Dragon Wing (The Death Gate Cycle #1)

by Margaret Weis

  “But it’ll be back, especially if it gets a taste of fresh meat.” Haplo lowered his hands. “And what do I do? Take my little friend here and leave. My work in this realm is completed-or almost so.”

  He could hear, at last, and he heard what his dog was hearing. His brow furrowed, he absently rubbed the skin on his hands. From the sounds of it, the dragon was smashing in another part of the castle. Iridal and the boy were still alive, but they wouldn’t be for long.

  Haplo looked down at the unconscious Sartan. “I could send you into a faint that would last as long as I needed it to last, and transport you to my lord. But I’ve a better idea. You know where I’ve gone. You’ll figure out how to get there. You’ll come to me of your own accord. After all, we have the same goal-we both want to find out what happened to your people. So, old enemy, I’ll let you cover my retreat.”

  Kneeling beside Alfred, he grabbed hold of the Sartan and shook him roughly.

  “Come out of it, you craven scum.”

  Alfred blinked and groggily sat up. “I fainted, didn’t I? I’m sorry. It’s a reflex action. I can’t control-“

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” Haplo interrupted. “I’ve driven the dragon off for the time being, but it’s only gone looking for a meal that won’t fight back.”

  “You … you saved my life!” Alfred stared at the Patryn.

  “Not your life. Limbeck’s. You just happened to be in the way.”

  A child’s thin wail of terror rose in the air. The dragon’s howl cracked solid stone.

  Haplo pointed in the creature’s direction. “The boy and his mother are still alive. You’d better hurry.”

  Alfred swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. Shakily he rose to his feet and, with a trembling hand, traced a sigil on his chest. His body began to fade.

  “Good-bye, Sartan!” called Haplo. “For the time being. Limbeck, are you all right? Can you walk?”

  “My … my spectacles!” Limbeck picked up bent frames, poked his fingers through the empty rims.

  “Don’t worry,” said Haplo, helping the Geg to his feet. “You probably don’t want to see where we’re going anyway.”

  The Patryn paused a moment to run through everything in his mind.

  Foment chaos in the realm.

  His rune-covered hand closed fast over Limbeck’s. I’ve done that, my lord. I’ll transport him back to Drevlin. He will be the leader of the revolt among his people, the one who will plunge this world into war!

  Bring me someone from this realm who will be my disciple. Someone who will spread the word-my word-to the people. Someone who will lead the people like sheep to my fold. It should be someone intelligent, ambitious, and … pliable.

  Haplo, with his quiet smile, whistled for the dog.

  Iridal had tamed dragons before in her girlhood, but only gentle creatures that would have almost done her bidding without enchantment. The dragon she faced now had always terrified her, perhaps as much because Sinistrad had ridden it as the dragon itself. She longed to be able to crawl into the corner of that safe, secure cell in which she had been hiding, but the prison was gone. The walls were beaten down, the door had swung open, the bars fallen from the windows. A chill wind tore at her; the light was blinding to eyes long accustomed to shadow.

  The sin of not doing. Now it was too late for her, for the child. Death was their only freedom.

  The dragon’s roarings thundered above her. Iridal watched impassively as the ceiling split wide open. Dust and rock cascaded down around her. A fiery red eye peered in at them, a lightninglike tongue flicked in desire. The woman did not move.

  Too late. Too late.

  Crouched behind his mother, his arm clasped tightly around the dog’s neck, Bane stared round-eyed. After his first cry of fear, he’d fallen silent, watching, waiting. The dragon couldn’t reach them yet. It couldn’t get its huge head into the small hole it had created, and was forced to rip more blocks from the castle walls. Driven by rage and a hunger for the blood it could smell, it was working rapidly.

  The dog suddenly turned its head, looked back over its shoulder at the door, and whined.

  Bane followed the dog’s gaze and saw Haplo standing in the doorway, beckoning to him. Beside Haplo was Limbeck, peering dimly through the dust and rubble, gazing benignly at a horror he could not see.

  The child looked up at his mother. Iridal was staring fixedly at the dragon. Bane tugged at her skirt.

  “Mother, we must leave. We can hide somewhere. They’ll help us!”

  Iridal did not turn her head. Perhaps she had not heard him.

  The dog whimpered and, gripping hold of Bane’s tunic in his teeth, attempted to tug the boy toward the door.

  “Mother!” the boy cried.

  “Go along, child,” said Iridal. “Hide somewhere. That’s a good idea.”

  Bane grasped hold of her hand. “But … aren’t you coming, mother?”

  “Mother? Don’t call me that. You’re not my child.” Iridal gazed at him with a strange and dreamlike calm. “When you were born, someone switched the babies. Go along, child.” She spoke to someone else’s son. “Run away and hide. I won’t let the dragon harm you.”

  Bane stared at her. “Mother!” he cried out again, but she turned from him.

  The boy grasped for the amulet around his neck. It was gone. He remembered: he had torn it off.

  “Bring him!” Haplo shouted.

  The dog got a grip on the boy’s shirt and pulled. Bane saw the dragon thrust a taloned claw through the hole it had created in the ceiling and make a grab for its prey. Stone walls crashed down. Dust rose, obliterating his mother from his sight.

  The claw groped, feeling for the warm flesh it could smell. A red eye peered inside, searching for its prey. Iridal fell back, but there was nowhere to hide in the rubble-strewn, partially collapsed chamber. She was trapped in a small area beneath the hole in the ceiling. When the dust cleared and the creature could see, it would have her.

  She tried desperately to concentrate on her magic. Closing her eyes to blot out the fearsome sight, she formed mental reins and tossed them over the dragon’s neck.

  The infuriated creature roared and tossed its head. Jerking the reins out of her mental grasp, the dragon’s opposing magic came near overthrowing the woman’s reason. A claw slashed at Iridal’s arm, tearing her flesh.

  The ceiling gave way. Shards of stone fell all around her, striking her, knocking her down. The dragon, screeching in triumph, swooped on her. Gasping, choking in the dust, she crouched on the floor, her face averted from death.

  Iridal waited almost impatiently to feel the sharp, searing pain, the talons piercing her flesh. Instead, she felt a gentle hand on her arm.

  “Don’t be afraid, child.”

  Incredulously, she raised her head. Bane’s servant stood before her. Stoop-shouldered, his bald head covered with marble dust, the fringes of gray hair sticking out ludicrously, he smiled reassuringly at her, then turned to face the dragon.

  Slowly, solemnly, and gracefully, Alfred began to dance.

  His voice raised in a thin, high-pitched chant to accompany himself. His hands, his feet, traced unseen sigla, his voice gave them names and power, his mind enhanced them, his body fed them.

  Burning acid dripped from the dragon’s flicking tongue. Momentarily startled, feeling the man’s magic and uncertain what it was, the creature drew back to consider the matter. But it had already been thwarted once. The lure of flesh and the memory of what it had endured at the hands of the detested wizard drove it on. Snapping jaws dived down, and Iridal shivered in terror, certain the man must be bitten in two.

  “Run!” she screamed at him.

  Alfred, looking up, saw his danger, but he merely smiled and nodded almost absentmindedly, his thoughts concentrating on his magic. His dance increased in tempo, the chanting grew a little louder-that was all.

  The dragon hesitated. The snapping jaws did not close, but remained poised over their v
ictim. The creature’s head swayed slightly, in time to the rhythm of the man’s voice. And suddenly the dragon’s eyes widened and began to stare about in wonder.

  Alfred’s dance grew slower and slower, the chanting died away, and soon he came to a weary halt and stood gasping for breath, watching the dragon closely. The quicksilver didn’t seem to notice him. Its head, thrust through the gaping hole in the castle wall, gazed at something only it could see.

  Turning to Iridal, Alfred knelt beside her. “He won’t harm you now. Are you hurt?”

  “No.” Keeping a wary eye on the dragon, Iridal took hold of Alfred’s hand and held it fast. “What have you done to it?”

  “The dragon thinks that it is back in its home, its ancient home-a world only it can remember. Right now it sees earth below and sky above, water in the center, and the sun’s fire giving life to all.”

  “How long will the enchantment last? Forever?”

  “Nothing lasts forever. A day, two days, a month, perhaps. It will blink, and all will be gone and it will see only the havoc that it wreaked. By that time, perhaps, its anger and pain will have subsided. Now, at least, it is at peace.”

  Iridal gazed in awe at the dragon, whose giant head was swaying back and forth, as if it heard a soothing, lulling voice.

  “You’ve imprisoned it in its mind,” she said.

  “Yes,” Alfred agreed. “The strongest cage ever built.”

  “And I am free,” she said in wonder. “And it isn’t too late. There is hope! Bane, my son! Bane!”

  Iridal ran toward the door where she’d last seen him. The door was gone. The walls of her prison had collapsed, but the rubble blocked her path.

  “Mother! I am your son! I-“

  Bane tried to cry out again to her, but a sob welled up in his throat, shutting it off. He couldn’t see her; the falling stone blocked his view.

  The dog, barking frantically, ran around him in circles, nipping at his heels, trying to herd him away. The dragon gave a dreadful shriek and, terrified, Bane turned and ran. Halfway to the door, he nearly fell over Sinistrad’s body.

  “Father?” Bane whispered, reaching out a trembling hand. “Father, I’m sorry …”

  The dead eyes stared at him, unseeing, uncaring.

  Bane stumbled back and tripped over Hugh-the assassin paid to kill him, who had died to give him life.

  “I’m sorry!” The child wept. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave me alone! Please! Don’t leave me alone!”

  Strong hands-with blue sigla tattooed on the backs-caught hold of Bane and lifted him up out of the wreckage. Carrying him to the doorway, Haplo set the stunned and shaken boy on his feet next to the Geg.

  “Both of you, keep near me,” the Patryn ordered.

  He lifted his hands, crossed his arms. Fiery runes began to burn in the air, one appearing after another. Each touched, yet never overlapped. They formed a circle of flame that completely encompassed the three of them, blinded them with its brilliance, yet did not harm them.

  “Here, dog.” Haplo whistled. The dog, grinning, leapt lightly through the fire and came to stand at his side. “We’re going home.”

  EPILOGUE

  “AND SO, LORD OF THE NEXUS, THAT’S THE LAST I SAW OF THE SARTAN.

  I know you’re disappointed, perhaps even angry, that I didn’t bring him back. But I knew Alfred would never allow me to take the boy or the Geg, and as he said himself, I could not risk fighting him. It seemed to me to be a splendid irony that he should be the one to cover my escape. Alfred will come to us of his own accord, my lord. He can’t help himself, now that he knows Death Gate swings open.

  “Yes, my lord, you are correct. He has another incentive-his search for the child. Alfred knows I took the boy. I heard, before I left Drevlin, that the Sartan and the boy’s mother, Iridal, had joined together to look for her son.

  “As for the boy, I think you’ll be pleased with Bane, my lord. There is potential in him. Naturally, he was shaken by what happened in the castle at the last-the death of his father, the horror of the dragon. It’s made him thoughtful, so if you find him quiet and subdued, be patient with him. He is an intelligent boy and will soon learn to honor you, lord, as we all do.

  “And now, to finish my story. When I left the castle, I took the boy and the Geg with me to the elven ship. Here we discovered that the elf captain and his crew were being held prisoners by the mysteriarchs. I made a deal with Bothar’el. In return for his freedom, he would take us back to Drevlin. Once there, he would hand over his ship to me.

  “Bothar’el had little choice but to agree. He either accepted my terms or met death at the hands of the wizards-the mysteriarchs are powerful and desperate to escape their dying realm. I was, of course, forced to use my magic to free us. We could not have fought them successfully otherwise. But I was able to work my magic without the elves seeing me, they didn’t notice the runes. In fact, they now believe that I’m one of the mysteriarchs myself. I didn’t disillusion them.

  “The assassin was correct in his estimation of the elves, my lord. You will find that they are people of honor, as are the humans in their own curious way. As he had agreed, Bothar’el flew us to the Low Realm. The Geg, Limbeck, was greeted by his people as a hero. He is High Froman of Drevlin now. His first act was to launch an attack against an elven ship attempting to dock and take on water. In this, he was helped by Captain Bothar’el and his crew. A combined force of elves and dwarves attacked the ship and, singing that strange song I told you about, they managed to convert all the elves on it. Bothar’el told me before he left that he intended to take the ship to this Prince Reesh’ahn, leader of the rebellion. He hopes to form an alliance between the rebel elves and the dwarves against the Tribus Empire. It is rumored that King Stephen of the Uylandia Cluster will join them.

  “Whatever the outcome, world war rages in Arianus, my lord. The way is prepared for your coming. When you choose to enter the Realm of Sky, the war-weary people will look upon you as a savior.

  “As for Limbeck, he-as I predicted-has become a powerful leader. Because of him, the dwarves have rediscovered their dignity, their courage, their fighting spirit. He’s ruthless, determined, not afraid of anything. His dreamy-eyed idealism broke with those spectacles of his, and he sees more clearly now than ever before. He has, I’m afraid, lost a girlfriend. But then, Jarre spent time alone with the Sartan. Who can say what strange notions he put into her head?

  “As you can imagine, my lord, it took me some time to prepare the elven ship for its journey into Death Gate. I transported it and Bane down to the Steps of Terrel Fen, near where my own ship had crashed, so that I could work undisturbed. It was while I was performing the necessary modifications-using the Kicksey-Winsey to assist me-that I heard about the Sartan and the boy’s mother and their search. They had traveled as far as Drevlin. Fortunately, I was ready to leave.

  “I sent the boy into a deep slumber, and made my way back through Death Gate. This time, I knew the perils I faced and was prepared for them. The ship sustained only minor damage, and I can have it repaired and refitted in time for the next journey. That is, my lord, if I have earned the right to be sent on another such mission?

  “Thank you, my lord. Your praise is my greatest reward. And now I propose a salute. This is bua wine, a gift from Captain Bothar’el. I think you will find its taste extremely interesting, and it seemed to me fitting that we should drink to the success of our next mission in what we might call the blood of Arianus.

  “To Death Gate, my lord, and our next destination-the Realm of Fire.”

  1 The barl is the main standard of exchange in both elven and human lands. It is measured in the traditional barrel of water. An equivalent exchange for a barrel of water is one barl.

  2 All the floating isles in the Realm of Sky are composed of coralite. The excretion of a small, harmless, snake-shaped creature known as the coral grubb, coralite is spongelike in appearance. When it hardens, it is as strong as granite, though it cannot be cut a
nd polished. Coralite forms very fast; structures made of the substance are not built so much as grown. Coral grubbs give off a gas that is lighter than air. This keeps the isles suspended in the sky, but can be a nuisance when attempting to construct buildings. The magic of first-house land wizards is necessary to remove it.

  Occasionally, deposits of iron and other minerals have been discovered embedded in the coralite. How they got there is not known, but it is presumed to have been a phenomenon that occurred during the Sundering.

  3 Navigational term used in the Tribus Standard. The center for all navigation is the Imperial Palace in Tribus, from which-since early days when the races were at peace-all navigational readings are referenced. A negative rydai refers to moving closer to the current position of Tribus, while a positive rydai refers to heading in the opposite direction.

  4 Sterego is a fungus found on the isle of Tytan. Humans of that land have long used crushed sterego as a healing balm. Elven explorers during the First Expansion noticed that the slow-burning, pungent sterego was far superior to their own pipethorn plant, and was less expensive to grow. They transported it to their own plantations, but there is apparently something special about Tytan. No other variety can match the original in flavor and aroma.

  5 Water was scarce in the Mid Realm. Rain fell infrequently and, when it did fall, was immediately soaked up and retained by the porous coralite. No rivers or streams ran through the coralite isles. Various plant life growing there trapped water. The cultivation of crystaltrees and cupplants was an expensive, laborious means of obtaining the precious liquid, but it was the main source (other than stealing from the elves) of water for the humans of the Mid Realm

  6 Menka or, more precisely, menkarias rydai, is the elven standard form of measurement. Classically, it was said to be “one thousand elf hunters high.” In modern times, this has been standardized by establishing that elf hunters are six feet tall, thus making the menka equal to six thousand feet. This has led to considerable confusion between the races, due to the fact that elven feet are somewhat smaller than those of humans.