“You can’t do this to me. I am the king’s betrothed!” I yell at the four women disguised as soldiers. They do not blink, they do not flinch, nor do they falter in their steady march through the corridors of the castle. One leads, opening doors with a huge ring of iron keys. A second woman follows, prodding my back with a spearpoint. One on each side of me holds my arms above very heavy manacles in a grip that will leave bruises.
I cannot doubt that any one of them will kill me before I can raise enough power to throw them off.
I am so outraged I forget to draw strength from the pain.
I am out of practice. Then I see that four more women have captured my captain. He wears iron manacles on wrists and feet that drag him down.
“Where are you taking us?” I demand.
“The dungeon, where you belong,” the woman behind me sneers.
The dungeon. Part of me recoils in abject fear. I have been in prison before. The prison of a cat body and stripped of my magic. For fifteen years I had to live by my wits, evading large predators, escaping human kicks, eating stolen scraps, rodents, and carrion.
I will not be subject to imprisonment of any kind again.
“You will be right next to the foul snakes, living with their stench day and night,” the woman in front says as she unlocks a small but heavy door, bound in iron. The entrance to the dungeon. I know it well.
“You . . . you can’t feed us to the snakes. The king will not allow it,” my captain protests. He is not so strong and brave or attractive to me anymore. His weakness robs him of beauty.
If we are separated I cannot draw upon his fear and pain to gain power over locks. But the snakes feed me. They will give me the means to escape the dungeon.
What I will do afterward I do not know. Yet. But I will think of something. Something that will destroy this miserable city-state and their backward government and their disdain of magic. I will triumph even if it means if I have to bring down the entire castle stone by stone.
Lukan balanced upon his staff and stared at the grazing steed. Somehow he had to transfer himself from the ground into the saddle. So far he’d managed to stand and rest a tiny bit of his weight on the ball of his left foot. Mostly he leaned on the staff and relied upon his intact right leg to keep him upright.
This was the disguise of a crippled beggar he’d worn to court. Only it wasn’t a disguise anymore. He shuddered at the thought that he’d invited this wound by pretending.
“Maybe if you grabbed the pommel and hoisted your whole body across the saddle, then shifted your legs around,” Chess offered. He stood near the steed’s head, ready to grab the reins the moment Lukan tried to mount.
“Doesn’t look as if there’s enough room in the saddle for both of us,” Lukan grumbled, stalling.
“I can climb behind the saddle.”
“It won’t be comfortable, and we’ve a long way to go. I’m not sure this steed is sturdy enough to carry both of us all the way to the city.”
“I can walk beside you,” Chess replied, relentless in his efforts to get them moving and back to the city so they could release Robb.
“I’d gladly walk if I could. But I can’t. So I guess I have to take your suggestion. Hold him tight.” Lukan hopped to the steed’s side. It sidled away the same distance as Lukan moved. He could foresee an endless dance in a big circle.
Just then the glass in his pocket vibrated strongly, nearly visible through the fabric of his trews. Grateful for the reprieve he dropped to the ground and pulled the little circle of glass free. A bright swirl of gold and green twisted and coiled within the circle. Glenndon.
His heart both sank in disappointment that he needed his brother’s help and rose in gratitude that his brother bothered to call to offer help.
The glass continued to bounce in his hand with some urgency.
No bowl of water, no candle. He licked the glass, a quick and dirty trick useful only in dire emergencies.
“What have you been up to, little brother?” Glenndon asked, almost before his face came into view.
“What I’m supposed to be doing, journeying.” What else could he say?
“Only you could find the only magician in all of Mabastion, a spy of Da’s sent there years ago when he first noticed Samlan taking long leaves of absence.”
“Huh?”
“The slave who summoned me along with Robb’s apprentice.”
“Oh. Juan. He’s a spy for the University. He said something. I wasn’t. . .”
“He told me that he’s been too afraid to mention his true mission to anyone, even another magician. He was too afraid to work magic even when he could. And he couldn’t until you broke the protective bubble around the snake farm.”
“Yeah. About that . . .”
“Juan also told me that you are in trouble. Wounded.”
“That is sort of a problem.”
“You’ve got to get away from the area contaminated by the snakes. Quickly.”
“Not exactly viable.”
“Listen closely, Lukan. Lily discovered that a plague infests the land anywhere the snakes have been in large numbers. She and her assistant have found a remedy, not a cure. All the drugs do is reduce the fever and keep the heart strong and steady until your body heals naturally. You’ve got to get away.”
“Already had the fever. Came on after your spy cut a goodly chunk out of my calf.”
“Oh.”
Glenndon’s face faded but his magical signature continued to twine and twist into knots in the glass. He hadn’t gone away or ended the spell, only paused to think.
“Can you work any magic at all?” Glenndon surged into the glass again, almost close enough to step through it from his distant post.
“Not sure.”
Chess snapped his fingers and brought a nice flame to his palm. The steed neighed and stepped back, as far away as it could get from the fire while on the short rein.
“We’ve got access to magic now that the Krakatrice are all gone and the dragons are patrolling the area,” Lukan confirmed to his brother.
“Then I suggest you gather your strength and use the transport spell to get back to the city.”
Chess’ eyes grew wide as he shook his head in fear.
“Just stay away from those snakes. They are almost as nasty dead as they are alive,” Glenndon continued. He hadn’t seen Chess’ reaction.
“Um . . . Glenndon, did Juan tell you what we found in the castle? The castle where Robb is held prisoner and my friend Skeller is trying to yank the reins of government away from his father the tyrant who sent the Krakatrice eggs to Coronnan?”
“Uh, no. I don’t think he’s been in the city for a couple of years. How he survived the farm without succumbing to the plague I don’t know.”
“We have to go back and rescue Master Robb,” Chess insisted quite loudly, as if he knew he had to put some extra push into his words for Glenndon to hear them within the spell.
“I’m coming to help,” Glenndon said curtly. His colors began retreating from the glass.
“No, Glenndon. You can’t,” Lukan protested loudly. The rush of worry for his brother surprised him. He’d nurtured anger toward him for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to care . . . to love his older brother. Warm emotions washed through him, memories of their childhood. Barely a year apart in age, they had been as close to each other as the twins Lily and Val.
“Lukan, you need help. You are wounded. The fate of two continents is at stake . . .”
“You are King Darville’s heir. You dare not risk it!”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t. Look, you could probably make all this go away with a flick of your finger. But, just like Da, you have to trust someone else for a change. Taking the entire burden of magic onto his shoulders alone all the time is what killed Da—that and probably using the Tambootie and lingering in the void a time or two. All of those are things you do too. You have a Tambootie wood staff, for Stargods sake. A
nd you treat the void like a second home. I’m not going to lose you too!”
“Lukan . . .”
“You are valuable, big brother. You were always Da’s favorite. The gifted one. The dragon’s golden child. I’m merely a second son. A tagalong, easily forgotten and overlooked. You can’t come. Chess and I can manage. We have to. You have to stay there.”
“Lukan, you are not expendable,” Glenndon insisted. “Not to me. I don’t want to lose you, little brother. I need to keep you safe.”
“Thanks, big brother. I love you too. But a journey is about facing dangers and finding new solutions. If we can get back to the castle, I think I know what to do. Maybe my friend Verdii will drop us off onto a tower roof.”
“Use the transport spell. I grant you permission and authority to do so. I don’t care if it is forbidden to journeymen on journey. Use it. And . . . and stay safe.”
“I’ll contact you as soon as we get this all settled.”
“Summon me every hour so that I know you are safe,” Glenndon insisted. “I won’t rest easy until you do.”
“I’ll summon you when it’s all over.” Lukan closed the spell by wiping the lingering moisture on the glass away with the palm of his hand.
“Okay, Chess. We release the steed and let him find his own way home. You and I will take a shortcut.”
“Um, how about I ride the steed back to the stable and you use the transport spell on yourself?”
Lukan shook his head. “I need you to hold me up when we land. I’m aiming for the parapet at the top of the watchtower. I scouted it before we left. We’re in this together, and I think the masters will gladly grant you a staff when we finish this.” He closed his eyes and gathered his energy as he built an image of the castle parapet in his mind, layer by layer, stone by stone, adding color, texture, and the smell of the sea. Chess’ hands slipped around his waist, holding him up and sharing the image Lukan built. Together they moved from here to there, barely pausing to acknowledge the void and the dragons in their passage.
CHAPTER 39
MARIA PAUSED TO wipe her finger across the surface of a small table outside Lokeen’s private study. Servants used it to place trays of food and drink before knocking and opening the door. And they hadn’t dusted it.
She made a mental note to reprimand those responsible. As she turned she noted that Robb had almost caught up with her. She didn’t think anyone walked slower than she, but he managed. He’d only been on his feet a few hours since rising from his sickbed.
“You should rest,” she said quietly as he pushed himself two more steps and paused, leaning heavily on his staff and panting. Sweat dotted his brow and he looked pale. Not as pale as when the fever had grabbed hold of his heart, but still not well.
“I,” pant, “need,” pant “to build my strength.”
“I know. But if you push yourself too far, too fast, you will relapse and lengthen your recovery.”
A ghost of a smile drifted across his face. “I seem to remember giving that same lecture to my wife when she had the milk fever after Stevie was born.”
“You miss them terribly, don’t you?” She sighed deeply, letting go a little bit more of the daydream that this man might learn to love her. He looked so very happy when he thought of his family that she couldn’t deny him that little bit of joy in this dire and gloomy castle.
“Yes, I miss them. They are my life.”
“Maria! Maria, what have you done?” Lokeen shouted from inside his study. “The Krakatrice are grieving and scream for the loss . . . I’m not sure what they mourn. Captain Stavro doesn’t respond. What have you done?”
Maria straightened her spine as much as she could—easier now with Toskellar’s adjustment to her boot.
“You don’t have to go in there, Maria,” Robb whispered. He too stood up from his heavy slouch against his staff.
“Yes, I do. I have to face him, sooner or later. Best we get this over with.”
“Not until Lukan and Chess get back and we know for certain what happened at the farm. I suspect that the death of the nest at the farm is what has upset the nest in the dungeon.”
“We know what happened. Gerta gave me a complete report, including the news that your journeyman was bitten by a Krakatrice. He’s not likely to live.” She rested a gentle hand on his arm. “Gerta has been back for three days. We’ve had no word of Lukan and Chess. Rejiia and the captain have been in the dungeon for a day and a half. We can’t wait any longer to confront Lokeen.”
“You’re right. But you can’t do this alone.” Robb lifted one hand and beckoned toward the shadows hovering at the end of the corridor. Gerta stepped forward flanked by three women and two men, the guards who had been so faithful in protecting Robb. He called them Badger and Scurry. The names Robb had given them fit, regardless of what their mothers called them.
“Maria!” Lokeen stomped to the door, his footsteps echoing off the wooden floors despite the rich rugs covering them. Then he flung the door open so hard it bounced and reverberated against the outside wall. “Where are Rejiia and Stavro? Why are the Krakatrice so unsettled?” Then he looked at the assembly in the passage. “Why is that man out of the dungeon?” Anger pushed high color from his neck up past his ears, making a vein in his temple throb visibly.
“I am supervising some moderate exercise to help your magician recover from his illness,” Maria said firmly, not blinking or stammering as her rapidly pounding heart wanted her to do. Only the knowledge that to fail now, or to quail, would end in her complete humiliation and possible death at the hands of her brother-in-law kept her upright.
“I don’t need Master Robb anymore. Throw him back into the dungeon until I decide it’s time to execute him. Maybe his blood will settle my pets.” Lokeen waved the crowd away and turned to retreat into his private sanctuary. “I have Rejiia now. She can do more and better magic and isn’t limited by these castle walls. Send her to me.”
Maria grew cold from the inside out.
“You no longer have your betrothed, Your Majesty,” Robb said evenly.
“What?” Lokeen roared, whipping around to face them once more.
“Lady Rejiia and Stavro, your captain of the guard, have eloped, Your Majesty,” Gerta informed him.
“You are lying. My Rejiia would never do that. She loves me! Guards, arrest this woman.”
No one moved. Maria counted her breaths, making sure they remained slow and steady though her knees trembled.
“I said, arrest her! Arrest that woman. She’s an imposter. She has no place in the castle. Nor do any of those other women I see walking around in uniform and carrying weapons. Guards, get rid of them!”
No one moved. If anything, Scurry and Badger retreated a bit, allowing the women to stand forward. Frederico and his sister Frella appeared and stood fast beside the men. Jacko and Jimbo added their numbers to the solid wall of support for Maria.
“What have you done, Maria? You are responsible for betraying me. I’ll throw you to the Krakatrice first.” The last came out on a long hiss.
“I don’t think so, brother-in-law,” Maria replied.
The color drained from Lokeen’s face. He took one step back, reaching to pull the door closed behind him. As if he’d be safe in the study.
“Lord Lokeen, I believe your tenure as regent of Amazonia is ended,” Toskellar said, appearing behind him.
The king jerked his head back and forth between his son and his sister-in-law. “Wh . . . where did you come from?” Lokeen looked truly frightened.
“Surely you remember, my lord. The entire castle is riddled with secret passages and hidden rooms. Escape routes to the harbor and into the hills. Isn’t that part of the definition of being a castle?” the prince quirked the left side of his mouth up in a sarcastic grin that did not reach his eyes. “I know every inch of the back ways in and out. I’m surprised you don’t.”
“But . . . but . . .” Lokeen blustered.
“Oh, but you didn’t grow up he
re. You came here as my mother’s husband. You assumed you were safe and secure from the first moment you crossed the threshold. You had no need to explore. Unlike your sons, who saw the way you leeched authority from Mother at every turn. The way you hurt her, and intimidated her when she resisted your orders to disband the women warrior troops. The way you ignored her when you severed one of our most sacred laws and made executions not only legal, but the norm. We saw, and we knew the time would come when we would have to escape you.”
“You have to agree with me. You returned,” Lokeen protested. “Fear alone keeps people from succumbing to their base natures and breaking every moral and ethical law that defines civilization. The people have to fear their rulers or they will rebel. We’d have chaos in the streets if the people did not fear me.”
“Strange, we never did before,” Toskellar said, rubbing his chin in deep thought. “Tell me, Master Magician Robb, is there chaos in Coronnan? I hear your people love their king and honor him in every way. But they do not fear him.”
Robb nodded. His mouth twitched as if suppressing laughter.
“Lord Lokeen, husband of my late sister,” Maria began the ritual words she’d memorized long ago and never thought she’d have the opportunity or the courage to use. “Five years and more have passed since the untimely death of my sister, our queen. Your term of regency has passed. Since my sister bore no daughter to succeed her as queen of Amazonia, I hereby assume the regency until Prince Toskellar marries a woman of suitable lineage, or a natural leader arises from the ranks of the Women Warriors.”
“You can’t do this! The people will never tolerate a twisted and deformed dwarf as their queen,” Lokeen sneered.
“I disagree, my lord,” Gerta said, hand on the grip of her sword. “As the newly elected leader of the Women Warriors and captain of the Castle Guard, I declare my allegiance to the Lady Maria.”
Lokeen leaped sideways and began running.
Robb flipped his staff and tripped him. He sprawled on the floor, his elegant robe hiked up to expose his skinny legs.
The Wandering Dragon (Children of the Dragon Nimbus) Page 30