City of the Lost l-1

by Mary H. Herbert

  Linsha crossed her arms. There was one group Lanther seemed to be leaving out, and she had a feeling she knew why. “What about the Solamnics?”

  “They returned to their citadel, locked the gates, and will not come out. We sent a messenger up there to invite them to our council, but Sir Remmik refused. He claims his Knights are not ready to commit themselves. He said, and I quote ‘The true course in conducting military operations is to make no-’ ”

  “-movement until the preparations are complete,” Linsha finished for him. “It is one of his favorite quotes. It’s from an old military manual in the Solamnic Castle at Uth Wistan. It’s a load of manure coming from him. He couldn’t have that citadel more prepared.”

  “Maybe he is the one who is not prepared.”

  Linsha’s eyebrows rose. She had not considered this view. Could it be possible that the man who organized, trained, and supplied a superb circle could not decisively lead it into battle? She thought back over the bits of information she knew about him and the few records she had seen, and she realized she had never heard him associated with a war, a battle, or a skirmish of any kind. He was trained to fight, but perhaps he never had. That explained some things about him. Solamnic leaders led by reputation, rank, and skill-of which Sir Remmik certainly had plenty-but they were also chosen by the Knights in the circle. How much longer, Linsha wondered, would the Knights of the Mirage circle put up with Sir Remmik’s inflexible inactivity? It would hardly do their reputations any good to be known as the circle who hid in their shiny new castle while the town around them fought to defend itself. She grinned. If she hadn’t already been put in the penal cells for murder, she’d probably be in there now for insubordination and disobeying a superior officer.

  “So what is going on now?” asked another Legionnaire.

  “Falaius and General Dockett are reorganizing their forces,” he said with a yawn. He added to Linsha, “Falaius sends his regrets. He hopes you are comfortable for now.”

  She nodded to the other Legionnaires so as not to hurt their feelings. “For the moment. But I will not hide here if the city is attacked.”

  “I know. You would be a formidable ally if you were in command of the Citadel,” said Lanther. He rose to go and gave Linsha a mock salute. “Tomorrow, Lady Knight, if you choose, I will bring you weapons and armor and make a Legionnaire out of you.”

  She returned his salute. “I don’t suppose you have seen my horse.”

  He checked and said with a snap of his fingers, “No, but I have seen your owl. She was the one who told me about your trial and how you were imprisoned in the fortress.”

  The others looked at him astonished.

  “She told you?” Linsha exclaimed. “She never talks to anyone else.”

  “You have an owl that talks?” said one of the three.

  “She must have believed it was important to tell someone who could help you,” Lanther said, ignoring the question.

  “Where is she now?” Linsha asked.

  He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I don’t know. She left me, and I have not seen her since.”

  Linsha swallowed her disappointment as she said goodbye to Lanther. Varia did know about the trial and was worried enough to risk her safety to talk to Lanther. After that, she must have left, as she was no longer at the Citadel, the lair, or any of her other favorite perching spots. Perhaps she had finally decided to leave her companion. Linsha was still not certain why Varia chose to stay with her, so it should be no surprise if the owl grew tired of her and left to seek quieter or less dangerous surroundings. But her absence saddened Linsha more than she expected. With her heart heavy and her head aching with too many unshed tears, Linsha bid goodnight to the caretakers and sought solace in sleep.

  Five hours after midnight, just before the rising of the sun, Linsha awoke to a crack of thunder. It was so loud it boomed over the city, shaking people awake and echoing among the towers. Linsha bolted upright in her bed. She could hear the other people in the house calling to one another in consternation. Surely this was just a common thunderstorm, not another storm like the one six nights ago. To be sure, Linsha pulled her tunic on over her shirt and padded barefoot outside to look at the sky.

  The three Legionnaires joined her, and together they looked upward. Linsha felt a chill crept down her skin. There were no clouds. The sky was clear and filled with stars. Only a pale apricot glow on the eastern horizon heralded the coming of day.

  Another peal of thunder cracked across the city.

  A hand grabbed Linsha’s arm, and its owner pointed wordlessly down toward the center of the city.

  Thunder had come.

  16

  Dawn of Fire and Thunder

  The great blue dragon hung over the city like a monstrous bird of prey, his wings outstretched to catch the rising heat from the fires that burned beneath. Lightning cracked from his jaws and struck a warehouse in the Port District, adding another fire to the growing inferno. The sound of thunder rolled over the streets and buildings. The dawn was calm with no wind yet from the sea, so the smoke from the fires rose in columns and slowly spread out in an ever-increasing canopy, blotting out the stars and casting a pall over the light of the coming sun.

  “He’s going to bum the entire city!” one of the caretakers cried.

  “I don’t think so,” Linsha said, staring spellbound at the city below. “What good is a scorched ruin? Look! He’s started fires in each district. I think he’s trying to distract the city’s defenders.”

  They watched, appalled, while Thunder circled over the Missing City. Light from the fires glowed on his belly and under his wings, illuminating his shape in golden hues. He seemed satisfied with his handiwork, for he contented himself with spreading the paralyzing dragonfear among the people below and using his lightning breath weapon only to destroy the few brave attempts the militia made to stand up to him.

  Linsha shook herself free of her dread and shock. She bolted into the house and grabbed her boots and the dagger. She would have to get a sword somewhere and some armor or a shield. Running outside again, she shouted, “Do you have horses here?”

  The Legionnaires barely looked at her, so mortified were they by the burning fires in the city. “Lanther said to keep you here until he called for you.”

  Linsha drew herself up to her full height and snarled, “Listen. You are members of his Order. I am not. I am a Knight of the Rose, and my place is down there.”

  One of the Legionnaires silently pointed to a small barn beyond the garden.

  Linsha followed his gesture to the stone outbuilding and found a small desert-bred horse within. The gelding tossed his head nervously when Linsha entered and would not hold still to be bridled. Linsha knew he sensed the dragon, but she did not have time to cajole him. She clamped his upper lip in a vise-like grip and shoved the bit between his teeth. She decided not to bother with a saddle. Springing bareback onto the horse, she kicked it out of the barn and down the road toward the city.

  In the dimness the road was unfamiliar and treacherous. People were out in the streets, in front of their homes, or standing on the flat rooftops to see what was happening. Others already knew and frantically grabbed for any transportation they could find to flee the dragon and the fires. Someone ran in front of Linsha’s horse and tried to snatch at the bridle. Linsha rammed her heels into the terrified horse’s sides and forced the animal past the man and his flailing arms.

  Shouts and screams filled the night, dogs barked, and a few fire bells rang frantically in the distance for help that could not come.

  When she passed the city wall and entered the Garden Gate, she saw the guards trying desperately to push the people back from the gates. Someone had managed to get it unbolted, and a mob of panicked citizens pushed frantically to get out. Linsha worked her way to a small messenger’s gate where a militia soldier recognized her and let her in. She kicked her horse into a canter again and pressed on toward the center of the city.

&
nbsp; The closer Linsha drew to the more inhabited districts the worse the chaos became. People crowded the roads, some trying to escape, some trying to reach the fires to help put them out before they spread out of control; some simply ran in a blind panic. Smoke settled among the houses and buildings, intensifying the darkness. The acrid air became difficult to breathe. It stung her lungs and nose, and its thick fumes brought tears to her eyes. She slowed her horse to a trot while she scanned the buildings, houses, and streets for some landmark that looked familiar in the lurid glow of the distant fires.

  Linsha was well among the larger homes in the Garden District before she realized where she was and how to find her way to the Legion headquarters. Turning her mount east on a wide, open avenue she was about to urge it into a canter again, when she heard the recognizable sound of wind rushing over large and leathery wings. At the same instant a massive, paralyzing fear swept over her that was so horrendous, she threw her hands up to her head and screamed.

  The horse went mad. It swerved to escape the hideous creature, and Linsha lost her balance. Her body slid off the horse’s slick back and fell hard on the stone-paved road. Pain lanced through her back and the half-healed injuries in her head. She curled into a ball and vomited on the paving. The dragon slid overhead, his massive body a half-seen nightmare in the clouds of smoke. He weaved his horned head from side to side while he stared down at the city beneath him. His malevolent eyes glowed red with his pleasure. He flapped his wings once and swept over Linsha’s place without seeing the Rose Knight curled on the ground. A heartbeat later, he had moved over another part of the city, and the worst of the dragonfear faded behind him.

  Linsha lay still and panted. The aftertaste of sickness tainted her tongue. Her head pounded. Her back and shoulders protested the slightest move.

  People ran by her. A few ran over her. She hurt so much she could not move. She could only breathe and lie still and hope no one tripped and fell on her. After a while she felt strong enough to draw her energy within her heart to ease her pain and convince her muscles to move. Her concentration gradually increased and the warm, healing power flowed through her. She accepted the fact long ago that she did not and never would have the skill for or the love of sorcery like her father and her brother, but thank the absent gods she had inherited enough of her father’s talent to bolster her own few skills. Under the gentle ministrations of her healing magic, the pain eased and her back muscles loosened and relaxed.

  In time, she was able to sit up without the world spinning. She took several calming breaths and climbed to her feet. Her body felt sluggish, and her head was still heavy with pain, but the ground stayed where it was supposed to, and her stomach made no more nasty heaves. All she could do was ignore the discomfort and move on. She had to find Falaius and the Legion. They would not be hiding in a castle. They would be doing what needed to be done. She gritted her teeth and began to walk in the direction of the Port District.

  The sun had lifted above the horizon and changed the deep night beneath the roof of smoke and dust to a sickly pallor, adding a yellowish patina to the city. With the dawn came the freshening wind from the sea. The rising breeze stirred the smoke and sent it swirling through the streets. It tattered the canopy of fumes, carrying shreds inland toward the plains. It also stirred the fires in the burning buildings.

  Missing City was built mostly of stone, but there were enough trees, wooden rafters, furniture, thatch roofing, hay barns, shutters, and other burnable things that a fire could make good headway through the homes, shops, and warehouses of the city. Once it took hold, a fire was very difficult to control. Would Thunder value the city enough to stop one of his fires if it blew out of control?

  Linsha tore a strip from her linen shirt and tied it over her nose and mouth. She forced her feet to move forward one after the other, and she found that the more she moved, the easier the movement became. Her bruised muscles and battered joints warmed to the effort. She headed toward the Mayor’s Hall in the center of the city with the plan to go on to Mirage and the Legion Headquarters if she could find no one there. More people crowded past her, their panic making them blind and thoughtless to everything but escape. She had to shove and beat her way through several mobs that streamed around her, threatening to carry her with them like floodwaters.

  She grabbed one man who bled from several minor wounds to his head and shouted at him for information. From his uniform and weapons she took him for a soldier of the city watch, but he shook her off, threw his sword to the ground, and fled. Linsha picked up the sword. Short bladed and evenly balanced, it sat in her hand comfortably and gave her a small feeling of relief to be holding a weapon again. She pressed on deeper into the city.

  Not far from the row of guild houses marking the edge of the Port District, Linsha was forced to stop to catch her breath. She leaned against a stone wall, the linen strip clamped over her mouth, and tried to catch some clean air from a gust that swept in from the sea. She knew where she was now, and it seemed to be the right way, but she sensed a large fire somewhere ahead of her. When the sea gust died, the smoke poured back over the streets, thick and hot and suffocating. She could hear a babble of voices strident with fear and anger and determination.

  Then she heard something else-the clatter of hooves. They came from behind her, sharp and staccato, and something about them sounded familiar. She stood upright in time to see a centaur materialize out of the pall of smoke.

  “Leonidas!” she yelled, leaping in his path.

  The young stallion’s hooves slid on the slick paving stones in his effort to stop. He yanked his javelin out of her way and barely managed to keep his footing without banging into the stone wall.

  “Lady Linsha!” he bellowed, swinging around to face her. “Do not do that to me!” And in the next breath, “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” she countered. “Shouldn’t you be at the city defenses?” The centaur, she noticed, was sweating profusely and grimy with smoke and dirt.

  He gave his equine body a shake, sending a cloud of dust and hair into the smoky air. “I was. But I have to find the Legion. Caphiathus sent me to tell Falaius. There are armed warriors marching on the city. From the west.” He spoke rapidly, in short bursts between gasps of air.

  Linsha’s eyes closed, borne down by despair. A menacing fleet in the harbor, a dragon overhead, and now warriors approaching the city. There was not much point in hoping the massed troops were the forces of some ally coming to the rescue them. The city had no allies anywhere near.

  “Can you tell whose troops they are?” she asked.

  The centaur jigged sideways impatiently and said, “They carry blue flags with gold lightning bolts emblazoned on the centers. My uncle says they are the army of the dragonlord Thunder.” He cast a nervous eye skyward. “Lady, if you are in a hurry to go somewhere, don’t let me keep you.”

  “Leonidas, I am going the same place you are, and I would really appreciate a ride,” Linsha replied.

  A gust of wind sent a cloud of smoke billowing over them.

  “He’s coming around again!” Leonidas cried.

  “Down!” Linsha bellowed. “Get down!” To force her point, she grabbed Leonidas’s mane and threw all her weight backward to haul him off balance.

  Taken by surprise by her unorthodox movement, he staggered sideways. Normally surefooted, he could have easily scrambled back to his feet, but the form of the dragon darkened the sky overhead and the dragon-induced terror spread before his shadow like a palpable wave. Leonidas collapsed to the ground, his human torso wrapped around Linsha’s, his horse body sprawled on the earth.

  The ungainly position saved his life. Had he been upright and moving when the blue soared overhead, he would have been a target too tempting for the dragon to resist. Flattened on the ground, Thunder did not see him or Linsha through the swirls of smoke and ash. With a lazy flap of his massive wings, the dragon passed on to find other victims.

  The dragonf
ear faded, leaving a sick taste in Linsha’s mouth. She raised her head and felt the pain come thundering back into her skull. Her head was taking a serious beating these days. Groaning, she lay back and waited for the centaur to move.

  Leonidas heard her groan and, mortified, unwound his arms from her body and scrambled upright. “Lady!” he gasped, his brown eyes wide with embarrassment and shame. “Forgive me. I hurt you. The dragonfear… I didn’t…” His voice faltered to a stop.

  She offered him a feeble grin from her place in the dirt. “It wasn’t you. Without you, I might have been caught moving in the open. There is no one, not even my inestimable brother the dragonmage, who is immune to dragonfear.”

  Leonidas helped her up and, because he liked and respected her, allowed his fear and his bruised dignity to be soothed. He carefully helped her onto his back and moved out in a gentle trot toward the city center.

  “The last we heard, Falaius set up a temporary headquarters at the city hall where he could stay in touch with the watch, the militia, and the Legion,” he told Linsha. “Uncle said to look for him there.”

  Linsha sat quietly on his back for a few minutes then smiled. “Leonidas, it’s all right. Just because my head hurts, it won’t crack. You can go faster.”

  The centaur cast a worried look back at her, but he took her at her word and shifted his trot into a fast canter.

  In less time than Linsha had taken to reach the edge of the Garden District, Leonidas carried her through the streets to the town square where most of the city offices and guild halls were located. They found the buildings and the square itself untouched by the dragon. In the shade of an ancient yew on the green, they found Falaius surrounded by a circle of heavily armed Legionnaires while he issued orders. The spot around the Legion commander was the only quiet place in the square. The rest of the open space was a scene of disorder and uproar as people ran heedlessly by, teams of horses pulled wagons loaded with families and belongings or merchants’ wares along streets already overcrowded with pedestrians and pack animals. Soldiers tried to form ranks to march out, while members of the beleaguered city watch tried to keep some sort of order.