by Rachel Ford
“He’s drunk,” Freylor put in.
“I offer my sincerest apologies, SKP,” Alduran agreed. “The boy is intoxicated. He will be punished, I promise you.”
I bristled at that. “Did you say Ilyen deserved to die? That he was a coward?”
“Why? Are you going to try your luck, bitch? I went easy on the boy. But I’ll do more than bloody your nose.”
“We’re here to make peace,” Freylor reminded him sharply.
I felt my shoulders tense and my fists ball. “Don’t let that stop you, Valarian. If you’re man enough to try your luck against a sober knight, anyway.”
“Callaghan,” Alduran hissed.
“Stand down, Callaghan,” Lidek ordered. To Valarian, he added, “Your words are not a peacemaker’s words, Southerner.”
“No, they’re not,” Freylor agreed. “The boy will be punished by his people. You should apologize, Valarian, for your own words.”
The SKP’s eyes flashed. “Not on my life.”
Freylor’s gaze hardened. “That’s an order, knight.”
For a long, tense moment, Valarian stood unmoving, but for the clenching and unclenching of his jaw. Then, he managed a strangled, “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” Alduran hastened. “And please accept our apologies as well, SKP Valarian. And to your entire delegation. We are mortified. And the boy will answer for his actions, I promise you.”
“Of course. Do not be too hard on the squire,” Frilk put in. “He is but a boy. And sometimes, mead and boys do not mix so well.”
Freylor laughed nervously, and so did Alduran. “Truer words were never uttered, I think.”
Valarian, meanwhile, snorted. “And that’s to be the end of it, then?”
“SKP, mind yourself,” Frilk warned. “We are here to make peace.”
“Aye,” the other knight said, and he spoke slowly. “Peace.” He spit the word out. “Well, we’ve made it. But I’ll not stand around drinking while they sic their dogs on me.”
“Valarian, enough.”
“‘Enough’ yourself, Representative. Do what you will. But I’m done here.” Now he threw a glance around, at his men scattered throughout the room. “We all are. Knights, to me.”
A confused scramble to fall in ensued, while Frilk and Freylor sputtered their indignation. The SKP was not to be waylaid, though. No sooner than did his knights reach him, he turned on his heel and stormed out.
A silence settled on the assembly, punctuated only by the heavy, retreating footfalls in the hall beyond.
I glanced around the room, stunned. The last Southerners who remained were the two representatives, and KP Nadia. The kaladorn was moving slowly and unsteadily on her feet, flagon yet in hand. She seemed to be trying to comply with her commanding officer’s orders, though she was a little too drunk to do so with any expeditiousness.
“Great gods,” Frilk breathed.
“Forgive me, Commander,” Freylor said. “Forgive me, KP Alduran. I think young Squire Aaronsen is not the only one who had had too much to drink tonight.”
Alduran managed a nervous chuckle. “Of course, Representative.”
“Give me a moment, I pray. I will talk some sense into him.”
“I am so terribly sorry,” Frilk agreed. “I beg you will forgive this rudeness.”
“Bad decisions have been made all around,” Lidek said imperiously. “Those of us living in glass palaces are in no position to cast stones.”
Freylor bowed. “You are wise and your words measured, Commander. Give me but a moment, and we shall return. And put this whole messy business behind us.”
Frilk bowed too, following close on his companion’s heels. Both men, I thought, looked like nervous wrecks. And no wonder.
I’d seen rail crashes that were less disastrous than the last few minutes.
Still, their departure shifted the focus in another direction. And not a better one.
Now, all eyes turned to me and Aaronsen.
The boy was being subdued by a pair of burly knights whose heft alone proved an easy counter to his struggles.
Alduran rounded on me, and Lidek turned to Phillip.
“Release that fool. Explain yourself, Aaronsen,” the latter directed.
The former demanded, “What in the gods’ names is wrong with you, Callaghan?”
“I wasn’t about to let him hit my squire, Alduran.”
“And why did you even have him here if you weren’t going to watch him? How could you let him get drunk?”
“I didn’t handle seating,” I reminded him hotly. “I didn’t put my squire tables away, where I could barely see him while he got drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” Aaronsen protested.
Now, Alduran’s eyes flashed, and he turned to the boy. “And you, you little fool: your career is over, after this stunt. You can go back to pig farming, or whatever the hell it is your family does. But you’ll never be a KP. I promise you that.”
“That’s not your decision,” Lidek reminded him.
“There’s no place in the military for alcoholics.”
“He’s a boy,” I shot back. “He drank too much, once.”
“I didn’t, KP,” he said, and his tones were plaintive.
I frowned. He really wasn’t helping himself here. “Phillip, be quiet. Please.”
“But it’s true. I didn’t even finish my flagon. Ana wouldn’t let me.”
Maybe it was her name, spoken out loud amidst all this chaos. Maybe it was just the phrasing. But the words were so similar, so remarkably similar, to what Ana said that I froze. “Wait, what?”
Alduran frowned at me. “Shouldn’t he be on his way to a holding cell, after assaulting a visiting dignitary? Not still here, lying to us?”
I ignored him. “What did you say, Phillip?”
“I said, Ana wouldn’t let me have a full flagon of mead.”
I recalled what she’d said, and the certainty with which she’d said it. I didn’t even finish my flagon. I can’t be drunk.
I remembered Squire Burton’s words, that Ana claimed she was being drugged. By the Southerners. Freylor and Frilk. Says she isn’t really drunk, she barely drank anything.
I remembered my own surprise the night before, at having wound up drunk after just a glass of wine. Cragspoint’s wines were strong. But that strong?
I glanced around the room, ignoring Alduran and Lidek, both of whom were speaking. The Southerners had all gone. In seconds, they’d all raced out of the room.
All but one. My eyes fixed on the kaladorn, Nadia. She was nearing the central pillar, walking with a slow, unobtrusive and somewhat drunken gait. She seemed to sense my eyes on her, because she glanced up now.
And the gaze that held my own was no drunken one. There was clarity and purpose in those eyes.
And murder.
She reached a hand into a fold in her heavy robes, and I spun around. I understood, now. The fight had been a distraction, to clear the room of Southerners. All but Nadia, the slave knight who would have no choice but to do whatever they’d sent her here to do tonight.
Frilk, my polite little shadow yesterday, had tried to embroil me into his schemes last night. When that failed, they’d targeted the squires tonight. I sent Ana home, but Phillip was still here. And it hadn’t taken Valarian much to guess what might set him off.
I was too far away to stop her. That would have to fall to someone nearer. But I could get to Phillip and Lidek. “Sir, look out. Phillip, down. Gun.”
I leapt for the pair of them, colliding first with the commander and then my squire. The commander was steady on his feet and didn’t go down easily. But Phillip? The boy was built like a brick. My shoulder ached from the impact. Still, in his state, he did go down.
Chaos erupted all around us, shouts and screams and tramping feet. I expected the sounds of gunfire to follow.
I was wrong. No shots came. Instead, the very air around me seemed to rip itself apart. I felt a shockwave before
I heard noise. It reverberated through my body, slamming me into the ground and pelting me in all manner of things – some hard and cold, some wet and warm. I registered the sound a moment later. It was an explosion, but louder than anything I’d ever heard. My head reeled. My lungs burned, and I realized the air was full of smoke. The lights had gone out.
“Phillip? Commander?”
I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could feel – far too much. Every nerve in my body seemed to be screaming in agony, overloading my brain with pain.
Ana. You were right. Gods, you were right. I tried to push up, to push out of the rubble all around me, to feel my way around in the darkness.
But I couldn’t move. My muscles were unresponsive, and a weight, a crippling weight, crushed me.
Hell. I’m going to die. I was going to die, in the dark and rubble, betrayed by those Southern knights we’d welcomed into our base.
I’m sorry Phil. I failed you. I’m sorry, Commander.
These realizations, these regrets along with the pain and fear, crowded my brain. And among them all, one solitary thought stood out. Thank the gods you’re not here, Ana.
Chapter Twenty-Five – Derel
“So, you see why I need to get back there?”
Claxton frowned thoughtfully. “It does sound suspicious,” she granted. “I know Lil said the same thing: that she hadn’t drank much yesterday.”
She looked me up and down, and when she spoke again her voice was soft. “Listen, Ana: you need to be completely honest with me here. What we’re talking about – this is a lot bigger than saving a little face.”
I could feel my cheeks flush. “I’m not lying, Claxton. I swear, on Ilyen’s grave – I’m not lying. I didn’t touch a sip yesterday. I was too – well, pissed off to let myself. And me and Phillip – we had a flagon of mead each. And neither of us finished.”
She nodded. “Then we need to get back there.”
“Yes. I need to tell her.”
Again, she looked me up and down. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to ride?”
I snorted. “As strong as you made that coffee, Claxton? I could walk through cannon fire and be alright.”
“Well, it wasn’t just coffee.”
I frowned at her. “What the hell else was in there, then?”
“Something I picked up from the priests. To sober a drunk up.”
“I thought that’s what the coffee was for?”
“Coffee won’t sober you. It’ll make you more alert, but you still have alcohol in your system. This will.”
There were more pressing issues at hand, but before I could refocus, I blurted out, “And what the hell do you need a sobriety elixir for, anyway, Claxton?” I couldn’t imagine anyone more strait-laced and boring than Agnes Claxton. I couldn’t imagine Agnes Claxton being drunk, whatever the circumstance.
She frowned at me. “I bought it when you two moved in, actually. I’ve been around enough squires to know that with youth comes bad choices. And with you military types, worse choices than normal.”
I was frowning too, but she steered me back on track. “But the reception: are they going to let you back in?”
I nodded. “Yes. The KP was very discreet earlier. There’s no problem there.” As far as everything else that had happened, and if she’d want to talk to me alone after what a colossal ass I’d made of myself, I was less certain. My head was still a little too foggy to process all of that. I’d been sure. Hell, I still was sure on some level. But she’d been so adamant.
I’d figure that out later. Right now, I needed to get back there. Whatever the hell those Southern bastards were up to, the KP needed to know before it was too late.
“Alright. Let’s get to the stables, then.”
Burton took the skimmer back with him, and Lil only had one. In these parts, that was already a luxury. More than one would have been a gaudy excess. Claxton headed down with me, and together we tacked up a set of horses. The set surprised me at first.
“Wait, you’re going?”
“Lil left you in my charge. If I’m letting you do this, I’m going with you.”
I didn’t argue. I wasn’t sure I wanted to argue, but I knew it would have been ineffective anyway. She’d made up her mind, and she was Claxton: she didn’t back down. “Alright.”
We worked quickly, and in a few minutes, we were leading the horses outside. “You ready?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Alright. Let’s –” I cut off suddenly as a booming sound ripped through the stillness of the night. At the same time, I felt the earth tremble underfoot. The horses whinnied, and Freya rose on her hind legs, protesting against taking another step.
And then I saw it: a burst of flame, rising from Cragspoint. It seemed to come out of nowhere and engulf one of the structures. It was pitch black, with not much moonlight, and the buildings were far away. But I knew instinctively which building it was. And I knew where that fire was coming from.
It was the reception hall of the central facility. “My gods. Lil.”
At the same time, Claxton whimpered. “My girl.”
We stood in mute horror for half a minute, watching the flames rise, watching red light up the horizon, dancing off the clouds overhead and casting the buildings around in an eerie glow.
My heart seemed to have frozen in my chest. Could she have survived that? Could Phillip? I doubted it. We’d felt the explosion all the way down here, miles away.
But she couldn’t be dead. Can she?
I might have stayed in a stupor of fear and heartsickness longer yet if not for the sight of a new horror.
Dragons. Inky black blobs against the night sky, they dotted the horizon over Cragspoint, streams of flame billowing out from them.
This, at last, shook me from my paralysis. “The Southerners,” I said. “They’re attacking. I’ve got to get to base, Agnes. If Lil is still – that is, if she survived: she needs me.”
“What about the town?”
“What?”
“In case of a wyvern attack, the town gathers here. The Knight of the Shire brings them here, to safety.”
I hesitated. I remembered Lil mentioning that, and the wyvern steel plates that would protect the keep. I was Squire of the Shire, perhaps the last member of House Callaghan left. It was my duty to fill the role, in her absence.
And, yet, I thought of her there, in gods knew what state, with dragons raining down fire on her. “I can’t…I can’t leave her, Claxton. I can’t.”
She studied me for half a second in the faint moonlight, then nodded. “No. You go, Ana. I’ll get the town here.”
“You?”
“The dragons are at Cragspoint. The longer they stay there, and away from town, the safer the people will be. Go, Derel: protect Shire’s End. Find Lil.”
I needed no further urging. She got on her horse, and I on mine. We followed the same path for a distance, and then we went our own ways. I pushed Freya as hard as I dared.
Whatever Claxton had given me, it had gone a long way to clearing my mind. But whatever Freylor had given me, it had done a number. And it wasn’t entirely out of my system yet.
The pounding of hooves, the jarring of my body as we raced along, made my head swim. I gritted my teeth and clung on, urging her, “On, Frey. On.”
Slowly but surely, Cragspoint grew, and the town and fields fell away. Slowly but surely, the inky blobs overhead grew more distinct, their terrible shapes taking form. I shivered and pressed on, praying that they didn’t spot me as I approached.
I was a squire still. I had no wyvern steel to ward off their deadly dragon fire. Nor did I want to come face-to-face with those terrible, crushing jaws, or their wicked, piercing teeth.
The smell of smoke, hanging low and heavy in the air, hit me as I approached. The central structure was in flames, as I predicted, in a far more advanced state of burning than the rest of the base. But the dragon riders had been busy. The other buildings were all smoking an
d flaming too. The air reeked of burnt wood and fabric, and worse things too.
I tried to push those smells out of my mind, as I tried to ignore the burning of smoke in my lungs.
For all the pain, this at least was a mixed blessing as I approached. The smoke was rising from the flaming structures, free floating above the ground – but not at the elevation the dragons flew. So it created a kind of curtain between me and the beasts, and I found my approach masked by the same fumes that choked me.
I was not, however, hidden from the men on the ground. And there were, I discovered as I barreled blindly into the flaming courtyard, several of them stationed below.
The first tell was a bolt of energy that passed a few meters in front of Freya. The second was a bolt that passed so near I could feel hairs sizzling on the back of my head. I reined the horse sharply to the side, diverting behind a flaming building, and dismounted at a run. She ran too, in the opposite direction.
I ducked behind a tree, glancing around for the shooter or shooters. I didn’t spot them at first. It wasn’t until they shot again that I did. This time, I wasn’t the target. Rather, they were aiming at some poor unfortunate, gasping as he dragged himself out of a flaming building. Two bolts of energy hit him, and then a third.
He went down, holes seared straight through him. I still couldn’t see the gunman. But I’d followed the bolts of energy back to a little side building by the stables. I put two bolts into the spot where those deadly blasts originated. Then, I ducked my own head back as weapons fire rained down on me from the far side of the compound.
Chapter Twenty-Six – Callaghan
I was in and out of consciousness for a space. When I woke, it was to the feeling of suffocating. I jerked up, drawing in great, gasping lungsful of smoky air. My throat burned, but I kept choking it down.
I felt pressure against my back and tried again to move. At first, nothing happened. Then, though, I felt the weight on my back shift. My forearms were quivering, and the fire in my throat seemed to be getting worse. But I kept pushing, and finally it – whatever it was – rolled off me. It landed with a heavy thud, and I turned my head.