City of the Lost l-1

by Mary H. Herbert

  “Most of you heard the rumors that Iyesta’s head was missing when we found her body,” Linsha began. “It was. So was Purestian’s. And if we could find the bodies of the triplets, I believe we would see their skulls are missing, too.”

  She paced the short distance back and forth on the rock and tried to look at the faces of the people before her. Although the sun had just set and a vestige of light still remained on the plains, shadow and darkness filled the Wadi and lapped up to the top of the canyon walls. Without some form of firelight, Linsha could barely make out shapes let alone faces. She raised her voice a little to be certain everyone listened.

  “Imagine if you can. Thunder-we all know what he is like-a dragon overlord increasing the power of his totem. What would he do? He could change the land like Malys or Sable. He could obliterate the city in a single afternoon. He could use his power to twist Iyesta’s beloved eggs into something hideous. Worse, he could attract the attention of one of the other dragon overlords. Especially Malys.”

  Linsha didn’t have to see the faces of the people around her to hear the quiet gasp of horror from her listeners. She pushed her point forward.

  “Malys called an end to the Dragon Purge to establish the borders of the Dragon Realms. And to prevent more Great Dragons from challenging for land. What will she do when she hears Thunder has killed Iyesta, doubled his realm, and taken the skulls of several dragons? Will she be pleased to see an upstart claim the vast Plains of Dust?”

  “What about Beryl or Sable?” a Legionnaire called out.

  “What about them? I cannot believe either of them would be happy by Thunder’s move. So where does that leave us?”

  “Caught between the Pinnacle of Panic and the Abyss of Doom,” said the same voice. Several people laughed. Most didn’t. It was too close to the truth.

  “An apt description. Which is why we should move quickly to destroy Thunder’s totem before he can finish it. I would rather deal with a dragon like Thunder than a monster like Malys.”

  “But where is this totem?” shouted a man’s voice.

  Linsha peered through the darkness toward the speaker, but Lanther rose to his feet and answered for her. “I have spoken to several prisoners who told me Thunder has broken into Iyesta’s treasure chamber. He plans to bring his collection of skulls from his lair and erect his totem in the chamber, under heavy guard.”

  Someone else asked, “Do you know where the dragon eggs are?”

  “Not yet.”

  The questions, comments, and advice came faster and faster until almost everyone was talking at once. Lanther gave up trying to say anything and sat down with Mariana. Falaius and Dockett fielded questions and tried to keep order.

  Standing in the darkness with Crucible beside her, Linsha felt a sudden surge of energy. She had had her say and told the people what they needed to hear. They had to make their own decision from here. In the meantime, she wanted to get out of this stifling canyon, to do something useful, to do what she was good at-gathering information.

  To say they were going kill the dragon and destroy his totem was one thing. To actually do it was something else again. They needed information on his whereabouts, his guards, his preparations for the totem, his plans for the eggs. Something Lanther had said came back to her thoughts-Find his weapon and use it against him. Thunder had used something to kill those brasses. Neither Iyesta nor Purestian had suffered the burns characteristic of a lightning attack. Something had killed them quickly and effectively. If someone could just find that weapon, the chances of killing Thunder and living to tell about it would be much greater. She wanted to find it.

  Linsha quietly edged off the rock and walked past Crucible into the darkness. She heard him turn around and come after her, she heard Lanther call her name, but she acknowledged neither of them until she had left the cave and the noise far behind and was enveloped by the solitude and darkness. She whistled a soft, lonely call and held her arm out. She felt rather than saw the owl float silently from night and land on her arm. Only then did she turn around to the bronze dragon and say, “Want to go hunting?”

  22

  The Brute Camp

  You don’t have to go with me. You hurt your leg yesterday. It needs to heal.”

  Linsha crouched at the foot of a large outcropping outside the mouth of Scorpion Wadi. Crucible lay behind her, his long body flattened against the ground. They had bypassed the sentries in the canyon and now waited for Varia to return and tell them all was clear.

  “Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” he whispered. “Just what do you intend to do?”

  Linsha hesitated. While she felt determined to do something and strong enough to do it, she hadn’t really considered exactly what she should do.

  “I gave my word to Iyesta that I would protect her eggs,” she said after a while. “We need to find them. But first, I want to look for the weapon Thunder used to kill Iyesta. It’s possible the enemy has not yet found the back entrance to the labyrinth-the one in the palace grounds. We could go there and look for-”

  Crucible cut her off with a sharp sound. “Quiet! I hear hoofbeats.”

  They froze, listening to the staccato rhythm of a horse approaching at a fast trot. An almost silent flutter of wings brought Varia to land on the rocks by Linsha’s head. “It is the young centaur,” she hooted.

  “Leonidas?” Linsha’s voice warmed with pleasure. She stepped out into the open where he could see her and called his name softly.

  There was a clatter of hooves on stone, then silence. “Lady Linsha?” The relief in his voice almost overwhelmed the wariness of the question. He moved forward until he could see her in the starlight. “What are you doing out here?”

  She heard something heavy move behind her and saw the glow of golden light illuminate the rocks around her and gleam on the centaur’s pale hide, then it flashed out leaving nothing but spots dancing in her night vision. The centaur’s eyes grew huge. He reared up, his hand reaching for a weapon behind his back. “No, no it’s all right,” she reassured him. “It’s just a friend of mine.”

  Leonidas pranced back several steps and shook his mane. “You keep interesting friends, Lady Knight. What was that light?”

  “A shapechanger. We were going to go on patrol.”

  “Then I am glad to find you. Once again we meet in darkness and need.”

  “It does seem to be a habit of ours,” she agreed with a dry laugh. “Were you looking for me?”

  “I came to find the militia and to tell someone what we have found.”

  “Who is this ‘we’?”

  The life seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders sagged and his hands fell to his sides. “We are all that is left of my troop-three of us, the younger ones who got thrust to the back during the heat of the fighting to help the wounded, retrieve arrows, and run messages. We were running errands for our lord when our lines were overwhelmed. We found each other but no one else. We tried to go back to our position and were cut off. It wasn’t until late last night that the Brutes moved on and we were able to get into the barricades to see… they were all dead. Uncle Caphiathus… everyone. The wounded, too. All killed. The Brutes left no one.”

  His voice sounded so grief-stricken that Linsha moved beside him and put a hand on his wither. His hide was grimy and wet with sweat, and he smelled of smoke, blood, and sweaty horse.

  “No one but you three. Caphiathus would be pleased you survived.”

  Leonidas did not seem to hear her. “Since then we have been hiding. Watching.”

  Linsha’s ears pricked up. “Watching what?”

  “Those painted warriors mostly.” He shuddered. “They are brutally efficient.” He paused and looked up the trail to the Wadi. “Is anyone else still alive? Where is General Dockett? A scout found us and told us some soldiers were coming here.”

  “He was right. They’re in the Wadi. The General and Falaius are planning a counterattack. We must try to destroy Thunder’s totem.”


  “You mean that horrible pile of skulls?”

  Linsha grabbed his arm in excitement. “Yes! Where is it?”

  “In the palace. We were in the gardens this afternoon trailing the Brute general. He came to talk to Thunder and was there when the dragon brought in the first few skulls.”

  The Rose Knight heard an insistent meow and felt the tomcat twine around her ankles. She picked him up. “Thank you, Leonidas,” she said and strode purposefully toward the feeble glow of light to the south that marked the Missing City.

  Her sudden move took the centaur by surprise. “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “To the palace.”

  “But what about the militia?”

  “They are busy. They have much to do before they can attack an unarmed camp, not to mention a conquered city. What they need is information.”

  He swung around in front of her and offered a hand. “Then get on. I’ll take you.”

  She took it and, clutching the cat, mounted his strong back once more. “Crucible, this is Leonidas. He has helped me several times these past ten days. Leonidas, this is Crucible. Remember what he looks like. It may be important. And don’t be deceived by his size.”

  “Are you talking to me or him?” the centaur asked as he moved smoothly into a canter.

  “Both of you.”

  Behind the centaur and his rider, a small shape detached from the rock outcropping and flew noiselessly after them.

  The ancient elven palace was ablaze with the light of hundreds of torches and watchfires as if the images of Gal Tra’kalas had returned and were holding a gala in the gardens and courts of the long dead prince. Soldiers-mercenaries and Brutes alike-camped in the courtyard, guarded the walls, marched along the paths, and stood sentry at every observation point.

  Leonidas gave the palace a wide berth and plunged into the shadows of the gardens. He found his companions on the south edge of the ruins, keeping a watch on the road from the city. After a quick introduction, the two told Linsha what they had learned so far. Their tale impressed her. These three centaurs barely out of colt-hood had survived the battle and managed to avoid capture while spying on the dragonlord and his minions.

  Phoulos, a bay with a black mane and beard of sorts, continued. “Thunder is collecting these skulls from his lair on the Plains. We think he’s putting them in the throne room, but we can’t get close enough to look.”

  “Did he bring them all in one trip?” Linsha asked.

  “No,” answered the third stallion, a lighter bay named Azurale. “He won’t trust anyone else to do it.”

  Phoulos snorted. “Or he doesn’t have anyone else to do it for him. Even his own kind avoids him.”

  “Right. So, he’s made two trips so far, and he left again just a short time ago.”

  Linsha rubbed her face, careful to avoid the bruise by her eye. “So the palace is empty?”

  Azurale nodded. “Of him. There’s guards everywhere. His journey usually takes about four hours.”

  “That’s plenty of time. If we can get through the tunnels, we can get into the lower levels of the place and take a look at these skulls.” Linsha swung her leg over Leonidas and slid to the ground where she gently put the cat down. “Let’s check the door first.”

  She led the way to the tumbled building she knew well now. The entrance was there behind the vines and ferns and undergrowth, unguarded and still open.

  The centaurs stared suspiciously at the black doorway. “Don’t worry.” Linsha smiled. “You don’t have to go down there. I will. I just want one of you to guard the door for me.”

  But the orange cat hissed at her and blocked the way. No. I will go down there. lean pass through ways you cannot and remain unseen.

  Linsha started at the words in her head. “Are you sure?”

  The centaurs looked surprised. They hadn’t heard the cat. For an answer, the tomcat flicked his tail and limped into the doorway. In a blink he moved out of sight.

  “Interesting cat,” observed Leonidas.

  Linsha and the centaurs stood about the doorway in an awkward silence while they tried to decide what to do next. Around them a few insects buzzed in the grass, and a cool breeze swept through the trees. A waning moon gleamed yellow over the hills to the east.

  Linsha couldn’t stand the quiet. She had come here to do something, not wait around for Crucible. “Leonidas, you said the Brute general came to talk to Thunder. Is he still here?”

  Phoulos answered, “Actually, yes. The Brutes set up a command headquarters in one of the other buildings. The general goes back and forth between here and the city.”

  “Hmm. I wonder if he knows-”

  “Knows what?” Leonidas said eagerly. “What are you thinking, Lady?”

  She studied the centaurs, her expression tight with concentration. “I think we’ll take a look around. Would you be willing to help me?”

  All three centaurs nodded vigorously. They had not planned to avenge their kin by running away.

  “Good. Then listen.” Talking softly, she told them what she wanted to do.

  Finding a mercenary alone proved harder than Linsha expected. All the ones they found still awake and on guard either moved about in patrols or stayed at their posts with their companions. It was a long frustrating time before she and the centaurs saw a mercenary stagger out of one of the buildings and make his way into the woods to relieve himself. Fortunately for them, he had had more than his share to drink and he wandered farther into the groves than he intended. It took only a matter of moments to snatch him, break his neck, and drag him into the undergrowth. Linsha quickly pulled off his tunic with the crude blue emblem on the sleeve, his pants, which were a little too big for her but cleaner than her own filthy clothes, and his boots. He wore leather gauntlets, a broad studded belt, and a padded vest, too, which she added to her disguise. The only thing he did not have was a helmet or a hat, but Phoulos had a leather cap he gave to her to hide her curls. When she was finished dressing, Leonidas declared she looked every bit a mercenary.

  Although the man had not been carrying a sword when he wandered to his death, he was armed with a dagger, several throwing knives, and a stiletto in his boot. Linsha kept the dagger and the stiletto, but she gave the slim throwing knives to the centaurs.

  “You never know when a knife might come in handy,” she said.

  Leaving Azurale to watch the tunnel entrance for Crucible, Linsha and the other two centaurs worked their way over to the southern edge of the gardens not far from the road that led to the palace. They found the Brutes had built a strong encampment fortified with a log palisade and guarded by sentries. Within the ring sat the crumbled foundations of an old building that now supported a large and spacious tent decorated with banners and hung with lamps. Smaller tents clustered around it, leaving a clearing directly in front of the tent where the barbarians had placed a ring of spears, each holding the severed head of some hapless enemy. Guards stood at the gate, at the main tent, and all around the perimeter.

  Linsha and the two centaurs looked at the encampment, impressed in spite of themselves.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Phoulos whispered. “You might get in, but I don’t see how you’ll get out.”

  Linsha was sure. She had a strong suspicion that this general was intelligent enough to know a great deal about the dragonlord’s activities. There was a good chance they could find some useful information in his tent. But was the chance of information worth the risk? She took a second look with a more discerning eye. If those guards over there had been drunk, asleep, inattentive, or fewer, her scheme might work. But they were alert and heavily armed and left not a scrap of ground within the camp unobserved from some angle. There was no way she could see to get into the general’s tent and out again without being apprehended or killed. Linsha had participated in enough undercover activities to know a bad risk when she saw one.

  “Maybe we’d better rethink this,” she said softly.

  There w
as a chorus of ominous creaks and a voice said in coarse Common, “That would be a good idea.”

  The companions froze in frightened surprise. All three knew the sound of bow strings being stretched.

  “That’s good,” continued the voice. “You are completely covered, so don’t try anything heroic. Just step out onto the path.”

  Linsha felt sick. She wanted to kick herself for falling so easily into their hands. She looked up at the two centaurs and gave them a nod. “Don’t,” she whispered.

  Ever so carefully Leonidas, Phoulos, and Linsha raised their hands in plain view and walked out of the line of trees onto the path. Half a dozen Brute warriors stepped out of their hiding places, their bows drawn and arrows ready.

  From a pine tree nearby, the hunting cry of an owl pierced the night. Linsha pretended not to hear it.

  The leader of the Brute patrol said something in his own tongue, and the other five warriors swiftly disarmed the captives and urged them at spearpoint toward the encampment. They were taken to the open space before the large tent and forced to wait under the gruesome trophies on the spears.

  Linsha refused to look at the heads for fear she might see someone she knew. She stayed close between the centaurs, keeping in their shadows so she could study the men around her without being too obvious.