I walked through the conference room’s door and rejoined my waiting trio of friends.
“That’s been taken care of.” No one asked where Esteban had gone off to. “Let’s go. I don’t think we have much time left.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
The transport spell deposited us in the antechamber to the throne room with a white flash. It startled the blue-suited page who’d been busy scrubbing the floor nearby. The poor kid let out a yelp and scooted backwards, almost knocking over his bucket of soapy water.
I held up my hands and tried to look reassuring.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Sorry for startling you. Is the King holding court in the throne room right now?”
A shake of the head. “I’m afraid not, Dame Chrissie. His Majesty is in council with a few select lords and Master Seer Zenos. They are in his private library. Would you like me to precede you there?”
I considered and dismissed the idea in an instant.
“That won’t be necessary, I know the way,” I responded. The page bowed as my friends and I headed down the passage to the Great Hall and the library that lay beyond.
“It might have been prudent to let the lad precede us,” Galen noted, as he walked at my side. “His Majesty might not like being interrupted at a private council.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “but Master Seer Zenos is also in attendance. That means everyone’s going to be in a bad mood already.”
Sure enough, as we reached the bottom of the stairway leading to the private library, the sounds of angry voices echoed down from above. I took the stairs two at a time. Not surprisingly, even the racket of my friends’ hooves and talons on the stone stairs did not blot out the sounds of argument as we entered.
Light cast through the nearby window turned the room’s central table a shade of gold. Of the six men in the room, four stood around the table. The King sat in a nearby chair, watching the interplay as he held his telescoping walking stick across his lap. Yervan stood quietly at his side as always.
Lords Ivor, Alvey, and Behnaz spoke angrily to the fourth man, who sported a long white beard and a familiar electric-blue robe. The Master Seer must have been extremely agitated, as his normally unkept hair had taken on a puffball frizz. He rapped his Staff of Stunning against the floor, but Lord Behnaz’s blustery voice overrode everything else for a moment.
“Your Majesty,” he roared, “I demand that you have this charlatan removed immediately!”
“I second that idea,” Alvey said, in his creaky voice. “Have Yervan throw him out!”
“This is getting tiresome,” Ivor agreed. “And repetitive.”
“You each deny the future at your own risk!” Zenos shot back. “What little future you have left, that is!”
“Dame Chrissie, it is uncommonly good that you have joined us,” Fitzwilliam said, loud enough to cut through the back-and-forth at the table. “Perhaps you can break up the monotony of the day for me.”
I nodded. “I’ll do the best I can, your Majesty.”
“Master Seer Zenos is ruffling more than few pheasant’s feathers with his latest prediction.” The King had a wry smile on his face as he continued. “He says that the doom that he has long predicted – specifically, about the destruction of this kingdom – shall fall on this very day.”
Zenos let out an offended huff. “Sire, I said that the doom would fall upon your palace this very day! Any who stand in its defense before the coming of night shall perish!”
“Ridiculous! Ridiculous!” Alvey said, as he waggled his finger at the soothsayer. “Insane, I tell you! Too much pipe weed for his own good!”
“Or perhaps a bad bowl of frumentum for lunch,” Behnaz added. “Pity it did not keep him in bed.”
Ivor scoffed in turn. “This is nonsense, and I have heard enough of it!”
“You see, Dame Chrissie?” the King said, before spreading his hands. “So, what news do you bring us?”
Okay, then.
This was going to be awkward.
I couldn’t bring myself to speak for a moment.
Fitzwilliam leaned forward in disbelief.
“Don’t tell me that you believe Master Zenos’ latest pronouncement!” he said, astonished. “It is nothing short of preposterous!”
I took a breath. “Sire, is the man’s pronouncement any less preposterous than the one which saved your throne at the Battle of the Oxine River?”
The King looked thoughtful at that. “All right, you’ve made your point. And I see that you bring the Court Wizard, a loyal drake from the Air Cavalry, and the Protector of the Forest. That cannot be coincidence. I must ask again: What news do you bring us?”
I quickly summed up most of what Galen and I had learned earlier this morning. A look of surprise crossed each Lord’s face as they heard about the reappearance of Sir Slate. Then a mix of alarm and disbelief as I spoke of Sirrahon’s appearance, Slate’s death, and my hunch that the dragon would strike here next.
“Sire, this is laughable!” Alvey declared. “This woman has already made you waste most of our cavalry on that jaunt to the Oxine–”
“I have heard enough from you on that point, Alvey!” Fitzwilliam snapped. “Those eggs were broken and mixed a long time ago. And while you may debate the wisdom of my use of cavalry, do not forget that Dame Chrissie’s information on the movements of the Ultari was correct.”
The King got up and, with the help of his walking stick, made his way to the window. I turned and watched as he leaned against the lower sill, peering out. The window here gave Fitzwilliam a north-facing view of the palace grounds and its outer rampart. Beyond the palace lay a handful of city blocks and the Capitols’ defensive wall. This wall was lower than the one that ran around the palace, and it was punctuated by a road that led through the North Gate.
Outside the city gate, the lands opened onto an open, flat plain. Around a hundred foot soldiers and perhaps half that number of archers ran through their drills. Off to one side, mounted knights performed maneuvers in plain sight upon that grassy field. Their armor gleamed and their pennants waved in the warm breeze.
Further beyond the soldiers, the fields shifted abruptly to deep green forest. The forest rolled on to the horizon in a series of undulating hills. The mountain peak where the Old Man of the Mountain had once resided glinted gray in the misty distance.
“It is Lord Ghaznavi’s turn to run the men through their exercises today,” the King said absently. “Yet it appears that less than a quarter of the training field is occupied. Commander Yervan, how many companies of men are currently at my disposal?”
“Two full companies. One of cavalry, one infantry. There is also a half-company of archers. They are deployed on the field before you. Of course, my Royal Guard also stands ready.”
“That is hardly enough to stop a determined band of brigands, let alone a dragon! Where are the rest?”
“Sire, there were demands made of the Regent to keep stability in both the East and West Reaches.”
Fitzwilliam’s voice came out in a growl. “Were there?”
Ivor and Behnaz both turned a shade paler. Lord Alvey let out a cackle.
“You have your other lordlings cowed,” he said. “But I shall not apologize for stating my estate’s needs!”
“Then perhaps you forget that you serve at the pleasure of your liege lord,” the King said ominously. “You are dismissed from my service until further notice.”
The elderly man raised his knobby old chin in defiance.
“So be it!” Alvey spat. With that, he turned and limped off.
Fitzwilliam turned back to Yervan. “I want you to work with the Court Wizard to transport messages to the closest companies of our men in the East and West reaches. Tell them to return here with all speed. Cavalry is to make a forced night march to arrive no later than tomorrow morning.”
Yervan bowed. “I shall see to it, my liege.”
The King then spoke to Galen. “Wizard, might I ask your help in sending out on
e more document?”
Galen inclined his head. “Of course, your Majesty.”
“Then send a second message to your uncle, King Magnus. I realize that he has fulfilled his obligations to Dame Chrissie. But let him know that we expect attack on this front from the Creatures of the Dark. If he can send us some of his warriors, all the better. If not–”
“Yes, Sire?”
Fitzwilliam glanced at Zenos. The soothsayer had a glum, resigned look. “If our Master Seer is right, and this place falls to the enemy…let him know that his kingdom’s survival may depend on rallying what is left of the griffin aerie to his side.”
Both centaur and gold-trimmed knight left at a jog.
“Well, that die is cast,” the King sighed. “Dame Chrissie, have we any idea when our foe might arrive?”
“According to Galen, that is up to one thing which we cannot know,” I said. “And that is how long it will take Sirrahon to recharge his powers.”
“It shall not be long,” Zenos intoned gloomily. “None of these forces can arrive in time. The doom draws nigh, I can feel it in my bones.”
“Then hadn’t you best evacuate your Guild Hall?” Fitzwilliam said, annoyed. “Surely, if the Capitol is to fall, your acolytes should be moved to safety?”
Zenos inclined his head in response. “The city shall remain. Only the palace shall fall, for that is what I saw in my visions. Yet my work is done, my prophecy conveyed. I shall leave.”
The old soothsayer flashed a quick smile of thanks at me as he made his way out. Meanwhile, the two remaining lords looked over to their King, uncertain if they should also leave. Fitzwilliam remained staring out the window, listening as the thump of the Zeno’s staff on each stone step faded away into the distance.
The King squinted, then inhaled sharply. His next words sent an ungodly chill through me.
“What in all the Gods’ names is that?”
Liam, Shaw, and I were at the King’s side in an instant. Behnaz and Ivor followed in our wake but had little success in peering over the Protector’s antlers or Grimshaw’s massive lion bulk. They shouldn’t have envied our view, though.
What I saw made my heart sink.
A massive dust cloud had materialized in the distance, right where the forest ended and the fields began. Despite the breeze, it didn’t drift with the wind. Instead, it stayed in one spot, swirling clockwise in a giant coffee-brown vortex.
The tinny sound of trumpets floated up to us from below. The infantrymen practicing below began to form up into a battle line. Spears and shields held at the ready, they quickly rushed to block the northern entry gate to the city proper. A knight wearing a brown mantle over his armor with a white oak tree sigil on the back strode along behind them, shouting orders.
“It doth appear that Lord Ghaznavi is preparing the defense,” Shaw said, as he brought his eagle eyes to bear.
With the assistance of a squire, Ghaznavi was helped onto his horse. A quick spur, and he moved to join the cavalry company that had come galloping onto the field. They swung off to the right and held their position.
Something moved inside the swirl of mist and cloud.
In a scene right out of a monster movie, a massive spade-clawed leg emerged from the dusty portal. It was followed by a fearsome, hook-nosed head. Then, as if working his way through a too-tight opening, the dragon pushed his way through.
Sirrahon reared up as he let out a draconic bellow in challenge. Even at this distance, the sound rattled the cups on Fitzwilliam’s table and made my ears ring. The dragon’s blood-red scales gleamed in the sun. So did something else.
“Dayna!” Liam whispered. “In his talons, do you see?”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, and an icy fist clenched my stomach. “I should have known that he would bring it.”
The dragon let his front half slam back to earth with a massive boom. His right-front talons rested on the churned-up earth. Horrifyingly, his left remained clenched around a van-sized crystal, one that sparkled and caught the light like a glass of fine merlot.
Sirrahon had brought the Scarlet Crypt along with him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sounds of panic began to filter up towards the King’s window as word of Sirrahon’s appearance got out. People on the north side of the city began to flee down the streets leading south or ran back to their houses. Those that returned home slammed doors behind them and closed their storm shutters as if hoping that this would pass as quickly as a bout of bad weather.
Distant crumps announced each of the dragon’s steps across the fields. Lord Ghaznavi continued to shout orders to his men. Fitzwilliam gripped the window sill, transfixed by the scene below.
“Arrow storm!” he muttered under his breath. “Give him a storm of arrows, turn him away from the city!”
We were much too far away for Ghaznavi to hear us, of course. But the lord must have been thinking along the King’s lines, for he held his sword aloft for a moment, and then brought the blade down in a sweeping motion.
The archers, who had been drawn up to the right of the field with their bows drawn, let loose all at once. The whisper of a company’s full flight of missiles tickled my ear. The arrows crested in their flight arc and came down to rain upon Sirrahon’s body.
Each of the razor-sharp, steel-tipped heads bounced off the rock-hard scales. I squinted to watch the ones that impacted around Sirrahon’s glowing yellow-white eyes. These missiles also bounced off. They were stopped at least a foot before touching the eye’s translucent patch of scales.
Magical shielding, I thought. The same thing that stopped my bullets.
Lord Ghaznavi next shouted orders to the sole company of cavalry around him. In Andeluvia, only the centaurs made use of the lance in battle. But squires quickly supplied each of the mounted men with a long, slender spear.
The cavalry quickly moved into a wedge-shaped formation and charged at Sirrahon’s flank. As best I could tell, the dragon seemed amused by the charge. He halted, providing a huge, unmissable target until the men got within twenty yards.
Then, moving with far too much speed for something so large, Sirrahon simply pivoted his torso away from the oncoming knights while whipping his tail around in a whiplash-inducing snap. The tail acted as a scaly battering ram that knocked knights out of the saddle or horses off their feet.
Sounds resembling the crash of a demolition crane at work echoed off the palace walls. Fitzwilliam and his lords winced at it. Far below, the grass was strewn with bodies of both horses and men. Some remained where they fell and did not get up. A couple of the horses whinnied in fear and pain and galloped off the field, dragging or tossing off their barding as they did so.
Ghaznavi’s horse lay still, its neck broken. The Andeluvian lord got shakily to his feet. He rallied the closest still-standing knights and moved into a limping run as they charged the dragon, swords drawn.
Sirrahon watched as the armor-clad men drew near. He seemed to smile as he drew back his foreleg, striking out with the same catlike reflexes that had snared Shaw in our first battle. Spade-shaped claws smashed three of the warriors into the dirt.
Lord Ghaznavi hacked at the dragon’s limb. His sword merely glanced off. Sirrahon struck a second time, throwing up a cloud of dust. When it cleared, I choked back a pained sob. The first casualty of the Order of the Ermine lay smashed and broken on the field.
A second whisper in the air, and again a flight of arrows bounced off Sirrahon’s scales. This time, the dragon seemed annoyed. The ruby gem he clutched in one set of talons glimmered as his reptilian voice coughed out a magical incantation.
The archers let out shouts of shock and disbelief as their bows glowed green before shattering into splinters in their hands. Weaponless, the men fled for the safety of the palace.
Sirrahon picked up speed as he lumbered forward, approaching the ranks of spearmen that still held their shield wall. The last formation guarding the city’s North Gate. My blood ran cold as the dragon snorted, and
then followed that up with the accelerating chuff-chuff of an oncoming diesel engine.
A cone of fire erupted from his mouth, sweeping orange-red flame across the mass of men.
The front ranks broke as the flames either roasted men alive or set them alight. They panicked and ran for the rear. The rest of the company held for at most a handful of seconds before they too made for the North Gate.
Heavy footsteps came pounding back up the stairs. Commander Yervan burst through the door, shouldering his way through the assembled nobles to get to the King’s side.
“Sire,” he gasped, “the Court Wizard and I saw the dragon’s arrival. He is sending out the last of the messages to our men. I have sent the Royal Guard to begin an evacuation. With your permission, I shall escort you out of the palace.”
Fitzwilliam finally managed to tear his eyes away from the window. He stared at the Yervan as if he hadn’t heard him correctly. Then the King straightened up as best he could while he clung to his walking stick.
“Out of the palace? Out of my palace, you mean! Fetch me my sword, Commander. I and any lords worthy of the name shall take the fight to that beast!”
Now it was my turn to stare. In fact, everyone in the room did the same. Finally, one voice broke the silence.
“Thou must not put thy life at risk!” Grimshaw declared, as he half-spread his wings. “‘Tis easy enough to see that only a griffin can combat this monster. I am at thy command, your Majesty. Only give me leave–”
“Sire, do not give that leave!” I broke in, as I moved to face the drake. “Shaw, you fought Sirrahon once before and he beat you. Handily. And don’t forget, you weren’t fighting alone!”
“You are the most noble of griffins, but Dame Chrissie is right,” Fitzwilliam agreed. “Were you aided by a lance of your kind, I would give leave. But this is a job for my lords and their men.”
Outside, the last of the remaining knights that had faced the dragon on the field had made it through the North Gate. Someone released the metal portcullis, which rolled down to block the gate with a metallic clang. Sirrahon’s front half vanished from sight behind the bulk of the wall.
Dragon with a Deadly Weapon Page 18