Dragon Prince 02 - The Star Scroll (67 page)

Masul’s green eyes bored into his. “Keep your precious color, princeling,” he sneered.

“I intend to,” Pol replied.

With Miyon in attendance, Masul stalked off down the hill. He was not even out of sight before someone, no one ever knew who, sent up a raucous cheer that was Pol’s name.

Andry, who had watched the whole with his breath caught in his throat, laughed aloud and joined his family in its surge to Rohan, Sioned, and Pol. If there were disgruntled partisans of the pretender on that hillside, they vanished quickly in the wake of Pol’s small, telling triumph.

A little while later, when everyone was heading down the knoll to their camps, Alasen caught up to Andry and asked, “I understand what Prince Pol did—and it was masterful—but why was that man knighted?”

“It wasn’t just to irritate us,” Andry agreed.

“Yes, our young prince did very well today, didn’t he?” Ostvel said from behind them, where he walked with Riyan and Chay. “I thought the pretender would have a seizure! Pol’s definitely his father’s son, Chay.”

“A fact Masul is currently cursing,” Andry’s father replied with a tight grin. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to hurry back to camp. I want to be the one to tell old Lleyn about this.”

“Do it carefully!” Ostvel called after him. “He’s likely to laugh himself into a fit!”

“My lord,” Alasen said to Ostvel, “I still don’t understand why—”

“Just for spite, my lady,” Riyan said quickly. “Father, Tallain says we’re to meet their graces immediately after this. We’d best hurry.”

“Of course. Andry, will you see Princess Alasen safe to her father’s care? We seem to have been separated from his grace in the crowd.”

Andry would have kept her safe even if a thousand mounted knights suddenly thundered down on them. He suspected his face showed it as he said, “Of course, my lord.”

“Good. I leave you in his capable hands, then, my lady.” Ostvel smiled again at Alasen, and she smiled back.

“They didn’t answer us,” she said when they had gone.

“No.” Andry couldn’t bring himself to care. “My lady—Alasen—”

She blushed and his heart turned over. It was a very long time before either remembered that they were supposed to be going to her father’s tents.

 

Andrade glanced up. Ostvel was holding her cloak over one arm, his face in shadow. No lamps had been lit, and the setting sun had turned the white tent to gray mist around them. She rose, smoothed her hair, and allowed him to drape the cloak around her shoulders.

“My Lady—”

“No.” She heard her voice sharp with nervous tension, and clenched her fists beneath the concealing folds of material. “No,” she said again, more softly. “All will be well.

“There’s nothing I can say to dissuade you.”

“Of course not. Hurry up. This must be done before moonrise. Is everyone assembled?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get this over with. I’ve had enough of this Masul person.”

“As have we all,” he muttered.

The late sun hovered in a sky washed pale yellow. Andrade mounted the knoll where knighting ceremonies had been held that afternoon. She smelled rain in the air, and fear not her own, as she stood outside the circle assembled on the hill. Twenty-five people stood around an empty firepit, a necklace of princely power threaded by
faradh’im.
When Andrade and Urival joined them, they would number twenty-seven—one of the multiples of three strictly prescribed for what she was about to do. Andrade found the mystical significance of three absurd, and suspected Lady Merisel had, too. But she did not dare flout traditions she knew nothing about.

Andrade had carefully planned the balance of powers, both political and
faradhi,
around the circle. There was nothing in the Star Scroll that demanded it, but her own sense of balance had focused the two conflicting sides directly opposite each other. Sioned acted as the Desert’s Sunrunner, as usual; Rohan stood to her right, his eyes dark with guilt. Pol had insisted on his privilege as titular ruler of Princemarch—and Pandsala could not have joined the circle in any case, for the presence of persons who could appear in this kind of conjure was forbidden. Tobin, despite her mere three honorary rings and her lack of formal training at Goddess Keep, was acting as Pol’s Sunrunner. On the other side of the circle were Miyon of Cunaxa and the four other princes who supported Masul’s claim.
Faradh’im,
including Hollis, stood between them. Chale had selected Riyan as his Sunrunner. Andry had asked for and received permission to stand with Volog as his
faradhi
link in the circle. On his other side was Lleyn, with Maarken at his side. Lady Eneida represented Firon; Urival would stand with her. Young Sejast had volunteered to act as Davvi’s
faradhi.
They completed the circle next to Sioned.

They were all looking at her with differing mixtures of wary apprehension, worry, and simple curiosity. Urival took her cloak at a gesture of her fingers, and she spared a glance for the swords and knives laid neatly out on a blanket on the grass. Ostvel would watch over them—and over Chiana and Masul, who also could not be part of the circle. Others stood outside, as well: Chay and Sorin with Alasen, Tilal and Kostas beside Gemma and Danladi. Pandsala stayed apart, seeming calm and confident until one saw her deep, shadow-bruised eyes.

Kiele had the temerity to approach Andrade, but one cold look kept her from speaking. She returned to Masul’s side. The pretender arched a sardonic brow at the Lady of Goddess Keep, but if the expression reminded her of Roelstra, she did not allow herself to think it.

She nodded Urival to his place in the circle and entered it herself, standing before the firepit. Logs had been stacked in a heavy triangle, kindling piled beneath them, ready for Sunrunner’s Fire. Andrade watched as the sun dipped lower, the sky gradually darkening. She had only a short wait before the moons would rise; this conjuring could take place only beneath stars. When the first of them winked into view in the east, she lifted one beringed hand. Urival stepped forward with a small flask. He opened it for her, took a small golden cup from his pocket, and poured out
dranath
-laced wine.

Andrade drank it quickly. Almost at once her head began to throb. She drank more; the ache faded to a glow of well-being, an almost sexual pleasure in the flow of blood through her veins and air through her lungs. Heat spread along her body, a slow uncurling of power that nothing in the Star Scroll had prepared her for. The sky went dark while she drank again. And it seemed to her that the stars exploded into being simultaneously, made of a million different colors that she could weave into the fabric of her memories.

She was startled when the logs burst into flame. She could not remember having consciously willed it, yet there the Fire was, flaring up toward the light-dazzled night sky. Someone gasped; perhaps it was herself. She did not know and certainly did not care. This was power beyond anything she had ever felt. It sang through her, promised delights of mind and flesh and spirit that enchanted her. Sweet, clean, omnipotent, acting on the already extraordinary strengths that had made her Lady of Goddess Keep, the
dranath
rushed through her and she nearly laughed aloud.

Andrade reached for the energies of the Sunrunners circled around her, wove their varying colors into a taut, shining fabric disciplined by her strong mind. It was a cloak she wore for only an instant before it melted into her flesh and became part of her augmented powers. So
this
was a sorcerer’s way, she thought,
this
was what she had been so afraid of. How foolish! The ascent was dazzling. She had no thought for the fall.

Turning her face to the flames that leaped higher, higher with her every thought, she effortlessly caused the scenes of her memory to play out in smoky patterns superimposed on the red-gold heat. If there were gasps of fearful surprise, she did not hear them. She knew only the soaring glory of power.

The power had hold of her now, dragon talons around her mind. No more did she control the visions that swirled and broke and coalesced again in the flames. She cried out at the agony ripping through her skull. It was the touch of an alien thing, a malignant fiery grasping
thing
tearing at her mind, clawing the
faradhi
colors away, that soft cloak of additional power gone now. There was only Andrade, her blood afire with
dranath,
her eyes blinded by a flash of starlight come to earth.

Clever Andrade,
said a mocking voice in her mind.
So very clever! Daring to use
my
kind of power! Learn now that
this
is a sorcerer’s way!

She screamed, fell to her knees with her fire-filled head clutched in both hands, screamed until she had no voice left.

 

The circle shattered with Andrade’s first cry. The Sunrunners lurched, some of them slumping to the grass, others held up by the terrified princes. Maarken stumbled over to Hollis, who lay senseless at Miyon’s feet. Pol clung wild-eyed to Tobin as she moaned softly with pain. Barely catching Sioned when she began to crumple, Rohan shouted for Chay and Ostvel. The fire and its hideous visions raged on, its roar punctuated by terrible screams.

Urival, with the knowledge and strength of his nine rings that had circled his fingers like fire since the first of Andrade’s working, wrenched his own colors back from the tangled weave. Let Sioned sort the others out; let her worry about them. He flung himself to his knees beside Andrade, rocking her in his arms, his head nearly bursting and his stricken face contorted in the harsh red glow of the flames. He wrapped Andrade in his own colors, vainly attempting to shield her from encroaching darkness. The others were in danger, but he had no time for them. Not now, not when Andrade’s cries were growing weaker. Hanging onto her, his rings burning his flesh, he sobbed and cursed into her silver-gilt hair.

Riyan, Andry—even Pandsala and Alasen outside the circle—all the
faradh’im
were nearly senseless with sudden agony no one not of their kind could understand. The unraveling of Andrade’s power-filled weaving created a chaos of colors. Sioned struggled in Rohan’s arms, her face sheened in sweat as she tried to sort through a blinding whirlwind of patterns that the ungifted could not see. Pol, giving Tobin over to Chay’s strong arms, managed a few steps toward his mother and flung his arms around her waist. She cried out and held his bright head close, separating his glowing colors first. When he was whole again he slid to the ground, shocked and trembling still, but safe.

Sioned worked desperately as the shadows threatened, surged close to darken
faradhi
minds. She beat back the black mist in a frenzy, reformed the elegant shining patterns of Sunrunners nearly lost. At last she gave a great shudder and collapsed in Rohan’s arms.

The fire died very suddenly, almost as if a gigantic fist had strangled it. No one saw Segev fall to the grass, seemingly in the same reaction as the other Sunrunners. Only he knew that his collapse came because Mireva had at last released him and the fire she had created through him. He lay in a forgotten heap, breathing heavily around a heartbeat so rapid that it slurred in his chest.

Prince Lleyn limped over to where Andrade was cradled in Urival’s arms. He lowered himself to his knees, picked up one of her hands. His proud old face twisted with grief.

Chadric and Audrite approached Rohan where he bent over his wife and son. He shrugged off their compassionate hands, terrified by Sioned’s spent face, Pol’s uncontrolled shivering. Audrite murmured reassurance with a serenity not reflected in her eyes; Chadric gripped Rohan’s shoulder and said, “They’ll be all right. There’s another who needs you now.”

Rohan looked up, followed Chadric’s gaze to where Andrade lay. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in negation of what he had seen. But when he looked again. . . . Tenderly he touched his son’s hair, his wife’s scarred cheek. Then he went to Andrade.