Read Dragon and Phoenix Online
Authors: Joanne Bertin
Dragon and Phoenix (16 page)
It was beginning.
Sulae Shallanan, in dragon form to bring medicine to an isolated family of kir shepherds, saw them first. She mindcalled the other Dragonlords at the Keep. The word spread from them, and soon everyone who could was outside, watching.
“Here they come!” someone cried. The sky to the north grew black across the narrow mountain horizon. Many wept openly. Such a thing had not happened in centuries, not since the shaman’s war that unleashed the wild magic that had created the Dragonlords. No one had ever wanted to see it again.
The truedragons were going to war.
Linden stood with Maurynna, Otter, and Raven. Taren stood to one side. Fear etched the man’s face. Fear and … anger.
Aye, well might Taren be angry. For Linden was angry as well, that the truedragons should try this way first and go so much against their natures. But who were any of them to tell the great lords of the sky their business?
The truedragons were nearly overhead now. Like a swarm of monstrous locusts they came on, one after another. The sky grew dark overhead as they passed over and those upon the ground watched in silence. But all too soon the pale blue of the autumn sky reappeared.
“Morlen couldn’t stop them?” Maurynna whispered.
“No.” Lleld came up. “He was outvoted.” For once Lleld did not look happy to be the bearer of tidings. Her brown eyes brimmed with tears. “All save the very old, the very young, and the infirm are with their army.”
“And Morlen?” asked Maurynna. “I thought I—” Her voice shook.
“And Morlen, love,” Linden said. He stroked her hair. “I recognized him.”
“He wouldn’t leave the others to face this danger; though he’s old and his magic isn’t what it once was—his words, I heard the Lady say—it’s still strong. He doesn’t agree with this plan, but he won’t desert them,” said Lleld. Her voice quivered, and she turned her face away to watch the truedragons once more.
“May
the gods help them,” Otter said after the last truedragon disappeared beyond the range of mountains to the south of Dragonskeep.
the gods help them,” Otter said after the last truedragon disappeared beyond the range of mountains to the south of Dragonskeep.
“And see them safely home,” Linden said. To himself he said,
I had no idea there were so few of them. Gods help us all, what if the Jehangli magic is stronger than theirs?
I had no idea there were so few of them. Gods help us all, what if the Jehangli magic is stronger than theirs?
It could mean the end of the truedragons. He shut his eyes against the thought. “Avert,” he whispered against Maurynna’s hair. “Avert.”
His master slept. Hodai stood in the doorway and listened to Pah-Ko’s deep, even breathing, broken by an occasional whimper brought on by surges of the pain that was a
nira’
s constant companion. He was glad his master could find even this much relief in slumber. That Pah-Ko napped also meant Hodai could go outside to play for a time.
nira’
s constant companion. He was glad his master could find even this much relief in slumber. That Pah-Ko napped also meant Hodai could go outside to play for a time.
Like a bright-eyed mouse, Hodai left the chambers of the
nira
and slipped through the halls of the temple complex that crowned Mount Kajhenral. Whenever he couldn’t avoid being seen, the little Oracle trotted purposefully along, knowing that if he seemed to be on an errand for the Holy One, no one would stop him.
nira
and slipped through the halls of the temple complex that crowned Mount Kajhenral. Whenever he couldn’t avoid being seen, the little Oracle trotted purposefully along, knowing that if he seemed to be on an errand for the Holy One, no one would stop him.
Not even Haoro. Hodai pattered down the curving stairs that led to the back exit by the temple storerooms.
But as if the thought were a summoning, Haoro was standing at the bottom of the stairs, talking to one of the lesser priests who oversaw the storerooms.
“I wish more of the new incense to be sent to my rooms. The scent is most pleasing.”
Hodai stumbled to a halt. He tried to turn around, but in his terror, his legs betrayed him. They gave way and he sat with such force that a pained grunt forced its way out.
Haoro instantly looked up the stairs and saw him. The Oracle could only stare back, too frightened to move. The priest studied him for a moment that went on and on as Hodai’s blood pounded in his ears like thunder. He thought he would faint. When he saw the smile that crept at last across Haoro’s face, he nearly did.
Haoro
knew.
knew.
With a flick of his hand, Haoro dismissed the lesser priest. The man hurried away. Hodai willed his legs to stand, to run, but they had all the strength of melted wax. He could only watch the priest mount the stairs toward him, each stride as slow and deliberate as a stalking tiger’s.
“You’ve something to tell me.”
Hodai trembled.
No!
he wanted to shout, to jump up and run away. But the gift of speech was not his, nor would his body obey him. The best he could do was lock his fingers together so hard it hurt and vow not to—
No!
he wanted to shout, to jump up and run away. But the gift of speech was not his, nor would his body obey him. The best he could do was lock his fingers together so hard it hurt and vow not to—
The priest’s hand gestured. Once more the ghostly, beautiful voice sang in
the air. Once more the sound smote Hodai to the heart. He listened hungrily; it died away too soon, leaving him aching for more.
the air. Once more the sound smote Hodai to the heart. He listened hungrily; it died away too soon, leaving him aching for more.
“That can be yours, Hodai. Yours for as long as the phoenix lives.”
Still under the spell of the voice, Hodai unclenched his hands and, like one in a trance, began forming words with trembling fingers.
When Hodai was done, Haoro said, “Yet he has said nothing of actually undoing the binding?”
Hodai shook his head vigorously, his paralysis of terror finally breaking. No, he signed again and again.
“Then I shall let him dig this tiger pit a little deeper for himself.” To Hodai’s relief, Haoro continued up the steps past him. The young Oracle stared rigidly ahead, willing Haoro far, far away.
But the reprieve was cruelly short. For Haoro, stopping just behind him, said, “You’re loyal to Pah-Ko, aren’t you, little Oracle. For this didn’t happen today, did it?”
Hodai stiffened. How did—?
“I always know, boy. So don’t think to warn Pah-Ko, Hodai. For if you do, I’ll know that as well. And then you shall die. Do you understand?”
Hodai nodded stiffly, still not daring to turn his head. Not until the last echoes of footsteps were long gone, and his buttocks were nigh as cold as the stone he sat upon, did Hodai dare to move.
When he did, he trudged back up the stairs, all thoughts of play forgotten, as empty inside as a ghost.
Taren sat close to the fire after a dinner few had the appetite for, a heavy shawl over his shoulders and a blanket covering his lap. His sallow face looked even yellower in the firelight. The string of white worry beads flashed as they slipped endlessly through his fingers.
Jehanglan must be warm indeed to have thinned Taren’s blood so much,
Linden thought as he leaned on the mantel near the former slave’s chair. He looked across at Otter, who wore only a woolen tunic and breeches against the chill of the autumn night.
Even Otter is comfortable, and he’s older than Taren.
Linden thought as he leaned on the mantel near the former slave’s chair. He looked across at Otter, who wore only a woolen tunic and breeches against the chill of the autumn night.
Even Otter is comfortable, and he’s older than Taren.
His gaze traveled among the others ranged throughout the chamber. The bard sat in the chair on the other side of the fireplace from Taren, his face grave, studying the goblet in his hand. His harp leaned against the far wall. Linden wondered if Otter would have the heart to sing tonight. Raven sat on a low stool by his great-uncle’s knee, resting his chin in his hands, staring into the fire. He looked troubled.
Lleld and Jekkanadar were curled up together in the room’s only double chair. The little Dragonlord’s fiery red head rested on her soultwin’s shoulder; Jekkanadar put his arm around her. Neither spoke.
In the centuries I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Lleld upset like this. I know
I’ve often wished that she weren’t quite so … exuberant, but damn! If this is how that wish is answered, I’ll take her ten times worse than she was before.
I’ve often wished that she weren’t quite so … exuberant, but damn! If this is how that wish is answered, I’ll take her ten times worse than she was before.
Maurynna sat cross-legged on the floor nearby. She picked at the long silken fringe of the Assantikkan sash she wore belting her tunic, braiding and unbraiding it. Her goblet of wine sat untouched by her knee.
“I can’t believe they’re going to try it,” Lleld said, breaking the heavy silence.
Linden sipped his wine. “They couldn’t just leave Pirakos or Varleren or whoever it might be there. What else could they have done?” He held up a hand against the anger that blazed in the red-haired little Dragonlord’s face. “No, I don’t agree it was the right thing to do. I just don’t see how else—”
“That’s because you still think like a soldier,” Lleld snapped. “There are other ways of getting to the honeycomb than running your head into a bees’ nest.”
“What would you suggest?” Linden countered.
Lower lip sticking out, Lleld said, “I don’t know. But there has to be a better way.”
Raven looked up. “I’d never really thought about how many truedragons there were before today. But there seemed far fewer than I thought there would be. Why?”
Linden
looked to the two older Dragonlords.
I wondered about that myself. Do you think a number of them have chosen to pass on?
looked to the two older Dragonlords.
I wondered about that myself. Do you think a number of them have chosen to pass on?
Perhaps,
came the slow answer from Jekkanadar.
And if so, what does that mean?
came the slow answer from Jekkanadar.
And if so, what does that mean?
Not something I like the sound of,
said Lleld.
said Lleld.
Linden agreed with her and said aloud, “We’re not certain. Perhaps the Lady knows.”
No one spoke; the others looked as grim as he felt.
What is it that Maurynna says when she’s angry or upset—“Black dog on my shoulder?”Well, that black
dog is prowling this room,
he thought. The silence grew, leavened only by the crackling of the flames.
What is it that Maurynna says when she’s angry or upset—“Black dog on my shoulder?”Well, that black
dog is prowling this room,
he thought. The silence grew, leavened only by the crackling of the flames.
It went on so long that when Otter spoke, Linden jumped, almost spilling his wine.
“Taren.” The bard was no longer studying his goblet, but his face was even graver than before. “Taren, what will the truedragons face? What kind of magic do they have in Jehanglan?”
The soft clicking of the worry beads stopped. “They don’t have magic as we have it here,” Taren answered. “There are no mages. Nor do you find someone such as a milkmaid, say, who can make the butter come with a word. You understand me? Odd little talents.”
Maurynna said, “Mm—yes. The little magics that sometimes crop up. There’s a sailor like that on board my Aunt Maleid’s ship. No matter how wet
and tangled the ropes, how tight the knot, it will all come free at his touch if he wills it. My uncles have been trying to lure him away from Aunt Maleid for years.” She smiled. “But she also has the best ship’s cook.”
and tangled the ropes, how tight the knot, it will all come free at his touch if he wills it. My uncles have been trying to lure him away from Aunt Maleid for years.” She smiled. “But she also has the best ship’s cook.”
Welcome laughter at that; the gloom filling the chamber eased a little. But Taren’s statement bothered Linden.
“No magic at all?” he said. “How is the land protected, then? For protected it is, from all I’ve heard.”
Taren shrugged and turned a benign smile upon him. “I was but a lowly slave, Dragonlord. All I know is that I was told there is no magic in Jehanglan, that the Phoenix protects the land with its holy might. I never heard of any mages; there are no stories about them, either.”
A land without magic. It seemed inconceivable to Linden. There was magic everywhere—wasn’t there? Images of a world without it filled his mind; he wasn’t certain he wanted to live there. In the back of his mind a voice said,
Did you live in such a place, you would have died six hundred years ago.
Did you live in such a place, you would have died six hundred years ago.
Not a comfortable thought, that; the skin down his back crawled and he shivered. He muttered, “Goose walking over my grave.” Then, louder, “Are there no creatures of magic, then, in Jehanglan? Surely the Phoenix is a creature of magic. What about dragons, say, or anything else?”
The firelight danced on Taren’s bald pate as he shook his head. “No dragons. The priests of the Phoenix temple teach that the dragons were evil and the Phoenix killed them all long ago.”
“What do priests from other temples preach?” Otter asked.
“There are no other temples.”
The others looked at each other in astonishment.
Otter persisted. “You mean there’s only one way to worship? No choice of gods to believe in?”
“The Zharmatians—a tribe of horse herders who roam the Western Plains-believe differently. So do others that the Jehangli name barbarian, such as the Tah’nehsieh. But they’re few and powerless, small groups of no importance.”
A gesture of dismissal, and the clicking of the worry beads began again. “Sometimes the soldiers of the priests descend upon a village and take one or more of the children back with them. No one knows why those children are chosen. Males are given to the temple to become priests. I don’t know what happens to the girls.”
“And I don’t think I like Jehanglan,” Lleld muttered under her breath.
By unspoken agreement, the talk drifted onto other, easier, subjects for a time.
The cliff beckoned him. Crawling on hands and knees to the edge, Hodai looked over. Already the valley below was wreathed in darkness.
But it was no darker than his heart. He had betrayed the man he loved like
a grandfather, and who loved him as a grandson. He remembered the first time they’d met, how kindly the
nira
had treated him. He had given his heart then to the man.
a grandfather, and who loved him as a grandson. He remembered the first time they’d met, how kindly the
nira
had treated him. He had given his heart then to the man.
He deserved death. But he was young, and the thought of dying frightened him.
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