The Fifth Magic Read online

  The only sources of fresh water were clouds and rainstorms, but those had been scarce. It was as if someone had driven all the clouds away. Another reason they had stopped talking about their destination was that there was nothing they could do about it. They had no control over where they were going, no way to help Sinjin and the Drakon--if even they were alive--and no way to return to Windhold to assist those who remained. Had something on the horizon not attracted his attention, he might have screamed. There was something, though, and it grew more distinct by the moment.

  "What is that?" Durin asked out loud, his throat dry and sore.

  It took a moment for anyone to respond. Finally Strom said, "That's perhaps the least inviting place I've ever seen."

  Jutting from deep water was a black stone tower--no windows, no gates, nothing to indicate the structure was habitable. Waves as tall as greatoaks slammed into one side of the tower, leaving huge swirling depressions in the seawater on the far side. Seabirds flocked around it were the only life to be seen.

  Durin muttered the same phrase over and over as he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed. Fly right by . . . fly right by . . . fly right by . . .

  The closer they came to the tower, the more ominous it appeared. Fear clawed at Durin. Having no control made the feeling far worse. He trusted Valterius, to a certain extent at least, and he didn't think the dragon would do anything to intentionally hurt him. At the same time, dragons were proving unfathomable and unreliable allies. No matter how wonderful the ability to fly, he wasn't certain he'd ever get back on a dragon once he found his way home. Engulfed within the tower's shadow, getting home was less and less likely.

  "Why would the dragons bring us here--wherever here is?" Osbourne said into the oppressive silence. "They could have left us to die any number of places along the way. Flying out here to do it seems like a lot of effort."

  The dragons appeared irritated by the discussion, but Durin didn't care. He was pretty unhappy with the dragons at that point. "Whatever it is they plan to do, I hope they just get on with it and do it."

  With that, Valterius climbed steeply. The other dragons followed. Though he was strapped in, Durin held on with everything he had. It was self-preservation. If a single strap failed, his grip might be the only thing holding him in place. Their ascent began to slow, and Valterius pumped his mighty wings before alighting atop the mighty stone tower, which stood as a grim monument to some long-lost civilization. No one in their time possessed the knowledge required to build such a massive structure in deep water so far from any shore. Well, that wasn't entirely true, but it frightened him to admit some people currently alive possessed sufficient power to do such things. Still, this place exuded a sense of ancient foreboding. Atherian landed not far from Valterius. Grekka soon followed. The other dragons circled overhead. Durin waited to see what Strom and Osbourne would do.

  Valterius blocked his view and nudged him with his maw. Durin had absolutely no intention of removing his straps. He was comfortable right where he was. The dragon disagreed and nudged him again. Seeing Strom unbuckling, he said, "Don't!"

  "They flew us all the way out here," Strom said. "What else are we supposed to do? They must have brought us here for some reason."

  "I don't care what their reason is," Durin said. "I'm not going in there. I'm not even convinced it's possible to get in there."

  Strom might have said something more, but Valterius had Durin's full attention. Now biting at his straps, Al'Drak might destroy the saddle completely if Durin did not dismount. Then he would never get home. Uttering words he'd thought he'd never use, he started undoing the straps. Valterius watched with an unreadable expression, and he couldn't help but stick his tongue out at the dragon, who snorted in response.

  All three had dismounted, dangerously close to the tower's edge in Durin's opinion. There wasn't so much as a railing to prevent a person from plunging into the depths so far below. Valterius nudged him again, except this time pushing him toward the other side of the tower.

  "If this isn't for a very good reason," Durin said to Valterius, "I'll find you and haunt you."

  The dragon had the courtesy to look the slightest bit abashed before leaping back into the skies and flying away.

  * * *

  Much of Sinjin's childhood had been spent playing on the meeting chamber floor. It had been some time since the room had seen any use. On this day, Catrin had called a conference, and Sinjin felt more than a little strange sitting at the table as a participant. He felt like a pretender. His mother appeared fragile and weak without her power, and Sinjin wondered if the Fifth Magic weren't slowly killing her. Allette arrived a moment later, guided by Kenward. Few had been willing to tend to Allette's needs, but Kenward felt sorry for the girl. Sinjin could almost understand where Kenward was coming from, but seeing them together just felt wrong, and he couldn't shake it.

  Chase and Martik were also in attendance, along with Brother Vaughn, Wendel, Jensen, and Miss Mariss.

  "I've not had the opportunity to speak with all of you individually. I apologize," Catrin said. Even her voice sounded thin and weak. "I know my disappearance was terribly difficult for all of you. I'm sorry about that. I cannot tell you everything, but know that I did what I had to do."

  "You shone like Vestra when you arrived here," Allette said, surprising everyone. "And then you vented the excess energy. Why draw so much?"

  The question caught everyone except Catrin off guard. "I no longer draw energy. I cannot keep the energy out." Allette covered her mouth in shock. "You have a barrier or a doorway you must open to access the power, correct?"

  "Yes," Allette said, her suspicion poorly masked.

  "My barrier is gone," Catrin said, and more than one pair of eyes bulged. "I have access to all the energy around me all the time whether I wish it or not."

  "That is why I invited you here," Trinda said from the doorway, once again proving her talent for stealth.

  Again, Catrin did not appear surprised. "While I appreciate your invitation, I had the situation quite in hand."

  Trinda smiled a knowing smile. How much did she know, Sinjin wondered, and how long had she known it? She had access to information within Dragonhold no one else did, but he suspected it went further than that--a lot further.

  "This place is a sanctuary for those who need refuge from the burden of Istra's power," Trinda said.

  "I wasn't seeking refuge," Allette said, her eyes never leaving Trinda. "You violated the peace we declared. We are at war."

  "And that is why I invited you," Trinda said. "The world is a safer place with the two of you within Dragonhold."

  "I don't remember being invited," Allette said, her voice smoldering.

  Trinda gave a slight bow of her head. "In the best way I knew how."

  Allette maintained her aggressive posture. "And what of you? Why lock yourself within your own prison?"

  "I have made this sacrifice for the good of my people," Trinda said, her face a mask of innocence. "I have done what needed doing. Tell me, how else would the world ever have been rid of you?"

  The anger building within Sinjin knew no rival. Trinda had drawn his mother and Allette here, imprisoned them, and now she was taunting them. Before he knew it, he was out of his chair and moving toward the child queen.

  "No!" his mother shouted, but his momentum carried him forward, and his anger drove his hand to her throat. Trinda's guards reacted just a moment too late, and he had the girl's delicate neck in his hands. He could crush the life out of her if he wished, but even after all she'd done, he didn't wish it.

  Lowering his lips to her ear, he whispered something only she heard and that she alone would understand. Then he let go. Trinda's guards immediately pushed him back, and one drew a fully charged herald globe from his pockets. Sinjin's opportunity had passed, and Trinda once again had the advantage.

  "We're going to have to find a way to get along," Trinda said. "We're going to have a lot of time to spend with each
other."

  "Thanks to you," Allette said.

  "You're safe now," Trinda said.

  Those words flummoxed Allette, and she said no more.

  "I'm sorry to have interrupted your meeting," Trinda continued. "I thought I might save you a bit of time. The Fifth Magic is irreversible. There's no sense planning your escape. None of us are leaving this place. Ever. You might as well get used to the idea. And while the people here once were loyal to some of you, they are no longer. Try to subvert them, and you might find my patience at its end."

  No one had to ask what power Trinda had over those within the hold. She held the herald globes, powerful weapons when over-charged, and she also had the staff and Koe. Those, Sinjin realized, were now the only sources of power within the hold. Somehow, he would have to find a way to get them back for his mother. The staff appeared to have been locked in stone during the activation of the Fifth Magic, and he wasn't even certain it could be removed. The dragon ore stones themselves pulsated with light, promising a fiery death to any who tried removing the serpent's eyes.

  "You may go anywhere in the hold unless my guards say otherwise. Consider yourselves my guests," Trinda continued with a wicked smile. "I'll leave you to plot your escape."

  Chapter 17

  To soar above the land is to see it in a way the landbound can never understand.

  --Onin, master of the old guard

  * * *

  Sevellon the thief moved through Dragonhold with casual detachment, as if only there to see the sights. Most ignored him; he was, after all, short in stature, and he'd spent a lifetime learning ways to keep people from looking at him. Being a good thief required far more than stealth and physical dexterity, though those were certainly important. A good thief knew planning was the key to success. Understanding the people and the culture and all the details of daily life could dramatically reduce the chances of being caught. Since most thieves are caught only once, it was a matter of utmost importance. Sevellon had kept his head on his neck for this long, and he hoped the trend would continue.

  Those who did watch Sevellon pass had been trained to see everyone and everything and retain pertinent details: soldiers and guards. Even the off-duty guards and retired soldiers were easy to spot. There was a hardness about them that could come from only the difficult work they did, not to mention the way they held themselves and the way their eyes moved. Most people failed to see much of what was around them, but thieves, guards, and soldiers knew details saved lives.

  For Sevellon, the life saved was generally his own or perhaps his patrons', but the master thief had never before known the pride of using his skills to help people he truly cared for, people who had given him a second chance. Few things had been given to Sevellon in his life. Almost everything he possessed had been taken from someone else, which made any sort of kindness or generosity stand out.

  Kenward Trell had given him a second chance.

  Part of Sevellon wanted to distrust; it was the thief in him. Why would anyone be kind to someone as undesirable as he? he asked himself. Surely anyone looking out for his best interest did so for reasons of his own. The thoughts made him hesitate, but he continued, doing something he'd almost never done: believing in someone else.

  When he passed the guard hall, filled with observant men and women, he did not rush past, as his initial impulse urged him to do. Instead, Sevellon slowed and peered into the hall. Many eyes turned to him, and he gave them a nod of acknowledgment. It was all that was needed to put these people at ease. He moved onward with a smile on his face.

  The entrance to the kitchens was flanked by sweating guards who didn't even look at Sevellon when he entered. The place was the heart of the hold and was never silent or dormant. Those who toiled there tolerated the intense heat for the sake of the people they fed, but it was known to keep tempers at the ready. Miss Mariss stood nearby, and Sevellon approached a young woman he'd never met. She wordlessly handed him a platter of potato and onion hash with a slab of whitefish over it. The smell made Sevellon's stomach grumble. Under the pretense of finding a place to eat his food, the thief moved deeper into the hold.

  As he approached the forge, a discordant ring was audible. Even the rhythm of the hammer blows was wrong. In Strom's absence, someone had had to assume the smith's duties, and it appeared the available talent was limited.

  Silence was all that emerged from the now dormant glass smithy, but beyond lay what had once been a storeroom and was now the secondary entrance to the inner keep. Sevellon half expected to be stopped there, but the guards posted simply made certain he stayed away from the supplies still stored there as well as the glowing runes recessed into the floor. Sevellon knew the purpose of some of those runes. Keeping them guarded was wise.

  These guards looked at him differently than those flanking the kitchens. These men watched over something dangerous and powerful, and it showed on their faces and in their eyes, whereas the kitchen guards were posted more to maintain order and to prevent anyone from demanding more than their share of food.

  Detecting these differences was the entire purpose of this stroll through the halls. Sevellon did not need to sneak through the hold to discover where the things of real value were being kept; all he had to do was walk past the places where guards were posted and read their faces.

  His food was growing cold, and the thief soon found an open space where he could eat his meal and not be in anyone's way. Benches and other alcoves were spread throughout Dragonhold, and Sevellon seated himself at a nearby bench. Passersby paid him no mind. He listened to their conversations as they walked, trying as he always did to piece together many small clues to get a better overall picture of the situation in general.

  The main thing Sevellon sensed from the people of Dragonhold was fear, followed closely by uncertainty. No one understood the exact nature of the barrier erected around the hold, and most of what Sevellon heard was speculation. Some conversations were far more telling than others. Despite all their training and experience, guards and soldiers were still people, and this day proved they didn't always know when to keep their mouths shut.

  Eating slowly so as not to run out of food and be seen as eavesdropping, Sevellon blew on the already cold potatoes.

  "Need to double up on the guard around the entrances to the queen's chambers, as well as those leading to the control room. Also, if you see anyone going to the stone forest, let them go but report back to me immediately. Is that clear?"

  Keeping his eyes down and now playing with his food, which was almost gone, Sevellon did his best to become invisible. In this regard, he was ill prepared. When the captain of the guards finished speaking, he turned to leave, and that was when his eyes landed on Sevellon. Concern flashed across the man's visage, and the thief knew he was in trouble. Meeting the captain's eyes, he gave a respectful nod. For a brief moment, Sevellon thought the man might arrest or interrogate him, but then he returned Sevellon's nod and walked toward the kitchens. Knowing how men like the good captain tended to think, Sevellon did what he could to eliminate any remaining suspicion. Getting up, he followed the captain back to the kitchens to return his platter.

  * * *

  Kenward's snores filled the very hall where Catrin had once found Imeteri's fish. Not far from Catrin's quarters, these accommodations had been available and made sense on every level. Still, Sevellon hated them, no matter how much Kenward spoke about history. The place reminded him of a prison cell, something he'd spent his entire life trying to avoid. The time or two he'd spent in a cell had been brief and not for stealing. Sevellon did his best to shake off the feeling and decided not to count his many failings. On this night, he needed to focus on his strengths. A certain sense of invincibility was required to pull off something this dangerous.

  Doubts threatened his confidence even as he removed painted clothes from beneath his cot. At least this room had given him a place to hide the things he'd been gathering to make this possible.

  Memories also
plagued him. Not so long ago, he'd been happy. With the wind in his face and nothing but clear skies around him. Flying aboard the Serpent had been the most enjoyable time of his entire life. Though he'd been under Trinda's employ, he belonged on Kenward's crew. They were a rare breed. Never before had Sevellon known others possessing bravery and audacity to match his own. They made him proud.

  Up until this point in his life, finding a way out of the back alleys he'd grown up in had been among his greatest accomplishments. What he was about to attempt was perhaps the most daring act yet. If he did fail, he would know he'd never let fear stand in the way of helping those for whom he cared.

  In a way, he also knew he'd be forcing their hands. Trinda had made it comfortable for them here, and the motivation to find a way out was far less urgent than Sevellon desired. Perhaps another man would have let others decide his fate or might even have enlisted help, but what Sevellon did best, he did alone. Still Kenward's snores echoed in the hall. Sevellon was thankful for them as they covered any sounds he made changing in to clothes he'd painted to match the mottled surface of the keep's inner walls. He wore no shoes and instead painted his feet and face and hands. A cloth covered his hair and the back of his neck, and he tied knots at the bottom of his pant legs to make them tight and to keep them from moving.

  The halls were dark, but night vision was among Sevellon's strengths. The child queen had hidden the herald globes she horded, save on occasions when having them visible suited her needs. Sevellon had a good idea where they might be, but herald globes were not what he sought. Their absence from the halls aided him greatly. Since the keep was now reliant on torches and oil lamps for light, most were extinguished during the night, leaving occasional pools of light to expose him. It was not the initial part of this journey he feared, though even discovery by his allies would take some explaining.

  Nearing the great hall, Sevellon slowed. A single shadow crossed the torchlight surrounding the entrance to the hall. The guard remained almost perfectly still, and Sevellon suspected he was sleeping, but patience was among his most trusty tools. He waited and watched. After a hundred breaths counted, Sevellon crept closer. He moved noiselessly, but it was probably unnecessary at that particular moment, since Jehregard's snoring drowned out all other sound. The dragons were on Sevellon's side. Each one taxed the hold's supplies. Feeding them had been among the greatest challenges. No one knew how long the creatures could survive without food, which created a great sense of urgency.