DragonCrown Saga - The Grand Crusade Part 6

She wondered if it had not been chance that took her to him, but some sort of fate. Perhaps she was somehow bound up in the Norrington Prophecy. The prophecy might use her against her mother, making her betray Chytrine. She wanted to hate that idea, but she couldn't. The sadness she felt at Will Norrington's death made her feel as if she would have traded her mother's life for his, and that mere thought was treason of the highest order.

Wind howled at the window of her tower, then ice hissed as a gust pushed crystals in past the magick warding the chamber from the outside. She turned from the small bookstand and the thick, leather-bound volume she had been fingering and let a weak smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "Drolda, you never desert me."

The ice crystals swirled, then resolved themselves into the image of an older man. Water congealed into a beard and long hair, both of which flowed down into the furred cloak that covered him. Gla.s.sine hands emerged from beneath the cloak. The icy figure wove his finger through a complex series of signs in a language only they understood.

Isaura nodded slowly. "Yes, you have been listening to rumors that are true. The Norrington is dead. He sacrificed himself for another." She opened her hands and wanted to give voice to her sadness, but could not find the words.

Concern etched creva.s.ses on Drolda's frozen face. He signed, but not what she expected.

"What do you mean he is not dead? Did his sacrifice transfer the burden of his fate to another?"

The ice man shook his head, then stiffened.

A voice, deep, b.e.s.t.i.a.l, and growling, echoed through her room from the doorway. "Will no have death."

Isaura turned, bringing her head up and moving to eclipse Drolda. The ice man had never before lingered in the vicinity of asullanciri, and certainly never in one's sight. It disturbed her that this one, Hlucri, could move so silently she did not hear his approach, and that he dared enter her chamber unbidden.Has my mother set this newest of her creatures to spy on me?

As her silver-eyed gaze met his jet eyes, the hulkingsullanciridropped to one knee and rested his knuckles on the ground. He had been created from the Panqui that had so ruined Nefrai-laysh. Isaura had seen the ma.s.sive wounds on the othersullanciri. She offered to repair the damage, but making the Panqui over had taken precedence. Nefrai-kesh had demanded her help in doing that.

The Panqui's vitality had impressed her, for Nefrai-kesh had pulled him off Nefrai-laysh and literally stripped the flesh from him. The huge creature had lain in a slowly spreading pool of blood, tissue hanging in ragged tatters, his claws still clenching, his teeth gnashing as they set about doing their work. Hlucri had been the firstsullanciriNefrai-kesh had created without her mother, but he knew the magick well, and the result had been even more impressive than the original.

Hlucri, when standing on his thick hind legs, topped her by two feet, and ran twelve from the tip of his tail to his crown. Their magick had covered him with a new flesh of jet and jade. Stripes, from deep green to a softer, milkier tone marked his skin, with the darkest green forming a mask around his black eyes and up to his tall ears. While the skin felt and moved like supple leather, it could be hardened like armor with a thought. Spikes could sprout wherever needed, though fang and claw would serve thesullanciri best.

Hlucri lowered his head and gazed at the ground. "Forgive Hlucri intrusion, Lady Snowflake."

Isaura blinked. "Lady Snowflake?"

"Your Will-name."

She stiffened, then Drolda flowed into view at her side. She read what he signed, then nodded.

"The Norrington saw me? He knew who I was?"

"No. True-you known not." Thesullanciri'snostrils flared. "Safe with Hlucri." Isaura closed her eyes and pa.s.sed a hand over her face, wishing her mind and emotions would quiet. For the brief moment she believed Will Norrington had known who she was, her spirit had soared. It was as if that loneliness had vanished, as if whatever she had been linked to had reestablished contact. Hlucri's denial again demolished that link, leaving her alone and confirming that it had been Will Norrington with whom she had shared a bond.Will Norrington, whom I saved and who was later slain. A shiver started at the base of her spine and she let it banish her confusion. "What can I do for you, Hlucri?"

The creature opened his arms wide. "Hlucri newsp.a.w.n know-nothing." Isaura nodded. His transformation had taken place only three days previous and he had slept most of the time since.

Grichothkahad been caring for his needs. She had looked in on him occasionally but had not found him awake until now.

"How did you find your way here?" Thesullanciritapped his nose by way of answer.

Drolda signed quickly and Isaura laughed. "Very true, Drolda, he will have much interesting to smell here."

Thesullancirishifted around until he sat on his haunches. His head came up and he grinned with a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Know many smells."

"You will know more, but first..." Isaura pointed to Drolda. "You will forget you saw my friend here."

Hlucri breathed in, then tapped his nose again. "No smell, not there." She wasn't certain if thesullanciri was telling her Drolda really didn't exist for him, or if her secret was safe, but she decided the latter sufficed. "Thank you. Please, follow me." She turned to invite Drolda along, too, but he had already dissolved into snowflakes that teased her hair before slipping back out the window.

Isaura descended the tower stairs and began thinking about how she could best describe life in Aurolan.

She loved her home and knew of its beauty. The wonder of new snow over old, and the artistry of wind-carved sculptures. She wanted to share the subtle nature of the seasons, which were more than variations in temperature, and the songs of the wind and ice in the darkest of nights. But all that seemed to demand too much of her.

She felt exhausted even though she could have roused herself to explain it all were she guiding the Norrington. He would see the things she described, he would understand the beauty. He would see that Aurolan was not evil, that it did not deserve destruction.

She glanced back at the hulking beast moving through the shadows behind her. She had to look, for she could not hear him and could barely see him. She didn't feel as if she were being stalked, but instead protected. It gave her cause to wonder what sort of things Nefrai-kesh had worked into the magicks used to create Hlucri.

"My mother's citadel stands above one of the many cavern complexes throughout Aurolan. Snow and ice cover the surface, but the caves run deep and rents in the earth run deeper. Molten stone flows red and gold through the depths. Water heated below rises to bubbling pools. It keeps the caverns warm enough for life, and life does thrive here."

Hlucri sniffed and bobbed his head.

As they reached the ground floor, Isaura guided him to a door and opened it. The stairs there wound tighter and descended in a sharp spiral. Warm, moist air from below gradually enfolded them, and where the colder air met the wet, a thin layer of fog hung suspended. At the base, the stairs opened onto a wide balcony that provided a clear view of a large central cavern with small tunnel mouths dotting the walls much as stars blot the sky.

Sidestepping a small clutch of young frostclaws, Isaura reached the edge of the balcony. "Down there, on those terraces, various fungi are raised to feed upon."

A squawk and a crunch sounded from behind her. She turned and found a headless frostclaw in Hlucri's right hand and a dribble of blood flowing along his lip as he chewed. Isaura frowned for a moment. She was less concerned that he'd killed a frostclaw than with his apparent ease in doing so. As asullancirihe needed to be a formidable fighter, but young frostclaws were notoriously elusive.Speed and hunting instincts will stand him in good stead.

She politely refused the offer of a red raw haunch, waved him forward, then pointed to the level below the mushroom terraces. "The water drains there and goes down into a vast series of ponds and lakes.

Fish are farmed in them and the muck from the bottom of the ponds is brought back up to fertilize the terraces. The fish are fed with refuse and even our dead. Nothing is wasted here."

Hlucri brought his right arm back and hurled the half-eaten carca.s.s out into the cavern. Feathers trailed in its wake and floated softly down as the body plummeted into the depths. It missed one of the runoff streams by several yards, but another clutch of frostclaws fell on the body and tore it to pieces in seconds.

Isaura turned to face thesullanciri. She rested her fists on her hips. "Doing that sort of thing is not going to make you very popular around here. I can understand your being hungry, but you can't just kill things and eat them whenever you wish."

"Hlucri asks, someone else kills?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Time wasted."

"What did Nefrai-kesh do to you?"

Thesullancirismiled. "Made Hlucriyourservant."

That struck her as odd. Nefrai-kesh had always been thesullanciriwho cared the most about her. He brought her gifts and told her of the world, but even so, he had been distant. He hid behind his masks.

And now the mask he wears is theskin of this Panqui.

"Well, if you aremyservant, then please, no more needless killing. Some things are raised for food, and some for other work." She pointed off deeper into the cavern. "That tunnel leads off to mines and foundries. Our smiths might not turn out the fine work of urZrethi or elven metalworkers, but their steel is a match for anything a man has done. If we had silver and gold, I have no doubt our smiths would excel at working it, too."

Hlucri nodded. "South-riches come soon."

"Yes, they will." Isaura again felt she should have been pleased by that prospect, but she was not. The south had yielded crops in abundance before the war, and the new year should bring even more as the conquered lands were farmed. It did strike her as odd that her mother had not yet organized groups to go out and colonize those areas, since the human population would have fled before the armies. It could have been that she intended the armies themselves to turn farmer, but doing that would make them vulnerable to attack.

Hlucri's suggestion that plunder would be flowing north seemed right, but she was unaware of anything coming back from the south. In fact, the only plunder she knew of were the fragments of the DragonCrown her mother had liberated from Fortress Draconis. Her mother needed them to destroy the Crown and free the dragons, but wouldn't bringing other things back make sense, too?

Then it struck her: her mother feared the corruption of the south. In Aurolan, where everyone had a purpose and those things they needed, baubles would be nothing but trouble. The glint of gold, the glow of a gem could cause strife as those who coveted such items sought to possess them. The delicate balance that made life in the north possible would be destroyed by the southern wealth.

That explanation made perfect sense to her. Up above, across the valley from the fortress, stood the Conservatory. Neskartu, before his death at Nawal, had taught students from the south how to wield great magicks. They had all been housed in the Conservatory and Isaura though it was so they could concentrate on magick, but the truth of it dawned on her now. They had been isolated so the southern influence could not bleed into the Aurolani population.

Then she looked back into the cavern and realized how hollow that reasoning was.Grichothkaand vylaens were her mother's subjects. The latter were not stupid at all, but the former were simple creatures who required vylaens to lead them. While a shiny bit of metal might attract a gibberkin's eye, it would not be more valued if it were gold than silver or just bright copper. The vylaens might see more value in things, but their minds ran to magicks, and their pleasures were derived from them.

What is my mother doing? Isaura knew the history of the south's trying to destroy her a generation previous. The Norrington Prophecy certainly posed a threat, but how much of one? Would the southern kings have risen against her if she had not sent troops into their lands? And now, with the Norrington dead, why would she continue a war that the south could not win?

Isaura staggered back a step, then suddenly found herself scooped up in Hlucri's arms. She wanted to command him to set her down and never touch her again, but the gentleness with which he held her helped counter the empty feeling she had inside.

/thought I knew my mother, but it seems I do not. Does that mean Iamthe one who will betray her? She shivered.Or has she betrayed herself?

Isaura laid a hand on Hlucri's shoulder. "You may put me down. Thank you."

"Your servant." Thesullanciriset her on her feet, but did not remove his hands until she was steady. "No harm to you."

She caressed his green-and-black cheek. "I believe you, but there is no one who can stand against she who could do me the most hurt."

Had she desired to do so, Alexia could have been seated with the Okrans delegation to the Council of Kings. She knew her place was there, and dearly wished to support her grandfather. She would have done exactly that save that the old man appeared even more diminished in the wake of his nation's liberation. She could not imagine how he clung to life, but while he did, Grand d.u.c.h.ess Tatyana served as his voice in the Council.

Tatyana would not have tolerated Alexia's joining the Okrans delegation because Alexia insisted that Crow be given a place by her side. Alexia really didn't think Crow would come to listen, but she had made it known that a seat for him was the condition of her joining her family. Regrets that she and her companions could not be afforded seating were advanced, so Alexia instead sat with the Alcidese faction and no one seemed to attach any import to that shift.

As ministers rose to make preliminary remarks thanking King Fidelius one more time for hosting them, Alyx wished she could have been with Crow and well away from the large chamber. Crow had very much taken to writing his memoirs. While it seemed tiring work, and left his fingers stained with ink, he was happier in doing it than she'd seen in ages. His pleasure brought her pleasure, which made the councils endurable.

Many others in the room looked miserable, with long expressions mocking the bright smiles pictured in the murals. She glanced quickly at Prince Erlestoke. He still wore his black mask, but sat at his father's right hand. He did not look overjoyed to be there, but listened intently to all that was being said. After the sessions they would meet to brief Resolute and Crow, and Alexia had found Erlestoke's insights to be sharp and incisive.

The last minister seated himself, and King Fidelius stood at the table strung with Saporicia's blue-and-red banner. He hugged his right arm across his chest, clutching at the elbow of his ruined arm. "I have had grave news from the north which I am sorry to have to share with you all. Caledo has fallen. King Bowmar is dead. There is no word from his son, Bowmar, no word of other members of the royal house."

Alexia's skin tightened with gooseflesh. Princess Sayce had been left behind at Nawal less than a week before. The army besieging it had been destroyed by a dragon, but the larger army attacking the nation's capital, Caledo, had its own dragon. The city's fall was inevitable, but she hoped some of the royal family had survived.Without their leadership...

The Saporician monarch's brown eyes tightened. "Refugees are already streaming over the border. We are organizing the fleeing troops to strengthen my fortresses, but dragonels will sweep them away. The peasantry is being brought along as quickly as possible, but I have neither the s.p.a.ce nor the resources to deal with the disaster. They are coming south with nothing but the clothes on their backs. A greater catastrophe than the fall of their nation will occur if we cannot deal with this problem."

A buzz ran through the council chamber as ministers and their masters bent heads in discussion. Alyx felt certain more people were discussing the portents of Muroso's collapse than plans to deal with the refugees. As much as she hated that fact, she knew it was natural. Their primary concern would be stopping their own nation's fall, and putting food in the mouths of Murosan peasants wasn't going to accomplish much in that regard.

King Augustus rose slowly. "Within the hour orders will be communicated to Yslin to send supply ships here. They will arrive by afternoon tomorrow, good wind and Tagothcha willing. I will send more relief by land, but it will take longer to get here."

King Scrainwood smiled. "Ships already laden with supplies? Are you prescient, brother, or would this have been enough to feed an army?"

Augustus' expression darkened. "Is there anyone here who did not antic.i.p.ate this turn of events? King Fidelius has said he expects his border fortresses to be destroyed. No single nation has been able to stand against the might of Chytrine and, indeed, only in Okrannel, where a coalition force fought, were we successful in opposing her."

"I meant nothing by that, Augustus, other than a clever play on words." Scrainwood rose and adjusted his green mask. "I know these are tense times, and I regret that any attempt at levity is met with suspicion. I, too, shall give orders to have supplies sent overland. In two days we should have relief coming from Meredo. Those refugees that enter my nation shall be welcomed, as will any you wish to divert to Oriosa, Fidelius."

The Saporician king nodded. "You are both gracious. I know, Augustus, you did not intend to impugn the reputation of Saporician warriors. Your kind offer of help in fighting Chytrine has been noted, and I will call upon you as needed."

Augustus would have protested, but Tatyana rose to her feet. She made a Queen Carus nodded. "I shall order General Adrogans to appear before us to report on the Okrans situation."

Scrainwood clapped his hands. "Splendid. Now, Grand d.u.c.h.ess, does this ease your nephew's concerns?"

The old woman nodded. "It pleases him, yes."

"And you, King Fidelius, will you let Jeranese and Alcidese troops enter your nation to defend it? Would that invitation be extended to the troops of any other nation that wished to aid you?"

The incongruity of Scrainwood's crafting a compromise left Alexia cold, but not as cold as Fidelius'

reaction to those questions. The Saporician king had never been a big man, but he seemed to shrink a little. To allow foreign troops into his nation was to admit his own troops could not stop Chytrine. That was a reality and everyone in the room knew it, but to concede the point was to admit that his nation was helpless. Just as it could be imagined that Adrogans might never give up Okrannel, it could be imagined that the southern half of Saporicia could fall to Alcida and never be ruled by the Saporician royal house again.

A greater reality impinged as well. By allowing troops to enter Saporicia, Fidelius was letting his nation be chosen as the battleground where Chytrine would be stopped. Whether she was or not, the damage done to Saporicia would be incalculable. Armies on the prowl seldom respected rights or laws, so his allies could do as much damage as Chytrine's troops. Just the demand for firewood would lay waste to forests that supplied the world's best shipyards. Villages and towns would cease to exist, and if Chytrine had other, more terrible weapons to deploy, whole swaths of the countryside could be despoiled and remain so for centuries.

Against the threat of certain annihilation those considerations might have paled, but Fidelius would always be haunted by the question ofwhat ifhis troops had held? Could his nation have been saved?

Could it have saved itself? Was there a way to avoid the misery the war would bring to his people?

Conflicting emotions played over the king's face. His lower lip quivered, and he seemed on the verge of giving an answer when Scrainwood's voice, soft and serpentine, slithered into the chamber.

"You must agree, my brother, for the Norrington is no more."

That whisper shook Fidelius as if he'd been slammed in the chest with a drag-onel ball. "Yes. You are all welcome. Come. Save us all." His words, delivered quietly-seeming more a prayer than an answer-drifted through the hall like mist.

Even Scrainwood respected the silence that followed. The Oriosan king sat slowly and his face betrayed no feeling. Alexia felt a hollow pang herself as the despair in Fidelius' voice sank into the hopeless void opened by Scrainwood's comment. That void closed quickly, however, as sound crept slowly back.

Around the chamber crowned heads spoke with military advisors. Heads nodded and shook. Ministers made notes.

One by one, the leaders of the world's nations rose and pledged troops. Some, from faraway places like Valicia, Malca, and Regorra likely would never make it in time to be of use. Other units, from closer nations that had to worry about Chytrine, were not much storied or tested. Even taking those things into account, however, the forces gathering would be considerable and, properly led, might be enough to stop Chytrine.

Augustus rose. "I thank all of you, my brothers and sisters, for your willingness to send your warriors to shed blood here. Twenty-five years ago we faced this same threat and failed to deal with it bravely or directly. Chytrine's evil has festered in the world for too long. We must not lose heart this time. She must be stopped. Shewillbe stopped."

Even Alyx felt her pulse quicken at Augustus' words. Cheers and applause rang out from all the delegations. Even her grandfather seemed to rouse himself from his stupor to clap twisted hands. That brought a smile to her face, and it would have remained there save for a glance toward King Fidelius.

As all the others celebrated, he scrubbed his good hand over a very pale face. Others might see the tears smeared over his cheeks as being born of relief or joy, but she knew better. He was already mourning those who would die and Alexia bowed her head to join him, silent within the jubilant din.

With the sky cloudless and bright blue, and the sun shining ferociously, it might have been possible for Markus Adrogans to imagine spring had arrived early in Svarskya. The carpet of snow covering the landscape and the frosty air that steamed his breath argued against this, but he had a feeling the winter would lose its grip sooner rather than later. He had made contingency plans to deal with an early spring and would be happy to employ them.

What a few weeks might bring, however, did not concern him. He stood on a hilltop outside Svarskya.

With him was Alcidese General Turpus Caro, and propped up in a litter was a wounded Okrans warrior named Beal mot Tsuvo. Adrogans would have wished, with her injuries, that she'd remained in the older part of the city, but she refused to be left behind.

And she has earned the right to be here.

Beal mot Tsuvo had led a contingent of her clans folk in an a.s.sault on Svarskya. The fighting had been fierce and initial reports had listed her among the slain. Teams removing the dead had found her, cold, wounded but somehow clinging to life. Her right leg and right arm had been crushed and were beyond redemption. But Vilwanese warmages and a magicker from the Loquelven Blackfeathers had begun the process of making her into ameckanshu. They would shape and graft onto her stumps new limbs of metal.

Two others stood beside her. Mistress Gilthalarwin of the Blackfeathers seemed untouched by the cold.

Her long black hair hung in a thick braid and her cloak had been thrown back, revealing studded leather armor and the hilt of a curved sword. Her dark eyes focused distantly and Adrogans refused to even hazard a guess at what she was thinking, for the minds of elder races were well beyond his ken.

A small human clad in a threadbare cloak and breechcloth, with no hat or gloves, wore a sour expression. Ragged cloth swathed his feet. The Zhusk shaman shook his head, dislodging a wisp of grey hair to dangle in front of hisyes> then glared over at Adrogans. "You hardly need this." Adrogans smiled. "Be still, Uncle. We must know it before we decide if we need it."

Below the quintet the hillside facing the city had been dug out and framed up Stout wooden posts had been squared and used to reinforce the redoubt's walls and floor, and a dragonel had been wheeled up into it. There, ropes and pulleys had been used to move it into place and secure it. A second, smaller hole had been dug a quarter of the way south to house a cask of flredirt.

A young man of Alcidese origin approached and saluted. "If you are ready, General, we can proceed with the demonstration."

Adrogans nodded, then held up a hand. "You have no doubt you know how this works, Captain Agitare?"

The man smiled. "Yes, sir. Before I served under Princess Alexia and even General Caro, I spent three years at Fortress Draconis. Parsus was at Draconis for eight. We know how this works."

The little Zhusk sneered. "Only the ironmen know the secret of dragonels." Agitare shook his head.