Dragon Child

by Elana A. Mugdan

  “Yes, the epithet is not a particularly pleasant one.”

  “So when Roxanne says they’re going to visit Effrax’s father,” Fletcher began, turning his attention to the runes, “does she mean the Fironian palace?”

  “She must.” Taeleia rolled the paper up and returned it to Fletcher. “If I may, what is the quest the letter was referring to?”

  Fletcher swallowed, fiddling with his glasses nervously. “Did you happen to hear about Keriya’s trial in Irongarde?”

  “She accused Gohrbryn Tanthflame of being a traitor, told a story of how she had been chosen by Shivnath to defeat the Shadow, and asserted that she had succeeded.”

  He winced. “She thought she had. Everything she said was true. Shivnath did choose her, changed her eyes and gave her powers and all of it. So the quest they’re referring to is—”

  “Killing Necrovar.”

  Fletcher jumped at the unexpected voice. Danisan had come to stand behind him, staring down at him with a bright gleam in his obsidian eyes. Fletcher nodded, reflecting that this was the longest sentence the large elf had ever spoken.

  “I’m afraid lunch is canceled,” said Taeleia. “We have a lot of ground to cover, seeing as we’ve been heading in the wrong direction.” She strode to the saberfangs. Fletcher glanced at Danisan, who motioned for him to get moving. He hurried to their midnight-furred cat, Yvore.

  They set off again, doubling back the way they’d come, urging the cats into a near-gallop. Fletcher clutched the straps of Danisan’s pack, pursed his lips, and prayed to Shivnath that they weren’t riding to their doom.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  “In times of crisis, men will show their true characters.”

  ~ Hanso Isiron, Twelfth Age

  Roxanne lay in the corner of her prison cell. She had lost track of how many times she’d counted the gray wall flagstones. There were plenty of animals around—mostly rats and spiders—but since the Imperial Guards had dosed her with evasdrin upon entering the dungeon, she could no more speak to them than she could fly.

  The only redeeming quality about the dungeon was that it was pleasantly cool. Indrath Nazrith was built on a dormant volcano that had collapsed in on itself ages ago, but warmth still rose from the ground into the palace. The dungeons were in an annex east of the main building, away from the worst of the heat.

  It was small comfort that Roxanne wasn’t roasting. She had told her friends to join her in a city overrun by Imperials and shadowbeasts, and she had no way to warn them off.

  “Helkryvt’s blood, I don’t even know if they’re alive,” she muttered.

  She heard the creak of rusty hinges and the echo of soft footsteps. Was it time for her meal already? She’d also lost track of the hours and days.

  The footsteps stopped. “Enjoying the view there, Tigress?”

  Slowly, she sat up and turned around. “You,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at Effrax. He was illuminated by the dim light of the fire crystals lining the corridor. “Why are you here?”

  “I know you must be angry with me—”

  “That’s the understatement of the bloody century!”

  “Shh!” He put a finger to his lips and crouched to be on her level. “I’m sorry about what I did, but I had no choice. I had to try to gain Tanthflame’s trust.”

  “Congratulations,” she snapped. “Have fun with your ‘new regime.’”

  “I don’t think the new regime will last long. My father and brother are dead.”

  Roxanne’s furious words died on her lips. She crawled toward him, trying to figure out if this was the truth, or a story he’d fabricated to win sympathy. Up close, he looked awful. His face was haggard, his usually carefree expression dulled by grief.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “How did it happen?”

  Something flickered in Effrax’s eyes. He reached for her, then seemed to think better of it, gripping one of the iron cell bars instead. “Do you want the long version or the short one?”

  She stared into those mahogany eyes, bright with secrets and sorrow. His pain softened the sharp blade of her anger. “The short one will do.”

  His shoulders rose and fell with a shuddering breath. “They were tied to Necrovar.”

  Roxanne shook her head. “He’s been busy. He got Thorion, he got Valaan, and he got your family. Wait . . . does that make you king?” From what she’d seen, the rulers of each Allentrian state passed their titles on to their children.

  “Under normal circumstances, my claim to the Lava Throne would be contested because I am not considered Salix Embersnag’s legitimate son.”

  “But?” she prompted when he fell into a brooding silence.

  “But these aren’t normal times. Though my father’s servicemen never liked me, they like Tanthflame even less. They want him and his followers gone, and they’ve agreed to back my bid for the throne if I can depose him.”

  “Then it’s not all rainbows and roses like he made it seem,” said Roxanne.

  “Tanthflame’s apparently pumped loads of money into the state to integrate the shadowbeasts into society. So things are good now,” Effrax explained, “but it won’t last. It can’t.”

  “You’ll have a job getting rid of him,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

  Effrax cleared his throat. He shifted his weight on the floor and looked away from her. “We aren’t going to do anything. I can’t free you.”

  Roxanne stared at him for a full ten seconds, processing this statement. “Why not?”

  “I’m not king yet.”

  “That’s why I need to get out. I can help—”

  “It’s too dangerous,” he said, as if that were a valid excuse.

  “Are you kidding?” She fought to keep herself from shouting at the top of her lungs. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re going to keep me here because you—”

  “This isn’t like everything we’ve been through, Roxanne.”

  The use of her real name wasn’t lost on her, but she was past the point of being able to calm down. Righteous indignation boiled inside her.

  “I don’t see how it’s any different from the Galantrian Village or Irongarde,” she growled. “Besides, it’s not your choice. You put me in here against my will, and I demand to be let out!”

  “I can’t,” he said, his voice cracking, his face crumpling in defeat. The expression made him look like he’d aged ten years. “I’ve done terrible things. And I’m about to do more terrible things . . . things I don’t want you to see.”

  The strain in his voice tore at her. She could tell it was costing him every ounce of his willpower to admit this. Roxanne wondered what had happened during the week she’d been locked up.

  “I’m sure you had good reasons,” she managed. “I don’t mind taking drastic action as long as the end result is—”

  “I’m not letting you out.”

  “And I’m not going to sit in this dungeon while you’re fighting!”

  Effrax squeezed his eyes shut, stood, and turned his back on her. Roxanne scrambled to her feet, her body protesting the sudden movement. She was sore from the evasdrin and she’d done nothing but lie on the stone floor for days.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” she cried.

  Effrax flinched at her voice but didn’t respond. He started limping up the hall, head bowed and shoulders hunched.

  “Effrax? Effrax!” She pressed her face against the ribbed iron bars and reached after him. “Come back!”

  “You’re safer here, Tigress,” he said. “I’ll return for you when this is over.”

  Then he entered the stairwell and was gone.

  Roxanne collapsed, slumping against the cell door. She wanted to howl her wrath, but despair was seeping into her, leaching her of the will to scream.

  A spider scuttled a
cross the floor, making its way toward the wall. It paused in its path, and Roxanne could have sworn that it glanced her way. But she couldn’t communicate with it, poisoned as she was; so the spider abandoned her as well, vanishing into a crack in the bottom flagstone.

  Effrax Emberwill pushed open the iron grate, emerging from the musty dungeon stairwell into the humid night air. He didn’t feel good about leaving Roxanne, but what he’d said was true. She would be safer where she was.

  And he certainly didn’t want her to witness any of the awful things he was about to do.

  “There you are.” Effrax looked up to see Tezlyn Blazecair, captain of the palace guard, striding toward him across the open-air courtyard of the annex. “The healers have finished your father’s autopsy. Still no clue as to who killed him, rest his soul.”

  “My money’s on Tanthflame,” said Effrax, proud of how well he hid the quaver in his voice.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, all he’s done, but we’ll be investigating other suspects,” said Blazecair, giving Effrax a searching look.

  “Investigate away.” Effrax started walking and the captain fell into step beside him. “In the meantime, we have a kingdom to save. How many Imperials are in the palace?”

  “I’d say close to twenty. They come and go, so it’s hard to keep track.”

  “I’m afraid we’ll have no choice but to kill them,” said Effrax, cutting through a gallery that led to the side entrance of Indrath Nazrith. “Your men will be able to take the two soldiers on the night shift. We’ll kill the rest in their sleep. Should be easy.”

  “I agree,” said Blazecair. “But the humans aren’t what worries me.”

  “Right.” Effrax ground his teeth, thinking of the shadowbeasts running rampant in the city. “I’ve fought demons before. I know their weaknesses. If we fight smart, we can defeat them quickly.”

  They reached a door in a recessed alcove and Effrax shouldered it open. He and Blazecair slipped into the palace and ran into none other than Gohrbryn Tanthflame.

  “Dear, dear,” said Tanthflame, shaking his head and giving Effrax a disappointed look. “Is this how you repay my hospitality, Nameless?”

  “Commander-General.” Effrax went cold as he stole a subtle glance around. Two Imperials flanked Tanthflame and two more had emerged behind Blazecair. “You’re up late.”

  “I suppose you were hoping to catch me asleep in my bed to murder me,” Tanthflame said in a flat voice. His eyes gleamed eerily in the scant light, a pair of smoldering embers in a dead fire.

  For a moment Effrax dabbled with playing dumb. Then a shadow behind Tanthflame drifted away from the object that cast it, and Effrax understood. He’d been a fool to discuss his plans in public. Tanthflame had said it himself: he had eyes everywhere, creatures that could lurk unseen in the darkness and listen to private conversations.

  “Can’t fault me for trying, can you?” Effrax flashed the general what he hoped was a charming grin.

  “I certainly can. Betrayal is inexcusable, even when coming from the most disappointing, faithless son of a whore.”

  Just like that, the ice in Effrax’s stomach turned to fire. He looked around again, weighing his chances. Five Imperials against him and Blazecair. He didn’t like his odds on that, but he’d had a very trying week, and he was past the point of rational thinking. It didn’t matter if he died fighting—he just wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk from Tanthflame’s face.

  He embraced his source and ignited a batch of threads. Fire burst from him, billowing toward the guards. Tanthflame must have been expecting an attack because he counter-wielded at once. Effrax’s roaring tongues of red and orange leapt aside, missing the commander-general and his men.

  The fight was on. Effrax dodged a retaliatory attack and dove to the side of the hallway, ignoring the stabbing pain in his bad leg. Pressing his back against the cool stone, he shot a jet of fire at Tanthflame, who wielded to reflect it at him. The fire dissipated before it reached him—Blazecair had saved his life.

  “Thanks, Captain,” Effrax called over the crackle of another fire blast from Tanthflame. He fed his own threads into the blazing streak, bending it to his will, redirecting it toward a gray-robed Erastatian. The air wielder created a shield to defend himself before turning to attack Effrax.

  Thunk! The Erastatian’s eyes went round and he collapsed with an arrow sprouting from his back. Effrax glanced to the far end of the hall. A group of Blazecair’s men was running toward them, weapons drawn.

  Effrax liked his odds much better now. He pushed himself up and helped Blazecair deflect a dazzling mass of fire. No sooner had they diverted the flames than an immense tidal wave rose in its place, thundering toward Effrax and the captain.

  “Defensive Four,” Blazecair screamed to his nearby men. They nodded, and a wall of fire burst to life before them, creating a barrier against the liquid.

  Effrax didn’t know the weave of their spell, but from the size and intensity of the flames, he figured it must be like the magic trick wherein he wielded condensed fire into shapes. The concentrated energy was hot enough to block the water, melting the threads that came in contact with it. Steam exploded from the collision of spells. The corridor filled with scalding vapor.

  Eyes watering and skin blistering, Effrax stumbled away from the palace servicemen. As he ducked around a stream of friendly fire, he found himself once again facing the Commander-General of the Imperial Guard.

  Tanthflame had his sword drawn. He grabbed Effrax and brought the edge of the blade to his neck. Effrax choked as the weapon cut into him. Warm liquid trickled down his neck and soaked into his shirt.

  “Going to kill me without a trial?” His voice was barely audible over the din of the brawling soldiers.

  “They say innocent until proven guilty,” Tanthflame hissed, eyes burning scarlet in the firelight, “but I know what you did. Regicide is a serious crime, Nameless. In your case, it was fratricide, too.”

  “You think I killed my father?”

  The sword dug deeper into Effrax’s windpipe. He struggled not to cough, for he feared any abrupt movement on his part would mean the end of him.

  “It so happens you did what we’d been planning to do,” said Tanthflame. “We needed Embersnag out of the way; after all, you can’t have a king and a Shadow Lord ruling, can you?”

  Tanthflame released Effrax’s arm. Effrax fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding neck. Though he wasn’t wielding, he felt his pulse jump beneath his fingers, racing with horror—or possibly rage.

  “My only regret is that the king and prince died before Necrovar could get secure their souls. At least then they might have been of some use.”

  Effrax glared at the general as the man retreated. Something hot and toxic was twisting its way through him. “Where are you going?” he choked. “Come back and fight!”

  “That would hardly be sporting, given the condition you’re in,” said Tanthflame. “Besides, it’s my sworn duty to inform the Imperial Government of any violent uprisings. I must report your treason to Empress Aldelphia. I’m sure the surviving members of the Council of Nine will take swift and decisive action against you.”

  There was another blast of fire. Effrax was forced to close his eyes against the brightness. When he opened them once more, Tanthflame was gone.

  As quickly as the fight had begun, it was over. Three Imperials and half a dozen servicemen lay dead on the floor. Blazecair and his remaining soldiers stood scorched but triumphant.

  “We got ’em,” growled an old warrior. “The last one turned tail and ran for it.”

  “That swamper had to be a Tier Ten wielder. He could’ve killed us all,” Blazecair muttered as he strode to Effrax. “You alright, boy?”

  “I’ll live,” said Effrax, though he was growing less certain of that by the minute. Determined to stand tall before his father’s servicemen
, he struggled to his feet. It felt like there was a knife in his thigh, but he ignored his old injury. “Tanthflame retreated. I’m sure his guards went with him.”

  “But why retreat?” asked Blazecair.

  “He wants to get to Noryk and present his version of events before we can. He’ll pin my family’s murder on us, and the Council will . . .”

  Effrax paused. The states were always at odds with each other for some stupid reason or another, but never in his lifetime—never in the past four ages—had the empire been this close to civil war. What would the Allentrian leaders do?

  “What are our orders?” asked the old soldier.

  Effrax looked at Blazecair, but Blazecair was looking at him. The servicemen were watching him, too, awaiting a command. Effrax stood in shock. In absence of a king, a prince, and now a general, could it be that the palace guards had turned to him as their leader? He could scarcely believe it. He’d been snubbed by the people of Indrath Nazrith since his birth.

  “Sir?” said the old warrior.

  “It’s Sire now, I believe,” said Blazecair, his brown eyes sweeping Effrax up and down. “Tanthflame is gone and there’s no one else who can ascend to the Lava Throne. Doubt anyone would want to, at this point.”

  Effrax swallowed. He stared around at his father’s men, feeling lightheaded—though that might simply be because of blood loss.

  “Your Highness,” said Blazecair. Though his words were respectful, his tone was sharp. “We await your command.”

  With great effort, Effrax gathered his wits. He straightened—he’d been slouching, favoring his bad leg—and lowered his hand from his neck. He couldn’t fall apart now. He’d wanted to save his kingdom, and he was finally in a position to do so.

  “First thing’s first,” he said. “Get rid of every shadowbeast and Imperial within fifty leagues of Fyrxav. We need to free our city.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  “A secret divulged has the power to destroy a man’s reputation. A secret kept has the power to destroy a man’s soul.”