City of the Lost l-1

by Mary H. Herbert

  “But a barn cat? Why not a tiger? A lion? A griffin for that matter. At least he could fly.”

  “He’s injured,” Linsha said reasonably. “He can’t fly even in a different shape.”

  Lanther threw up his hands and stalked up the stairs ahead of them.

  Crucible squirmed out of the woman’s arms. He fell heavily on his injured leg, but he scurried up the steps and scooted in front of the Legionnaire. Just in time.

  The water weird reared out of the pool like a snake out of the grass. Its simple upright form was shaped from water, and like water, its strength was deceptive. Two arms detached from the torso and reached for Lanther’s throat.

  The Legionnaire gave a yell and went for his sword, but the cat crouched by the water’s edge and hissed a furious command.

  Immediately, the water weird drew back. It spit water at Lanther, then slipped sulkily beneath the surface of its pool.

  “Not bad for a barn cat,” Linsha said behind him.

  Lanther chuckled, a little shakily, and made a short bow to the orange cat. “My thanks, Crucible.”

  This time, he waited until the cat went ahead of him up the short stairs to the crack in the ruined stone.

  As soon as they were outside in the afternoon sun, a shape detached itself from the meager shade of a nearby outcropping.

  “Lady Linsha! Lanther!” called Mariana. The half-elf hurried over. She studied their faces for the answer to her unspoken question and found it in the tension in their faces and the sadness in their eyes. “The eggs are destroyed,” she said flatly.

  “Not destroyed,” Lanther told her. “Gone. Purestian is dead, her skull taken. We believe Thunder is responsible.”

  “Why take the eggs?” Mariana asked. “Why wouldn’t he just smash them?”

  Linsha remembered the pride she had heard in Iyesta’s voice when she spoke of the eggs, and she shuddered. “I don’t know. He’s vindictive enough to keep them for himself or use them as a threat against us.”

  Mariana looked appalled. “Why would he keep them? Can he do anything beyond killing them?”

  Lanther sat on a rock to ease his aching leg and looked south toward the city and the dragonlord’s lair. The scar on his face looked livid in the sunlight, and his visage was dark with suppressed anger. “Maybe. If he had enough power.”

  “Which he could get if he increases his skull totem,” Linsha said fiercely. “Any more skulls just add to the power. I don’t think he has a bronze skull yet.”

  Mariana glanced around and behind them. “Where is Crucible? Did he not come back with you?”

  “He is here.” Linsha pointed to the cat, who sat down and began to lick his injured leg.

  The captain’s eyes fell on the torn. “That’s a cat.”

  “Yes. One of Crucible’s more intriguing forms. I knew him as a cat before I realized he was a dragon.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good, because General Docket left me to tell you: First, what is left of his forces have moved to the Scorpion Wadi. He is sending out scouts to gather any refugees or survivors they can find. Second, he asks if there are other entrances into the labyrinth from within the city, and if so, could they be used to pull out any of those trapped between the lines of fighting-especially Falaius and his forces.”

  The two humans shrugged, but the tomcat nodded.

  “Will you help us?” Mariana asked the cat.

  “I will carry you if your leg hurts too much,” Linsha offered. Like bronzes, she had a weakness for small, fluffy animals.

  The torn meowed and twined around her ankles. Varia guffawed as only an intelligent owl can.

  “Since you are in good company,” Lanther said, “I will leave you to your mission and go on one of my own. Perhaps a new prisoner or two can tell us what Thunder has done with the eggs.”

  He pulled his broad brimmed hat out of a small pack, threw on his tattered robe over his dirty, bloodstained clothes, and drew his long body into a compact slouch. Suddenly the tall, straight Legionnaire became the lame beggar. He leered at the women and shuffled away toward the city to find some talkative prisoners.

  Linsha, Mariana, and Varia followed the cat back into the darkness of the labyrinth.

  Sometime during the short summer night, the Missing City fell to attacking forces of the blue dragon. There was no official surrender or final battle. The defenders of the city just seem to give up and melt away into the darkness, leaving the streets to the Brutes and the mercenaries. Skirmishes broke out in all four districts as pockets of resistance continued to fight, but the last large companies of the militia and the Legion and its commander just disappeared. The mercenaries didn’t care. They were pleased to have the city in their hands and the fighting over. Now, they felt, they could loot and celebrate and enjoy their victory as they saw fit. The Brutes, on the other hand, were puzzled. They had been impressed by the tenacity and courage of the city’s defenders, and they could not understand how or why the militia had simply left.

  The Brute general, commander of the overall attack, took no chances. Working with his trusted second-in-command, he set his warriors to work consolidating their hold on the city. He had his best trackers carefully sweep the streets and buildings for the wounded, for anyone wielding a weapon, or for any officers of the militia and city watch. His troops strengthened their defenses, repaired the gates and walls, and interrogated prisoners. He set up roadblocks, posted guards, and established observation posts. Then he went to see Thunder.

  The great blue had already laid his claim to Iyesta’s lair. He sat in the courtyard and watched while the remains of the palace roof were removed from the throne room. Prisoners from the city had been impressed by the mercenaries to do the backbreaking work of hauling out the tons of rock and debris. They worked in long lines with ropes and sledges, under the watchful eyes and cruel whips of their guards.

  Thunder saw the Brute and his guard approach. His attention went back to the work on the throne room. He planned to do the last excavation himself to clear the stairs to the treasure room, and he wanted no interference.

  The general made a short, almost insolent bow. “Your lordship, the city is ours.”

  “Good.” The dragon stamped a foot on the ground in emphasis. “Soon Iyesta’s defeat will be complete. Her lair and her hoard will be mine.”

  The Brute general nodded, his arms crossed over his bare chest. His ceremonial gold mask shone in the reflected firelight of the torches. “I hear, too, that the eggs are yours,” he said casually.

  The dragon was not really listening. He was too busy gloating. “Yes. On your information, I looked for them last night. They are in my keeping now.”

  “But you did not see fit to seal the tunnels or do anything to prevent the city’s forces from escaping through the labyrinth,” the general said coldly.

  “Did they?” The dragon did not even look at him. “That is your problem, General. I brought you here to capture the city. You have done so. If you wish to wipe out the rest of those so-called defenders, you may chase them across the Plains. I have other things to do.”

  The man thought fast. He had not become general of a warrior race because of his blue skin paint. He was intelligent, strong, cunning, and merciless when the need arose. If his informant was correct, the forces that slipped out of the city were exhausted, demoralized, and nearly wiped out. However, they had found refuge in a place that would be very difficult to attack without Thunder’s help, and if they stayed there long enough, they could rebuild their strength and mount a counteroffensive. What he needed was something to lure them out into the open where they could be captured or wiped out completely-including the bronze dragon. Ideally, he would like it if they could rid him of Thunder in the process, but he did not believe they were capable of such a deed. At least not without a little help.

  He would have to speak to his informant.

  He bowed briefly to the blue dragon, who did not notice, and backed out of his presence. He’d like to know th
e whereabouts of those eggs. The brass dragon eggs would bring those people out of their holes. If the dragon had found the eggs the night before, the general surmised, they still had to be close by. Thunder, he knew, was moving the contents of his lair in the Plains to this place, so it would be here that the dragon would hide the eggs. The dragon was stupid with overconfidence.

  The general smiled beneath the mask. The campaign, he thought, was shaping up well. What he had to do now was ensure the militia knew where to look, then he would know where to find the militia.

  The Scorpion Wadi lay in the stark, barren sand hills north and west of the Missing City. It had earned its name not only for the vicious little black scorpions that lived in its dry beds but also for its curved shape. Centuries ago griffin riders had reported the eroded dry river bed looked like the tail of a scorpion from the air. The name had stayed long after the elves disappeared. It was a place of overhanging ravines, washes, crumbling cliffs, undercut caves, and sculptured, narrow canyons. With the right force and enough water, it could be defended for months.

  To this hot, arid sanctuary, Linsha, Mariana, Varia, and Crucible led the remnants of Iyesta’s once proud militia and dragon’s guard, a few battered survivors of the city watch, some civilians, the surviving Solamnics, and Falaius with a small contingent of Legionnaires. The general and the commander, the Solamnic Knights and the Legion, centaurs and civilians met in the shaded canyon at dawn. They silently gazed at one another, hollow-eyed and exhausted, unsure of what to do. They had all suffered a calamity, but this was the first time they had all gathered in one place and faced it together.

  Linsha watched them, wondering if they could unite after all they had suffered. General Dockett moved forward with a smile and a cup of wine and greeted Falaius with undisguised relief. With the help of those already settled, the newcomers were treated for their wounds, fed, and given places to sleep in the shelter of a large undercut cave.

  Sir Remmik ignored Linsha, a response for which she was grateful. The way she felt that morning, she was not certain she could have refrained from removing his face if he suggested putting her under arrest. The remaining Knights watched her as if they were not sure what to make of her. Sir Remmik declared she was guilty of a heinous act, and she had escaped from the cells. But oddly enough, she did not run away, she fought for the city, and she was partly responsible for their rescue and the deliverance of the nearly six hundred of the militia and city forces. These facts did not sit well on the Solamnic conscience.

  Linsha didn’t care. She had tramped for over fifteen hours through the dank, dark tunnels-some of which hadn’t seen a two-legged walker in over four hundred years-and she was tired to the bone. She left the main group in the cave, and taking an old cloak for a blanket, she wandered into a gully nearby. The small gully was an old wash full of twisted rock formations, sandbars, and layered cliffs. A low overhang offered some shade and a sandbank made a comfortable enough bed. She spread out the cloak and fell asleep before her head hit the ground.

  Varia flew to a shady perch on the ledge just over Linsha’s bed. The orange cat limped into her shelter and stretched out beside her to rest his injured leg and side.

  You will have to tell her eventually. The owl hooted softly.

  The cat understood. I know.

  Are you afraid of her reaction?

  There was silence for a moment then the cat yawned and grumbled in his throat. Shut up, bird. You talk too much.

  Linsha woke just before sunset from a deep, dreamless sleep, feeling better than she had in days. She yawned, stretched, and crawled out from under the overhang. Something to eat now and she might feel human again.

  “Ah, good.” Lanther’s voice came to her from somewhere near the ground. “You’re awake. You can call off your bodyguard now.”

  She scanned the ground in surprise and finally saw him behind a nearby hump of rock and gravel. The Legionnaire lay flat on his back in the sand while the orange tomcat sat on his chest and growled menacingly. Varia watched impassively from her perch.

  With a chuckle, Linsha plucked the cat off the man’s chest and sat down on a rock, the cat cradled in her lap. “He may look like a cat, but he’s still a dragon,” she said, “which makes him stronger, smarter, and much more powerful than any cat you’ve ever seen.”

  Lanther climbed to his feet and dusted off his already disheveled clothes. He leveled a glare at the orange cat. “I won’t forget that,” he muttered. “Falaius has called a meeting. He sent me to find you.” He wheeled, ready to stamp off.

  “Lanther!” Linsha hurried to him. “Don’t be angry. Crucible doesn’t know you yet. These two-” she indicated Varia and the cat-“are very protective of me.”

  He nodded once, and his irritation seemed to fade a little from his dark blue eyes. “Falaius told me I should wake you from a distance. Next time I will follow his advice. Come on. They’re meeting in the cave.”

  The Rose Knight fell into step beside him. “Did you find your prisoners? Do you have news?”

  He was about to reply when a dazzling light shone behind them. Startled, they turned around in time to see Crucible’s cat form expand outward in a glowing, glittering haze of golden colored light. They blinked in the bright light as the bronze dragon took shape in the scintillating mist. He stared down at them as the glow faded.

  “My apologies, Legionnaire,” the dragon said. “The next time I will simply let Varia tear your eyes out.”

  Lanther’s mouth opened as if he planned to say something. Instead, he watched wordlessly as Varia left her perch, circled over Linsha’s head, and winged silently away.

  Linsha studied Lanther, a little surprised by his reaction. Something about her companions seemed to irritate the Legionnaire, but she could not imagine what.

  “Shall we go?” Crucible suggested. He didn’t wait for an answer but stepped out of the gully into the main canyon and headed for the cave.

  Linsha thought the big bronze would have trouble maneuvering through the narrow sections of the canyon, but he was as sinuous as a snake and slid his great body through like a flow of molten bronze. Only his injured wing hampered him in the tight turns.

  When they arrived at the cave, Linsha learned more militia had slipped through enemy lines and made their way to the Wadi. They brought reports of Thunder and the palace, of the Brutes and their tightening hold on the city. General Dockett had interviewed each group that came in during the day, and by the time Lanther found Linsha and brought her in, the commander’s face was locked in a grimace of grief and anger.

  He and Falaius came out of the cave to meet the Knight and the dragon. Mariana came with them, carrying a hunk of bread and a wineskin with her good arm.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” she said softly to Linsha and handed her the wine and the bread. “There isn’t much to be had right now.”

  Linsha took them gratefully. She could not remember her last meal. The two women sat down side by side on a large flat rock. Crucible lounged on his belly, placing himself behind Linsha with obvious intent. The two men and Lanther took seats by Linsha’s rock. They lit no fires and brought no torches for fear of attracting attention from spies or Thunder, if he decided to fly over. They talked quietly among themselves in the growing twilight while Linsha ate and others joined them.

  The newcomers stared at Crucible’s bulk, dark in the shadows of the canyon floor, and they whispered quietly about the bronze and his fight with Thunder. Very few people knew the connection between the bronze dragon and the cat who had accompanied the half-elf and the Solamnic Knight through the tunnels. Crucible intended to leave it that way.

  Last to come was Sir Remmik, accompanied by the next ranking officer of the circle, a man Linsha had last seen sitting on the Solamnic council in the Citadel. The Solamnic commander fired a ferocious glare at Linsha, but he made no move toward her and took his seat at the furthest opposite side of the group from her.

  Dockett made a quick head count and nodded t
o his commander. Falaius slowly rose to his feet. The old plainsman stood erect and tall in spite of the heavy load of sadness and danger he had been carrying. When he spoke, his deep voice remained steady and strong.

  “In one day, we have lost our city and been driven from our homes. We must now make a decision. It is not one I will make for you. I am commander of what is left of the Legion. That will not change. But the militia, the city watch, Iyesta’s guards, and the Solamnic circle are released from my command. You may choose to go your own ways, or you may choose to stay here and fight with us.” He held up a hand to still the sudden outburst of voices. “Yes, the Legion will fight. We came here when this city was nothing but a field of ruins and phantoms. We built our headquarters here. We were here before Iyesta, before the militia, before the merchants. We will be here after Thunder is dead. I ask you to stay and fight for your homes with us, but I understand that not all of you have roots as deep as ours. You are free to go. Or free to stay. We intend to kill the dragon and drive the invaders from our city.”

  “And how are we supposed to get across the Plains?” someone cried. “Where are we supposed to go?”

  Falaius gave a dry chuckle devoid of any humor. “If you choose to leave, you can go to Chaos for all I care. You are on your own.”

  Noise broke out all around him as the leaders of the various groups and curious onlookers made comments, voiced protests, and asked questions. The Legion commander let them talk for a few minutes, then he held up a hand again for silence.

  “Before you make up your minds, I want you to consider two things. We have learned, much to our regret, that Iyesta was guarding a nest of eggs under the city. Somehow, Thunder learned of that nest and stole the eggs before we could save them. We don’t know what he plans to do with them.”

  “It’s not just the eggs we are worried about,” Linsha said.

  Falaius gestured for her to stand up. She climbed onto the flat rock and stood in front of Crucible. For a moment she gazed up at the dragon’s head towering over her, one gleaming eye slightly cocked so he could see her better, and she was very glad to have him with her, even to the possible detriment of Sanction’s safety. She felt a deep sense of connection with him that surprised her sometimes when she thought about it. Some of it, she knew, stemmed from their time together in Sanction. The dragon had saved her life and lent his strength and sympathy to her when she needed it most. Some of it came from their shared grief for the death of an irreplaceable dragon and friend. But the rest? It was more than friendship, more than gratitude. Perhaps it was something similar to what her brother, Ulin, felt when he flew with the gold dragon Sunrise. It was a feeling of comfort and strength and delight that she would not change for anything in the world.