of your legionaries ready to die here?”

  Councilor Glyn spoke up again with forced camaraderie. “None of us want war to come to the Sharr Isles.”

  “Is the offer I was told of sincere?” Mari demanded of the Imperials. “Will your forces evacuate the Sharr Isles if given safe passage through the blockade?”

  The Imperial ambassador nodded, making his unhappiness clear. “I have been instructed that, if Master Mechanic Mari of Dematr herself personally guarantees such safe passage, I must accept such an arrangement. The emperor has no wish for unnecessary loss of life.”

  Alain, watching for any sign of deception, saw none, but that offered him little comfort. He gave the Imperials a look just short of the dead expressions that Mages could achieve. “What of Prince Maxim? He seems to wish only for war.”

  “Prince Maxim…is not the emperor,” the ambassador said.

  Mari’s gaze on him sharpened. “You didn’t call him Crown Prince Maxim. I know enough about diplomats to know that means something.”

  “I have been informed that Maxim is no longer crown prince,” the ambassador admitted.

  “Where is Maxim?” Alain asked, his tone severe enough to cause even the legion commander to eye him worriedly.

  “I do not know, Sir Master of Mages.”

  “Yet you know something,” Alain said, having seen the deception this time.

  The ambassador was openly perspiring as he answered, clearly worried about what Alain might do. He was old enough to remember the days when Mages could behave however they wanted and common folk lived in fear of provoking or even attracting the attention of a Mage. “Prince Maxim is believed to have reached Sandurin before the Alliance blockade sealed the port. But I have no confirmation of that.”

  “Did you know our daughter was aboard his ship in this harbor?”

  “No, Sir Mage! Not until after she had…departed.”

  “Escaped, you mean?” Mari asked, an edge of steel in her voice.

  “Yes…Lady. No one here knew of your daughter's presence until after the ship was destroyed and Prince Maxim demanded assistance in searching the island for her.” The ambassador closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth tight, then looked back at them. “I have a daughter. I understand how you feel. I am responsible for any Imperial actions here. Me, personally. I…ask that if you…intend any response for the kidnapping of your daughter, that you confine such actions to me and do not harm others.”

  “You speak the truth,” Alain said, his anger mollified somewhat by the ambassador's bravery. “We have no wish to harm anyone who was not responsible for or aided the crimes against our daughter.” He looked at the legionary commander. “Do you wish to die defending the actions of Maxim?”

  The commander shook her head. “Like the ambassador, it is not my role to decide which orders from the emperor to obey. The emperor has directed that we leave these isles if the daughter of Jules guarantees that our soldiers can return to imperial territory. That is what I will do, if the daughter gives us her word.”

  Mari was about to reply when Alain saw Mage Alera pivot suddenly toward the buildings on one side of the square.

  “There is danger!” Alera called moments before the crash of rifles b
roke the silence looming over the city of Caer Lyn.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alain’s arm, already in motion, swept Mari back as he heard the sharp snap of bullets passing near.

  Mari, though surprised, yielded to the shove, dropping and rolling so that the bulk of the Roc Swift was between her and the direction of the rifle fire.

  Councilor Glyn of Caer Lyn had fallen, a bright patch of red spreading on the side of his suit.

  The Imperial ambassador stood as if rooted like a tree, shocked, staring toward the buildings from which the shots were coming.

  The legion commander grabbed the ambassador and half-hurled him into a safer spot behind Swift before grabbing one arm of Councilor Glyn. Alain helped her drag the wounded councilor so they were all also shielded by Swift.

  “Swift is hurt!” Mage Alera said, worried enough for the emotion to show in her voice. Alain could hear the thud of bullets striking the Roc, who jerked about with pain, threatening to expose them all to the fire coming at them.

  “We must—” Alain looked toward Mari, then at the bulk of the Roc. If Mari and Alera tried to climb onto the Roc, they would be perfect targets for the Mechanic weapons. Glancing back at Hunter, he saw that Saburo’s Roc, too, was so exposed that trying to mount the bird would be suicide.

  The legion commander had crouched and yanked a far-talker from her belt, yelling into it, furious. “Get the ready force moving! No! This is not an action by the daughter! Direct no fire this way! I want whoever is firing on us from those buildings! Yes! Immediately! Kill them if necessary, but I want some prisoners who can tell us who gave them those orders!”

  Swift uttered a sharp cry as the thud of another bullet hit. The Roc, in pain, leaped skyward to escape its attackers, leaving a distraught Mage Alera gazing upwards.

  Alain pulled Alera down to the pavement so she wouldn't be shot. He rolled to one side to see if Mari was still safe and was startled to see the legion commander and the Imperial ambassador shielding her. As Alain watched, the ambassador let out a cry as a bullet struck him.