by Peter Fane
"You hurt? Looks like he split your lip. Your eyes?"
"The smoke, sir. It's fine. You're injured." She looked at the bloodstain below his armpit.
"Don't mind that. Look at me."
Anna did so.
Master Khondus took her chin, turned her face towards the window's light, and brushed a lock of dark hair from her eyes. He took a clean cloth from his pocket and cleaned her face.
"You all right?" he asked gruffly.
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He cleared his throat. "Now, attend. We've got even less time than I thought."
From its place on the guardsman's chest, the foal burped, settled back on its haunches, and showed Anna its bloody fangs. It snorted, unfurled its wings, and leapt to its spot beside Nightlove, where it turned three times in a circle and lay down, nose on its tail, and watched her—or seemed to watch her, she had to keep reminding herself. Nightlove took a deep breath, closed her blue eyes, and licked the foal's face clean. The foal sighed, but its eyes stayed open. Even as Nightlove cleaned it, the foal tracked Anna, as if observing her every move.
Master Khondus raised an eyebrow. "Looks like we've got a war dragon on our hands."
11
"YOU MEAN HE'LL live?" Anna asked, all caution gone.
"How can he not?" Master Khondus scratched at his stubble. "Regardless, we'll attend to him later. Right now, we move."
Anna's heart soared. It took everything she had to keep a lunatic smile off her face. The foal grunted and cocked its head at her. Of course, Anna knew the foal's rider wouldn't be her. Couldn't be her. She was too young by two years. But that didn't matter. The foal would have its chance.
"Let me bandage your side, sir." Anna grinned. "Can't win wars with open wounds."
Master Khondus's eyebrow arched at Anna's expression. "Very well. Hurry it up."
Anna stepped out of the birthing stall, knelt by the Tevéss guardsman that Master Khondus had killed outside the door, and removed the soldier's belt. It had not been damaged by the fire. She returned to the stall and tore one of the sleeves from her tunic to use as a pad for Master Khondus's injury.
"Master Borónd will have a healing cordial in the library," Anna said.
"No time," Master Khondus grunted. He turned and knelt in front of Anna. "Bind me."
Anna pulled Master Khondus's shirt up around his neck. D'Rent's bullet had plowed a furrow through the muscle just under his right armpit. There was some blood, but it didn't flow. Anna tended the wound with a clean cloth, using some warm water from one of the buckets that they'd used for the birthing. As she did, she saw other scars on the Master's back. At least two other bullet wounds, three other punctures, and a raking gash that ran from shoulder to hip that only could have come from a dragon's claw.
"If Layne spoke true," Master Khondus said as Anna cleaned him, "then Lord Oskor, Irondusk, and House Fel make their way to our High Keep this moment. When they arrive, they'll make some announcement. Some 'new alliance.' A 'new treaty.' But what they really want is a bloodless coup. Maybe they'll leave Lady Abigail on the throne. Maybe they won't. Either way, Lord Oskor will settle for nothing less than complete control of our forces, our dragons, our High Keep, and—most importantly—our High Gate."
"A sneak attack." Anna nodded, pushing the cloth hard against the Master's wound.
"Yes." He winced. "When Lord Oskor arrives, he'll be supported by Lord Gideon. Between House Fel and House Tevéss, we'll be hard pressed. House Dradón may control Dávanor's best dragons, but against their combined forces we're badly outnumbered. Also, if Oskor and Gideon do indeed have the support of Dorómy Dallanar, if Fel has received two great cannon from Paráden, then any advantage we might take from our fortifications will be reduced. But did Layne speak true?" He glanced at the lordling's burnt corpse.
"We'll find out soon enough," Anna said.
The injury was about as clean as she could get it. From its place beside its mother, the dragon foal grunted. Anna ripped her torn sleeve in half, folded the clean piece three times, and held it against the Master's wound. She looped the guardsman's belt over Master Khondus's shoulder, then tightened and latched the belt with a click. The dressing wasn't the best she'd ever done, but it was clean, dry, and would serve.
"My thanks." Master Khondus nodded, stood, and tightened his long, grey queue in its leather strap at the base of his neck.
He looked at her. "Regardless of how accurate Layne's information is, we must move against Lord Gideon and the forces of House Tevéss here in the High Keep now—before Lord Fel arrives."
"Yes, sir," Anna said.
Battle is coming.
The foal raised its head and hissed approvingly.
Master Khondus nodded. "And we must move before Lord Gideon or one of Lord Oskor's other spies can learn of what has happened here." He cocked his head at the bodies and slaughter. "We're lucky. If it was later in the day, this would already be discovered. You'll hide these bodies, Anna. Keep their weapons separate. Feed Nightlove and the foal. Then slip over to the upper barracks. When you arrive, go to Sara Terreden—you know her, of course."
"Yes. Captain Terreden commands the White Demons now."
Master nodded. "Tell Terreden what's happened here. Then tell her to pass word to our riders. They must ready themselves for battle. On my signal, and on my signal only, Terreden is to release Voidbane, then seize, strip, and imprison every House Tevéss rider lodged in the upper barracks. She must do it quietly, and she must do it with as little violence as possible. Lord Gideon is a traitor, but our men will still have some friends among the men of House Tevéss. Perhaps some Tevéss riders will remember their oaths and be swayed to our cause, but this will never happen if there's needless killing. The House Tevéss dragons also will need to be separated and cloistered, until we can be certain of their riders' loyalty, or lack thereof. I'll sound the summoning gong in the eastern tower when I'm in position with Captain Fyr and her guardsmen to move against Lord Gideon. The moment the gong sounds, Terreden must execute her orders."
"I understand." Anna nodded.
He looked at her closely. "Now, attend. If something happens to me before I can meet up with them, you must relate the following to Master Zar, Captain Fyr, and Captain Terreden—once the High Keep is secure, they must discern Lord Fel's flight path, and they must launch our three best squads at Oskor's convoy: Captain Terreden's Demons, Captain Faden's Silver Swords, Captain Arrowtide's Jade Hammers. Voidbane should accompany them as heavy support. Whatever happens, Terreden and her team must launch tonight, at sundown, in absolute secrecy. We don't know in what strength Fel House comes, or how much support Dorómy has sent Lord Oskor. But we do know that he comes and when he will arrive. We have the advantage of surprise. Fel has the advantage of numbers. If we want to prevail, then we must ask the Great Sisters for luck, we must strike, and we must strike first. If we can kill Lord Gideon in the High Keep today, if we can kill Lord Oskor before he arrives, then we stand a good chance. Lord Oskor's sons are ambitious. If we kill him, they'll turn on each other without doubt. And when that happens, we'll have time to gather our own allies and to beg aid from Bellános on Kon. The High King will understand our need and the importance of our fight. And he'll keep his word. If we give him time, the King will send aid."
"Fel and Tevéss must've been planning this attack since Lord David was killed," Anna said.
Master nodded. "House Dradón must seem easy prey. Today, they'll learn that they're mistaken."
The dragon foal growled. Its white tail thrashed in the straw.
"Now," Master Khondus said formally, "repeat my message and my orders, dragon squire."
Anna nodded. "On your signal, Captain Terreden is to release Voidbane. With minimum violence, she is to imprison the House Tevéss riders and their dragons. We'll discover Lord Fel's path and launch against Lord Oskor and his entourage in secret, tonight, under the cover of darkness. Voidbane as support. We'll kill Lord Oskor so we have a chance to plan, to
prepare, and to send word to High King Bellános on Kon."
"Good," the Master said. "When you tell Terreden what's happened and what she must do, give her this."
Master Khondus drew a short dagger of high silver from his sleeve and handed it to Anna. The blade had been concealed in the Master's tunic, strapped flat to his inner forearm. Anna took the dagger carefully while Khondus unfastened its sheath from his arm.
The Master nodded. "Terreden's grandfather gave me this blade when I turned sixteen, after I'd completed my rites of passage. Before that, it was passed to him by his father and through the Terreden line for some thirty generations. It has served the Kingdom on many worlds. The Khondus and Terreden clans are minor houses, to be sure, but they've always been allies. When you find Sara, give her the dagger, tell her what has happened here, and repeat my plan exactly as I've given it to you. You understand your orders?"
"Yes, sir." Anna nodded. She glanced at Nightlove and the dragon foal. The newborn had rolled onto its back, tongue lolling between its gleaming fangs. It was still watching Anna—or seemed to watch her—upside down, eyes wide, listening to every word. She couldn't help but smile.
Master Khondus noticed Anna's gaze and nodded. "Feed them quickly. Carry out your orders. You'll name him when all this is over."
Her smile vanished.
". . . I will name him, sir? I will—?"
"He's your dragon," Master Khondus said simply. "I'd have to be blind myself not to see that. Stop gawking. There's work to do."
Anna stood at attention, her heart racing.
"Yes, sir! Master Khondus, sir!"
Her dragon?
She'd trained her whole life to hear those words.
The foal scrambled to its feet, sniffing at the air, tail lifting from the straw, neck craning, its white eyes wide.
Master Khondus crossed his chest with his fist and looked Anna in the eye. "Truth and honor, Anna Dyer."
Her dragon.
Anna placed her fist on her chest. Blood thumped in her ears.
"Truth and honor, Master Khondus."
Master Khondus untied his leather apron, dropped it to the straw, and handed Anna the sheath for his dagger. Then he took up his hammer, scooped d'Rent's revolver from the burnt straw, and strode from the stall like a warrior of old.
12
THE DRAGON FOAL was blind.
But it could still see.
It saw very well, in fact.
It saw through the girl's eyes.
Now, since the dragon foal had never known anything else, this situation seemed quite natural.
Whatever the girl saw, the foal saw, too.
Made perfect sense.
Perfect sense to the foal, at least.
The foal also knew things that the girl knew. This knowledge gave the foal a kind of awareness—a kind of understanding—that was almost unprecedented for its kind.
But, again, since the foal had never known anything different, this arrangement did not seem strange.
For example, the foal knew that the big, white dragon snoring there in the straw was its mother. The foal also knew that it had just been born. That it had been late in coming. That its fangs, its claws, and its breath were much stronger than they should have been for a dragon its age. It knew that its neck and body and wings were white and powerful. It knew that it had beautiful, silvery-white eyes.
The girl knew these things, so the foal knew them, too.
The foal also knew other things, things it had seen inside the girl's memory.
For instance, the foal knew that the girl's father had been killed in battle three years ago. The girl had seen it, she rarely spoke of it, but it had changed her. It had hardened her heart and created a dark shadow of rage in her head. The foal knew the girl's mother and little sisters had moved away from the High Keep soon after and that the girl had not gone with them. The foal knew the girl's mother's name was Jessica, her sisters' names were Penelope and Wendi.
The foal knew other people, too. Master Khondus, a tall, broad old man with arms like iron. Master Zar, a squat dwarf of Anor, his eyes the color of purple twilight. Master Borónd, a thin man who wore fine, gold-rimmed reading spectacles. The girl respected Master Khondus more than anyone alive. The girl honored Master Zar's knowledge of arms and warcraft above all others. And the girl believed Master Borónd was the most learned man she had ever known.
The foal did not know many other faces. It knew that this meant the girl did not have many other friends. This did not bother the girl. Since her father's death, not much did. The foal knew this, as well.
The foal knew the girl's name, too. It was Anna.
And the foal knew Anna's dreams.
Soaring flights over clouds and cliffs, screaming chases over mountain and sea, heroic duels under the sun and moon . . . epic victories, all!
These dreams and more—the foal knew them. It saw them.
Most importantly, the foal knew that Anna's dreams were coming true.
Battle is coming.
And, just like Anna, the foal reveled in the knowledge.
The foal wanted to serve, to fly, and to fight.
It needed to do these things.
And because of the magic that bound its mind to Anna's, it knew how.
The foal did not think it strange to understand these things or to see itself in this way. As far as it knew, all dragons saw the past, the present, the future, the water, the land, the sky, themselves, and everything else through their riders' eyes.
And there was no doubt in the foal's mind that that was exactly what Anna was: its rider.
So when Anna jogged out of the stall, taking her vision and thoughts and memories and dreams along with her, the little blind dragon did the only thing that it could do.
It followed.
13
"YOU MIGHT BE ready for a fight," Anna grunted as she dragged Lord Layne's charred body through the straw to the far side of the stall. "But you'll still need to wait here. We're at war. Gotta get you some gear and get you trained up first."
The foal cocked its head and then flashed Anna its fangs. They were sharp and mean.
"Beautiful." She pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear and hitched up her apron. "You'll use 'em soon enough."
Moving as quickly as she could, Anna pulled d'Rent and the other guardsmen over to where she'd stashed Lord Layne. She was strong from her years of stable work, so the bodies were heavy but not impossible for her to move.
Nightlove had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly. Anna had thought that the foal would sleep, too; it had looked a little sleepy after its meal. But when she started dragging bodies around, the foal perked up and became even more interested, watching her from its place at its mother's side.
Or at least it appeared to watch her, Anna had to keep reminding herself. The blind dragon seemed fascinated by her movement, tracking her with its snout, tasting the air with its broad tongue, grunting and cooing, its silvery-white eyes wide.
"Smart one, aren't you?" Anna grunted as she worked. "Gotta find a name for you. Won't be official, 'course. Not until the High Lady says. Dragons' proper names are given by a Keep's High Lord. Or High Lady. A big deal. Big ceremony. I'll be there. Master Khondus, Master Zar, Master Borónd. All the riders and squires. Everyone. But we've gotta have something for you now, don't we?"
Anna covered the bodies with straw and wrapped their swords, daggers, and the rest of their gear in a fire blanket. She was about to hide that bundle under the straw, too, but then she reconsidered, re-opened the blanket, and took a Tevéss dagger from the pile. The foal cooed.
Anna went to a shelf on the side wall and fetched a large glass beaker filled with dragons' elixir. She held the beaker up to the window to be sure of its color and consistency. It was thick and viscous, a syrup made of liquid silver.
"Great stuff." She nodded. The great Queen Katherine had invented it many millennia past. It would keep a dragon strong, help keep the bugs off him, make his win
gs soft, his scales hard, and help his flight bladders. It was also good for his gut. The foal licked its chops.
Anna poured ten measures of the elixir into a tin feeding tube and brought it to Nightlove. The big dragon didn't open her eyes as Anna slid the tube's point between her huge teeth. Then Anna gave one measure to the foal; it smacked its lips at the taste. Anna cleaned and stored the tube, opened a half-door in the far wall, and dragged a fat, bleating merino back into the stable. She clipped the merino's halter to an iron ring on the wall.
"Dinner's on," she said.
Neither Nightlove nor the foal seemed interested. Nightlove snored away. The foal gave the merino a passing glance, grunted, and turned its huge eyes to the buried pile of bodies, instead.
"No," Anna said firmly.
The foal went still.
"If you eat those, you'll make a mess. Someone'll see. We don't have time to clean up again. Look at this yummy thing." She patted the merino on its wooly side. "Look at all this good stuff."
The foal lifted its snout and turned away.
"Suit yourself," Anna said. "You'll be hungry soon enough. Gotta go."
The foal jerked its head up and hissed. To Anna's ears, it sounded more like distress than anger. It reared up on its haunches, its eyes wide, almost as if it was worried. It hissed again, like a question, then mewled loudly.
Anna shook her head. If she was going to complete her mission and keep the foal safe—and quiet—in the stall, she was going to have to calm it down. She walked over to it. The foal promptly flopped back into the straw, rolled onto its back, and spread its wings, gazing up at her. Anna warmed her hands with her breath, knelt, and rubbed the foal's stomach and chest. Its white scales were smooth and warm to the touch, its muscles soft under supple dragon skin. As Anna massaged it, the foal's scales grew warmer. It cooed gently, its eyes slowly closing. Nightlove's snore got even louder.
"There we are," Anna said softly, after a few more moments of massage. "That's a good boy."