Beside her, Lillian shifted uneasily in her sleep. Valeria nudged her with an elbow to push her to full wakefulness and awareness.
She had room in her head to be herself and only herself. And Lillian. She would always make room for her twin.
Valeria wondered if she missed the old man who had restored her life but drained her health.
No. But she’d probably miss his knowledge of all things magical and his affinity with the dragons.
(You have your own affinity with the dragons, young Valeria. A name fitting for a purple-tip dragon who is also a flywacket.)
Lyman’s voice wasn’t so far off after all. But she didn’t need him at the moment. She needed to pay attention to those annoying bells. Behind her eyelids she built a wall, not a flimsy mud and stick wall, a solid thing of stone and mortar like the palace. Something sharp stabbed her eyes, reaching to the back of her skull. She winced but ignored it, building the wall even higher. The stab withdrew and took her headache with it.
Fists banging on doors matched the rhythm of the bells, stronger and louder than Lyman trying to beat down her inner defenses. The tramping of hasty feet up and down the staircases and out in the streets needed her attention. And Lillian’s.
The bells rang again. A slightly different pattern. An alarm. A coded alarm!
“What’s happening?” Lillian asked. Eyes still closed, she stretched and flopped onto her back.
“You healed me,” she told Lillian. “But now we need to move, join the others. Something bad is happening in the city.”
“I did? How’d I do that?”
“Think about it. But later. We need to get dressed and follow the people leaving the palace.”
As if in answer to her questions, Lady Miri flung open the door to the bedchamber of the young princesses. “Up, up, everybody up. The rebels are invading. No time to dress. Manda, Josie, get up!”
Then the old seamstress, who seemed to be everywhere at once, the one who’d absorbed the spirit of the old man when he vacated Valeria’s mind, dashed into the maid’s alcove. “Lillian, Valeria, up on your feet now. I’m to see to your safety. And it’s good to see you yourself again, Valeria,” she whispered.
Hadn’t Da put Maisy/Lyman in a prison with magical wards?
Valeria scanned the woman’s aura. Something had changed from yesterday. The soft pink and blue looked frozen, unmoving with the pulse of her life. Jagged black lightning bolts couldn’t penetrate her barriers.
Lyman was safely locked inside her. Maisy was strong enough to contain him. For now.
“Where are we going?” Lillian asked, rubbing her eyes free of sleep grit. She yawned, drawing in enough air to inflate her all the way down to her toes.
Valeria yawned too in instinctive reaction. She watched the old woman through half open eyes, feigning grogginess.
“You’ll be safe with me, girls. Just come. Quickly. We haven’t much time.” She cocked her head listening to the newest round of bells. The pattern had shifted again.
“The enemy has crossed the third level of bridges,” Maisy said. “Not long now. They’ll be at the gates in moments. We have to run. Now.”
Lillian bounced out of bed and flung a dress over her shift. She found clogs to protect her feet.
Valeria moved more slowly, still watching Maisy’s aura to make sure the old man didn’t escape.
In the outer room she heard Lady Miri and her companion Lady Chastet urging the princesses to greater speed as well, but more gently and respectfully than Old Maisy.
“Da . . .” Valeria began a protest.
“Your Da sent me. You’re to come. Now.”
Don’t trust her, Lily. She thinks Da sent her, but Lyman could be lying to her.
Lillian nodded slightly in acknowledgment, then said “Come along, Val. I’ll help you if your hip hurts too much. As long as we’re together, we can handle anything.”
Valeria limped heavily as she and her twin followed the old woman down a back staircase that spiraled through an outer wall and into an empty courtyard. Let Maisy and Lyman think we are vulnerable. Surprise is our best weapon, she told Lillian.
Before Valeria could figure out where they were in relation to the rest of palace Maisy wrapped her arms around both of them, holding tight enough to squeeze the breath from them.
“Hold on now,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.”
The world went black then flashed bright with twining coils of life energy.
(You must become a flywacket again. The flying cat’s strength and agility will be needed,) Shayla informed Val.
She could trust Shayla. Right now she didn’t want to trust anyone, except Mama and Da and Lillian. And maybe Glenndon.
I need to be myself!
(You will be. But not yet. The king, the magicians, the dragons need you to be the flywacket a little longer,) Shayla insisted.
A nudge from Mama in the back of her mind only confused her more as she shrank back into her cat body.
“I have to rest,” Darville moaned. His knees sagged as his head drooped. Whatever made him think he could leap to the defense of the city and dash into battle?
The Coraurlia weighed heavily on his brow and his heart.
He had to do it. He had to find strength hidden within himself. Deep inside his heart, not in the flask of fortified wine Mikka carried in her sash.
She wiggled to retrieve it. Her movements jostled his arm.
He suppressed a cry of pain.
“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she murmured repeatedly.
“I’ve had enough,” Darville said firmly. For the first time in a long time, losing himself in drink and pushing his responsibilities aside, for a time did not sound appealing. He needed to keep moving, needed to get to the barracks. Then he could sit.
Jaylor, supporting from the left, anchored his staff and shifted his grip across Darville’s back, steadying his balance. The glow ball on the tip of the staff faltered as he poured strength into his friend.
They were nearly of a height, but, thankfully, Jaylor had always been broader of shoulder and hip, with a barrel chest to support his heavy bones.
“We only have a little farther to go,” Jaylor coaxed. “Once you stop, you won’t want to get up again. Better to keep moving.”
“You need food,” Mikka said. She felt his face, neck, and hands with sensitive fingertips. “Cold and clammy with a rapid pulse. I don’t like this. The only good thing is the lack of fever.”
“Once we’re in the old University buildings, I can summon a healer,” Jaylor said. “But I can’t do much of anything underground. I can’t even talk to the dragons to find out what’s going on up there.” He urged them all forward again, pounding the braided wood of his staff against the stone floor with each step. The glow sprang back to life and flickered with the movement.
“Indigo has already called for a healer to meet you at the end of the tunnel,” Glenndon said from a few feet away. A strong light haloed him, blurring his features. The only thing discernible about him was a new confidence in his posture and a staff in his hand—the source of the blindingly bright light.
“Glenndon, I am mighty glad to see you,” Jaylor said on a long, relieved exhale.
“And I you. Indigo said I was needed belowground when I got back from Sacred Isle. There is chaos in the streets, people fighting each other to get to safety. I saw soldiers on foot moving toward the palace, still five levels out. But they are pushing aside or killing anyone who gets in their way. They are moving fast. And . . . and the river has slowed to a trickle, they don’t need boats or bridges. I waded across at the last two crossings. I think the Krakatrice built a dam upriver, dirt and rocks and fallen trees, not permanent but enough to allow the troops to walk from island to island and only get their boots wet.
New chills ran up and down Darville’s spine, not from poison or blood loss. From fear. How could he fight so formidable an enemy with only half strength?
“Every snake old Baamin and I killed was in the process of damming a river.” Jaylor pounded his staff again. “It’s their instinct to divert water away from the land, create a desert. As they did on the Big Continent centuries ago.”
Silence as they took in that bit of information.
“Fire. We need fire, lots and lots of fire to defeat them. They seek to destroy Coronnan,” Darville said. Anger made his steps firmer, steadier. “Lucjemm might think he’s saving our land, but the snakes are lying to him, making him believe that what they want is best for everyone. We have to kill every last one of those monsters. With fire and sword.”
“And magic, Father. We have magic. If they destroy the land, they destroy the dragons,” Glenndon finished the thought for them. “I think I know what Lucjemm is planning, but I’ll need help from anyone and everyone. Have Robb and his journeymen come?”
Jaylor shook his head. “I don’t know where they are. And that worries me. Have you eaten, Glenndon?”
Glenndon nodded. “I found a meal hidden in my boat after I got out of the water-filled pit Lucjemm and his pet snakes dug.”
“But you got your staff. That’s the important thing,” Darville said, remembering the night Jaylor had found his own tool. “But what’s that glowing wand in your belt?”
Glenndon shrugged, like he had before he learned to speak.
“May I?” Jaylor asked, holding out his hand to examine the strange stick.
“It’s dragon bone.” Glenndon held out the white wand, letting them all see it but not touch it. “The island is littered with them. If you know how to look, and the dragons let you see them.”
“Is that how you found us in this warren of tunnels?” Darville asked, urging them all forward toward the exit. He thought he heard an echo of the bells in the far distance. The tunnels muffled the sound. He needed to be out there, helping and directing.
“I found you by the stump of your staff, Da.” Glenndon grinned hugely, thumping his own staff against the ground. The light flared again, revealing a short distance to solid stairs leading upward. Upward to the University cellars and nearly the end of this endless journey.
“Where’s Linda?” Darville’s thoughts flew beyond the immediate need to get to the barracks. Once the family was safe in the old keep, he expected her to come looking for him.
“She should be guarding her sisters,” Mikka replied. “They know what to do. We’ve taught them well. I haven’t sensed any fear from her.”
“No, Mikka. Lucjemm is obsessed with her. We have to find our daughter.” Darville lurched forward, stumbled, and nearly fell. “She may not fear him. She’s bold to the point of recklessness.”
“Wonder where she learned that,” Mikka muttered in derision.
Darville ignored her words. “She thinks she can defend herself because she beat him at sword play. But the snake . . .” Darville surged forward. His body betrayed him and his knees folded. He’d lost a lot of blood.
Glenndon caught him. “Come along, Father. We’ll find her together and stop Lucjemm and his plots, together.”
Jaylor draped Darville’s left arm about his shoulders, taking most of his weight. Glenndon propped him up on the other side. Mikka led the way, guided by the light glowing from the tips of two magicians’ staffs. Darville’s son and his best friend.
For a few moments life felt as if it had shifted into a natural and normal pattern after a long session of chaos.
Then the sound of the alarm bells filtered down the staircase. Four long, one sharp.
The enemy approached the gates of the palace.
CHAPTER 52
“I CAN FEEL THE LAND drying as the river slows,” Lucjemm said on a thoughtful smile. “Only the Bay keeps moisture in the air. I can do nothing about the Bay. But the land responds to me and my lovely. The river obeys us and it deserts its old banks, seeking a new route to the ocean, far to the north.”
Linda gagged, fought the burning bile in her throat. And turned a false smile back to him. She had to learn his plans. Information was more precious than gold. “Where are we going?” she asked sweetly, as if she believed his vile musings.
“The one place in Kardia Hodos where all power comes together. The one place where the armies will meet and the destiny of this land will be determined,” he chortled.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” She stopped abruptly, digging in her heels at the center span of the bridge that led to University Isle. Her boots caught on an imperfection in the planks. It gave her an anchor to resist his tug on her arm.
A large group of people surged around them, like the receding river used to seek ways around the obstacle of the islands. Unlike the islands that welcomed the river on their banks, the people seemed to bounce off an invisible bubble surrounding herself and Lucjemm. No one touched her, and she . . . she tried to reach out and grab a large man to help anchor her but before her hand stretched more than a foot she encountered a burning wall as invisible as the air.
Linda bit her lip, fighting her fear and the lingering rawness across the back of her hand. What could cause the river, the lifeblood of Coronnan, to dry up?
“The rebels will meet your father’s troops at the barracks. We will watch a new government rise from the ashes of the battle. Truth and right will win.” Lucjemm renewed his grip on her with both hands.
“I will need a strong consort to rule this land. I prefer you, my princess, to Jaranda of SeLennica, a pale and wistful blonde. I adore your fabulous mane of hair.”
Linda held back, digging in her heels. Lucjemm’s depravity had grown just since leaving the palace. His eyes refused to focus on anything . . . except . . . perhaps the thoughts inserted into his mind by that hideous snake draped around his neck and shoulders.
“My lovely does not like the idea of me having any consort but her.” Lucjemm removed one hand from Linda’s arm to pet the snake’s head.
Linda tried to wrench free, willing to risk the burning invisible wall, but he firmed his hold with the other hand, fingers digging into her upper arm until she was certain he’d leave bruises.
“My lovely has promised; she and I will rule together.”
“Wrong,” Linda sneered. “She lies to you. You are nothing but a tool to get her into position to rid the land of people and animals and . . . and anything green and lovely. She wants a sere desert with no life but her and her mates.”
“No, no, no. I will rule with her as my tool, my weapon. This land belongs to me, and I choose the princess who will stand by my side. I decide. I am to be king.”
His hands moved to her throat, squeezing until she had no words to counter him.
As darkness crowded the edges of her vision and stars burst before her eyes, she forced herself to nod in agreement.
The bells rang again. The rebel army approached the palace. Lucjemm cringed at the sharp noise. “Make it stop, Linda. Make it stop. It hurts our ears.” He released her to slap his hands over his ears.
The bubble of burning energy receded with him.
A plan began to form in Linda’s head. She had an idea. The bells. There were bells in the old University tower. If the battle took place there, the clash of swords would swell the noise.
“We have to get inside the University walls. The bells won’t sound so loudly in there,” she coaxed. “But first we must get past those archers on the walls.” She pointed toward the crenellated parapet.
A long line of men and women, over one hundred, stood in the openings. They all held longbows or crossbows. “The test to become a royal archer is to be able to shoot the eye out of a carrion crow at one hundred paces,” she pointed out. “They have to recognize me or we will
not get through the gate.”
“I failed the archer’s test,” Lucjemm said wistfully. “My lovely tells me that if I let her guide my aim I can win any archery contest. I can’t allow that. I will not use magic for myself. When I am king I will allow no magic in all of Coronnan.”
“But your lovely is a creature of magic, a form of dragon,” Linda said softly.
Lucjemm finally focused his eyes on her, then shifted his gaze back to the snake around his neck. “A dragon?” He touched the leathery wing membranes. “What is the right choice? Magic with dragons, magic without dragons? Magic? There must be no magic. Therefore I must dismiss my lovely. But I cannot . . .”
He grabbed his head in confusion. Then his eyes cleared and he grabbed Linda by the back of the neck, propelling her toward the gates.
“Those archers are loyal to my father,” she said. “If I do not go willingly . . .”
“They will not shoot me while I have you,” he snarled and yanked her off balance. “My lovely will protect me.” As she stumbled forward he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other across her throat. His thumb pressed deeply against her airway. “Now you are too close for them to risk shooting.”
“The dragons will protect me from you and your betrayal,” she choked out. “You betrayed our friendship.”
“You betrayed me! You accepted your magician brother into your household. He has taught you magic.”
“Glenndon is bound to me by blood. As are the dragons.” She had to defend Glenndon. She’d only go so far in placating this delusional madman.
“Are they bound to you? When I kill the king, will a dragon die?”
Linda squirmed under his hold.
“There is not enough Tambootie left to keep magic alive. The dragons no longer have enough power to protect themselves, let alone a mere princess. My pets have seen to that!”
The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 Page 36