The Seventh Magic (Book 3) (2 page)

While he dragged his feet in the jungle, he did not do the same once they had started climbing. The stair provided no cover. Wind and sand scoured the skin from their bones, and he climbed with all the speed he could muster. It mattered little. Such a long climb, like penance, required he put in the time.

Reaching the top brought little joy save respite from the wind. Rubbing his hands against the persistent stinging sand, Nat waited for the familiar feelings to engulf him, to remove him from this reality and show him a twisted future. Always his visions had proven true yet distorted or misunderstood. That was part of what made him hate the premonitions so much. What good were they if he couldn't even fully understand them until after the events they portended took place? It was either a curse or a completely useless gift.

Distant thunder interrupted his mental tirade. Neenya gasped, and Nat turned. In the early evening sky appeared a cloudlike column, glowing from within. Based on the direction, it came from the Godfist. None of the usual feelings accompanied this vision, though he did feel himself drawn and held, staring toward a bright light emerging from the cloud. Faster it came and brighter it grew. Nat's sense of time left him. A gleaming dragon bore down on the spire, holding his attention. Neenya screamed and Mael laughed; his name and identity suddenly known to Nat. Information flooded his mind, showing him the future through the dragon mage's eyes. Previous visions had never been so terrifying.

As Nat Dersinger collapsed into Neenya's arms, Mael breathed a fountain of fire.

Chapter 2

Those in pain are most vulnerable to the darkness.

--Thundegar Rheams

* * *

Fires dotted the landscape. Though the cloud forest was too wet to burn, the trees below had no such advantage. Smoke and ash choked those high above. A hazy pall hung over everything. The Heights were under siege, something he'd never imagined possible. Still, an army of men painted black with mud camped in the foothills. They did not scale the mountains or brave the cloud forest to batter themselves upon painted cliffs. Clever and devious, they used fire at the base of the mountain to fight those above.

Despite verdant dragons and their crews, fires continued to grow, setting fires being far easier than putting them out. Still, verdant dragons dumped huge mouthfuls of seawater on the fires, which made for an even greater spectacle. Smoke and embers posed a problem, but greater dangers ascended on the thermals. Balloons of woven reeds carried vials of flaming pitch and floated up in waves, threatening even well-secured areas. The cloud forest, too, slowly fell victim to pitch-fueled fires.

More recently, the balloons contained unpredictable explosive devices. Some detonated with spectacular effect long before reaching the Heights, others sprinkled the cloud forest with glowing embers, but some reached their intended destination. Not far from Onin, a flaming balloon and its cargo landed, smoldering. Nearby dragon grooms worked to calm their frightened charge. Onin moved. The weapon now sparkled and hissed, but he was too slow. Jehregard swung his giant head in front of Onin. Before he could shout a warning, Jehregard used his mouth to fling the weapon from the hold. It didn't get far before it exploded, and Jehregard shied away, crying out in shock and pain.

A flash of heat and the shock wave were all Onin felt, for which he was grateful. Jehregard nudged him and Onin patted the great oaf's head. He appeared uninjured, though darkness marred one side of his face. The dragon alongside them finally stopped prancing, but the whites of his eyes still showed. Onin empathized with his grooms. It would be a dangerous day. Frightened animals can be deadly--dragons even more so.

As he walked toward the inner chambers and the hall of the council, Onin knew it would be a dangerous day for them all. Most of the guard already waited within, and the expressions greeting Onin crossed a wide spectrum. Some afforded him the respect earned through a life of service, but many viewed him as an unwanted relic from a past best not discussed. He reminded them their society was not as honorable as they liked to believe. Here existed greed and pride like anywhere else, and that stung their egos.

This Onin found ironic. "I've been an ugly old man most of my life," he said in way of greeting. "I doubt I'll get any prettier."

Chuckles faded to silence. Some had the courage to glare at him. He did not care.

"Rise and greet your lord chancellor," Sensi said with an unenthusiastic flourish. His expression shared a joke with those in the room while his voice remained serious. Onin still chuckled when the lord chancellor entered. Their eyes met, getting them off to a bad start, and he shook his head. When would he learn?

"This is a military meeting," the lord chancellor began without preface. "Those not part of the current guard are dismissed."

Knowing his rights, Onin remained. An uncomfortable silence held.

"Must I have you removed?" the lord chancellor said.

"You may try," Onin said.

"Is that a threat?"

Onin shrugged. "Anyone who violates my rights will encounter resistance."

"So it is a threat!" the lord chancellor said, his voice higher in pitch.

"Only if you plan to violate my rights."

Cold silence followed. The lord chancellor seemed to be gauging his own standing in the room. Powerful he may be, but the guard was sworn to protect the people and their rights. If the lord chancellor issued orders contradicting that oath, loyalty would be tested. Revolutions had started over less, of which Onin was acutely aware.

"Fine. Stay," the lord chancellor said, red in the face. "But do not cross me."

Onin nodded, knowing he walked a fine line. Experience had made this abundantly clear, but his sense of self-preservation wasn't what it used to be. "We need to stop hiding up here and get into the fight." These words stirred the guard, as Onin had known they would. With a single statement, he'd shifted opinion in his favor. Much of what he knew he kept hidden, sure they would not believe. Someone else must also see what he'd seen.

"The dragons and the
new
guard are our most precious resources," the lord chancellor said. "We cannot risk them."

Pandering to the guard and insulting Onin in a single statement showed the lord chancellor did not come to this battle unarmed. Onin considered his options and decided to keep his mouth shut. Awkward and overlong, the silence unnerved all those present.

"The ferals are concentrated at the center of the Jaga," Jordic of Kern said. He was a good man, Onin knew. "If we stay along the coastline, we should be able to avoid the ferals and the weather."

The stormy season would be as much a danger as the ferals.

"I've sent word to the Midlands, apprising them of our needs," the lord chancellor said. "If they wish continued trade and prosperity, they will comply."

Onin shook his head, the disappointment in the room obvious. The lord chancellor did not deal with the Midlands on a regular basis. To him, they were but a faraway land to be called on when in need and good for little else. The guard knew otherwise, one and all, old and new. The Midlands fed the Heights in exchange for precious metal. In times of war, the cost of food increased. The cost of some metals increased dramatically and others decreased. Iron was more valuable than gold for the making of weapons, and platinum fed no starving children. In this instance, the people of the Heights were in no place to ask favors. Among their few applicable assets, dragons might be their only hope.

"I wish to fly a scouting mission along the coast," Jordic said. It was a risky move. "I can take iron and copper and trade for grain."

"Even a single dragon is too much to risk," the lord chancellor said.

"Then I'll go," Onin said. Jordic glared at him. Onin almost felt bad.

"That's a risk I can accept," the lord chancellor said with a smile. "Any chance you could scout the center of the swamp while you’re at it?"

"Already have." This statement brought silence. "Not on purpose, mind you. My dragon just doesn't steer all that well." This brought laughter from almost the entire guard--even Jordic. "It would probably be best if you sent Jordic of Kern with me to make sure I don't get lost. After all, my little dragon can't carry much."

"Useless," the lord chancellor said. "Fine! Go."

Onin turned to Jordic and winked. The younger man shook his head and smiled.

* * *

Following a path Emmon widened before her, Nora Trell walked and grumbled. It wasn't the boy who raised her ire; he was doing quite nicely. Holding a branch aside, he let her pass and raced around to get back ahead of her and clear the trail as best he could. Why would anyone choose to live this far out in the wilderness? She knew the answer was partly to keep people like her from asking favors. It didn't make the walk pass any more quickly.

When at last they reached a well-made fence with rolling green pasture beyond, they had found Madra's farm. Emmon ducked down to climb through the fence.

"Wait," Nora said, backing up. The boy looked confused but did as he was told and took a step back. For another moment they stood in silence. Then came a loud snort from not far away. Trees and brush blocked the view, but something was coming. Emmon back away farther when a bull charged, its sharp horns long enough to reach through the fence and kill.

"How'd you know?" Emmon asked.

"Never go into a field without checking, boy. And I've been here before. Madra's known for saying, 'Who needs guard dogs when you've got bulls?' Madra's known for saying a lot of things."

"Now what do we do?"

"Yell 'Madra' as loud as you can."

The boy shrugged and managed an impressive effort. Moments later, dressed in chaps and cursing, came Madra. "What kind of idiot just goes around shouting in the woods? Do they even consider that I might have a horse standing over me?"

"It's Nora Trell," Emmon shouted after a nod from Nora.

"Oh. That kind of idiot. I should've known."

"Could you corral your dog, please?" Nora asked.

Madra made a rude gesture but grabbed a metal bucket from nearby. A good shake and the bucket made a rattling sound. The bull turned immediately and ran toward the fence where Madra stood, looking as if it might impale her, but instead it slowed and gently grabbed the ear of corn Madra held. With her other hand, she yanked on a rope that pulled the gate shut, corralling the bull off from the rest of the field.

"How'd she do that?" Emmon asked, not moving toward the fence, his skin pale.

"If you always feed them in the corral and rarely close the gate, you don't even have to work at it. And now we can safely cross the field."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, you did make Madra angry with all that yelling you did."

The boy gave her a wry but unappreciative look.

"What do you want?" Madra asked when they reached the barn. She had her knees bent and a colt's hind leg resting between hers, and she finished crimping the nails of a loose shoe. Nora just waited for her to give them her attention. "That'll have to do until the farrier comes back. Turn him back out on the hill, Chelby."

After pulling up a wooden chair with a leather seat and wheels, Madra looked them over and chuckled. "You must want something, Nora Trell. Otherwise you wouldn't have gotten off your pretty ship and trudged through all those trees and bugs and snakes. You did tell the boy about the snakes, didn't you? Boiling things look just like branches, but one bite and it's all over."

The size of Emmon's eyes nearly made Nora laugh, but why spoil the joke? "I need your help."

Madra snorted.

"I need food."

"You walked all the way here for some food?"

"Rather a lot of it, actually."

Madra's eyes narrowed. "You have an army to feed?" The silence hung. "I had an army once, dreadful things. Noisy and they smell terrible. They're like children. Speaking of children, Chelby!"

"Yes?"

"Nora here needs rather a lot of food. You know what that means, don't you?"

"No."

"It means I'm going to need a drink. Fetch my metal flask, will you?" Chelby did as she asked.

"Don't ask about his brother while he's standing here," Madra said when her son walked away. "Those two have been fighting again. Idiots. At least I did not raise boring children."

"I'll drink to that," Nora said. "Twice."

Emmon pretended not to hear.

"So where exactly do you need all this food?"

"West of here," Nora replied.

When Chelby returned, Madra took a deep pull before handing the flask to Nora. "West of here, you say? Well, there's not a whole lot west of here, now is there? Won't be sending wagons that way, that's for certain. How much can the boy carry?"

With a laugh, Nora pushed Emmon toward the door. "Why don't you go play with the bull?"

"Watch the pointy bits," Madra said as he rushed out. After he was gone, she asked, "You think that one's going to make it? He's a little doe eyed, don't you think?"

"He'll live," Nora said. "Not sure how much of that living he'll do on my ship, but I doubt I'll have to throw him overboard."

"So you want supplies by barge, I assume?"

"That would be best. I'll need multiple shipments over time." Nora did not shrink under Madra's glare. There was a reason she'd trudged through the forsaken wilderness to seek out Madra. Others could get what she needed but not and maintain secrecy. Few people had the courage to ask Madra many questions.

"You never ask for anything easy."

"What fun would that be?"

* * *

Leaving the Heights involved far less activity for Onin and Jehregard than Jordic and his dragon, Tanaketh. Among the largest verdant dragons, Tanaketh was young and proud. Most verdants were supported by a guard and ten grooms. Jordic commanded a full thirteen grooms to deal with the dragon. Tanaketh's size and disposition made him both a greater asset to the Heights and a greater threat to those in power.

Getting them away from the Heights was the first priority, and they left with as much haste as possible before anyone changed their minds. While he would have liked some time to confer with Jordic, there were ears everywhere. Even once they were in the air, shouting sensitive information between them would be unwise.

Jordic's request for a wing transfer still came as something of a surprise. The practice had been frowned upon in Onin's day and was all but outlawed. Still, Onin had done it himself in the past, and he believed the talent should be maintained even if not often used. In battle, such skills could mean the difference between life and death. Patting his dragon on the neck, he said, "All right, old boy, behave yourself for once." Jehregard grunted in response. "Just keep straight and level."