The Dragon Heir (27 page)

D'Orsay peered into the dim
interior, disbelieving his eyes. “Stephen?” he muttered. Then he
turned and sprinted after his son, who was out of sight by now. When he topped
the hill, he saw Dev standing on the near side of the moat, shouting up to the
gatehouse.

“Stephen! Open up, you
pathetic imbecile, or I'll…”

“Devereaux!” D'Orsay
bellowed. “Come away!” He slammed his son aside just as a blast of
wizard fire erupted from the gatehouse and scorched the ground where Dev had
been standing.

D'Orsay threw up a shield in
time to turn three more attacks from his own hold. Had the Roses taken
advantage of their absence from the hold to sneak unobserved into the ghyll?
Had his guard turned on him?

Wards were crystallizing all
about the fortifications, powerful barriers to any magic that might be used to
bring down the walls. Not that D'Orsay intended to knock down his house if he
could help it.

They retreated to a safe
distance. Dev was shaken but unhurt. He quickly added his strength to D'Orsay's
shielding. “What's happened, Father? Has that idiot Stephen gone
berserk?”

“Stephen is dead, Dev. I
found him in the garden.”

“Stephen? Dead?”
Dev's eyes widened. “That's horrid. I can't believe it.”

Just then a dozen guardsmen in
D'Orsay livery trotted up. “What's going on, sir?” the officer
gasped. “We saw flames from down below.”

“I would expect that you
could have told me, if you'd been at your posts where you belonged,” D'Orsay
said dryly. “Where have you been?”

“We…um…”They looked
at each other and shuffled their feet. Obviously no one wanted to be the one to
confess. Finally the captain spoke up.

“My lord, we heard a
woman singing, and went to check it out.”

“You heard a woman
singing.” D'Orsay paused, just in case he'd misunderstood, and the captain
nodded. “And you—all of
you—went to investigate.”

“Well.” The captain
fussed with his sleeve. “Yes. It was…well, you'd have to hear it for
yourself.”

“Bewitched, were you? And
did you find this woman?”

He shook his head. “We
found this.” He held out his hand, and a small crystal bird sparkled in
the center of his calloused palm.

D'Orsay struck it out of his
hand. “An enchanter's trick. And you fell for it. And now someone has
locked me out of my own home.”

And then it came to him, a
suspicion of who that someone might be.

D'Orsay turned back toward the
castle, cupped his hands, and shouted, “Hastings!” He waited, and
then repeated, “Hastings! I know it's you, so you may as well show
yourself!”

A moment later, he heard a
woman's amused voice from the parapet. “Leander, why is it you always get
the credit for everything?”

They stepped out onto the wall
walk, side-by-side, iced in magic—the
tall wizard and the small enchanter, looking like a Romeo and Juliet in
climbing gear.

Or the new lord and lady of
the manor.

Linda Downey. And Leander
Hastings. And Claude D'Orsay had them trapped in the ghyll.

That was one way to look at
it.

D'Orsay turned to his guard.
“Surround the hold,” he snapped. “They mustn't be allowed to
escape.”

“Oh, we have no intention
of escaping,” Hastings said. “We like it here.”

“There is no way the two
of you can hold the keep against an army,” D'Orsay said, trying to sound
convincing.

“Who says there are just
two of us?” Downey replied. “And it seems amazingly well-built. Are
there any weaknesses we should know about?”

D'Orsay very nearly told her
before he caught himself. Her voice was like a song that insinuates itself into
your mind until you find yourself humming along.

Damn her! The Master of the Games generally preferred to keep
his distance from violence by delegating it. But just then he would have
welcomed the opportunity to rend the pair of them into little bits. Personally.
By hand.

The worst of it was that, with
the exception of a few caches of choice pieces that D'Orsay kept elsewhere in
the ghyll, the lion's share of the hoard of magical weapons was in the inner
keep of Raven's Ghyll Castle—now in
Downey and Hasting's possession, and no longer accessible to D'Orsay and his
new allies. There was the risk that the Roses would be unimpressed with what
little he would be able to deliver—his contribution to the cause.

“We'll starve you
out!” he blustered, though he was not one to make empty threats.

“It appears that will
take some time,” Hastings said. “My compliments on your wine cellar,
Claude.” He paused. “In fact, I'm finding your cellar very…intriguing.”

He'd found the hoard, then. It
was heavily warded, but, still … it was Leander Hastings. Soon enough,
he'd be using the sefas against them.

“Where will you be
staying in the meantime?” Downey asked sweetly. “In case someone
calls?”

Dev pressed forward, and
D'Orsay grabbed his arm, hauling him back. “No, Dev, they are trying to
make you do something foolish.”

“Make them leave!”
Dev's face was white with fury. “That is our home!”

“Never mind, Dev.”
He turned to his captain. “I want a twenty-four-hour guard on this castle.
No one enters or leaves without my permission. Anyone left alive inside, stays
there.” He paused. “And, damn it, next time you hear someone singing,
stop up your ears.”

“Where will we live,
Father?” Dev asked, shoulders slumped dejectedly. “All my things are
in there.”

D'Orsay patted his son on the
back. "You've wanted to leave here, anyway. So, we'll gather up the
weapons we can salvage, and go on to Trinity. I think it best that we're there
to keep an eye on our new allies.

“You see, I believe
Hastings and Downey have made a tactical error in coming here. Possession of
the hoard is unimportant next to possession of the Dragonheart. With Hastings
and Downey in the hold, the rebels have lost two of their most effective agents.
We'll see how the children do on their own, hmmm?”

“Jack.”

Jack Swift paused with his
hand on the latch of the back door and looked back up the stairs. His mother
stood on the landing, gazing down at him.

“Where are you off
to?” she asked.

That was a difficult question
to answer, since he was off to pull guard duty at the Weirgate, where his job
was to prevent the unfettered coming and going of spies, assassins, and
would-be magical thieves. He blessed the fact that Shadowslayer was hidden in
the duffle bag slung over his back.

“I'm…going hiking. At
Perry Park.” The Weirgate was within Perry Park, the largest tract of
unbroken forest in the sanctuary.

Becka descended the steps
until she was at a level where she could look him in the eyes. “Okay if I
come along? It's been a long time since we've been hiking together.”

“Well. That would be …”
A disaster. “That'd be great, except we're going rock climbing. At
the gorge. It's a technical climb. You wouldn't like it.”

She crossed her arms.
“Okay. I'll be more direct. What's going on?”

“Going on?”

Becka hesitated. Nagging
didn't come naturally to her. “Harold's complaining that you haven't been
around to prep the boats for the season. He's had to hire another full-time
captain to keep both boats in service. Seph's quit working at the docks
altogether. Jason, too.”

She sighed, an exasperated
sound. “You'll be graduating in a few weeks. I'd think you'd want to earn
money this summer. Or get a head start on your classes. Or do you want to go to
Boston and work with your father?”

“No,” Jack said
quickly. “I want to stay here.”

“And do what?” She
paused, and when Jack didn't answer, said, “I feel responsible for all
three of you with Linda out of town.” A hint of judgment crept in.
“Even though she seems to think Seph and Jason are fine on their
own. I haven't seen Jason for weeks. And he hasn't been at school, either, from
what I understand.”

Official-looking notices from
the attendance office at the high school had been arriving regularly at Aunt
Linda's, addressed to Parent or
Guardian of Jason Haley.

Here was one piece of good
news he could give her. “Jason's back, Mom. He got back two days ago. He…uh…was
visiting Madison in Coalton County.”

“In the middle of the
semester?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, then he came
down with something.”

“You know how important
attendance is. Mr. Penworthy will be all over him.”

“He was. All over him, I
mean. Jason was in the attendance office all morning.” Jack couldn't help
thinking there was a reason why the classical heroes didn't have lawyers for
mothers.

“It's not like you're
lying around at home playing video games. In fact, you're never home.” She
reached out and put her hands on his shoulders. “On the plus side, it's
obvious you're getting your exercise. And I haven't heard any reports of
all-night parties on the beach.”

Ironically enough, that would
be harder to get away with in a small town than building a magical fortress.
Linda and Hastings weren't the only ones with an intelligence network centered
in Trinity. Information flowed to Becka Downey from all over town.

As if she'd read his thoughts,
Becka leaned against the banister and said, “Bill Childers says he's
afraid you and Will had a falling out.” Will's father, the newly elected
mayor of Trinity, was one of Becka's regular contacts and closest friends.

“What? No, we're
fine,” Jack said. “It's just been kind of crazy with Will's work
schedule. Plus he's on the soccer team and there's practice and…everything.”

“That's another thing.
You didn't even go out for the team this year.” She paused, and when he
didn't speak, continued. “Why not? You love soccer, or you used to.”

“I just … I just didn't
think I had the time, with my classes.”

“Bill asked if Ellen had
been spending time over here. I guess she's among the missing, too.” Ellen
lived with Will's family.

“Yeah. We've…um…been
spending a lot of time together. Hiking.” Jack snuck a glance at his
watch. He and Ellen were sharing the next shift on the wall, and she'd be on
his butt if he was late. She was totally into military discipline when it came
to the security of the sanctuary.

“Has Ellen decided what
she's going to do next fall?”

“Hmmm? Oh. She's still
thinking about it.”

“I'm worried about her.
She's so bright, and has so much potential. But she doesn't seem to be
considering her future at all.” Becka brushed dust off the newel post with
the hem of her T-shirt. “If money's an issue, let me make a few calls.
I'll see to it that she has the funds she needs to go to college.”

And she would, too. All his
life, his mother had been taking in strays.

She was also a pacifist. So he
didn't know how to tell her that, absent the impending crisis in Trinity,
Ellen's obvious vocational outlet was a post in a magical mercenary army.

“You know visit day at
Trinity College is tomorrow.”

Oops.

“Do I really need to go?
I feel like I've spent my life on that campus. I could probably lead the tour
and give the dirty lowdown about most of the faculty.”

Becka laughed. “I'm sure
you could. But this time you'll be there in a different role.” She paused.
“I hate to admit it, but your father might be right. About going away for
school, I mean, Ivy League or not.”

“Mom, I …”

Becka plowed on. “You've
lived here all your life. You've never known anything else. To be honest, I'm
surprised you want to go to Trinity. I know living in a small town gets on your nerves.
Sometimes you have to go somewhere else to appreciate what we have here.”

“I do appreciate what we
have here,” Jack said desperately. “I don't want to go away to
school. Trinity's fine.”

“Listen to yourself.
'Trinity's fine.' When I was your age, I couldn't wait to go away to school. I
wanted to be as far away from my parents as possible. I wanted to live in awful
student housing and immerse myself in the English poets and stay out all
night.” She frowned and bit her lip. “All right. Forget that last
part.”

He did his best to avoid the
explicit lie. “I feel like this year is like—you know—a turning point. Like nothing is ever going to be the same.
Fitch is going to Stanford. Will's going to Ohio State. I know they'll be home
for holidays and stuff, but still.”

He looked down at the floor,
avoiding her eyes. “Seph and Ellen and Jason and I—we're just trying to find our way. I want to get
through the summer before I make plans for the rest of my life. I hope you can
just—you know—trust me.”

He looked at her.
“Believe me. I don't think my future will hinge on whether I get into
Harvard Law School.”

She studied his face, then
nodded. “All right. I'll give you some space. But I do want you to go down
to the registrar's office tomorrow and sign up for classes. You can always
drop, but deciding you want to go in September won't get you into a closed
section.”

“Okay.” He shifted
from one foot to the other, conscious of Shadowslayer's weight across his back.
“Thanks, Mom. See you later.”

Moving at a trot, trying to
make up for lost time, Jack cut across campus on his way to Perry Park.
Ivy-covered buildings clustered around grassy quads. Tall trees shaded the
stone walkways that quilted the greens. It was a place to be sequestered from
the outside world. But, the outside world had a way of intruding into Jack's
life.

Despite his rapid pace, he was
intercepted before he made it into the margin of the trees. Will Childers
appeared on one side of him and Harmon Fitch on the other. They were wearing
athletic shorts and soccer jerseys, carrying duffles, and he knew they'd just
come from soccer practice. He felt a twinge of envy.

“Hey, there, Jack,”
Fitch said, keeping step with him, despite Jack's longer stride. “What's
up?”

“Long time no see,”
Will added.

“That's not true,”
Jack said. Must be “catch up with Jack” day, he thought.

“Fitch, do you think he
knows we're going away in another three months or so?”

“Couldn't possibly, Will.
Otherwise he'd be more attentive to old friends. Nostalgic about old times.
Anticipating the big good-bye.”

“So where you off to,
Jack?” Will asked, tugging at Jack's duffle bag. “War games in the
woods?”

“How can we help?”
Fitch asked. “We fetched Jason back. Now what else can we do?”

“This isn't…”

“I know,” Will said,
holding up his hand to stop the speech. “This isn't our fight. It's only
taking place in our town and involves all our friends. Let's pretend we argued
about this and finally agreed that it is our fight.”

“Well,” Jack said,
giving in. “Come on. I'll show you what
Ellen and I have been up to.” Not
that there'd be much for them to see.

Perry Park straddled the city
limits of Trinity. Mercedes had located the Weirgate deep in the woods in the
hopes the traffic 'would be less noticeable to the nonmagical citizens. Nick
Snowbeard had built a barrier around the gate meant to turn the average Anaweir
hiker away. It was a confusion charm with a bit of structure to it. Jack had to
create an opening for Will and Fitch. Still, passage through the barrier was
not particularly pleasant for them.

“This reminds me of
Raven's Ghyll,” Will said, shivering.

Fitch turned so pale the
freckles stood out on his face. “Why does it have to be so nasty?”

“It's just ahead
here,” Jack said, pointing Will and Fitch in the right direction.

“What?” Fitch peered
ahead, into the trees. “Where?”

“It's right there,”
Jack said, gesturing. “It's finally finished. It's—oh—about forty feet tall and fifteen feet wide. We're
going to the gate.” Jack unzipped his duffel and pulled out Shadowslayer.

Will looked back at him
suspiciously, as if he might be the butt of a joke. “We're supposed to
believe there's a wall there.”

Jack nodded, swinging his
sword experimentally, feeling the usual thrill of connection with Shadowslayer.
The blade glittered in the light that filtered down through the trees.

“I saw the other barrier
wall thingy. At Raven's Ghyll,” Fitch said. “But I don't see this
one.”

“That's because this one
is just for the gifted. They're the only ones who can see it. You can pass
right through.” He strapped on his baldric and slid his sword into its
scabbard. “Remember when Seph first came to Trinity, and those wizards put
up a barrier to keep him out? Same kind of thing.”

But it was not the same kind
of thing, not at all. Warren Barber had built a monster spiderweb around
Trinity meant to catch Seph McCauley. It was utilitarian—woven of snake-like tendrils that would grab you when
you tried to cut through.

But Mercedes couldn't bear to
create anything that didn't add beauty to the world. So this wall was an
elegant structure—like the crystalline
rampart of some fairy castle, iced with crenelations, finials, towers, and
turrets. Banners bearing the Silver Dragon flew from the towers.

The gate was in an impressive
barbican that jutted from the wall. Jack could hear Ellen before she came into
view.

“Come ahead and try
me,” she shouted. “Who wants to be first?”

Jack heard the music of her
blade as she swung it.

This was followed by a garbled
hiss of wizard voices.

Jack slid Shadowslayer free
and barged through the archway to find Ellen, Waymaker in her hand, confronting
four pissed wizards.

Ellen looked pale, stubborn,
and more than a little shaken. For good reason. Lined up against her were
Ellen's former warriormaster, Geoffrey Wylie of the Red Rose, and Jack's old
surgeon and would-be warriormaster, Jessamine Longbranch of the White Rose. His
fingers crept to the spot on his chest where she'd made her incision, saving
his life and changing it forever.

Unbelievably, there was also
Claude D'Orsay Gregory Leicester's co-conspirator who'd made his play at
Second Sister to wrest control of the guilds from the Roses. What was he doing
hanging out with them now?

With D'Orsay was a fair-haired
boy, maybe fourteen, who was taking everything in with avid interest. Now and
then D'Orsay leaned down and said something to the kid, as if explaining.

Some kind of apprentice
monster? Jack wondered.

It was like one of those
scenes where you confront the demons from your past. He never thought he'd see
leaders from both Wizard Houses working together. Let alone come to
reconciliation with Claude D'Orsay. It gave Jack chills.

“So glad you could make
it,” Ellen muttered through gritted teeth as Jack took his place next to
her. The wizards shuffled themselves, each trying to move to the back. None
seemed eager to go up against Shadowslayer.

“Where were you?” Ellen
demanded.

“I got hung up at home.
My mom wants to know where we're spending all our time and if you're going to
college.”

“Oh. What'd you tell
her?”

The wizards edged forward.
Jack blasted flame through the tip of his blade, driving them back. “I
said we were trying to find our way.”

Ellen nodded, grudgingly.
“That was good.”

Actually, Jack thought as a
group the wizards looked kind of sick and beaten down. But they seemed jazzed,
too, like they'd just seen the cure coming over the hill. They kept looking
toward the center of town, like filings lined up against a powerful magnet,
though Claude D'Orsay kept himself somewhat aloof.

Jessamine Longbranch finally
shouldered her way to the front.

“Jackson. I'm glad you're
here,” she said, flinging back her mane of black hair. “This warrior
refuses to admit us into the sanctuary. Tell her to step aside before I do
something irreversible.”