A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga)

by Hartke, J. T.

  The prodigal knot in Slar’s gut spiked up into his chest. He tasted blood and bile on the back of his burning tongue. The rage boiling in his mind drove it back down. “I will see to it, Doctor. You will have their aid if I have to drag them down here with a company of warriors.”

  He looked at Sharrog, who had not spoken since entering the tent, save a few gracious words to the wounded. The young warrior looked about, a grimace of sorrow covering his face. “Sharrog, take a polite message to Ortax and the other shamans that their Warchief requests that they minister to the needs of our army’s wounded – both physically and spiritually.”

  Sharrog snorted. “Ortax is likely to laugh me out of his tent, telling me he has more important things to do.”

  Slar raised one eyebrow in an expression his son should know quite well. Sharrog bowed his head in submission. “If Ortax refuses this request, then let him know that I command it. If he refuses that, come get me with all haste.” Slar pounded a fist into a thick, pine tent pole, sending shivers through the sewn and oiled hides. “I will throttle him myself.” He pointed his sharp claw at his son. “You may tell him that.”

  Bowing from his waist with a hint of a smile, Sharrog turned and jogged out of the tent.

  Slar turned to Doctor Clayburn. “They will treat you with respect as well, doctor, or I will know about it. Understood?”

  The doctor tapped his fist over his heart twice. “Of course, Warchief.”

  Leading his elder son out of the tent with a few final, kind words to the injured warriors, Slar shifted the steel plate protecting his shoulders and breast. “Come, Grindar, let us review the front.”

  Slar and his son made their way to a stone outcrop at the mouth of the death-filled ravine. Blood soaked most of the rocky soil, and soot blackened the stone banks of the defile. In the distance, the crumbled front wall where so many Wolf Clan warriors died lay spread in every direction. Those bodies will never be recovered for their pyre. At least most of them burned, as is their honor.

  “How shall we ever take this place, Father?” Grindar whispered into Slar’s ear. He shifted the long scimitar slung over his shoulder. “That second wall is more formidable than the first by a magnitude of ten. We cannot move siege towers up this ravine. Nor can we maneuver a large enough ram to attack their outer gate.”

  Slar pursed his lips, his thoughts identical to his son’s words. “Galdreth promises a plan. The Master’s spies will move soon.” He patted his son’s shoulder, though he barely believed his own words. “You and your men must be ready with the largest ram you can haul up there.” His eyes drifted back toward the granite fortress. “Galdreth will handle the rest.”

  Midwinter, being the high holiday of Gannon, is the best time to visit Daynon. Warmed by the Bay of Hope, the season is usually still tolerable. Most importantly, the Midwinter Balls in the capital of the kingdom are events not to be missed.

  — “A Traveler’s Tour of Gannon” by H. M. Davana

  Weariness sat heavy on Maddi’s shoulders and forehead as she turned the key. The door had barely opened when gleeful shouts and claps of joy rang in her tired ears.

  “Tonight is the Midwinter Ball!” Tanya threw her arms around Maddi’s waist. “You are going to look so beautiful!”

  Ami stood at the counter in the kitchen, making a cheese sandwich for Tanya’s lunch. “She is right, you know. Also, you could meet the king to plead your case for the hospital…well, it might happen.”

  Maddi sighed and settled into a comfortable chair. “I just want to take a nap. I don’t know if I’m more tired from working in the slums, or from arguing with students in class – especially Doctor Darilla. Why in the blazes he would sit in on a class where he thinks he knows more than the teacher, I will never understand.”

  Placing the plated sandwich on their table, Ami snapped her fingers. “Come on Tanya, eat your lunch. Maddi needs to rest a little before she gets ready.” She curled a half smile at Maddi. “You take a nap and then we’ll help you dress.”

  Maddi covered her face with her hands. “Do I have to?”

  Ami laughed. “Of course you do. You’re a part of the real world now. A king and one of his ministers have noticed you.”

  After an hour or two of tossing with no sleep, Maddi gave in. Tanya held up a fluffy cotton towel for her to wrap herself in when she stepped out of the copper tub. The little girl and Ami both helped her dry her hair and brush it out until it shined. When she slipped on the dark blue-almost-black velvet dress she had purchased for the evening, Tanya giggled with glee.

  “It’s the first gown I’ve ever bought.” Maddi smoothed it over her hips while Ami hooked the buttons up the back. “I never thought I’d need such a thing.”

  Ami strained to get the last button in place. “Well, it’s beautiful on you.”

  Tanya clapped. “Yes! Beautiful!” She ran over to Maddi’s dresser and grabbed the small box there. “Now, the earrings.”

  The sapphire and diamonds wrapped in silver slipped easily into her lobes. They sparkled along her jaw line, drawing in the lamplight. She looked at herself in the cloudy mirror Tanya held and could not hold back a smile. “The neckline on this dress is low. It needs a necklace.” She sighed. “To think of the jewels I left in Dern…”

  Giggling all the way, Tanya ran into her room. Ami smiled knowingly and lifted an eyebrow when Maddi looked to her. The little girl charged back out, another small box in her hand. “Merry Midwinter!”

  Shock dropped Maddi’s jaw, turning it into a smile when she untied the package. It opened to reveal a white opal shot with pale blue, suspended on a thin silver chain. She lifted it around her neck, and Ami helped to fasten it.

  Maddi shook her head. “How did you—”

  Ami shifted Maddi’s hair back in place. “We took up a collection among your friends.”

  Maddi frowned and turned her head. “Who?”

  “I believe Doctor Darilla gave five marks, as did Doctor Gramm.” Ami clucked her tongue. “Many of the students look up to you more than any teacher. They’ve learned more being a part of your mission than any class in the history of the College. Some are even talking about going back to their home cities to do the same thing there.”

  When Maddi shook her head, the earrings glittered in the mirror. “By the Talismans, I hope they aren’t calling me Lifegiver.”

  A soft knock rapped at the door. Ami slipped over to open it, Tanya close on her heels.

  A man in gray livery stood upon the porch, bowing formally. He gestured toward the street. “The Lady Doctor’s carriage awaits her.”

  Taking one last look in the mirror, Maddi sighed. I have to do this if I want to build the hospital.

  Tanya tackled her with a hug. “Have fun! I wish I could go.”

  Maddi tousled Tanya’s red hair. “Maybe next year.” She looked at Ami, who dipped her chin. Steadying herself with a deep breath, Maddi glided out the door, resolute.

  The footman bowed, gesturing toward a closed carriage with heavy curtains. A beautiful pair of matching black horses stood in its traces. One man sat on the driver’s bench, while a second footman held the door open, his head inclined politely. Inside the carriage a bit of incense burned in a charcoal brazier to warm the coach against the evening chill. Thick black velvet upholstered the benches, and Maddi sank into the rear seat.

  A startled jolt ripped through her at a pop from outside. The footman held an open bottle of sparkling white wine. “It is Urbanan, madam, if you would care for a glass during your ride to the palace.”

  Maddi nodded, and the man poured. The amber liquid bubbled to the rim of the flute, and it tickled her nose when she sipped. At her smile, the footman placed the bottle into a silver bucket of ice, set it inside the carriage, and then closed the door. Maddi sipped again from the sweet, fruity wine. A whip snapped and the carriage jerked forward, clattering over the
cobblestones.

  Peeking through the drawn curtains, she watched the streets of Daynon roll by while she sipped her wine. The incense carried the aroma of pine, bringing back memories of Midwinter festivals during her childhood. Images of her long dead father floated through her mind, followed closely by those of Renna. Buried emotions percolated to the surface of her soul, threatening to break into tears like the bubbles popping at the top of her wine. She fought them back with a deep breath, staring through her cloudy haze at the streets but seeing nothing.

  When the carriage came to a halt, she realized that she had managed to stave off her tears, but only at the cost of neglecting her wine. She downed the remainder in a single gulp. The footman opened the door, and she stepped out onto the palace grounds.

  The evening had arrived, the setting sun allowing only a faint blue cast to the sky. Multihued beams of magical light danced among the towers of the Ivory Palace. More played across the silver dome of the High Hall, creating the semblance of a dragon in flight. Every few seconds, a scatter of colored flares popped in the sky then tinkled to the ground in sparks of gold and silver. Maddi stood in awe, watching the display.

  After refilling her glass, the second footman gestured toward the steel doors. “Madam, the Lord Doctor awaits you at the gates to the High Hall.”

  She strolled along the paths of the palace, sipping her newly refilled wine and watching the guests gather, while the footman followed at a respectful distance. The noblemen among the guests wore long, colorful tunics and coats, with puffy, feathered hats. Mages, clerics, and scribes dressed in flowing robes of wool and satin.

  When Maddi looked at the women, however, she barely avoided a snicker. Not only did many wear elaborate dresses with tall, frilled collars, but their hairstyles grew more elaborate the closer Maddi came to the High Hall. Some styles climbed into the sky, pinecones and mistletoe nestling within. Others had woven evergreen branches into elaborate curls. How will those fools ever get the sap out of their hair tomorrow?

  Others carried themselves with more dignity. Some women wore elegant gowns not much more elaborate than Maddi’s. Their hair hung in simple curls, or lifted in diamond set caps of fine silver.

  From one side of the grounds, a dozen dark cloaked figures passed through the crowd. As they came closer, Maddi noticed their masks each carried a different face. A scowling figure stomped around, lightly shoving the shoulders of good-humored guests, while another followed him with a smiling face passing out hugs. A shocked face danced around the crowd, cowering before people, and a blank mask walked steadily with arms folded.

  Maddi finished her wine, dazzled by the spectacle around her. A servant appeared from nowhere, a silver platter carrying more bubbling flutes. She exchanged the empty glass for a new one.

  They reached the steps of the High Hall, and she noticed two plays unfolding at each end of the stone terrace. One took place in front of a dark backdrop, the other white. The costumes somber at one end, more serene at the other.

  She looked at the footman, pointing. “What is that?”

  “They are the matching plays of Balance, Milady,” he replied, “put on by the Temple every year. One follows the path of Order, one Chaos. Both have the same characters and ending, yet entirely different plot. It is meant to be a lesson, and many people compare notes at the ball within.”

  Maddi let the man lead her up the stairs. Before she could pay much attention to the dark play near her, shiny boots tapped against the stone. The Lord Doctor Tymin Marten emerged from the crowd. A dark satin cloak wrapped around a silver jacket and vest. Fine silk embroidery slipped out from his sleeves and collar. His chain of office dangled from his neck.

  “Lady Maddi, it is so wonderful to see you here.” He paused, a look of stunned surprise passing over his features. “You are more beautiful tonight than I could ever have imagined.”

  Wrinkling an eyebrow, Maddi folded her arms. “Spend much time imagining how beautiful I am, do you?”

  The Lord Doctor grimaced. “No more than appropriate, I assure you.” He waved the footman away and offered his arm to Maddi. “Come. There are many here tonight who wish to meet you.”

  Maddi took his arm, her eyes scanning the crowd. Most wore the jeweled sigils of noble houses, while others appeared to be wealthy commoners. Servants in blue and silver livery blazoned with the rampant dragon of Gannon bowed at their passing. Many held more trays of the sweet, white vintage, or a platter filled with a variety of canapés.

  “The king has spared no expense on the ball this year.” Marten took a proffered glass from a nearby servant, his silver rings clinking against the goblet. “This is real Urbanan white, from across the sea in Uria, not like the Avarosan copy Duke Ferric has his people make.” Closing his eyes, he sipped the wine. A faint smile remained on his face when he lowered the glass. “The Avarosan stuff is good, but nothing like the real thing.”

  Rolling her eyes, Maddi downed the rest of her flute and handed it to Marten. “Get a lady another, would you?”

  Marten laughed and took her empty glass. “Careful, my dear. The king has asked to meet you this evening, though he usually does not arrive for some time after the ball begins.”

  Maddi scoffed, despite the slight warming in her temples. “It takes a lot more than that to get a Free City girl drunk. I’ve seen the inside of more than a few taverns that you likely wouldn’t set foot in.”

  Marten smiled and gestured to another servant bearing a tray.

  The Lord Doctor led her to the entrance, past many of the nobles lined up, trying their best to look like they were not waiting. The guards there, the only armed men in the crowd, waved the doctor through.

  Marten leaned in next to Maddi’s ear. “Being a member of the High Council has its privileges.”

  Within, the crowd thinned and spread out through the vast domed space. The great room, lit by magical glowglobes bouncing colored lights from the ceiling, captured Maddi’s first gaze. She looked about, her breath taken away by the wide array of sights. Dozens of exotic and mouth-watering scents mixed in her nose, while a cacophony of sound bounced from the high stone.

  To Maddi’s immediate left, stacked hay bales climbed into the air, with wagon wheels and aged farm implements scattered about them. Thin, reedy music rose from a fiddle, and the scent of roasted red meat floated toward them. She took a few steps toward it.

  “The Western Realm is so overdone. We should go this way first.” Marten led Maddi to the right, passing palm trees set into large wooden barrels and hung with paper lanterns. Servants in the white desert robes of Hadon passed out fiery peppers and meats on skewers. One offered her a flatbread smeared with a fragrant paste. Maddi chewed at the soft, warm bread, and the flavor of dates and cinnamon coated her tongue. A low drum and flute hovered among the palms. She felt the beat deep inside, unable to avoid a matching, rhythmic sway in her steps. Thoughts of spinning about in the Lord Doctor’s firm grip danced into her mind.

  Marten spread his hands wide. “Every part of the known world is represented here tonight. A dozen lands expressed in their food, drink, culture and music.” He stretched his neck to look about the hall. “I am certain even the Free Cities rank a booth here.”

  Maddi left her vision of intricate dances, refocusing on the doctor’s face. “The Free Cities are older than anything you Gannonites call civilization. Dern was founded in the Elder Days!”

  Suppressing a smile, the doctor lowered his head in acquiescence. “I meant no disrespect, my dear. The Free Cities are indeed ancient and worthy of esteem.”

  Maddi sniffed. “I doubt we’ll want to eat the food there, though.”

  The Lord Doctor chuckled. “This way. There are people you must meet.”

  Along the eastern side of the High Hall there clustered a few stone structures resembling castles. Maddi noticed when she approached that they were painted facades. A dozen different
dishes were being served and devoured here, from light seafood in olive oil to heavy pastries filled with beef and cheese. Her mouth began to water.

  Marten took a silver goblet filled with a deep red wine and tried a tentative sip. He nodded in approval. “Uria is a favorite of the Eastern Realm nobility. The food in this section is usually quite good.” He cast his eyes back and forth among the revelers.

  “Ah. My Lord Mayor.” Marten reached out his hand toward a handsome man in fine clothes of silk, richly cut and at the creeping edge of fashion. “May I introduce the woman who has done so much to aid your fine city?” He gestured in Maddi’s direction with a flourish. “Lord Mayor Callis Abreva, this is the Lady Doctor Maddi Conaleon, the woman your common folk now call Lifegiver.”

  The mayor fell into a deep bow, his blond hair bouncing about his head in waves. “Madam, may I thank you for the compassion you have shown my people.” He gave Marten a sidelong look. “I have also heard of your wish to build a…how did you call it Tymin – a hospital?” Mayor Abreva spread his lips in a wide smile. “I only hope His Majesty approves so that we may begin construction immediately.”

  Maddi curtsied, entirely uncomfortable with the act. “Thank you, My Lord. I will make certain the people of your city know that you deserve praise for your strong support of my mission.”

  The mayor nodded with a grin. “You are indeed kind, my lady.”

  Giving the mayor a short nod, Marten took Maddi’s elbow and led her out of the Urian section, and into a much different area. A soft mist only a few inches thick hung about the floor here, heavy enough to hide Maddi’s feet. The doctor stepped over to a small booth that sparkled like quartz crystals grown together in a cluster. He returned with two drinks in stemmed glasses – one glowed a faint green, the other a faint red.

  “Apple or strawberry? The mages of the Isle of Wizards make a fine drink either way.”