Now he had an advantage, just as he always had. He'd always been just a little bit better than the other two. That was why she had married Aggrezjhon and not him. No one had ever said it but he knew; he'd always known. No matter how close they had been at times, he could not forgive betrayal. Memories of their last days had played in his mind ever since. The others had remained true until the very last moment, when the Noonspire trap was sprung. Weaker and slower, Aggrezjhon and Murden had fallen almost instantly. There had been no time to save them. He'd barely saved himself. Had they not turned on him then, he would have broken free. Trapped and realizing they had lost everything, they became jealous and made certain he did not get away.
Without them to offset his power, he would have been unstoppable. He would have been . . . That thought had run through his mind so many times, it ignited familiar fury. His colleagues--his friends--had latched on to his very humanity and would not let go. Jealous, they had exacted one last vile act of revenge against him. Even then they had been lesser beings, their combined effort not enough to ensnare his spirit. Still, they took something from him. Fully assuming dragon form cost him his humanity. He'd long since forgotten what that meant or why it was important; he was, after all, a dragon.
Without another thought he flew toward the Noonspire.
Chapter 3
To put the well-being of another above your own is the highest form of existence.
--Mother Gwendolin, Cathuran monk
* * *
Kenward Trell paced the deck. "Wherever bolts aren't holding, I want the joints wound in rope and torqued. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," his crew responded.
With such a large ship and so many bolts to reinforce, the work took time.
Eventually Farsy emerged from belowdecks. "Good thinking, sir. The ropes are doing a better job than the bolts were."
Kenward wasn't certain he liked the word were. "You fixed the bolts, right?"
Grinning, Farsy held up a leather bucket filled with cracked and bent metal. Kenward swallowed. He'd intended the ropes to be a temporary fix to reinforce the bolts. Now he flew a ship held together with string. His mother and sister would be so proud.
"The thing is, sir, the ropes provide a sturdy connection but also allow for some flex. The bolts would just break again and damage the beams. This is better."
It had been Kenward's idea, but he still wasn't so sure. "Repair the bolts anyway," Kenward said. Farsy never stopped grinning, which unnerved the good captain as few things did. "How much rope do we have left?" he asked as an afterthought.
"Enough to build another ship," Farsy said. "I'll get you a damage and status report, sir."
Kenward nodded. Farsy frequently managed to stay one step ahead.
When the Jaga coast came into view, Kenward had second thoughts about everything. This place no longer followed the natural order. For miles, the waters along the coast were fouled. What should be white sands and blue water were covered in noxious brown and black ooze. A child of both land and sea, Kenward was repulsed. Beyond that waited a pervasive sense of doom. Allette was trapped within a pit of pure evil. He spared a thought for Trinda as well; whatever he did for Allette he also did for the child queen. It was enough.
Sinjin and Kendra guided their dragons back toward deck. They had been flying ahead but no longer. Scouting inland would have been pointless since the Jaga threatened from the very start.
"You are a good man, Kenward Trell," Kendra said, coming to his side. "You've a noble heart, and she knows how you feel. Dying is a poor way to prove your love." Reasoned, convincing words delivered in a measured tone.
Kenward listened without looking at her, his tears falling to the deck. "I can do nothing to save her. I am weak, helpless, and impotent at the very moment I so wish to be strong. I can fix so many things . . . but I can't fix this."
"There is no dishonor in turning back," Kendra said.
Kenward nodded and turned to his skeleton crew. Those he trusted most and who trusted him stood at the rails, watching madness approach. "If you plan to see the morning, get off the Portly Dragon now. The last favor I will ask of my dragon-riding friends is that they fly you all to safety."
Dragons stood ready to transport the crew, but no one stepped forward. Kenward swallowed hard. It was one thing to sacrifice himself, entirely another to take his crew and friends--his family--down with him. Kenward Trell faced an impossible decision, feeling as if he were being physically torn apart. Jessub Tillerman moved to his place between the thrust tubes. The rest returned to their work. They knew what they faced, and they stood ready to do their jobs. Proud of his crew, he would not dishonor their bravery.
"Sinjin, Kendra," Kenward said, "you may take your leave. The Portly Dragon sets sail for the Noonspire with all haste."
"You're just going to fly in there and save her?" Kendra asked.
"The Dragon will get me close, and I'll take the bumblebee in the rest of the way. If all goes well, we leave with one more than we came in with."
Kendra shook her head. The time for persuasion had passed. "Travel well, my friend. May we meet again on the other side."
Sinjin and Kendra said their final good-byes and climbed back atop their dragons. Running to the part of the deck marked stern, he looked out to see two verdant dragons coming fast, one significantly smaller than the other. Kenward felt relief on recognizing Jehregard. Still, the larger dragon approaching at such high speed intimidated. Roaring as it passed, the mighty beast left the air roiling, which shook the Portly Dragon, her rope-bound joints screaming in protest.
The two regal dragons took flight. Kenward watched the large verdant dragon as it executed a wide turn, hoping to be recognized as friends. Onin's voice could soon be heard bellowing the words, "Turn back! If you wish to live, turn back now!"
Kenward really didn't need another reminder, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless. He couldn't say he hadn't been warned.
"The heart of the Jaga is lousy with ferals," Onin said as Jehregard flew circles around the Portly Dragon. "And the Noonspire presents a far greater danger. We must join together if we're to defeat this darkness."
Kenward knew the wisdom of his words.
"Leave them!" came shouting from a tierre atop the second verdant dragon. The sheer size of the beast made it terrifying, its bellowed displeasure no more reassuring. "You've warned them; now let's move on. You've seen. There's no more time."
"Evil threatens us all," Onin said after a brief pause. "I must go. I must do my duty."
"Be well, Onin of the Old Guard!" Kenward yelled with a wave. "Jessub, take us into the darkness."
* * *
The problem with living remote enough to keep away the fools is that you occasionally have to come out. Even knowing the shortest route to a serviceable wagon and team of horses, Madra of Far Rossing was already tired.
"We're not hauling all this stuff ourselves, right?" Chelby asked while hooking up both horses.
"Of course not. But if you happen to be negotiating for large quantities of food, you might as well fill your own wagon on the cheap."
Chelby laughed. "Knowing you, they'll pay us to fill the wagon." He turned serious then. "Do you remember the last time we filled the wagon?"
"Oh, I remember."
"Do you think we could negotiate for some help unloading?" Chelby asked, looking hopeful.
"And by unloading, I assume you mean carrying it all the way to the root cellar?"
Chelby nodded.
"We'll see," Madra said as only a mother could.
"It's not like Medrin will be there to help!"
Both quieted as they turned along the wagon trail leading to Mackey's place.
"Oh, look! Madra has come. And she's brought her wagon!" Mackey shouted from the barn doorway. Young Jarn peeked from the hayloft.
"And two horses, pa!" Jarn added.
"You are a little predictable," Chelby said with a laugh.
"A wise boy is a qui
et boy," Madra said. Chelby laughed again. He was most certainly her son.
"What do you need a wagonload of today?" Mackey asked, grinning.
"She probably needs it real bad, pa! Real bad."
"Not a wise boy to be seen," Chelby muttered.
Madra ignored them and walked into the barn. Mackey followed. Chelby stayed outside to play ball with Jarn.
"What have you got that's for sale?" Madra asked.
"All of it is for sale. Or at least enough to fill that wagon of yours."
"What if I needed to fill that wagon many times over?" Madra asked while thumbing through bushel baskets of dried corn. "Many many times. How much for all of it? Including what comes out of the smokehouse. All of it."
"Well . . . I . . . uh . . . What are you feeding? An army?"
"Yes. That's it. I'm building another army of the infirm to save us all. Do you want to join?"
Mackey just shook his head and scribbled a number on vellum with charcoal. Madra grabbed them and wrote some figures of her own. Mackey's eyes bulged. "I can't do that! It's just too much."
"With enough gold," Madra said, "you can do just about anything. I need you to do this for me."
"I'd have to buy from others in the surrounding areas," Mackey said. "And that would create a shortage, which would make the price . . . Yes. I'll do it. What do I tell people?"
Madra shrugged and added an additional stack of coins to her deposit. "Tell them whatever you want. Tell them your crop failed or your cows are extra hungry this year. I don't care. Just don't tell them it's for me."
Mackey nodded slowly, looking half lost in thought. Chelby came through the door, smiling.
"Oh, that reminds me," Madra said. "I'm going to need some things loaded onto my wagon."
It wasn't until they were loaded and halfway down the rutted drive before Chelby said, "I notice you left some room in the wagon. Are we going to see our young baker friend?"
"We are."
Dancing in his seat while he drove, Chelby urged the horses just a little faster.
"Don't beat me to death on the way there, boy."
The dilapidated condition of the trails out this way gave evidence to how seldom they were used. Even these made Madra feel exposed, and she was glad when the aroma of baking bread was all she could smell. Another small farm, this one far more accessible than the last, came into view. A mud brick farmhouse backed up to grain bins, chicken coops, pasture, and fields beyond. Two other wagons, each single horse, were tied beneath the trees. Madra waited.
"You're killing me," Chelby said. "Can you not smell that? How can you just sit here and wait patiently? We could go in and have a pastry while we wait for every other person with a nose gets theirs."
Madra grinned and waited. It didn't take all that long before the two local farmers headed back toward civilized lands, as they called them.
"They're gone," Chelby said. "Come on."
Waiting a little longer just for spite, Madra then urged the horses out of the trees and along the smoother trail leading up to Timit's place. Smoke poured from all three chimneys. She would always think of old man Timit, though his son had been the heart of the farm for many years. A small bell announced their entrance, the tinkling sound not quite sweet.
"Greetings, Miss Madra!"
"Greetings to you, Timit son of Timit."
"I see you've brought your wagon," Timit said while peering out the window. Chelby chuckled.
"Feed my boy before he starves," Madra said.
"I want one of those and two of those," Chelby said before Timit could respond. The baker put the pastries on a wooden paddle and slid them into the closest brick oven.
"How is business?" Madra asked.
"Slow," Timit said. "Rumors of war in the east. Talk of dragons attacking villages. People don't want to leave their homes."
"Well, that's good," Madra said, and Timit looked confused. "I'm going to need everything you can sell me."
"What? Are you building another army?"
"I've decided to remarry," Madra said. "I can't have all my suitors starving while they wait their turn."
Timit was flummoxed.
"Here's what I need," Madra said, handing him a strip of parchment.
Timit's eyes went even wider. "I can't do that. I'd have to turn away all my other customers."
"Are your other customers here?" Madra asked, the coins in her hand making a clinking sound. "Did your other customers pull you from your momma and smack your bottom?"
"But--"
"Do you want me to put you back where I found you?"
"No, ma'am," Timit said. Madra put coins in the young man's hand. "Do you want anything else?" he asked Chelby, who nodded and pointed, his mouth still full.
"About my wagon," Madra said.
* * *
The Portly Dragon flew without joy. Beneath them passed a landscape reeking of death and wrongness. Soon the entire Jaga would be a rotting quagmire. Along the edges of the corruption, where lush greenery could still be seen, gathered the animals. Trees bent low, laden with creatures never meant to live so close together. The lack of feral dragons brought no comfort. Kenward suspected a multitude gathered around the heart of this madness. There, too, he would find the most complex and fascinating creature he'd ever known.
Allette Kilbor was the one thing Kenward Trell wanted most but could not have. He knew unrequited love. He'd known the sting of rejection, but this was different. She felt the same for him. He was certain. He'd seen it in her eyes. Someone or something else had stood in their way and kept them apart. It infuriated him and gnawed at his soul. When the Noonspire appeared on the horizon, Kenward quailed. Nothing he'd imagined prepared him for the scale of what had been buried under the swamp. The Noonspire sank beneath ground level to dizzying depths. The land around it had been thrust away, a wall of plasma and fire holding the soil, rock, water, and everything else out.
Rock formations with symmetry and order formed an intricate architecture protruding through the plasma barrier. A ripple passed through the column, making it breathe. Feral dragons clinging to the structure moved like a single organism. In the spire's light, they basked.
How could she survive here amid such evil? Kenward asked himself. He'd come here to save her from whatever influence this place had, but it was not simply the place. He could feel it now. There would be no negotiations; they were already at war. "Stoke the fires!" he shouted. "Full thrust!"
The massive Noonspire facets reached out to them, pulling them closer. Within the crystal, shadowy occupants could be seen. Madness, hatred, and impatience waited there. Kenward saw fear and worry and guilt but also love. Which feelings came from which figures, Kenward could not know for certain, but he could guess.
Go away! a voice boomed in Kenward's mind, knocking him from his feet. Farsy ran toward him, but Kenward could not hear his friend's words.
Come closer, another said in a calm but commanding voice.
Farsy pulled Kenward back to his feet, his mouth moving but no intelligible words coming out.
Go, now, Kenward! Or surely you will lose me.
This thought came with a vision of Allette. He smelled her hair and felt her gentle touch. He had to go. They had to get away that instant. Her voice pounding within his mind made everything clear. Holding up two fingers, he called for thrust. The Portly Dragon lumbered through turbulence, lightning clawing the air beneath them. Pumping his fist, Kenward called for more fuel on the fire. Farsy and Bryn appeared worried. Jessub Tillerman looked panic stricken. The young man held out his hands to his sides to indicate his efforts weren't working. Kenward already knew. Too slowly did they drift, some force pulling them back despite the thrust.
Kenward held on as the Portly Dragon listed heavily, "Prep the howler and bumblebee!"
"Fire!" Farsy yelled.
"Abandon ship!" Kenward shouted. "The Portly Dragon is going in!"
Lightning reach the ship then crackled along the lowest corner, the r
opes now smoking. Orange flames gushed from the boiler house, and steam rushed out with a deafening squeal. Coconuts rolled into the heat. Kenward had almost forgotten about them amid the chaos but now could think of little else. Running toward the smoldering coconut that was filled with something an ancient book claimed more powerful than the fire snakes Brothers Gustad and Milo had rediscovered, Kenward hoped to buy his crew time.
Before he reached it, sparks flew from the mud-sealed opening. Spinning and leaping, it rolled from the deck and fell, moments later exploding with a thunderous boom. Sparks and smoke blasted the ship from below.
Like a single, massive creature, feral dragons attacked.
"Go now!" Kenward cried.
The deck's pitch increased, making the bumblebee difficult to reach. Farsy had orders to meet him there. Bryn and Jessub would take the howler. Though he'd never flown the experimental aircraft, Kenward was confident Jessub would figure it out. He was a thrustmaster, the most important skill required. Gwen had taken to it almost instinctively.
No one had expected to come out of this alive, and the odds hadn't improved. Feral dragons filled the skies around them but did not attack. Dangerously close to the megalithic crystal, the Portly Dragon was free of ferals. As if protecting against something, they blotted out the night sky, making escape on the smaller aircraft unlikely.
When Kenward reached the bumblebee, Farsy was already there. Jessub crossed the pitching deck between him and the howler. Bryn still shoveled coal onto the fires.
"Bryn!" Kenward shouted. The young man ignored him. "Bryn!" he screamed, knowing it would soon be too late.
Finally Bryn acknowledged him, tossed down his shovel, and ran toward the howler. Jessub strapped himself in. Kenward watched with detached horror. This couldn't be happening. Surely he would wake soon and it would all be over. No such luck.
The Seventh Magic (Book 3) Page 3