by James Duvall
Rickthicket took a moment to blink away his surprise. “Well yes, that's correct. Have you ever been in a war, Joshua?”
“There were wars back home, but other people fought them. I was just a student. I read about them but I never lived one before all this.”
“This will mark my fourth,” Rickthicket said. He sat down on the window sill and took a matchstick from a quiver strapped to his back. A knife no bigger than a shard of glass came out from his belt and he started whittling away at the wooden base. “You can read about wars all you like, but its rare they tell you what comes after. War is like a grand adventure. Do not mistake me, I have no love of killing, but there's something about the journey. You haven't been here long, but I imagine you have not met any others of my kind.”
“I've wondered about that,” Joshua admitted. Secretly he had always thought Rickthicket to have been some experiment of Marreth's peculiar sense of curiosity, but he had never found an appropriate way of broaching the subject.
Rickthicket nodded to him, then held the sharpened edge of the matchstick up to the moonlight to check the point. “Most anthilmarrians never leave the foothills of Anrastad. Their burrows are all they need in life. To me it became tedious and my magic made me strange. I went on one little journey to Camden. That's all it was meant to be. I was going to purchase a book on magic, maybe teach it to a few others to help fend off the foxes. But I got sidetracked at the university. That was nigh forty years ago this spring. The adventure gets into your blood somehow. Poisons your mind against the life you left behind. You're not the same man you were when you left. You above all people can appreciate that. When you first crawled out of that muddy pit, you were so frightened.”
Joshua snorted distaste. “I went up the hill and tackled a dragon nearly half a shoulder bigger than me.”
“Pfeh!” Rickthicket said, dismissing him with a wave of his little hand. “A cornered coward will still often fight rather than die. You were afraid, I could see it in your eyes. You had hesitation in every step. There was terror in your guts. You were so afraid of losing your old life you talked about nothing else. Then last month you crashed through that gate, roaring and fighting like you were born for it. You're a different man, no use denying it; a better man.”
Joshua nodded somberly, watching the burning horizon. “And you think that's what's happened to Syrrus?”
“Grimlohr's company is in odd keeping for a woman her age. If she was anything like her sisters, she'd have a child at her breast by now and another soon to come. I trust she has her reasons. As for us, we've got our orders. Anthony Graham wants us to hang back in reserve. This seemed good as place as any.”
“They know where to find us?”
“They'll send the signal when they need us. Two silver bursts.”
After a time Rickthicket had carved the matchsticks into makeshift wands. As was his practice he collected three of them before imbuing each of them with a simple spell.
“Times like these it's never a bad thing to have one more fireball spell in your back pocket,” he said, bundling them all into a pouch on his back like a quiver of arrows.
Joshua heard the soldiers returning before he saw them. There were many boots. More than either remembered seeing go out. Squinting through the moonlight Joshua counted some twenty spears rising over the hill.
“More of the reserve?” Joshua asked quietly.
“Do they have markings from Camden or Lockworth?” Rickthicket asked, leaning out the window. “My eyes aren't what they used to be.”
Joshua could not see Camden's dragons. The ground murmured a complaint beneath him. “What is Lockworth's symbol?”
“A gray wolf, open-jawed.”
The ground murmured again, this time the floor creaking in sympathy as the manor trembled. Three pairs of flame rose over the hill next, in columns like a funerary march through the midnight hour.
“They've got golems!” Joshua hissed. He stepped out onto the first floor roof and worked his way quietly to the corner. Rickthicket hopped down to the ground next to him, smoke already rising from the crown of his staff. The two of them moved through the trees undetected, making their way to the front corner of the estate.
Rickthicket scurried up a tree and looked out over the embankment from a limb over Joshua's head. “Two gray shamblers and a shalebark.”
The war party stopped in its paces as the sound of wind rushed over their heads like a volley of loosed arrows. Shields were lifted, swords raised. Cloaked in darkness their foe alighted on the other side of the road, bright eyes burning with cobalt passion as he lifted his head. Joshua growled, baring his teeth as the soldiers formed up to face him. He could see fear in their eyes. Likely they had not expected to find a dragon fighting on Arcamyn's behalf; so few were.
Rumbling like boulders rolling down a hill, the golems jogged heavily out in front of their much softer compatriots, plucking trees from the ground to swing at the swift-winged dragon. A quick spray of flame turned each into fiery batons, making them easy for the night seeker to see. The golems were not swift. Their adversary danced through them, a whirlwind of claws gleaming with the magic of a raging nightstorm, savage and unshackled.
Enchanted claws tore through stone like hot swords through soft clay. A golem tried to punch Joshua in the face, only to have its rocky limb ripped from its body and slammed to the ground.
The soldiers formed ranks, spearmen circling close to the golems as they dared. They jabbed at Joshua whenever the golems left an opening. Suddenly one burst into flame and fell screaming. His allies danced back, skittish. A third golem joined the attack, forcing Joshua to turn his back on the spearmen. A gout of flame warmed his back as Rickthicket's flames found another victim.
A lieutenant shouted for attention. “Hold your ground! Form up on--”
His words fell away, lost beneath the roar of a dragon's fury. Joshua ripped the golem's head off. It's body teetered and fell. Joshua sprang onto it and lunged over the line of golems with a single wing-assisted leap.
Dozens of soldiers faced him now, gripping swords and spears in shaking hands. Their formation dissolved in seconds. Rickthicket was among them, small and swift, running on all four legs and carefully skirting stamping boots. He sewed the seeds of panic among them, bursting geysers of flame here and there, sometimes directed beneath a man's feet, sometimes simply nearby. Joshua took a deep breath.
***
Rickthicket warped onto a low tree branch further down the road, blocking their retreat with a wall of fire. His staff shimmered with red light.
“There, in the tree! A mage!” one of the soldiers shouted. He flung his spear toward Rickthicket with surprising speed.
Having no time to dodge, Rickthicket gripped the weapon with his magic. An unseen force snatched the weapon from the air. For a moment it hovered in ghostly hands, shuddered, then exploded into burning shards that fell upon the enemy like rain. Rickthicket tipped his hat to the dumbfounded spearman and warped away.
Darkness flashed before him for an instant as he pierced the veil. The chill of the cold lingered behind him like winter wind through an open door as the blue-stained night appeared again, his feet falling a short distance to the branch beneath him. His tail curled against the branch for support. The magic came like muscle memory, second nature as he picked out his target. Fired. Warped. Landed. Fired. Warp. Land. Fire. The effect was beautiful. Fireballs rocketed down from stone, branch, rooftop, and signposts, nearly a dozen falling stars. Some of the ralians might have thought it was an omen on any other night. This night it was so, and it bore out its consequence in a volley like rolling thunder, breaking the ground and the frail bodies that stood upon it.
Ice crystals clung to Rickthicket's fur as he clawed and scrambled his way up the rooftop and back into the safety of the study he'd once apprenticed in. He could barely feel his hands and his breath was still coming in misty puffs when he collapsed against the wall, feeling his age.
“Still got i
t in me,” he said wryly to the darkness, once the ache had faded from his bones.
“Are you alright?” Joshua asked, poking his muzzle in through the open window. Rickthicket gave a start, hopping quickly to his feet.
“Of course I am!” he blurted out in answer, then brushed the ashes from his fur and straightened his hat and cloak.
“You left this on the roof,” Joshua said, producing a small wooden rod and placing it deftly on the sill. Rickthicket blinked at it, then reached for the war staff on his back and found it missing. He retrieved it with a huff.
“I'd be a lot more alright if I didn't have dragons scaring the wits out of me every time I try to take a brief nap.” Rickthicket's tirade broke off long enough for him to peer out at the broken shingles.
“Marreth is going to kill you,” he announced.
Joshua lifted a paw to look at the damage to the roof, several broken shingles slid to the edge of the roof and fell to the walk below to break into even more pieces. “Maybe he won't know it was me?” Joshua offered, weakly.
“Dragon tracks. You. make. Dragon tracks.” Rickthicket glowered, arms crossed over his chest. “He'll patch those holes with your scales! What's worse is I was right here watching you! He'll blame me; that much is certain.”
“You getting scolded is worse than him killing me?” Joshua scoffed. “Hardly seems equitable. Besides, the signal went up. I was busy looking for you. We need to meet the others. Do you want a ride?”
You go ahead,” Rickthicket said, leaning his back against the window frame. He slid down to rest. “I'll warp over there once I've recuperated a bit. Tell Anthony they're sending golems around to flank. We need a mage with the patrols.”
***
Burning buildings passed beneath, here and there men skirmished, fighting in the streets and alleyways. Most of the fighting was concentrated in the middle ring. Joshua could pick out the rooftops of all the similarly built houses jammed along either side of streets so narrows as to barely permit a carriage to pass.
The streets were contested but the sky was his. The night seeker cut through the darkened sky with a whistle like a reaper's scythe, descending on unwary ralian fortifications from behind, spraying sapphire flame and pitching clawed men onto their funeral pyre. Where the siege engines did not tarry, the dragon had his day. With a triumphant roar he tore down the burning barriers and soldiers carrying the marks of dragons and wolves upon their armor poured through the gap.
By the first light of dawn Joshua's wings ached and his magic once again felt tired and muted. He stopped to drink from a duck pond and saw darkness in his draconic eyes, and they were his eyes now. At some point he had become accustomed to the creature that looked back in the mirror. He lowered his head and drank, letting the water cool his throat. The ralian force was in full retreat, driven back by the ferocity of Anthony Graham's Lockworth Garrison. When Joshua returned to the city center he found he was too exhausted to assume his alter and so simply sat at attention with his head high, the amulet at his neck pulsing as he announced that he was ready for another flyover if needed.
“You've done well, son,” Graham said. “Rest yourself. Today is won, and we'll have need of you sooner than I'd like.”
Joshua found a place to rest in the shade of the water fountain. The cool mist was soothing and he drifted off without meaning to. He woke to a light tap on the nose from the base of Syrrus's staff.
“Good work today,” she said. “Any injuries?”
“Nothing serious. Bruised as hell.”
“I'll make you a salve later, for now I need you to get up. Grimlohr's here and we've been summoned to discuss taking back Camden.”
Joshua groaned and struggled to his feet. Still, it was better than being locked in that damn apartment for another month.
Chapter 37
To Reap the Whirlwind
Camden, Arcamyn
And when the last light was struck and the last song was sung all the world fell into a silence that would last a thousand years.
High upon the wind, Joshua Woods crossed over Camden's walls. He could hear men shouting beneath him but by the time they had turned their ballistae toward him he would be well out of their range. Seeker wings were too swift for that. He was lightning through the sky, a flash of light through the darkness.
Fires dotted the western hills; Anthony Graham's army had been brought to bear. Each pinpoint of light meant a hundred men or more. From the walls they would count them as numerous as the stars.
The bitter smell of death hung on the air, stronger than he had ever sensed it before. He had to fight instinct to push through it like flying into a driving wind. Only when he had acclimated to its presence could he shake the fog from his mind and see the source. A royal dragon hung from St. Penathor's broken tower, swathed in chains and soaked in blood. His wings were held open with hooks driven through the sails. Even from this distance Joshua could see the deep gash in the dragon's throat. The tower had been stained dark with his blood.
Joshua circled the tower once, spiraling in to get a closer look. He wanted to confirm that it was Garrodar, and not some other dragon. By then he had drawn the attention of some of the archers. Arrows sang past. One glanced harmlessly off his back, signaling it was time to move along. He could hear the telltale clanking of gears as a ballista was re-oriented. The archers would not get an opportunity to fire. Joshua sailed high into the air with a beat of his powerful wings, then dove swiftly into the mage quarter and vanished among the buildings.
There was no sign of what had happened to the mages. Every doorway and window was dark. Of course it was difficult to imprison mages of any skill level, so those that were taken alive were likely to have all been executed. How many had taken their fate into their own hands and escaped into the Cold? Joshua shuddered at the thought.
Ostentatious as St. Penathor's high towers and soaring archways, Camden University stood proud and empty, surrounded on all sides by green lawns and white marble statuary of men and women wearing robes more formal and flowing than any of the mages Joshua had come to know. This was the difference of a warrior's life.
The fountain in front of the empty library was the designated meeting point and Joshua found it without trouble. The library steps seemed a good enough place to wait. He could see the road in both directions, but it was empty. It was just as well, Rickthicket was not known for his frequent walking of roads. No, he would simply step out of the darkness onto one of the rooftops or perhaps in one of the darkened buildings and perch on the sill until he spotted Joshua.
Joshua heard boots on the cobblestone road long before he spotted their owner. The man was alone, carrying a sword in one hand and a buckler in the other. He wore a cloak much like the one that Joshua had grown used to seeing draped from the shoulders of Anthony Graham, only this man's cape did not bear Ilsador's silver cross. It was tattered on the edges, the loose shreds flailing in the breeze. The sword too rung familiar, glowing with a soft haze that Joshua could only see through a dragon's eyes.
When the man came around the corner, he would not find the dragon. Instead, the dragon found him, having let the paladin stride right past while the night seeker's scales blended neatly with the shadows along the library wall.
“Do not turn around,” Joshua commanded in cool, even tone.
“As you wish,” the paladin said, his hand tightening around the haft of his sword.
“Are you Sir Thomas Thabe? Where is Rickthicket? He was supposed to be with you.”
A small voice cleared its throat from the edge of the library roof, causing Joshua's head to sweep up to look at it.
“It would please me if you did not take a bite out of our scout,” Rickthicket said. He started climbing down one of the downspouts and then leaped onto Joshua's back.
“You had me worried.”
“Thought I would be here sooner?” Rickthicket asked.
“Much.”
“There is no warping within the walls of Camden,”
Sir Thomas said, turning around slowly. He sheathed his sword and in one deft motion brought his hand back up with a half-empty bottle of something that smelled of spirits. He took a tempered sip and stuffed it back into its harness alongside the blade. “We've got enough anchor stones to assure that. Least we did before that portal of fire opened up into the Cold. That's how Kreen got in. He brought a few dozen with him. We had twenty of our own stored in the old water cistern. They came alive on their own and joined ranks with the others.”
“Kreen being the speaking golem?” Joshua asked.
Rickthicket answered with a nod. He climbed down from Joshua's back and started drawing a crude map of the city with the nonflammable end of one of his matchstick wands. The top he lit for light, holding it up like a torch. It burned far long and slower than it ever should have. “Our objective comes first. Kreen is exceptionally well-guarded. Do not throw your life away thinking you can be the hero.”
“There is also Gulderthag,” Thomas added. “Though he does not seem as quick-witted as Kreen. He makes up for it in size though. Morphial's got him posted at the South Tower, where General Tamlin and most of the other paladins have been imprisoned. Sir Fendrick and myself were able to conceal ourselves among the conscripts.”
In the distance Joshua heard a sound like thunder as the first of Anthony Graham's siege engines began to pummel the Crusader's Gate. The sound echoed through the city and silenced all conversation until the roar had passed.
“We've little time,” Rickthicket said. In the wake of the stone barrage the city seemed quiet as the grave.
“To the gate?” Joshua asked.
“No. That's Calderrian siege equipment. It will handle the gate within the hour,” Thomas said. “There are too many golems there for us to make a difference.”
“We'll hit the barracks and Halder's Tower simultaneously,” Rickthicket said, pointing out the targets on his map. “General Tamlin and the paladins will be in the prison tower here on the south side of the palace. It is likely to be only lightly guarded. The problem is that the paladins are not armed and any attempt to free the soldiers will result in the ralians executing their prisoners.”