Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3)

by Stephanie A. Cain

  "No duties can be as important as this," Yar translated. "That is Darixu who says it."

  "My cousin plots treason," Azmei snapped. "My father and brother are in danger. I must save them."

  There was a pause. Darixu paced closer, and Xellax lowered her head. Yar gasped, then said, "Your father is beyond danger." He broke the stiff mask of his translation and gazed at her in anguish. "Oh, Azmei, your father is dead."

  Azmei hunched over, staring down at the sandy stone underfoot. It didn't matter that she had been half prepared to hear it. It didn't matter that she hadn't seen him for more than three years. There was no way to be ready for the news that you would never see your father again. She heard two steps crunch towards her and Hawk's hand settled gently on her shoulder. She sucked in a breath, fighting not to sob. "And...and Tanvel?" she whispered.

  Yar cleared his throat. She could hear the regret in his voice as he said, "There is no time to mourn. You must tell Prince Vistaren that the gods begin to wake."

  "My father is dead!" Azmei burst out. "My brother is in danger! My cousin has committed treason! I must save my brother."

  Darixu stepped so close that his shadow fell across them. He was taller and broader than Xellax, but even in her grief, Azmei saw that Xellax didn't retreat from him, and was glad. "You must warn the world," Yar said.

  Hawk's hand tightened slightly on her shoulder. Azmei straightened and lifted her chin in defiance. "How can I do that, if my life is in danger and my brother is taken from the throne? How can I carry any message if I am pursued by my enemies, who would see my entire family dead so they can wrest the throne for themselves?"

  "A petty mortal concern—" Yar began, and then broke off as Xellax turned her head and snapped her teeth together at Darixu. Azmei didn't need a translation to tell her that the green dragon was angry at the golden one.

  "Wait," Yar said, tilting his head. "No, Darixu, it is logical. Princess Azmei is more useful than Azmei of no kingdom. As sister to the king, she will have a louder voice." He lowered his face. "Have we not seen how humans act?"

  There was a moment of silence, and the pressure bled away. Azmei's head throbbed in the absence of the dragon speech.

  "Besides," Yar said, and he turned his back on her, facing the two dragons. He was speaking for himself now. "Azmei helped me. She's the one who brought me to you. I wouldn't have made it here without her. I want to help her." He paused. "I need to help her."

  There was a long silence then. The dragons were looking at each other, and Azmei had the sense they were communicating with each other, but she didn't feel the same pressure she did when they were trying to communicate with her. Did they have some other method? Why did they even care that the gods were waking? Why did they want to warn the humans, if they lived so far away in their hidden valley and thought the deposing of kings was a mortal concern?

  And if they thought of humans as petty mortals, how long did dragons live?

  "What is your request?" Yar said, and she was jolted out of her thoughts. He had turned to face her again. Azmei stared at him. She didn't have a request. She hadn't even considered...

  She should have. Kicking herself for being so unprepared, she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, trying to remember how she had stood when she was a princess and not a mere assassin. "My condition is this," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Come out of your valley. Fly with us to Tamnen City. Help me show the world that my brother has powerful allies."

  There was only a moment of silence before the air around them erupted into bellows and snorts, trumpeting and roaring. Each of the half-dozen or more dragons that had flown with Yar exploded into sound. One blue dragon leapt into the air, screaming shrilly, and settled back to earth with a shuddering crash. Azmei shifted her feet to give her better balance, but she didn't withdraw the challenge.

  She realized one of the dragons hadn't moved. Xellax was still watching her, swirly silver eyes focused on her in an unnerving analysis. The elegant green head lowered until her eyes, each bigger than Azmei's fist, were even with Azmei's. There was appreciation in those eyes, and respect, Azmei thought. Xellax seemed to be Yar's dragon, the one he was most closely bonded with, somehow. Azmei hoped that any fondness Yar had for her was shared now by his dragon.

  "You don't know what you are asking," Yar said quietly. "They have been hidden here for..." His gaze flickered as he searched for words. "For centuries. For...longer, maybe. It has been ages since the dragons revealed themselves openly to humans."

  "We have stories of dragons," Azmei argued. "Not all of those stories are that old." She looked back at Xellax. "You know it's true. Maybe dragons as a—as a nation haven't revealed themselves. But some of you have. Some of you have fought with humans, or tricked humans, or been tricked by us. But I know there's more to you than that."

  Yar sighed. "Your brother may already be deposed," he whispered.

  "What?" Azmei whirled on him. "What did you see?"

  He closed his eyes. "There is fighting. Between buildings. In streets. The buildings are white and made of stone." He licked his lips and swallowed. "I see statues carved of people, white statues, and...and tombs. There is...one of them is new. It isn't finished. And when I look up, lift my gaze beyond the statues, I see smoke coming from the white towers."

  Azmei uttered a cry of disbelief before she could stop herself. Then she swallowed it and pushed her shoulders back. Hawk's hand fell away from her. "Those are my terms, regardless," she said, and her voice rang out through the fray. The dragons fell silent, all of them watching her.

  "Come to our aid, or I will not serve you," she said. "Even to save the world."

  Darixu bellowed, and for just an instant, Azmei understood him. SHE CANNOT BE SO STUBBORN! She didn't need Yar's whispered translation. But Xellax's silvery gaze was amused as she watched Azmei, and she did not try to make Azmei hear her.

  "Oh," Yar said. "I believe she can."

  ***

  An hour later, the dragons were still arguing. Azmei, Yar, and Hawk had retreated to the fire, where Hawk had brewed another kettle of coffee. Yar was staring down at the fire, his shoulders relaxed, his silvery eyes half closed. He was eavesdropping casually on the dragons, but he knew they would give in.

  "Is it well?" Azmei seemed to accept the changes in him, but he could tell she was concerned. He didn't know what Hawk was thinking, but he decided he would worry about that later.

  Yar looked over at her. "I am content, if that's what you mean," he said. "I understand them better now. And because of the Joining, they won't—they won't have to take over my mind entirely. They'll be able to reach me better. At least, Xellax will, and the dragons can reach each other no matter how far they are, unless they deliberately cut each other off."

  Azmei nodded. "What will the dragons do?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "They'll give in. They'll have to. They can't carry the message themselves. You've seen how hard it is for them to communicate. They can't make people understand them. Most people."

  "But you can carry the message," Azmei pointed out.

  Yar grinned at her. "But I won't, unless they agree to your terms. I said I wanted to help you. You're my first friend, really." Orya didn't count, because Orya was his family, and now Orya was dead. He pushed down the tiny reminder that Azmei was there when Orya died. Orya had chosen her path, and if he wanted to blame someone, he ought to blame himself. Orya had chosen the path she did to protect him, after all.

  The relief and gratitude on Azmei's face made him uncomfortable. He looked back down at the fire. "And I don't want your brother to die. You and Hawk like him, and that means he's worth liking."

  "Thank you." Hawk's voice was quiet and Yar couldn't read any emotion in it. Hawk was scary, even though Yar liked him.

  "What will you do?" Azmei said.

  Yar shrugged. "I think I'd better come with you. And Xellax will. And Rexiel wants to come, though he won't say why. They'll come whether or not any of the othe
rs do. But they will. She'll talk them around."

  Azmei nodded and went still. Yar looked up and realized the dragons had approached. Xellax led them, but Vetterix, Xerin, Rexiel, and Inlux came too. Darixu brought up the rear, and his wings were folded tightly against his back. Yar wasn't sure how he knew, but Darixu had been overruled, and he didn't like it. But he accepted it, and that was all Yar needed.

  "Very well," he translated as Darixu spoke into his head. "Six dragons will accompany you. These five, and another who has volunteered. I will remain here to guard the Shrouded Vale. Should you tell anyone where we hide, it will go ill."

  "I wouldn't tell anyone," Azmei said. "Why would I wish you ill? You have agreed to help me."

  Darixu lowered his head and didn't reply.

  "You won't be able to take the horses," Inlux told Yar. "They won't allow us to carry them. It would fright them to death."

  Xellax looked slyly at Yar. "We could eat them."

  Yar glared at her. "Not funny," he said, and then realized from the puzzled expressions on Hawk and Azmei's faces that he hadn't translated. "We can't take the horses," he said. "What do we do?"

  Hawk deliberated. "Turn them loose here in the Vale. They have plenty of grass, water, and shelter. They'll be fine until we can return for them, whenever that may be."

  "They will be safe here," Xellax assured Yar. "Why would anyone eat horse when there is venison aplenty?" The lofty tone of her voice in his head denied that she had ever suggested eating Firefoot.

  Yar gulped. He hadn't thought about leaving Firefoot behind. "I'll have to say goodbye to Firefoot," he mumbled.

  "Very well," Xellax told him. "Say your farewells. When the sun is full overhead, we fly."

  Chapter 29

  Razem stared down at the map of the city, wanting to weep for each red stone that marked spots where fighting had broken out. "Father, I've let you down," he whispered.

  A red stone at each of the city gates, because the city guard had barred the gates from the inside and out. They barred entry and exit, and Razem could only pray that his cousin Lady Ilzi had already left the city. If none of the rest of them survived this, at least she could be safe. But then, if Arisanat won, Razem knew he would execute Ilzi and all her family. He wouldn't be able to let any blood relatives of the Corrone live, not after this.

  A red stone at the docks, also held by the city guard. That had to be Razem's next objective. If he could free the docks and send a ship to Salishok for aid—but that was a big if. And who could tell if there would be any loyal ship captains left? Arisanat would be a fool if he hadn't secured the docks for himself, and Arisanat was anything but a fool.

  Then again, whispered a little voice, Venra was the strategist, not Arisanat. That gave him some hope. Not much, because Birona was shrewd enough to make up for Arisanat's lack. But at least it gave Razem a chance.

  "What does it say about a king, that his nobles rebel against him less than a week into his reign?" he muttered to himself.

  There was another red stone marking the family homes of Burojan, Birona, Belnat, and Talt. Razem didn't know for certain that there was fighting at all of them, but certainly there had been fighting at Arisanat's home. The guards who managed to escape after the arrest went wrong reported that he had slain several guards and taken Ysdra captive, wounding him in the process. Razem had been watching Kho carefully since that announcement; there had been no ransom demand for Ysdra, and Razem feared there wouldn't be. Insurrectionists couldn't afford to allow for ransoms.

  Footsteps rang on the floor behind him. "Add a red stone to the guild section," Kho said. "Burojan's troops have taken it handily. And still no word of Ysdra." He stared down at the map, his brown face haggard. "I fear for him, my lord," he murmured.

  "As do I." Razem rubbed his forehead, trying to dispel the headache that had nagged at him since Aris' rebellion. "Lady Tarra's warning may not have come in time." He couldn't help resenting her for keeping her silence for so long before coming to him. He understood why, and he wasn't petty enough to punish her for it, but he still wished she had told him about the rebellion sooner.

  "We'll have to make the best of it," Kho said.

  Razem nodded. His whole body ached for sleep. He wanted the tiny luxury of sitting on his balcony with a glass of wine at sunset, and then a full night to spend asleep in his bed. Instead, he knew he faced another night of pacing around the war room, eating on his feet and stealing snatches of sleep in his chair. He must be available to Kho at all times.

  "Any response to the messages we sent to Lord Daix and Lady Riman?" The nobles who were in the royal palace when Arisanat attacked had been required to stay, both for their own protection and to prevent them from joining the insurrection. Razem had not seen any way to keep the news from them, nor had he seen any benefit to hiding the news from them.

  Lady Tel and her daughters and sons were all within the royal palace; they had closed their house in the city after Lord Tel's death, removing to their estate except when Lady Tel was needed for Council. Razem had offered them apartments in the palace for Marsede's funeral and they had planned to remain through Razem's coronation.

  Lord Restin was also within, as was Lord Daix's wife and heir. No one knew where Lord Daix and his younger son and daughter were, however, and Razem feared the worst.

  "Only that Lady Riman will aid us," Kho replied. "Nothing from Daix. I have a report that there are archers in the area near the homes of lesser nobles."

  "Damn." As one of the Nine, Daix was entitled to one of the mansions in the Family District, but they had only risen to Ninth a handful of generations ago, and they had never moved the household. Razem wondered now if that was because they lacked ambition, or because they preferred the privacy and distance from the other Families.

  "Just so, majesty."

  "What about Ilzi? Is it still unknown whether her retinue made it outside the city?"

  "No one knows. I will keep my men searching." Kho was standing very straight. Razem could tell he was ashamed of his failure, but Razem had no time for recriminations.

  "I must see for myself," he said, his impatience finally boiling over. "Let us inspect the walls. I can't stand to stay pent up in here, Emran."

  Kho's expression said he understood, but didn't like it. "Majesty, if they should test the palace walls again—"

  "They inevitably will," Razem interrupted. "And I will be there if they do. I would encourage my soldiers, and thank them for their service."

  Kho sighed and bowed.

  As they made their way through the palace, Razem was all too aware of the healers bustling along passages, carrying bandages and healing unguents in preparation for receiving the wounded. In the passage to the chapel, he saw families gathered, waiting for comfort from the clerics. Razem couldn't ignore the fear singing silently through the hallways. He summoned a page and gave orders that the evening meal in the great hall should be open to all who were sheltering within the palace walls. The page nodded smartly and trotted off to convey the orders.

  When they reached the defenses, the soldiers lining the wall cheered him. It was all Razem could do not to stare. Why did they revere him? Why did they care at all? What had he done to inspire loyalty? He'd been a poor prince, the past three years. He'd stomped around in a temper, drinking too much and fighting too much, and frankly, as much as Aris' betrayal hurt, he wasn't sure he could even blame him.

  It should have been Azmei here in front of them, he thought. She at least deserved their loyalty. She could command their love.

  "But I'm all they have," he whispered, and straightened his shoulders, looking at the soldiers with pride on his face and in his bearing.

  "My loyal soldiers!" he cried. "We are being tested, but I swear I shall stand with you and fight beside you. We will pass this test!"

  They cheered again, but they were restless, and he knew he must find something else to say. "I know you are angry," he said, pitching his voice to carry. "I, too, am angry. I kno
w you are hurt at this betrayal." He looked around at them and saw nodding heads. "I, too, am hurt at this betrayal." What now? How could he inspire them? He licked his lips. "But I tell you now: I would rather have no other men and women to fight beside me than you! This palace guard is made up of the most valiant fighters, the most loyal soldiers, the bravest men and women that we could find! I am proud to call you my companions!"

  This time the cheer went on and on, and Razem smiled at them, holding out his hands, arms spread wide as if he would embrace them all. They pressed forward, each of them wanting to meet his eyes, to touch his hand. He obliged as many as he could, giving a smile to everyone, nodding his head, allowing them to tug at his sleeve and pat his shoulder. It felt almost as if they were sucking energy away from him, but it was worth it, if it gave them new heart.

  Finally the press thinned and Razem and Kho were standing alone on a parapet overlooking the city to the north. In the street below, a makeshift barricade stretched from building to building. It was made of boards and cobbles torn up from the street and packing crates that had been torn apart. In one spot, a fruit vendor's cart, still half-full of produce, had been rolled into place to fill a gap, and rubble had been piled against it on either side. The barricade was bristling with pikes and spears and halberds. Razem stared at it, feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut.

  "Majesty." Kho's voice was quiet. "You have given them courage. It was well done. But I beg you, return to the palace."

  Razem shook his head.

  "At least take shelter inside one of the guard towers," Kho urged.

  "When dark falls, perhaps," Razem said. "But for now, I must be here, with them." He squinted. "What is that smoke there?"

  Kho strained in the direction Razem had pointed. His shoulders slumped. "It looks like a warehouse is on fire, majesty. I believe Lady Riman owns that block of buildings."

  Razem had opened his mouth to speak when a ruckus below caught his attention. He looked down and saw that a small force of armed men was attacking the barricade. "The king!" shouted the attackers. "The king!"