Fortress Draconis (6 page)

“Well now, then, it was fifteen years ago, a decade past the loss of our heroes and Augustus winning a bride, that the first of the newsullanciri came south. Word had come, filtered down through the Ghost March, in the mouths of renegades who pledged themselves to Chytrine, that her nine new Dark Lancers could not be stopped. They gave a date and a place and a target: Queen Lanivette of Oriosa would die in her castle in Meredo. Came that day, all dark and cold, cold as winter, wet as fall, the clouds weeping, wind keening; mourning her while she still breathed.

“Troops guarded the castle, ringed it with steel. Heroes and those who wished to be heroes came to keep her safe. Come the appointed hour, they saw naught but lightning. They thought themselves safe then. Yet as they hooted and hollered, cheered and rejoiced, guess what they saw, lad, guess!”

Will, caught up in the story, shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“They saw a terrible thing, lad, the most horrible thing they’d ever seen.” Distalus raised his hand, shaping a tall tower in the air. “Lightning, it struck the tallest tower, scattering men, spilling them from battlements to be dashed to red pieces on the courtyards below. In its wake stood a fiery horse, with long dragon’s wings, and on it a specter, with a long flowing cape. It appeared to be feathered, but each feather was a tongue of flame. He hoisted above him a shrouded body and cast it down. It bounced from crenels and catwalks, unwrapping as it went. Queen Lanivette’s body, broken and rent, headless, lay before her keep.”

Distalus’ voice lowered, his telling paused for a moment as he drank, then he peered into the depths of his ale and continued. “The guards and the heroes, they rushed into the castle, opening the Grand Hall. They found but one man there, Scrainwood, her son. He stood dripping in a puddle of his own piss. In his hands he held his mother’s severed head, staring at it as she stared at him. He didn’t speak, but just trembled. Then someone closed her eyes and that broke the spell. He collapsed and when he regained his senses, a week later, his hair had gone white.

“Since that day, two things are true of Oriosa. The first is that their last hero, Leigh Norrington, went north to kill his own father, thesullanciri who had slain the queen. That hero, though, chose blood over nation. His father had become Nefrai-kesh and he was turned to be Nefrai-laysh, the tenth of the newsullanciri. As they once led an army against Chytrine, now, father and son, they prepare to lead an army against us.”

A bit of a hubbub began, but Distalus merely lifted a hand and it quieted. “The other thing, lad, is that Scrainwood fears thesullanciri who put him on the throne so much that he dare not oppose them. His mother had steeled her nation for another war, but he has let it rust. Everyone knows Oriosa is a safe haven for Aurolani scouts, and that foul magicks can let Scrainwood see through the coins bearing his face. So we blind them to rob him of this sight, and deprive Chytrine of her spy.”

Distalus punctuated his story with a gulp of ale. Others did the same, then calls came for refills, which kept Julian very busy. The old man glanced over at Crow. “You knew the tale, yes?”

Crow nodded slowly. “But the telling, that was good. The part about the urine—your embellishment or…”

The storyteller licked his lips. “Had the story from a soldier who was there.”

Resolute tore a hunk off a small loaf of bread. “This is how you make your living, then? Telling stories?”

“I do a little of everything, but now I’m taking my niece to the city. Might stay here for a bit, though. It depends, I guess.” Distalus jerked his head toward Julian. “If he makes me an offer, we might stay. I have a number of thirsty tales. Tonight was just a taste.”

The Vorquelf nodded. “And people pay to listen to tales of Chytrine?”

Distalus shrugged. “She’s very popular. She’s the villain of a thousand stories, each worse than the last. Everyone fears her, of course, fears her coming to a place like Stellin to destroy it. Some folks assume it’s plain greed, others thinks she has a more sinister motivation. To me it doesn’t matter—all answers are right. I have no doubt she wants to lay waste to the southlands.Why she wants to do it is not my concern.”

Will frowned. “But if you knew why, couldn’t you stop her?”

The man canted his head for a moment, then nodded. “An interesting observation, young man. I suspect we shall never know her motivation, but perhaps a tale hinting at it might be very popular indeed. I shall think on it. Thank you.”

With that, Distalus stood and held his hand out for Sephi. “Come, child, we shall retire early so the crowd will thin and our friends can sleep. Good evening to you. Sleep well.”

Will frowned as the girl left, but then she turned back toward him and gave him a little finger-wave that Distalus could not see. This brightened his heart and put a smile on his face.

A smile so broad even the landing of Resolute’s hands on his shoulders couldn’t kill it. The Vorquelf had used the distraction Sephi supplied to slip from his chair and come up behind Will. The youth started to rise and Resolute spun him around. Will’s chair clattered to the ground and he fell forward against the Vorquelf for a second, then Resolute hoisted him from the floor by his upper arms.

“Where did you put his money?”

Will shook his head. “I didn’t steal it.”

Resolute shook him once, hard. “You did. You took it when you tripped.”

“No, I didn’t.” The youth’s nostrils flared. “I tripped, truly tripped, and caught myself on him. I didn’t take his money.”

“It was a clumsy attempt at a theft that anyone could have seen through, boy.”

Will kept his voice low, but an edge slid into it. “I’m much better than that, Resolute.”

“A regular Azure Spider are you, boy?”

“Not yet, but I am good!” Will flipped his right wrist and a pouch heavy with coins clunked down in the middle of the table. “I’m that good.”

The Vorquelf dropped him, then felt his own belt. “Just now? You took that from me, just now?”

Will nodded as he appropriated Sephi’s chair. “Yes. And I didn’t take Distalus’ coin because he didn’t have any.”

Resolute snatched his purse from the table and retied it to his belt. “The fact that you know that, though, means you would have taken it.”

Will blinked. “If a hart crossed your trail, you’d shoot it.”

Resolute’s hands curled down into fists. “If you cannot understand the difference, boy…”

Crow turned in his chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The difference is this, Will. Resolute would shoot the hart, but only if he needed the food. You didn’t need the money. You don’t need to steal.”

“But that’s what I do.” Will shrugged. “I’m a thief.”

“Not anymore, Will.” Crow poked a finger against his breastbone, spearing the pouch in which lay the leaf. “The theft of that ended your old life. You’re meant for better now.”

Will spent a restless night there on the floor of the Hare and Hutch. Early on he was too warm, then too cold, with parts of his body going numb from sleeping on this knotted piece of wood or that. He tossed and turned and, half asleep as he was, would have welcomed a kick from Crow or Resolute that would have wakened him fully.

Worse than the physical conditions were his dreams. In little bits and pieces he could see things he knew were not meant for him. He felt himself springing from the saddle of a flaming horse that furled its wings. Tongues of flame formed his cloak, leaving scorched patches on the red carpet. He marched along toward the throne, seeing a defiant woman there—one who looked like Sephi. They spoke, cordially at first, but always strained, then harsher. The woman waved him away and he reached out, grabbing her throat. With the ease of thumbing a head off a flower, he decapitated her, then placed her head in her son’s hands.

When he caught sight of himself in a mirror, he wore Crow’s face, but much younger.

That dream nearly woke him all the way, but then simple idylls seduced him back. He and Sephi, or sometimes the Vorquelf, Charity, would walk hand in hand through spring fields, with grasses and flowers dancing in a warm breeze. He could feel his ardor rising, and he could see it burning in the eyes of his companion, then an icy blizzard would break over the meadow, washing his sight away in an ocean of white. When he could see again, the object of his desire had been transformed into a woman of ice who radiated cold, both attractive and repellent for in her embrace he would find cold comfort and agonizing death.

Finally, after hours of such horrid visions, morning came. Julian’s daughter—Malva, she whispered, was her name—wakened him when she stirred the coals in the hearth and added wood to it to build the fire up again. Will somehow propelled himself to his feet, made use of the outhouse, then volunteered to split wood. Aslong as I am going to be tired, I should have a reason for it.

Julian’s wife—though not Malva’s mother, who had died of summer’s-fever two years back—prepared breakfast for the family, Crow’s party, Distalus and Sephi. Distalus entertained them all with some information about the Gold Wolf, a female bandit given to raiding down out of the mountains. Will would have preferred tales of the Azure Spider, but the stories Distalus told were harrowing enough to bring Will fully awake, and he wondered if they’d encounter her on their way into the mountains.

Crow settled up their account, paying for the keeping of the horses, then they quit the inn. Julian and Distalus sat closely, speaking quietly as they left. Sephi did wave to Will and watched him go, but when he looked back one last time, she had turned to listen to Julian.

Saddled up, they headed out of Stellin and along the road west for a bit, then cut to the northwest on their journey’s fourth day. They skirted a salt marsh, then started working their way up into the mountains. The trail they used seemed to be seldom traveled and mostly overgrown.

“Been a while since anyone came this way.”

Resolute shrugged. “A year.”

“Two, I think, my friend.”

The Vorquelf turned in his saddle. “Are you sure?”

“We left here end of summer, having helped harvest, then wintered in Jerana, spring in the Ghost March. Summer again south, but not back in the mountains, then Muroso this last winter.”

“The years, they blur together.”

“You have more to remember than I do, Resolute.”

“It’s no excuse.” The Vorquelf gave Crow a grin. “And you are right about when we were here last.”

Will cleared his voice. “Where exactly is here?”

Resolute’s smile died. “What difference does it make to you, boy? You know nothing of the world so you can’t figure out where to put this place in your vision of it.”

“Maybe I want to learn.” Will pointed to the trail in front of them. “Want to know how I know no one has come this way in a while? There, those blue-cups, they’re already flowered for the year and will be making those seed pods that will let them spread seeds out further. Plants would have been trampled if riders had come this way.”

The Vorquelf snorted. “A child could have figured that out.”

“Sure, but not me, not without what I’ve learned so far.”

Resolute remained silent for a moment, then nodded. “You’re in the Gyrvirgul, near the Crescent Sea. Does that mean anything to you?”

Will almost said that it did, but hesitated.If I do, he will ask what and I will be stuck for an answer. “Means I’m a long way from home. Means we might see Gyrkyme.”

“I doubt that. The Winged Ones keep to the highest mountains more inland.” Resolute pointed toward the southwest where, in the distance, clouds shrouded tall peaks. “I doubt we will see this Gold Wolf either.”

“Why not? You’ve got gold.”

The Vorquelf glanced quickly at the pouch tied to his belt. “We’d be slim pickings for a bandit such as that.”

The youth started to ask Resolute to explain his comment, but stopped and thought about it. Distalus’ tales had been sketchy at best, mostly describing her as a beautiful and powerful warrior woman who led a host of horsemen. They raided throughout the Alcidese border with Helurca, according to Distalus, with Stellin being at the extreme edge of their range.

Will frowned mightily. “Something isn’t right with the Gold Wolf.”

Crow turned from watching the packhorses strung out behind them and smiled. “What makes you say that?”

“Okay, look, we have three people, nine horses. We can find a hovel or pitch a tent and let our horses crop grass and give them grain when they need it. We kill a rabbit and roast it, we find roots and other edible plants. That’s fine for us, but as big a group as she has—even if you figure Distalus was lying—would need more food, more fodder.”

The older man nodded. “And this leads you to conclude?”

“I’m not sure, but the people of Stellin seemed to thrill to stories of her, not cringe from them like they did the stories of Chytrine.” He shrugged. “They’re not afraid of this Gold Wolf.”

“Not in the least, so we won’t be either.”

“But how can she be a bandit raider, with the folks she should be raiding not being afraid of her?”

Resolute snarled. “It’s an impossible question to answer, boy. Next time we see Distalus, perhaps he can make up an answer for you.”

Crow laughed. “Next time we see Distalus he’ll be in a tavern in the Dim, drinking what little profits he has from selling Sephi.”

Resolute nodded. “She was a pretty one.”

That simple comment recast the whole evening for Will. “She’s going to Yslin to be a liftskirt?”

“Likely, though she probably does not know it.” Crow shook his head. “Her parents might not even know it. Distalus gave them some money, told them there would be more, and they suddenly have one less mouth to feed.”

“I wish Ihad stolen his money.”

The Vorquelf laughed. “So the thief looks down on a procurer?”

“There is honor among …” Will’s protest died beneath the hellish glare of Resolute’s argent stare. “She should have a choice.”

“She’ll get one. It just may not be easy.” Crow nodded further up the trail, where it climbed up a hill and around to the left. “Almost there.”

Will looked back toward the east, thinking he could actually see Stellin, but knowing he could not. “We should have done something.”