Dragonhold (Book 2) Page 4

  * * *

  The Great Hall had probably never before seen such disarray. There had been chaos there before when refugees erected a tent city, but that paled in comparison to the Serpent's wreckage, crushed as it was beneath the Dragon's Wing. Onin and Jehregard huddled against the exterior wall, far from the main entrance, which had become a dangerous place. In an apparent fit of panic and rage, the feral queen attacked debris blocking the God's Eye tunnel. It was difficult to understand what was happening.

  The more time passed, the less likely he and Jehregard would escape Dragonhold alive. His chances were better than the dragon's, given he needed far less food to survive than the mighty beast. He wasn't sure how long his valiant companion could go without food and water, but the verdant dragon was already showing signs of negative effects. If it came to it, he had decided the two of them would fly from the hold. They would either make it through or they wouldn't; far better to choose their own fate. Jehregard moaned and came as close to a sigh dragons could accomplish.

  "I know, old friend. I know."

  Onin was still stroking the dragon's eye ridge, which had purposefully been placed low enough for him to do so, when Miss Mariss arrived with a half dozen helpers. "I don't blame you for not wanting to leave your dragon, but you must eat."

  Onin grunted in response.

  "I'm told my brisket is unmatched in the world. Would you care to judge?"

  By the aroma, the woman did not boast, and a fine woman she was. "How is it that you are unmarried?" he asked.

  "Well . . . I . . . uh . . . I mean . . . I . . . uh . . ."

  "You're a beautiful woman whose food is art," Onin said, despite the deep crimson Miss Mariss was turning. "Were I not married to this great oaf of a dragon, I do believe I'd chase you anywhere you chose to run."

  Those who had accompanied Miss Mariss did their best to pretend they'd heard nothing and concentrated on filling Jehregard's water and food troughs. What they brought was not enough to sustain him, but Onin could ask no more. Those within Dragonhold took a great risk to feed his dragon. When the food was gone, it was gone. Dragonhold had never achieved the ability to feed its inhabitants without food from the outside, and that was no longer an option. Onin recognized this and wondered how much longer they should remain a burden on these people. He was an old man, and he'd lived a rich, full life. Then he laughed. He was too stubborn to die.

  Miss Mariss watched him as if he were an unfathomable mystery.

  "You're kind to an old man and his dragon," he said. "We both acknowledge and appreciate what you do for us. Do not worry over my words. I was never very good at giving compliments."

  "You did just fine," she said with a kind smile that melted Onin's battered heart. When she squeezed his arm, he felt things long since lost. "If you need to get away from here, for some time to yourself or whatever you need, call for me. I can have someone sit with Jehregard while you're gone."

  "Thank you," Onin said. Jehregard gave a mighty woof of gratitude that struck the retreating people like a wind gust. Miss Mariss looked over her shoulder one last time as she walked away.

  "We're going to have to figure out a way to survive this," Onin said to his dragon. Jehregard shook the hold's foundations with a deep baritone roar.

  Moments later, Allette Kilbor strode into the Great Hall unannounced, save the sound of the feral queen moving behind her. So much for staying out of trouble, Onin thought. The Black Queen moved directly toward him, leaving little doubt as to whom she sought. When standing before him, she stared flatly, no emotion on her face. Her dragon, however, made its intentions plain. Rising up to her full height, the feral queen extended her wings and poised her head, ready to strike. Though she was smaller than Jehregard, it was not by a large margin. Onin didn't want to find out which, if either, would survive such a fight. In all likelihood, both would die.

  "You're a good man, but you are powerless," Allette said by way of greeting.

  "You are beautiful but tactless," Onin replied.

  Allette wasn't quite prepared for that response, and it took her a moment before she spoke again. "Onin of the Old Guard, do you believe there can be peace between the Jaga and the Heights?"

  "Relative peace existed for thousands of years," Onin said.

  "But the feral dragons were in hiding for most of that time. They cannot hide now. They will not hide."

  "Still," Onin said. "Would you allow the verdants to fly high above the Jaga, as they once did?"

  The feral queen had not relaxed much, but she either understood his words or read Allette's thoughts. Those massive eyes narrowed, and the dragon moved her face closer to Onin. Behind him, Jehregard shifted his weight, agitated.

  "If your dragon strikes," Onin said, his voice going cold and hard, "there will be no peace."

  The Black Queen turned and hissed, and to Onin's surprise, the dragon was cowed. After giving him a look that spoke of a painful death, the feral queen assumed a less aggressive posture. Jehregard gave a woof, as if to say that was how it should be.

  "There must be trade. No sanctions," Allette said.

  This caught Onin off guard; never before had there been relations between the Jaga and the Heights. The Jaga had always been a wild place inhabited by dangerous creatures and even more dangerous people. The lord chancellor's policy had always been to avoid contact with the Jaga's inhabitants at almost any cost. Verdant dragons were more comfortable than ferals at high altitudes, and flying high above had worked for many generations. Now a single individual represented the Jaga--a unifying force.

  Onin had no real power over those in the Heights, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to talk sense to them. "Done."

  "You can make them do this, Onin of the Old Guard?"

  "What other choice will they have?"

  At this, the Black Queen smiled. "You're a good man."

  The burly man nodded, metal rings tinkling in his beard.

  "Will you help me get out of this place, Onin?"

  For a brief instant, the Allette Kilbor of old was visible. As Thundegar Rheams had once said, Allette was no evil dictator; she was a good girl who'd been damaged by a cruel streak of fate. Onin knew something about that, as did Jehregard.

  "We wish to leave this place as well," he said. "But how?"

  "Come with me. I'll show you."

  Allette and Onin walked side by side. A good bit of noise accompanied them as their dragons did their best to keep up, sometimes knocking down anything in their path to not let the other gain an advantage. Onin noticed Thundegar Rheams watched from not far away, and he wondered if the man's presence might be a boon, but then Thundegar stepped back into the shadows. Onin decided to pretend he hadn't seen the other man. He hadn't seen Rastas the cloud cat make his way back to Allette's side, and he was caught by surprise when the cat swiped at him with needle-sharp claws. Onin's reflexes weren't completely gone, and he narrowly avoided a new scar. Allette hissed at the cat, who continued to stare at Onin, tail twitching with mischievous intent.

  The remains of the main gate gave the cat other things to hold his attention. The shield enclosing them was wholly unnatural and blotted out everything else. Allette walked all the way to the edge and pointed to the megalithic stone spire jutting from the ruptured landscape. With their graceful curves and runic inscriptions, these stone fingers stood at the heart of their problems. Between them stretched a membrane of pure energy. How and why, Onin didn't know, but that much he could see.

  "We can leave the hold," Allette said. "We just can't yet escape the barrier. But if you look closely, you'll see that the barrier does not envelope the stones, it only fills the air between them. There is weakness we can exploit."

  "What would you have me do?" Onin asked.

  "Help me figure out how two dragons and a handful of people can take down one of those spires."

  Chapter 4

  Dreams are fueled by belief.

  --Enly Mandone, bard

  * * *

 
Jessub Tillerman was torn. Part of him was loyal to Catrin. She'd done so much for his family and had changed their lives. Some would say he and his kin lived solely because of her actions; it was a difficult debt to overlook. The same, however, could be said of the crew of the Dragon's Wing. Benjin and Fasha had taken him in as their own, even if he'd had to be a little pushy about it. The deck of the Dragon's Wing was his home. There he'd grown into manhood. Though Pelivor taught Gwen to propel the sleek, graceful ship, Jessub thought he might have learned just as much. The thrust tubes themselves were of Pelivor's design, even if he still struggled to use them. Jessub helped fashion those Gwen now used and couldn't help but feel proud of being part of what seemed an important moment in history. Fasha, Benjin and later Wendel and Jensen had all mentored him at one time or another. He'd learned so much.

  The time Pelivor spent teaching Gwen to fly the ship was his favorite, though; not that he would ever tell her that. She'd been so determined but found little success. Jessub would always remember memorizing Pelivor's words to help her practice. Helping her overcome the frustration and embarrassment made him feel good, even if she hadn't quite succeeded in the end. Then there were the things he couldn't admit to himself.

  Still, the opportunity to explore Dragonhold with Catrin would be the adventure of a lifetime, though it had the potential to make that lifetime significantly shorter. Rarely had fear prevented Jessub from doing anything, but even brave men had limits. Travelling with the Herald of Istra carried risks, yet he was pulled so strongly to go with her. Something had been growing inside him, and he needed to understand it. The Fifth Magic changed everything, Istra's energy both blessing and curse; only those with power were affected by its absence. It was the need to understand himself that drove him.

  The thought of facing Gwen was almost more than he could bear. But he could not live in her shadow forever. At some point, he would need to accept his own role in his fate and embrace them. He'd watched her and learned from her; perhaps more than he'd ever realized. What she and Pelivor did to fly the ship fascinated him; perhaps now he understood more of the reasons.

  He was no coward, but his guts hurt. This was the most difficult decision he'd ever have to make. No safe choices remained. There was no sanctuary. Part of him wished for the simpler life he had back on the farm with his grandparents, but those times and those people were gone. With an aching heart, Jessub sighed. When Benjin approached, he tried to pretend he hadn't been sitting there thinking, and just as soon realized how silly that was.

  "It's not often in life that the way forward is clear," Benjin said.

  How Benjin knew such things was beyond Jessub's understanding. The older man's wisdom and wit proved Jessub had a long way yet to go. He did not live in the shadows of others because they placed him there, he realized; he lived in their shadows because he had a lot to learn from them.

  "It's always the silent ones you have to look out for," Benjin said with a wicked smile. "I know the reason for that."

  Jessub Tillerman looked up at Benjin, a question in his eyes. Somehow that reason meant a lot to Jessub. Waiting to know what it was left him in suspense.

  "I think it's because they're too busy thinking to open their mouths."

  Jessub smiled, for he knew it to be true. Always one to consider his words these days, he wondered at how much he himself had already changed. Somehow he managed to let the silence hang too long. Again.

  "If I'm going to talk to myself," Benjin said, "then I get to choose the subject. You're a good man, Jessub Tillerman. You've done everything asked of you and more. You've come a long way. It has been an honor to serve with you on the crew of the Dragon's Wing. But I want you to know you're free to live your life in any way you choose. You will always have a home on the Dragon's Wing, but it is not a prison. No one will hold it against you."

  The words did not sound true to Jessub. Perhaps this was a shortcoming on his part, but he could not simply walk away from his responsibilities to the Dragon's Wing without leaving a hole in its place. He did not have as critical a role as Benjin or Fasha or Farsy or Grubb or Nimsy or Bryn or Gwen . . . He stopped his mental tirade before he came to tears.

  Patting the young man on the shoulder, Benjin sighed as well, as if he knew his words weren't helping.

  "Thank you," was all Jessub could get out. His quivering chin made him feel weak. Shame flushing his cheeks, he looked down.

  "I believe in you," Benjin Hawk said before walking away.

  * * *

  Kenward walked toward the Great Hall, knowing Catrin and the others would soon depart for their explorations. Following what his gut told him was chief among the things that had kept him alive. The moment he'd heard Allette and Onin had aligned around the purpose of destroying one of the spires, he knew a likely fatal decision point lay ahead. No one could say what would happen if one was brought down; by Kenward's estimation, it had an equal chance of saving or destroying them. The Black Queen would hear no solution that would not free the dragons along with humans, which meant either take down the entire barrier or bore a large enough tunnel through one of the spires. While the stone fingers had sufficient girth, Kenward had his doubts.

  Onin stood near the main entrance to Dragonhold as the sun rose. It was among the few places in the hold a person could achieve a certain sense of connection with the outside world, even if the barrier cast a bluish green hue over everything. Kenward wasn't certain if the man was in meditation or prayer, and he stood alongside him in silence. Together they watched the first sunlight strike the peaks on the valley's far side. The morning sun was at their backs, and they would not have a clear view until late morning. Still, watching the light inexorably reveal the landscape, painting it in a parade of textures that shifted over time, was a magical thing. The color would have been spectacular if not tainted by the barrier, and Onin turned to Kenward. He said nothing.

  "You'll help Allette?" Kenward asked.

  Onin nodded.

  "Why?"

  "If the dragons do not escape, they die."

  Kenward nodded, not given to frivolous words himself. "Do you trust her?" he asked after a long moment. Onin grunted. "Do you really think your dragons can take down the barrier?"

  Onin of the Old Guard just glared at Kenward and held out his open palms. "Won't know until we try."

  Pulling information out of Onin was starting to wear on Kenward. Thundegar Rheams joined them, and Onin was no happier with his company than with Kenward's. It didn't make him feel all that much better.

  "What do you think?" Kenward asked Thundegar. "Can the dragons possibly bring it down?"

  "I mean no offense to Jehregard when I say this, but he is of smaller stature than most of his kind," Thundegar said with a glance at Onin. The old warrior grunted in acknowledgment. "Had we a full-size verdant within the hold, perhaps. I'm not certain Jehregard and the feral queen are up to such a monumental task. Though the smallest of the three, Kyrien is powerful and his help could make a difference. Catrin's help couldn't hurt either. Perhaps you could talk to her?"

  Kenward had no sway over Catrin. She was his friend--most of the time--and would listen to him, but he could make no promises. "You'd be better served to talk with her father, Wendel, or Benjin. They came in on that ship you might have seen resting on the remains of mine."

  Thundegar sighed. "I already did. I've come to the conclusion what you or I think makes almost no difference at all." Kenward gave him an ungrateful look. "You asked."

  The truth of the words was plain, but they did not help Kenward. He had to decide what to do, where to place his efforts and his loyalties. Journeying deeper into the hold was counter to what every one of Kenward's instincts told him to do. He would add no value to that expedition, and it would likely get him no closer to the open air and seas. He had other reasons for not wanting to go with Catrin and other reasons to stay here, but he wasn't ready to face those things yet.

  "Rock is rock," Onin said into the silence.

/>   Kenward waited a moment for him to continue, but he just stood, staring at the stone spire. "Um . . . what?"

  Onin looked at him as if he were daft. "We know how to break rock."

  "Fire and water," a female voice said from behind. All three men jumped. Realizing how close the feral queen had gotten without their noticing, they each jumped again. It was one thing for Allette to sneak up on a person; the feral queen was another thing altogether. Jehregard rested nearby, snoring. "We need all the wood and coal we can get. And water buckets."

  A sick feeling gripped Kenward, and he started to reconsider going with Catrin.

  "We all make sacrifices," Allette said, locking eyes with Kenward.

  He was trapped. Like a moth in a spider's web, he could not escape. Those eyes drew him in and held him. She knew him. She possessed Catrin's memories of him. It was perhaps the strangest relationship Kenward had ever had, yet she pulled at his heart. Something about this woman captivated him. He wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, to save her. But like a beautiful rose, he must be wary of thorns. This was no innocent dockside maiden; Allette was a woman of a different kind, and she had enemies Kenward called friends. Not to mention that the girl's allies came from his nightmares. It wasn't her fault, he knew, but even Catrin would not tell him what had happened to her. He was angry about that and for a number of other things he'd yet to forgive.

  "Will you hate me too?" Allette asked, gazing into his soul.

  "I don't . . . I wouldn't hate . . . it's just . . . Why must the ones I love destroy the things I treasure most?"