DragonCrown Saga - The Grand Crusade Part 2

"No, it is the source of magick." The puppet gestured and the silver sphere flowed like water through Kerrigan's fingers, then pooled on the floor. "Magick is most easily seen as a river, though it is far more vast and varied. It has currents and eddies, cool flows and hot, fresh, brackish, and stagnant aspects to it.

It pervades reality-all realities-in some places being weak and in others very strong. Here it is moderately strong, and just being here one soaks it up, much as cloth will drink in humidity. It is this ethereal moisture that is the extra energy humans wield."

"Then why do we become tired, if it is all around?"

"Why does the man who lives near a river feel thirst?" The puppet laughed easily. "The energy you expend is the energy you use to divert magick into your spells. There are times, Kerrigan, when you have drawn magick into you without thinking, and the energy came effortlessly. It is easier and more likely to happen with Elder magicks, but that you can do it at all marks your intuitive talent for magick."

Kerrigan shook his head. "You mean there is no limit to the spells I can cast because I can draw on this river of magick?"

"I did not say that, and that belief is one that has doomed many a foolish sorcerer." Rymramoch shook his head. "You have seen rivers. What happens to the stones in them?"

"They are worn smooth."

"They are wornaway''With a flick of a finger the puppet commanded the pooled silver to re-form the sphere. "A dragon may be granite to magick, but you would be sandstone. Plunge yourself in without caution and you shall melt away to mud. Mind you, what youwillbe able to do will be beyond the ken of humanity, and perhaps even the elves and urZrethi. It would even amaze the Oromise, but not me, not dragons."

"Oromise?" Kerrigan shook his head. "What is an Oromise?"

"Not a what, but who." The puppet pressed gloved fingers one to the other, then flatted palms together.

"Back in forever ago there was magick, and in that flow resided creatures. Dragons were one such, though in a form we would hardly recognize. When we reached awareness, however, we sought a place to stop within the flow of magick. We tried to create havens, but met with little success for we are creatures of air and fire, and two elements do not a universe make.

"The Oromise are creatures of earth and water. They, too, wished to create a haven, and where their magicks and ours overlapped, we succeeded. Dragons and the Oromise formed an alliance and shaped this universe and this world. Elves came later, for their element is wood and vital for holding the others together. Dragons and the Oromise welcomed them through benign neglect and did not dispute their making our world fertile."

Kerrigan glanced at the ball. "Can you make it look like an Oromise?"

"Not I, for I was many years yet unhatched when the Oromise last felt the sun on their faces-if, indeed, they had faces." The puppet shrugged. "What I tell you now is legend. I only have it fourth or fifth wing."

"How old are you?"

"Veryold. I remember the war to wrest Vares.h.a.gul from the urZrethi. I fought in it-sinking most of the island and leaving Vael as the only remnant- and I have resided here since. Even so, the Oromise are but legend to me. They are the nightmares that haunt our dreams, and that a dragon can be haunted should signify much."

Kerrigan shivered. "But I have never heard of them."

"That is because there was a war of Dragons and Oromise for dominion over the world. The Oromise were builders and tinkerers. They created machines and creatures. Thekryalniriyou saw in Bokagul and Muroso, these are very like the things they set upon the elves to keep them occupied as we fought. Many other creatures are theirs as well, with a few quite mundane and even beloved, like cats. They created much before the war, and adapted much more for war."

"But what about the G.o.ds making the world?"

Rymramoch shook his head. "Humanity, rising in times well past that of the Oromise, needed to explain things. G.o.ds are convenient when no other explanation presents itself."

"But Resolute has said that our G.o.ds are but dim shadows of the elder G.o.ds he knows about."

"Resolute's knowledge of things is not without error, and even the elves do not remember the Oromise precisely. They know there was something there, and their facility for the invention of G.o.ds is no less potent than that of men."

"So the G.o.ds don't exist?"

The puppet laughed. "Oh, that is a topic of heated debate among dragons. Does the act of believing and worshipping create an ent.i.ty that becomes a G.o.d? Are there yet other interlopers who have come to our world and a.s.sumed that role? We do not know and know of no way to find out. The simple fact is, however, that if thereareG.o.ds, they played no part in the Oromise war. Dragons drove the Oromise from the face of the earth and deep into its heart. They have been entombed there forever through dracomagicks, but they antic.i.p.ated us.

"One of their last acts was to create the urZrethi. The urZrethi, led by powerful chieftains, fashioned their own empires and dug deep into the earth. They raised mountains as they went, seeking to free their masters. Dragons went to war with them as well, the last great battle being the one for Vares.h.a.gul."

The puppet plucked an errant thread from the left sleeve of its robe. "Until that time the urZrethi were a patriarchy, with strong males having harems. In order to save their race, the urZrethi shifted the entire social structure. The reason strong males like Bok are exiles is for fear they will again invite the wrath of the dragons upon the urZrethi."

Kerrigan shook his head. "But if Bok is that kind of threat, why is he here? Why is he your friend?"

"Because Bok is not stupid, nor a servant of the Oromise." The puppet's voice took on an edge.

"Centuries ago, when I first met him, I knew he would be crucial to setting things to rights again. With your help, I am hopeful we can truly accomplish it this time."

Part of her wondered if, had she been there, Misha would yet live, but she dismissed that thought as unworthy. Adrogans, though he approached things differently from her, had never been a man to spend troops needlessly or carelessly. To wonder if she could have saved Mikhail devalued his skills and his sacrifice. He was an able warrior and leader, and to have liberated Varalorsk was no mean feat. It had never fallen before and somehow, with his spirit there to guard it, Alyx thought it never would again.

Rubbing her thumb over the broken red wax seal, Alexia seated herself beside the fire and closed her eyes. It took her a moment to become comfortable, then she projected herself away to the Communion of Dragons. When she had done this before, she always appeared on a mountaintop and had to make her way through a cavern and down to a subterranean lake. This time, however, she appeared on the quay, beside the dark boat that would bear her to the island where the Communion members gathered.

Though she had projected herself much closer to her goal, she smiled as golden letters appeared in the dark water.The secrets within remain secrets without, for the good of all the world. That warning appeared on the arch over the mouth of the cave, and was repeated here so she could not forget. Those things learned in the Communion could not be shared back in the physical world, though she would remember them and be able to act upon them.

The boat onto which she stepped had been styled after a dragon, with a proud head above the bow. At the helm stood a mechanical dragonman. She nodded in his direction. "Maroth, take me forth."

The boat slowly began to drift away onto the black lake. That the water appeared to be a starless sky she took as a fitting omen to mark her cousin's death. But she refused to see it as an ill omen, even though Chytrine's forces had moved south with the power of a world-devouring storm. The Northern Empress would gobble up the stars themselves if she had the chance, of that Alyx was sure. With deliberations just beginning in Narriz, Alyx was uncertain if the world could a.s.semble the forces needed to stop Chytrine.

Out of the darkness loomed an island. When last she had been at the Communion, it had reminded her of a citadel akin to Fortress Draconis, but gradually its form had changed. It had become more primitive, with tall trees dominating broken towers, and menhirs mocking tumbled stone fortresses. Snow swirled over the grounds, teased by winds she did not feel or hear. Alyx wondered if the island had taken this shape because another member's will had imposed itself, or if other constructs had been stripped away to reveal something more primal.

The boat slipped up to a small dock and she mounted a set of crude stone stairs. She climbed to the gap in a low wall, then walked down into a snow-laden bowl. A hundred yards on she came to a circle of standing stones with two more individuals at its heart. One, the Black Dragon, she had seen there before.

The other she recognized instantly, despite his being only rendered in shadow.

She smiled broadly. "Father Ironwing!" Alyx threw her arms around the Gyrkyme and hoped the Communion would allow her to feel him in her embrace. It did, and allowed her to feel his returned hug.

The Gyrkyme keened a laugh. "It is very good to see you here, my daughter. You are well after your many adventures?"

"Yes, and Peri is, too. We are in Narriz, hoping the crowns will remain united to fight Chytrine." She released him, then turned and bowed to the Black Dragon. "And you, sir, I hope you are well."

The man who wore a dragon's head bowed it in return. "Better now than I had been. I was speaking with Preyknosery here about things he has learned that might have a bearing on your future. While you have been fighting, he and other Gyrkyme have been out gathering information."

Alyx smiled at her adoptive father. "What have you learned?" The elder Gyrkyme smiled easily. "Of the world, much. Do you recall, daughter, how I taught you to read the seasons? Specifically, do you recall how I taught you to know if a drought would come and the summer would blaze?"

She nodded. "The animals that leave the mountain heights for the winter are slow to return. They remain near water. Birds migrate earlier, other creatures change their range. You're seeing this?"

"This far north the winter has not loosened its grasp, but by the new year, it will."

"That's month's end."

"It is, indeed. Further south animals are preparing for a hot summer of little water."

Alyx nodded slowly and the Black Dragon smiled. "You were right, Preyknosery, she catches the significance. As Chytrine's troops were at an advantage in the winter, having been born in a boreal realm, so they will be discomfited by a hot summer. That will give you an edge."

"I am thankful for it. Now we will have to strike; all that remains is choosing where and deciding with what. That latter point will be the more difficult, since we do not know what the crowns will decide."

Preyknosery scratched at his throat with a talon. "Our eyes have seen much of men as well. While the winter and snows make traveling difficult, troops are on the move. Alcida is moving the most, but other places are as well."

"Companies? Battalions? Regiments?"

"All of them, but not all are directed toward Chytrine's troops." The Gyrkyme frowned. "Many borders and pa.s.ses are being reinforced, especially in the east. Alosa, Vegan, Reimancia, and Teysrol see themselves as bastions to stop the spread eastward. They are also posting more troops on their own eastern frontiers to discourage adventurism." Alyx sighed. "And in the west?"

"Those nations that helped Adrogans win Okrannel are buoyed by success and are sending troops east, but the roads are long."

"Ships would bring them quickly to Saporicia."

The Black Dragon shook his head. "It is as you imagine, daughter. The western nations have fought and won, and while they would love more victories, the liberation of Okrannel makes them feel safe. If Chytrine takes Saporicia before they get there, they can oppose her in Alcida. As King Augustus threatened to fight in Oriosa, so they can fight in his realm. If, on the other hand, there are concessions that will reward them for speed, they will move with speed."

She closed her eyes. "It is as Crow said. They will play politics and let any chance they have at victory slip away." Alyx opened her eyes again and looked up at Preyknosery. "What of the urZrethi and elves?"

"Of the elves we know nothing. We are not welcome in their realms, so we do not study them. The urZrethi, however, are friends to the Gyrkyme. There is fighting in Sarengul and armies are being raised.

Varagul is supposed to be sending a regiment across Reimancia and Vegan to help in the liberation of Sarengul. Bokagul is likewise raising an army."

Her violet eyes sharpened. "Did you hear anything of the Oriosan and Murosan troops fighting in Sarengul?"

The Gyrkyme shook his head. "All is in chaos there and a number of our scouts never returned. I believe they died over Muroso."

"And Muroso is falling?"

"I am afraid that it is. Caledo was not gone when last seen, but I would a.s.sume it has fallen by now.

There were many refugees fleeing into Bokagul and Saporicia. The Aurolani have killed many, and the winter has killed its share, too."

The Gyrkyme frowned deeply. "Most disturbing of all is that Chytrine's armies seem robust despite their losses. The Ghost March and Okrannel had good harvests, so her troops have food. The stores from Fortress Draconis are sustaining many as well. Sebcia and Muroso tried to destroy supplies, but the onslaught's speed took so many by surprise that the Aurolani did manage to capture a lot of what they needed."

Alyx glanced at the Black Dragon. "No word from Communicants from Sebcia or Muroso?"

"No, and that is most grim."

She nodded. One Communicant had been Princess Dayley of Muroso. Alexia had last seen her in the Murosan capital, Caledo. While she supposed it was possible Dayley had not had time to come to the Communion, Alyx feared she was dead.And if she is dead, her blood kin likely share the same fate.

Alyx sighed. "No less grim is the situation outside Muroso. Will Norrington died on Vael. He sacrificed himself to save a dragon from death, but all we got from that is a ragged neutrality among the dragons.

They will not come out for or against Chytrine as a group, but individuals can and have chosen sides. We have several powerful ones in our camp, but Chytrine has more."

The Black Dragon hugged his arms around his belly. "The Nornngum ucau. His voice came in a hushed whisper that sent a chill up Alexia's spine.

She chewed her lower lip for a moment. "We don't know if Will wastheNorrington, or if that mantle will transfer to another. A Murosan princess is carrying Will's child, and one of his half brothers is fighting in Sarengul with the Oriosan Freemen. That's why I asked after them."

"I shall see what else I can learn, daughter."

"Thank you, Father Ironwing." Alyx shook her head. "We half expect everyone to trot out their own Norrington heir, and the worst part is that King Scrainwood already has one available. If these heirs cause factions to form and then are actually expected to lead troops into the field, Chytrine will eat the Southlands up bit by bit."

The Black shook his head. "That would be a complete disaster. Is there any chance the Norrington isn't dead?"

She shivered. "No. I saw him die with my own eyes. And with him died the hope of the world."

The Black laid a hand on her shoulder. "That's not true. Chytrine cannot yet complete the DragonCrown, so she is still thwarted. Once she has all the pieces and can refashion the Crown, she will have no more need of armies. You must remember that. While her armies have to be stopped, as long as the Crown is safe from her, there is always hope."

"I understand what you are saying. I just wish I felt it more in my heart." Alyx's eyes narrowed. "Politics will deny us the tools we need to stop her."

"There are others who will deal with the politics, daughter." The Black Dragon smiled at her. "You were trained by Preyknosery here to be able to lead armies. This you do very well. The hope of the world now rests upon your shoulders. As long as you are prepared to do what you were trained to do, as long as you make the most of whatever opportunity you are given, you will succeed beyond your wildest dreams."

So, I see you are alive." It surprised Prince Erlestoke to hear his father's voice, but that did not stop him from sliding the whetstone along his sword's blade. He stroked the metal twice more, then raised the blade and let lamplight play over the edge. It wasn't sharp enough, so he laid it on the leather protecting his thighs and bent to his task again.

"d.a.m.n you, Erlestoke. Look at me! I thought you were dead."

This time the prince did turn his head and looked up. There his father stood. The day before, in the Council Chamber, was the first time Erlestoke had seen his father in over five years. The man looked older, with the streaks of white in his hair and beard. The green mask he wore hid wrinkles, but the decorations on it made his father look poxed. Age had shrunk him slightly, and his voice had an edge just this side of hysterical. Bony fingers clutched the doorjamb.

Calmly, Erlestoke replied, "You may have thought I was dead, but did you care?"

Hazel eyes blazed from within that mask. "I am your father. How can you even ask such a question?"

"Simple, Father." Erlestoke leveled the blade at him, pointing at his face. "You cut no notches for having lost a son on your mask."

Scrainwood's jaw slackened for a moment, but his eyes narrowed quickly enough. "I must subordinate my personal feelings to the needs of the state. If I were to cut those notches, everyone would know I believed you dead and hope would be lost. I could not display my private grief."

"No? Then how about your personal joy at seeing me alive again?" The prince rasped the whetstone over the edge. "Marsham looked as if I'd reached from the grave and clutched his throat. You looked stricken as well. You had no greeting, no wave, nothing. All you cared for was seeing that your enemy, Crow, had entered the chamber and that I was apparently in league with him. Had you any concern for me, you would have been there, in that doorway, last night."

The king's head came up and nostrils flared. "I am your father. I expected you to come to me."

"I'm sure you did." Erlestoke laid the broadsword down and stood slowly. Though not much taller than his father, he had the build of a warrior in his prime, which made Scrainwood appear to be a figure made of rags and broomsticks. He slid his chair in against the table, laid the leather over the sword, then opened his arms wide. "Did you wish an embrace, Father? Or did you just want me coming to you, telling you I had been wrong to support the Draconis Baron, and that your way of things is clearly the wisest course?"

The offer of an embrace tightened the king's grip on the doorjamb, but the following question loosened it. The king straightened up and even let a bit of a smile twist over his lips. "No, I want no embrace.

While I would have hoped your experience would have benefited you and blessed you with wisdom, when I saw you in Crow's company, I knew it had not."

The prince crossed the small palace room and poured red wine from an earthenware pitcher into a roughly thrown mug. He did not offer his father any, but pointed to the pitcher as he drank. The wine cut the scent of oil from the sharpening, but did little to cover the taste of disgust. "Just so you can have more justification to hate Crow, were it not for him, I would not be alive. I guess saving the life of the crown prince could hardly be considered treason."

His father snorted and while he entered the room, he did not join his son in drinking. "The survival of Oriosa is of paramount importance. If that act had to be cla.s.sed as treason, a way would have been found."

"Marsham would have delighted in it, I am certain."

Scrainwood shook his head as he walked past the small table with the wine and stood before the fireplace. He held his hands out and rubbed them together. "You are, without a doubt, a brilliant military leader. Dothan Cavarre taught you well-in a futile cause, you will agree, but he taught you well. Your trek from Fortress Draconis speaks to your ingenuity and courage. Alas, your martial skills are useless in the political arena, and keeping a nation together is a purely political job."

For a heartbeat Erlestoke wanted to hurl his mug at his father. He could see it hitting him, shattering.

Blood and wine would splash against the wall and slowly drip down. Erlestoke saw it all with crystal clarity and the only thing that stayed his hand was his knowledge that the mug would shatter before his father's skull did.

Instead, he swallowed, lowered the mug, and smiled. "It is well for you that courage is not needed to govern."

Another snort from his father. "Oh, I know intimately your opinion of me, Erlestoke. Princess Alexia delivered your message from Fortress Draconis. You urged me not to live my life as a coward. Anything you do not understand, whatever does not fit within your military paradigms, you label cowardice. The fact remains that while Sebcia and Muroso are gone, my nation lives."

"But for how long?"

"Every heartbeat is a gift. It is an opportunity."

Erlestoke blinked. "An opportunity for what, Father? What do you think will happen here? Chytrine is going to sue for peace and you will broker some treaty that will raise Oriosa to glory? Do you think you will ride back into Meredo, raise an army, and crush her?"