by Devin Hanson
The king was, understandably, livid with rage. His own baron had betrayed him and caused such havoc in Galdaris that Delran had been forced to take action against those he had assumed were responsible. If Travis, or anyone in Baron Priah’s chain of command had come to the king with knowledge of Corvis’ betrayal, the whole ill-fated war could have been avoided.
In theory, at least. Travis privately wondered how the king would have reacted to the information. It was more than likely the information would have been discarded when confronted by the carefully arranged lies told by the baron. Still, the king had a point.
“You were the one who overloaded the Drake’s fuel?” the king asked.
Travis risked a glance up and saw the king was staring at a twisted spar stabbed through the front wall of the nearby tavern. “Yes, your Majesty. It was all I could think of, under the circumstances.”
The king frowned and opened his mouth to speak, and a liveried page ducked into the pavilion and whispered something to the king.
“He’s here? Now?”
“With an entourage, your Majesty.” The page bowed and ducked out of the pavilion again.
Delran glanced around the pavilion, scowled and took a moment to adjust his clothes. The king barely finished before the flaps of the pavilion were swept open and the Dragon Speaker strode in. At his side was Lady Jules Vierra, followed by a pair of grim-looking wardens with hands on their weapons.
The Speaker came to a halt in the middle of the pavilion and swept the space with his gaze before settling on the king. “So,” he said, his voice pleasant but with an undercurrent of steel. “You’re King Delran.”
The king stiffened and thrust his chin out. “I am. King Delran, Lord of Salia. You are Andrew Condign?”
One of the wardens hissed, and Andrew held up a hand, silencing him. “That is my name. You may address me as Speaker, or Lord Speaker.”
The rebuke was gentle, but Travis could tell the king was not used to people chastising him. Delran’s face flushed, but he gritted his teeth and nodded. “As you will, Speaker.”
Travis watched the Speaker as he moved to the wide strategy table and glanced down at the map of Andronath spread out on it. The Speaker looked like he owned the pavilion and the king was an unwanted interloper. For his part, Delran looked off balance, trying to be humble, while furious inside.
“My men tell me you attacked Andronath with the hope of retribution.”
Delran squared his shoulders, trying to regain some control of the situation. “My people were beset by alchemists. We had reason to believe the Guild was behind the murders in Galdaris.”
“And did you try reaching out to the Guild to find out if your supposition had merit?” The Speaker turned away from the table and bent his gaze upon the king once more.
Delran held up under the weight of the Speaker’s eyes for a moment then his shoulders bent inward, ceding the fault. “I was desperate. Wrong, as it turned out, and betrayed by my own people.”
The Speaker nodded. “You will be relieved to know I have destroyed the root of your plague of murders. Not all of them, we don’t think, but their leader.”
“Trent Priah?”
“The same.”
“If you do not mind me asking, how was it done?”
“You saw the fire,” the Speaker said.
Delran nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. The column of fire had blazed throughout the night. While the rest of the city fires had been put out eventually, the pure blaze of alchemical fire had remained unchanging even as the sun rose. It still burned, visible over the rooftops as a streak of orange against the blue sky above.
“I hear you’ve been discussing the conditions of your surrender with Master Kilpatri,” the Speaker continued.
The king nodded. The Guild Master had been cutthroat in his demands, cementing iron-clad trade agreements that heavily favored Andronath. Salia would bear the weight of his mistake for generations and Andronath would grow richer than ever before.
The Speaker nodded to the Lady Vierra and she stepped forward.
“And what reparations have you offered for the wardens?” she asked.
The question took the king by surprise. “The wardens? We negotiated on behalf of Andronath. I thought–”
“The wardens are with the Lord Speaker. They are a sovereign people and were defending a temporary home. As such, their losses are separate from those ills you afflicted upon Andronath.”
The king sputtered. “That’s nonsense, you can’t expect me to negotiate separate terms!”
“Negotiation won’t be necessary,” Jules said. “Here are the terms: you will pass ownership of the Pride of Salia and all surviving airships previously owned by Baron Priah to the Speaker.”
Andrew glanced over at Jules and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“What?!” Delran threw out his hands in outrage. “You can’t expect me to give that order!”
“I do, and I will.” Jules snapped. “Your alternative is for the Speaker to call upon the dragons and hunt down every airship in Salian skies for the next thousand years.”
The king turned a frightened look upon the Speaker and got a stony nod in return. Delran’s face went pale. “But… I…”
“I told you,” Jules said. “There is no negotiation involved. We’ll take the Pride now. I understand you have it repaired and ready to go? Good. You will have the other airships delivered to Andronath before the end of the month.”
The Speaker cleared his throat. “Mr. Bellwether, you know what ships were in the fleet that attacked Andronath?”
Travis threw a look at the king before nodding.
“Good. If your business with the king is complete, we have pressing matters to deal with.”
Travis gaped at the Speaker. “I… of course, Lord Speaker.”
“Your Majesty.” The Speaker dipped a short bow to the king and strode out of the pavilion.
Delran clenched his fists, his face red with anger. “Jules Vierra, you owe me fealty! This is betrayal of your crown!”
Jules turned and returned the king’s glare with a frosty gaze that stopped the king in his tracks. “You’re wrong, Delran. I foreswore my father’s name. I owe no fealty to you. Your crimes against Andronath are the only betrayals in this room. Think on the thousands of people who have died from your mistake and be thankful any people at all see you fit to be king.”
Travis followed Jules out of the pavilion, leaving King Delran alone. Travis’ last sight of the king was his rounded shoulders, back bent with the weight of loss, and a face haunted with the agony of despair.
Consciousness returned slowly to Meria. She rose out of a deep grayness, led forward by the distant, tinny sounds of conversation, too quiet to make sense of. As she fumbled after meaning to the words they grew louder and the grayness slowly resolved into the graceful arch of a stone roof overhead. She felt the pressure of a pillow against the back of her head, but the rest of her body seemed to float disconnected and separate.
She tried to swallow and found her throat was parched and her tongue wooden in her mouth. “Ahh,” she said.
The quality of the light on the ceiling changed and a woman with her hair pulled back under a kerchief appeared over her. A hand lifted Meria’s head and she felt the cool rim of a metal mug touch her lips. Cold water poured into her mouth and she swallowed convulsively.
“What…” she said, and winced as her head throbbed painfully. She felt so weak. She couldn’t even lift her own head.
“Shh. Rest easy, lass,” the woman said quietly, patting Meria’s mouth dry. “I’ve sent word that you’re awake. The Speaker will be here in a moment.” The woman smiled. “You’re very lucky.”
Meria closed her eyes, willing the throbbing in her head to ease. She didn’t feel lucky. She felt exactly the opposite. And what did the Speaker want?
She didn’t have long to wait. Only a few minutes passed before Meria heard the thump of boots and the gentle sla
p of wardens’ slippers. She opened her eyes and found the curly head of the Speaker hovering over her.
“Hello, Meria.” The Speaker’s eyes were gentle and there was the sadness in them that she had noticed earlier.
Meria tried to sit up and pain lanced through her head. She moaned and closed her eyes.
“Take it easy. It would be best if you didn’t try and move.”
“What happened?” she whispered. Fragments of memory returned. “I was flying the monoplane!”
“You were. To great success, I understand. It was shot down and you were injured in the crash. You have Michael Esterforth to thank for your rescue. He saw you land and led the group of wardens who rescued you.”
“How bad is it?”
The sadness in the Speaker’s eyes deepend. “You broke your back in the crash. You won’t be able to move.”
“For how long?” Meria felt her heartrate pick up and panic flushed through her.
“For the rest of your life. I’m so sorry.”
Tears welled up in Meria’s eyes against her will. The cottony distance she felt throughout her body took on a sinister feeling, like someone had stolen her limbs away.
“Ah, no need for that.”
No need? Meria felt like screaming and throwing things. Except now she couldn’t. Not ever again.
Gentle hands dabbed a soft cloth against her closed eyes, blotting away the tears.
“There is…” the Speaker’s voice was hesitant. “I have a proposal for you. Something that could make everything change.”
Meria opened her eyes and tried to wipe her eyes clear before remembering that she couldn’t. “I’m listening.”
The Speaker glanced back at someone outside of Meria’s vision before settling down on the bed next to her. She felt the blankets shift against her neck but the lack of sensation otherwise was disconcerting. “When a young female dragon is born,” he said slowly, visibly trying to think of the best way to say what was on his mind, “they are like a blank slate. The intelligence and personality of the dragons come from an external source.
“When Avandakossi was born, a woman named Avanda Toradi gave herself to the fledgeling. The dragons call it ‘passing within’.” The Speaker smiled a little. “Avandakossi is rather vague sometimes, but she says she is Avanda Toradi. I would offer you the opportunity to pass within. To become a dragon.”
Meria stared at the Speaker, mute. She didn’t know what to say, and the thousand thoughts racing through her head defied articulation.
“I would never make someone,” the Speaker said hurriedly. “I would only accept volunteers for it. In the old days, it was considered the greatest honor someone could receive.” He looked at her seriously. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned that honor. But if it seems too much for you, I would not hold it against you.”
“How?” Meria finally asked. “How does someone pass within to become a dragon?”
The Speaker’s face fell a little. “The animi is carried in the heart, Meria.”
It took her a few seconds to work through the implications. “The dragon has to eat me?”
“It is why I would only take volunteers. You would die, perhaps to be reborn.”
“Perhaps?” Meria was giddy. It sounded too good to be true.
The Speaker shrugged. “The exact nature of the transition is vague. Would it be you? Or would it simply be your personality and memories? Is there a difference?” A wry smile bent his mouth. “Better people than me have wondered about those questions for thousands of years. All I can do is offer you the opportunity to find out.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll volunteer. I want to pass within.”
Andrew let out a sigh of relief and grinned. “I’m glad, Meria. We need people like you around. I should mention, though, that we don’t know how many female dragons will be born. There is the possibility they will all be male. I just thought it would be unfair if I wasn’t clear on that.”
“Twenty percent is a chance I’m willing to take.”
“Actually, it’s a good deal better than twenty. Females are really rare, but in a clutch the size of Ava’s, there’s a fifty percent chance at least one will be female. So, chin up. Or.” The Speaker’s face flushed. “Sorry. I mean, there’s a good chance things will go well.”
The Speaker clapped his hands and rubbed them briskly. “Right. Well. We’re on a tight timetable, so the wardens are going to carry your bed to the airship. We’re going to have to tie you in so you don’t slip, but it won’t take but a minute.” He smiled broadly at her. “I’m really glad you decided to do this.”
Meria blinked away a new upwelling of tears. She couldn’t feel the cloth bands the wardens tied over her broken body to keep her from slipping out of the bed, but this time the tears were of relief.
Chapter 32
The Passing Within
Andrew waited impatiently while the Pride of Salia carefully drew up alongside the cave mouth. The flight to Vanali had gone as smoothly as could be expected. The Pride was a heavy ship with a lot of excess armoring that made her take even longer than he had predicted.
For the last fifteen minutes or so, Ava had been constantly checking with him to find out how much longer before they would arrive. The first of the eggs had started to pip. Andrew had replied as calmly as he could, but the dragon’s unease had rubbed off on him.
First off the airship was the group of wardens carrying Meria’s bed. Instead of risking transferring her to a stretcher, they had left the wounded alchemist strapped to her bed. Despite the pain Andrew knew she must be in, Meria hadn’t let slip a word of complaint the whole trip.
Next off the airship were the wardens picked by Iria to pass within if more than a single egg turned out to be female. Andrew had puzzled through the math a little bit on the trip over. He didn’t really know how to go about calculating the probabilities for it, but the odds seemed vanishingly slim there would be more than one female born.
Following the chosen wardens was a second group of wardens, this one leading a chain gang of five prisoners of war. Iria had promised him people worthy of being put to death, and she hadn’t disappointed. The five men were rapists, murderers, arsonists and thieves, most falling into multiple categories. They were all vicious, evil men, and after interviewing each one in turn, Andrew wanted nothing more than to take a bath. They were all men any judge would have been glad to sentence to the rope.
After the chain gang disembarked, Andrew led the way deeper into the cave system toward Ava’s nest. More people followed off the ship, but Andrew wasn’t concerned about them. His first priority was getting Meria to the nesting grounds in case the first egg to hatch was a female.
Ava, we’re here. I’ll be at the nesting grounds with the animi in a few minutes.
The dragon trumpeted in reply, and the bellow echoed down the cavern and out into Vanali.
Jules caught up with him and paced alongside for a while, her face twisted in a sort of reluctant scowl.
“What is it?” he asked her finally.
“This.” Jules waved her arm to encompass the procession. There were well over a hundred people present. Most of them were talking with each other, marveling at the cavern, at Vanali. More than a few were terrified of dragons and were talking loudly to try and cover it up. In short, they had the same noise and energy as any other group of humans.
Among the tomb of Vanali, it felt like sacrilege. In Andrew’s previous visits, the peace and beauty of the ancient city had been largely undisturbed. Even the confrontation with Benettikossi and Durokosso had seemed fitting and right. The needless noise and bluster of the humans set his teeth on edge now that Jules had directed his attention to it.
Andrew grimaced and nodded his agreement. He stopped and held up a hand, drawing everyone’s attention to him. They fell silent, waiting for him to speak, and he took a moment to enjoy the quiet. “We are approaching Avandakossi’s nest,” he said, pi
tching his voice to carry. “Be silent and respectful.”
His reminder sent a susurrus through the crowd, but when they started moving forward again, the only noise was the tramp of their feet and the crunch of leaves. The wardens had all taken their oaths to Andrew under Ava’s shadow, but for the rest of them, this would be their first exposure to a dragon. And even for the wardens, they knew better than to walk carelessly into a nesting animal’s den.
If they knew the truth of the matter, they would probably all be running for the airship right now, Andrew thought wryly. Andrew was a Dragon Speaker, and he was on good terms with Ava, but all he could do was talk. Avandakossi was a dragon. If someone did something to offend her, there was nothing any of them could do about her retaliation. Forget that fact at your peril.
The warm glow of the kossarigan became visible as they approached the branch in the tunnel that led to the nesting grounds. Andrew waved for the procession to halt and continued on alone. For a moment, he saw himself as the rest of the gathering saw him. Walking without hesitation in the nest of a brooding dragon. It made him smile. If only they knew.
“Hello, Ava,” he called.
In the dim gloom of the chamber, shadows stirred and writhed. Ava uncoiled from around her eggs and stretched her wings. Now that she wasn’t curled on top of the kossarigan ruddy light bloomed in the chamber. “Avandir, you have arrived just in time. The animi, they are ready?”
“They are just outside. There are others with them. Alchemists and wardens that desire to witness the birth of your young.”
“That is well,” Ava rumbled, and Andrew released a pent up breath. He hadn’t been sure what Ava’s reaction would be. From the bits and pieces that Ava had disclosed, he had gathered that a dragon birth was something of a celebration, with dignitaries attending and witnessing the passing within.