“Will you kill me, too?” he asked calmly.
She appeared to be thinking about it. For one instant, Calen thought he saw the merest tinge of red energy dance around her fingertips, but he could not be sure. Then she turned her hand palm upward, her threatening gesture becoming one of supplication instead.
“If you stop me, it will all have been for nothing,” she whispered.
Wilem looked back at her sadly. “I’m sorry,” he said.
For a moment everything was silent. And then a black, misshapen creature rose screaming above the short stone wall on the far side of the tower rooftop.
MEG AND CALEN BOTH FELL TO their knees, pummeled by the horrible noise. Even then, Calen did not release Meg’s wrist. His grip was making painful indentations in her flesh, but she didn’t want him to let go. Not when that thing was there — gods, right there — screaming its awful, heartrending scream. Wilem had cringed as soon as it appeared. He seemed as frightened as they were. This must be another secret that Sen Eva hadn’t shared with her son. Serek was staring at the monster with an unreadable expression, still apparently unable to move from where he lay.
The sound seemed to reawaken something in Sen Eva; she kicked her leg free of her son’s grasp and got awkwardly to her feet, cradling her injured arm against her chest. “It will not be for nothing,” she spat, looking down at him. Then she turned her face to the monster and seemed to take comfort in its terrible presence. It was twin to the one they’d encountered with Jakl earlier. She pointed her good arm at Meg and Calen. “Kill them!” she shouted. “Kill them now!”
The creature — the slaarh, Meg thought distantly — shrieked again and started toward them. Calen’s grip grew even tighter, and Meg opened her mouth to scream, and then Jakl came hurtling at it from the side, smashing against its oily-looking hide and pushing it off course. The dragon barely avoided a deadly slash as he tore away, preparing to circle for another attack. It was a hopeless tactic, Meg knew; without his fire, Jakl would only tire himself out against the larger creature, if he didn’t get too close to the poisonous talons first.
“Jakl, no!” she cried, although she knew it wouldn’t do any good. He would fight to protect her until he died. And then they would all die after him — she and Calen and Maerlie and Morgan and Maurel and Mattie and her parents and Nan Vera and probably Lammy the stupid kitchen boy and gods knew who else. Herself and everyone she’d ever known or loved. She couldn’t let that happen.
She pulled Calen closer so he’d hear her over all the screaming. “He can’t stop it,” she said. She was crying; she felt the hot tears spilling down her face, burning. She thought they must be scoring her flesh by the heat and pain, but she didn’t try to brush them away. “It’s going to kill him. Calen, please, you have to help him!”
His expression filled with anguish at her words. He looked back at her, his eyes begging her to understand. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, Meg. I don’t have the strength. And even if I did —”
She ripped her wrist free of his grip at last and grabbed both of his hands in hers. “Take mine,” she said desperately. “Take my strength — take all of it — only save him! Please!” She closed her eyes and pushed at him, trying to force her energy across to him through their clasped hands. He was resisting, fighting her, but she would not let him refuse. He had to do this. It was the only way. “Take it!” she screamed at him. “Calen, please, you have to!”
Above them, Jakl and the slaarh clashed and separated again. Calen tried to pull away from her, but she clamped her hands tighter around his. She was stronger than he was; she would make him listen and do as she said. She was right; he had to see that!
“Meg, no!” he shouted. “Even if I let you, what could I do? I don’t know how to kill it. I don’t know that kind of magic! Not yet!”
She opened her eyes and gazed at him with the full force of the confidence she felt shining in her heart, willing him to see how much she believed in him. “You can do it, Calen. I know you can. I’ll help you. We’ll do it together.” She watched him watching her, indecision and doubt warring on his face with the clear desire to do what she was asking him to do. She tried to make her own expression as open as his always was, tried to let him see the pain and hope and sorrow and hatred she felt swirling and twining like flames inside her.
And then suddenly his eyes widened and all the doubt fell away.
“Meg, no!” he shouted at her again, but this time something in his voice was different. “The other way,” he said. “The other way! You take my strength. Take mine, all I’ve got left, and combine it with yours, and give it to Jakl. Use your anger. Use everything! Give him fuel for his fire.”
She had only a moment to stare at him as understanding slammed into her, and then she quickly closed her eyes again as she felt him reverse what she’d been trying to do. She stopped pushing and pulled instead, feeling the energy begin to flow from Calen’s hands into her own. This was what he’d felt down in the dark corridor of the castle, this sudden strength and power . . . she shuddered with the intensity of it and then, quickly, before it could overwhelm her completely, she made herself a conduit, sending everything through the link and into her dragon.
She opened her eyes. Jakl was circling for another strike. This time, when he screamed in challenge, the sound was fiercer; there was a heat to his call that hadn’t been present before. Please let it be enough, Meg prayed silently. She thought it was. She could feel how strong he was now. She was that strong, too. Even though she was sending her strength through to him, the link made it circle back, looping between them, feeding into itself and making them both even stronger. She felt she must be radiating light and heat, blinding with intensity. It was impossible that this much power could remain contained within her flesh without spilling out into the air around her.
This time, instead of ramming himself into the monster’s side, Jakl reared back as he drew near and opened his mouth. Meg watched raptly and at the edge of her vision saw Calen turning his head to watch as well; as one, they took a long, deep breath to coincide with Jakl’s inhalation. For a moment everything seemed to hold still. And then a brilliant tongue of flame lashed out from the dragon’s powerful open jaws.
The slaarh jerked back in pain and fear. Sen Eva shouted something to it that Meg couldn’t hear over the lovely deep roar of the fire, but she saw the thing shift its dull gaze to where she and Calen were sitting. Jakl saw it too, and as before, the great awkward abomination could not match him for suppleness and speed. He darted forward and let loose another burst of flame, even greater than before, forcing the creature back and away. Then the dragon landed lightly on the tower top and placed himself firmly before Meg and Calen, daring the other creature to try to approach.
Meg needed to stand; she couldn’t bear sitting still with all the energy coursing through her. She released Calen’s hands and turned to share a triumphant look with him as she rose, but instead she saw him fall back against the stones, eyelids fluttering.
“Calen? Calen!” She dropped back to her knees and shook him, trying to stop him from losing consciousness completely. She looked to where Serek was lying nearby, but he only shook his head apologetically; no help there.
Frantically Meg peered around Jakl’s legs to make sure Sen Eva was still standing where she’d last seen her. They were at a standoff of sorts, she guessed. Sen Eva couldn’t hurt them with magic while the dragon protected them, and her creature couldn’t — or wouldn’t — attack again now that Jakl had burned it. Sen Eva seemed almost paralyzed by frustrated indecision, standing halfway between Jakl and Wilem.
Faintly, she thought he heard shouts from far below. Well, it made sense. Surely someone had noticed the two giant creatures fighting and screaming above the tower. Meg hoped the captain of the guard knew about the secret stairway to this place. It would be very convenient for lots of armed soldiers to arrive right about now.
Calen still appeared to be teeterin
g on the edge of passing out entirely. Shaking didn’t seem to be accomplishing anything. Meg let go with one hand and then slapped him, hard, across the face.
“Ow,” he muttered weakly. She slapped him again, and again, and was rewarded with his eyes opening to tiny slits and finally seeming to focus on her. He tried to fend her off, flapping his hands at her feebly. She slid her hands under his arms and tried to lift him up.
“Meg?” he said. “Let me go. I’m tired.”
“No,” she said. “Come on, you have to get up. Stay with me. This isn’t over yet.” She tried again to lift him, but he was surprisingly heavy. They didn’t have time for this. “Calen, come on!” She lifted her hand to slap him one more time but his eyes fluttered open again, and he managed to raise one flimsy arm to fend off her swing. This time he really seemed to see her.
“Stop hitting me,” he said to her. “You’re so violent.”
She grinned and hugged him until he pushed her away. “Ow,” he said again. “Don’t forget, you’re very strong right now, okay? No squeezing, either.”
“Sorry,” she said, still smiling.
Calen struggled the rest of the way upright, and together they peered around the dragon. Noises came drifting up from below; those were definitely shouts, and getting closer.
“Is that the guards?” Calen asked. “Please let it be the guards. Lots and lots and lots of guards.”
Sen Eva looked toward the stairs, then threw one last, hateful look at Meg and Calen and abruptly turned and ran to where her monster was waiting. Surprisingly agile for someone using only one arm, she climbed up onto its disgusting back. Wilem watched her; he was still on the ground.
Slowly, she reached out toward him one more time. “Wilem, please. Come with me.”
He said nothing. He just looked back at her and shook his head sadly.
“Do you think they’ll have mercy on you?” she asked. “If you stay, I have no doubt they will have their vengeance. They’ll kill you for what we’ve done. Don’t you understand?”
This time he did speak. “They have every right,” he said softly.
Sen Eva gave a final cry of anguish, and then the thing beneath her lumbered awkwardly into the air. Jakl tensed as if he might launch himself to follow, but Meg placed her hand against him and he stayed where he was. As much as she hated the idea of Sen Eva escaping, Jakl was the only one among them with any real power, and if he left them, they’d be totally defenseless. Of course, all the evil villains and monsters who wanted to kill them seemed to be flying away. But still.
Her gaze drifted back to Wilem. Still, indeed. She didn’t have the will to sort out how she was supposed to feel about Wilem now.
Finally, and too late, the guards came pouring through the doorway entrance — and stopped, staring at the scene before them in a strange tableau of confused horror. Nothing they were seeing could possibly make any sense to them at the moment, Meg guessed. A few more guards came running out onto the roof, and one actually plowed into the man in front of him, not expecting his comrades to be standing there in shock. It wasn’t really funny, but beside her, Calen started laughing anyway. Meg began laughing with him. Mostly it was relief, she supposed. Surely now, finally, things really were going to be okay.
The sound of their laughter roused some of the guards from their paralysis. The captain’s mouth dropped open as he took in the sight of Jakl standing protectively before them. Then he snapped it shut and raised his crossbow. “Princess!” he shouted once, and let fly. The shaft flew straight and true, right toward the dragon’s exposed neck.
“No!” Meg screamed. Everything, except the crossbow bolt, seemed to stop, frozen. Oh, come on, she thought miserably. This really, really isn’t fair. She watched numbly as the bolt came flying toward them, somehow impossibly fast and agonizingly slow at the same time. They hadn’t been ready; they had all of them been starting to relax and let down their guard, even Jakl, and no one could react in time. The danger was supposed to be over, gods curse them! And now, after surviving Sen Eva and that awful shrieking monstrosity she rode away on, her dragon was going to be killed by a stupid iron shaft through the throat. And then Meg would die with him. And she would never get to see her sisters again and tell them how much she loved them and never get to run or laugh or fly again or explore the full mystery of her link with Jakl and never get to grow up and fall in love for real and find out who she was and what she would turn out to be and never get to tell Calen how much he meant to her and how very, very glad she was to have him as her friend.
The bolt stopped a handsbreadth from its target. It hovered in the air a moment, then clattered harmlessly to the stone floor. All of them — Calen, Meg, Jakl, the guards, even Wilem — stared stupidly at it lying there.
“Please,” Mage Serek said quietly from the ground. “Let’s all just wait a moment, shall we?”
Several pairs of eyes turned in unison to look at him. One of his hands was still stretched out toward the fallen crossbow bolt. No one moved. Serek cleared his throat weakly. Then he continued, “Captain, I commend your eagerness to protect your princess, but I promise you she’s in no immediate danger. The dragon is, ah, on our side.”
Flooded with relief yet again, Meg let her head fall forward against her dragon’s smooth, scaly side, warm with the fire that lived inside him now. Then she heard a sound beside her and turned just in time to catch Calen as, apparently overwhelmed by one close call too many, he succumbed to unconsciousness at last.
Grinning fondly, she eased him to the ground and wished him pleasant dreams.
CALEN HAD NEVER BEEN TO A wedding before. Of course, he guessed that even if he had, it wouldn’t have been anything like this one. At first it had all seemed rather boring. There was a lot of watching the members of the different families standing around repeating things back and forth to each other, and about a hundred different people got up to read long passages from various books, and then there were songs, and then possibly some other part he missed because he dozed off, but then finally people were shouting and cheering and he woke in time to watch Prince Ryant lean forward to kiss Princess Maerlie in full view of every living person that had been crowded into the enormous grand hall. Calen wondered if the prince was nervous. He’d certainly be nervous if he had to kiss a girl in front of an audience! Well, he’d probably be nervous about kissing a girl in any event, he supposed. But the audience would make it even worse.
Calen had woken up late yesterday afternoon in the royal infirmary to find Meg sitting by his bedside. After teasing him about his supposed fainting (deliberately failing to see that passing out from legitimate exhaustion was not the same as fainting), she filled him in on what he’d missed while he was unconscious. Mage Serek had managed to prevent anyone from doing anything else hasty or stupid while they waited for him to recover enough to wake up the sleeping members of Meg’s family. Wilem had been half escorted, half carried to the dungeons under heavy guard, and then there had been a rushed conference at one end of the rooftop to decide what, exactly, to tell the guards (the remaining number of whom had been sent to wait at the other end of the rooftop) and everyone else. Calen suffered an embarrassing vision of everyone standing around his splayed-out body talking over him while he lay senseless at their feet, but Meg assured him that a pair of guards had immediately been assigned to carry him down to the infirmary.
It had been decided that Jakl would officially be announced as the Royal Dragon, employed to help protect the castle and surrounding lands, with Meg assigned to be his keeper and trainer. The link would be kept secret from everyone outside her immediate family. And Serek and Calen, of course, who already knew. Wilem probably suspected, and Sen Eva had seemed to understand there was a connection between Meg and her dragon, but there wasn’t much they could do about that now.
They had also had to inform King Ryllin, Queen Carlinda, and Prince Ryant what had happened to their trusted senior advisor. That had to have been a difficult conversation, to say th
e least. Ryant had immediately demanded to see Wilem, refusing to believe he’d been betrayed until he heard Wilem’s solemn and regretful confession for himself. Wilem’s testimony went a long way toward convincing the Kragnirians the truth of what was, Calen knew, a rather extraordinary explanation of events. That, together with the diary, had finally been sufficient proof for the Kragnir king and queen and, eventually, Ryant. Calen guessed it had been hardest of all on him, since Wilem had been his closest friend for years.
So the wedding had been allowed to proceed as planned, with Richton standing as Ryant’s second in Wilem’s place. And now everyone was rising and talking and beginning to move toward the banquet hall, which Calen assumed meant the wedding part was over and now they could eat. He slipped into the stream of people heading for the doors and saw Meg waving at him from the front of the room. He made his way over to where she waited.
“Look at you,” she said, smiling. “All dressed up and everything.”
“You’re one to talk,” he said. “Can you even walk in that dress? I’ve never seen so much fabric in one place before.”
She stuck her tongue out at him in a most unprincesslike fashion and then took his arm, leading him past the elaborately arranged bunches of white and red ladylace blossoms hanging from nearly every available surface.
“So,” he said, “Maerlie’s married now.”
“Yes, thank the gods,” she said, making the sign of the Lady. “And now the marriage is more important than ever, of course. I’m so glad everything — well, you know. It’s silly to keep saying it, I guess.”
He squeezed her hand through her long white glove. “It’s not silly.”
“Do you think —?” She looked over at him, not needing to finish the question.
“Serek had me help him with another divination reading last night. I don’t know why he bothers, since no matter what the cards say, he just goes on about how divination is vague and unreliable and so on. . . .” He glanced at Meg’s face and changed tactics, quickly. “But of course I myself have developed a good amount of faith in spirit cards, and as we know I’m apparently some sort of divination genius. . . .”
The Dragon of Trelian Page 26