The Grand Crusade (2 page)

Sephi, a dark-haired, slender woman—more than a child, though barely seeming so in form—hid in the shadowed doorway of the room housing the king and his visitors. She was part of the royal household and had been elevated to that position as a reward for her help in identifying Crow as Tarrant Hawkins. It was a reward the king had approved of, though it had come at the suggestion of his aide, Cabot Marsham. The odious sycophant wanted Sephi as his bedmate, and having her assigned to the household brought them in closer proximity than Sephi had any desire to be.

She had accepted that role, however, because of her devotion to Will Norrington—the Norrington of prophecy who would destroy Chytrine. After she had betrayed Crow to Oriosan authorities, she took the skills at espionage that she used to employ for Oriosa and used them in the service to the Norrington. She did it in part to make amends for having caused trouble for Crow, but more so because she believed Willwasthe only means by which Chytrine would be defeated.

In Will’s service she watched the king and learned secrets she could send to him in letters. She had no idea how many of her missives had actually reached him in Muroso, but she had faithfully sent them with riders and soldiers bound for the war. And she continued to spy, remaining in the royal household despite the chances of discovery.

This, however, was too important a bit of news to be entrusted to a letter. Sephi hunched forward, with her hands flat on the cold stone floor. What she had seen through the keyhole had kept her riveted, for asullanciriappeared, and then Chytrine herself. Already Sephi began to berate herself for not running off and alerting the Saporician authorities.

Part of her knew that was foolishness, since they would never believe such a wild tale.King Augustus would, however, and he is here in Narriz. She knew she had to get to him so he could act, but she needed a moment more to collect herself because Chytrine had said one thing that left her breathless.

The vaunted Norrington is no longer a problem. The words echoed through Sephi’s skull. She thought of Will’s smiling face. She could hear his voice and could not imagine him, like his father and grandfather, ever having gone over to Chytrine’s service.And she said it with such finality, he must be dead.

She screwed her eyes shut against that possibility, because his death meant the end of the world. Tears gathered in her eyes and splashed down, spattering coldly against her hands. She pressed her body into a small ball and fought to gain control. Finally, she reached up and wiped the tears away.

He’s not dead, she justthinkshe is. Wouldn’t be the first time she was wrong.

That thought brought a smile to her face. Her tears stopped, but then her smile froze as she continued to hear adrip dripsound. She knew it wasn’t tears, but had no idea what it was.

Then she opened her eyes.

A man stood towering over her. Dark in mien and cold, he looked down at

her through a bestial mask she almost thought she recognized. The eyes regarding her had no warmth or kindness, but instead were filled with an elemental curiosity. The blue orbs had white moving through them, much as slender ribbons of cloud move through a summer’s sky. The movement gained in speed and, for a moment, was the figure’s only motion.

Then came anotherdrip.

The mask was more than just a mask, flowing up into a cowl that ran down into a cloak. It had been fastened to the figure’s neck by the knotted arms of the creature that had once worn the skin. In the dim light Sephi saw enough bony plates to know it was the flesh of a Panqui.

From there it was but a shudder for her to realize it was Lombo’s skin.And if they have killed Lombo, then the Norrington could be dead as well.

She straightened up and met thesullanciri %cool gaze. “Your grandson, Will,

is dead?“

Nefrai-kesh nodded solemnly. “He died more of a hero than any of us will

ever be.“

Sephi hung her head and raised her hands to cover her face. She let herself sob once, then darted into the corridor and would have gotten free, save that Nefrai-kesh flicked his cloak, and the flaccid flesh that had covered Lombo’s tail swept her legs from beneath her. She crashed down hard, striking her forehead on the ground, then rolled to the far wall.

Nefrai-kesh crossed to her and dropped to one knee. His hand caressed her cheek, then tucked an errant lock of dark hair behind her ear. “You, too, shall die well. Had you not been so curious, you might have lived.”

Sephi narrowed her eyes. “I was spying for your grandson.”

Thesullancirismiled. “He commanded loyalty. He was a Norrington truly.”

“He still is. The greatest of them.”

Nefrai-kesh paused for a moment, then said solemnly, “You are a fool if you believe that, child.” His hand slipped into her hair and closed on her neck right below her skull. His fingers tightened and her neck snapped. “And yet there are parts of me that hope you were right.”

Princess Alexia of Okrannel raised a gloved hand to shade her eyes as the green dragon upon which she rode dipped his right wing and began a lazy circle. Below lay Narriz, dusted in snow and spread out in several concentric semicircles emanating from the crescent harbor to the west. King Fidelius’ castle stood on the highest hill, with a clutch of cylindrical white towers that soared toward the sky. The brightly colored flags and pennants flapping away added an element of reality that banished any hope that she was dreaming.

Beneath her the dragon’s flesh undulated as powerful muscles drove its wings. Though the air so high was quite frigid, the heat from the green dragon’s body made the space beneath a long red cloak quite warm, and she gladly shared that warmth with Crow. She pressed herself against his side, then turned and kissed his scarred right cheek.

He smiled and his brown eyes sparkled. “What was that for?”

“To make sure you don’t forget that I love you. And that I support you, no matter what happens below.”

He tightened his arm around her shoulder. “Thank you.”

The dragon turned his head back toward them. “Perrineis circling the castle’s courtyard. We are welcome.”

Resolute, a Vorquelf with sharpened elven features, pointed ears, and eyes of pure silver, curled his lip in a sneer. “Hardly welcome, Dravothrak. We will be tolerated until we deliver our news, then we will be reviled. We bring them word that hope has died, and few will have the heart to continue on past that.”

Prince Erlestoke of Oriosa adjusted the black mask he wore. “They know they cannot stop you from landing, Dravothrak, so they accept with feigned grace what they cannot prevent.”

The prince’s words came in grim tones that nearly matched those Alyx had

gotten accustomed to hearing from Resolute. The Vorquelf had been fighting over a century and a quarter to free his homeland from Chytrine, with no success. Will Norrington had been the key to her defeat and his death at Vael seemed to seal the fate of the Southlands’ free nations. Arriving at the gathering of world leaders to tell them hope was indeed dead was something she had never anticipated.

She looked again at Crow. “I do wish you would let me be the one to address the council.”

Erlestoke nodded in agreement. “Or me. They will accept it better from either of us.”

Crow shook his head and his beard brushed against Alyx’s cheek. “First and foremost, Will was my charge. I should have kept him safe. And while I agree with everyone that he chose his time of passing, and chose nobly and well, the burden of his death bears most heavily on me. Second, and you all know this is true, King Scrainwood would blame me even if Will’s ghost appeared, absolved me of responsibility, and cursed Scrainwood for an idiot. Short of you throttling your father and replacing him, there is nothing that can be done to prevent the blame from falling on me.”

The prince’s hazel eyes blazed. “Who says throttling him is not an option?”

Crow’s chin came up. “I do. The third reason I have to deliver the message is simply that we know that whoever delivers it will be reviled and never trusted again. None of the rest of you can afford to be moved out of the way given the discussions that must take place. Alexia and you, Highness, have the military expertise that will stop Chytrine’s troops.”

Resolute’s sneer melted into a mirthless smile. “You make no case as to why I should not address their august majesties, my friend.”

“You mean, aside from the fact that you openly hold them and their councils in contempt?” Crow laughed quickly. “This is a council of humans, Resolute, and they will not take well to being lectured to by one old enough to have known their great-grandparents. Moreover, you will need their help if you are to retake Vorquellyn. For you to speak to them would be to jeopardize that goal. This will need to be handled diplomatically.”

Dravothrak opened his mouth in a serpentine grin. “I will not lecture, but you will permit me to emphasize the gravity of the situation, yes?”

Alyx nodded. “As we discussed.”

The dragon bobbed his head twice, then folded his wings and they plummeted from the sky. Their cloaks, scarves, and blankets snapped in the rush of air. Frost nibbled at Alexia’s cheeks and her eyes watered. She held on tightly to the leather riding harness and watched the tear-blurred castle grow ever larger.

Then, suddenly, Dravothrak spread his wings again and beat hard with them. His head came up, his tail went down, and his mighty legs absorbed the impact of his landing. Snow billowed up around them, as if they were caught in the

heart of a blizzard, then Dravothrak breathed a fiery plume that reduced the snow to steam.

Alyx and the others slid from the dragon’s back in the fog, to the accompaniment of screams and harsh curses. Then,Perrinedescended down through the mist. The female Gyrkyme, who had been Alexia’s lifelong companion, landed lightly, furling her raptor’s wings. Tall and slender like an elf, but covered with down and feathers after the pattern of a falcon, she smiled and hugged her sister.

“King Augustus called the crowns together when I told him you were coming. They were grumbling, but this display silenced the lot of them. Well done, Dranae.”

Dravothrak, now having assumed the form of a tall, powerfully built man with dark hair and a full thick beard, bowed his head. “I am glad it was effective.” He fastened the red cloak at his throat and gathered it about him to cover his nudity.

Alexia peered into the thinning fog, seeing dim forms moving through it. “Which way?”

Before Peri could answer, a small, green, humanoid creature, with four arms, four glassy wings, two legs, and two antennae above compound eyes, buzzed in through the fog and circled the group. “This way. Qwc knows. Come, come, hurry, hurry.” In the blink of an eye he was off again with a ghostly vapor vortex curling in his wake.

Alyx slipped her right hand through the crook of Crow’s elbow and followed the Spritha. Dranae and Erlestoke came next, with Resolute and Peri bringing up the rear. Dressed for winter—and most armed for war—the company struck a sharp contrast with those assembled for the council. The guards stationed on the walls and along the passages were outfitted for combat, but Saporicia had clearly sent its best troops northeast to the Murosan border. These soldiers were old or very young—and some were still pale from having seen a dragon land in the courtyard, then vanish in flame and fog.

The royal retainers for the various leaders wore finery that mocked the state of the world. Alyx suppressed a shiver as she imagined whole households planning how they could array their wardrobes to best advantage. While the kings and queens would deliberate, their staffs would battle each other, pressing advantages and wresting concessions. Politics necessitated they look ahead, past Chytrine, to position themselves to take best advantage—even if that positioning might be exactly what allowed Chytrine to take over the world.

Ahead, Qwc hung in the air at each intersection, making the courtiers sent to escort them shrink back. Some did so at a buzzed word, but at least one clawed at his face. The Spritha had spat a smothering wad of webbing at that man, and Alyx’s horror was transformed into wicked delight as she recognized the purple face as that of Cabot Marsham, King Scrainwood’s aide.

Marsham, his face still sticky with white tendrils, started to snarl, but

Erlestoke cut him off with a sharp command. “Back away, dog. You should feel blessed he deigned to notice someone as insignificant as you.”

Marsham’s chubby face drained immediately of color. He gagged, then turned and darted away, heading up the stairs to which Qwc pointed. The chamberlain slipped twice in his haste, crying out as he barked his shins once, but scrambled on quickly.

Erlestoke laughed. “He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.”

Alyx graced him with a raised eyebrow. “Youarebelieved dead, you know.”

“Indeed. Shouldn’t he have been happier to see me?”

Resolute just growled.

They mounted the broad stone stairs and ascended to the second landing. The short corridor leading east opened into a large room with vaulted ceilings and fanciful murals depicting spring revels. Three large windows at the room’s far end admitted a flood of morning light that silhouetted many of the functionaries in the back rows of benches. Toward the front, however, where rulers and their most important advisors gathered behind tables and banners proclaiming their nations, Alexia had no difficulty recognizing faces.

She likewise recognized the expressions which, at first, as they caught sight of Erlestoke, went from shock to guarded delight. Then some, rather quickly, darkened. Others followed, heads turning to confer with companions. Necks craned, heads bobbed, then whispers began to filter back and forth, filling the chamber.

King Fidelius, a small man of middle years with thin grey hair and a withered left arm, opened his strong hand in greeting. “Princess Alexia, it is good to see you. Had we known you were coming sooner, we would have prepared a proper welcome. Your friends I recall from Yslin, save the man in the cloak and this one, who, if my eyes do not deceive me, is Prince Erlestoke of Oriosa.”