Read The Last Dragonlord Online
Authors: Joanne Bertin
The Last Dragonlord (48 page)
Otter began. Rynna’s friend is named Eel. He’s a Cassorin thief, knows the streets well. He tells me that for some time now prostitutes have been disappearing, never to be seen again. The other night Eel saw someone with a prostitute he knew—a boy named Nobbie—and the next morning Nobbie’s panderer told Eel that the boy was missing. Eel saw that same
man come out of an inn today and followed him. I think he suspected the fellow. Eel saw the man meet with another who looked to him like a noble’s servant; Eel thought he saw a steward’s chain of office. He didn’t dare follow after that. Instead he went back to the inn. To make a long story short, there’s a storeroom there that Eel contrived to investigate. Among other interesting things it contains a mage-spelled chest. Next to that he found a bit of dried herb. He’s certain that it came from inside the chest.
man come out of an inn today and followed him. I think he suspected the fellow. Eel saw the man meet with another who looked to him like a noble’s servant; Eel thought he saw a steward’s chain of office. He didn’t dare follow after that. Instead he went back to the inn. To make a long story short, there’s a storeroom there that Eel contrived to investigate. Among other interesting things it contains a mage-spelled chest. Next to that he found a bit of dried herb. He’s certain that it came from inside the chest.
Otter paused; Linden felt him withdraw slightly. When the bard continued, his mindvoice was colored with embarrassment.
I did something very stupid; I crumbled a bit and tasted it. Knocked me flat on my ass for a good long while. Good thing both Eel and Maylin were here. I might have cracked my skull when I went down. But I’m fine now.
I did something very stupid; I crumbled a bit and tasted it. Knocked me flat on my ass for a good long while. Good thing both Eel and Maylin were here. I might have cracked my skull when I went down. But I’m fine now.
Linden silently thanked the gods that Otter was well and refrained from snapping the bard’s fool head off. He let Kief and, to a lesser degree, Tarlna do that as he withdrew slightly from the mindlink.
Why the hell were prostitutes disappearing—and why prostitutes, but not anyone else? A moment later he had the answer: because no one would miss them but their pimps. And no pimp would approach the City Watch with a tale of a missing bawd. If any group was safe to prey upon, it was the whores of Casna.
But why? A moment later he thought he had the answer. It made him sick. He reentered the mindlink.
Kief—Shaeldar said that he felt blood and death in this magic, yes?
Kief—Shaeldar said that he felt blood and death in this magic, yes?
Yes.
Why?
both Tarlna and Otter asked.
both Tarlna and Otter asked.
A memory rose up in Linden’s mind. He felt unclean.
The altar. Remember I said it had been used for sacrifice? I think that—What he’d felt that night almost overwhelmed him. I think that’s what happened to those missing whores.
The altar. Remember I said it had been used for sacrifice? I think that—What he’d felt that night almost overwhelmed him. I think that’s what happened to those missing whores.
He said aloud, “Healer Tasha, what kind of herbs would Healers keep in a mage-spelled chest?”
The Healer looked surprised at the question but answered immediately. “We don’t, my lord; we use locks on chests of
medicines. Our form of magic doesn’t work well with others, even simple locking spells. To my knowledge the only kinds of herbs kept like that would be those used in magery, especially dark magery.”
medicines. Our form of magic doesn’t work well with others, even simple locking spells. To my knowledge the only kinds of herbs kept like that would be those used in magery, especially dark magery.”
“Such as?” Linden asked.
“Hm, the most notorious is—Oh, dear gods—that’s what the smell is in that potion! It was so faint I couldn’t recognize it at first, but it’s the same as you sweated out, Dragonlord.”
At first Linden didn’t understand what she meant. Then he said, “What is used in a Cassorin farewell cup?”
“Honey for the sweet, my lord, wormwood or rue for the bitter, and ginger for the warmth of memory.”
He closed his eyes, sickened. He knew the taste of those herbs; none had the metallic aftertaste he remembered. “What was in the cup that I drank that night?”
“Keftih,”
Healer Tasha whispered. “I’m certain of it. It takes some time to work when it’s mixed with something. If you know it’s there and purge yourself of it quickly enough … I’m sorry, my lord.”
Healer Tasha whispered. “I’m certain of it. It takes some time to work when it’s mixed with something. If you know it’s there and purge yourself of it quickly enough … I’m sorry, my lord.”
“So, my good Healer,” Linden said quietly, “am I.” He turned his mind back to the others waiting for him.
Otter, ask Eel what the noble’s servant looked like.
He waited while Otter spoke with the thief; he had a fair idea of what the answer would be.
Otter, ask Eel what the noble’s servant looked like.
He waited while Otter spoke with the thief; he had a fair idea of what the answer would be.
He remembered Sherrine’s tear-streaked face that night at the feast. To himself he thought,
And was it all, even from the beginning, a sham?
Anger at the betrayal would come later. Now there was only pain.
And was it all, even from the beginning, a sham?
Anger at the betrayal would come later. Now there was only pain.
The description, when it came, confirmed his suspicions. Linden turned to the soldier nearest him. “You will seek Prince Peridaen and arrest him. Dragonlord’s orders.” He took a deep breath. “You will also arrest Lady Sherrine of Colrane.”
He started across the garden. Kief asked,
Where are you going?
Where are you going?
Linden replied,
To find Kas Althume, Peridaen’s so-called steward. He’ll be at the altar—and so, I’m afraid, will Rann. I can’t wait for the soldiers; it will take too long to gather them. Send them after me. He broke into a run.
To find Kas Althume, Peridaen’s so-called steward. He’ll be at the altar—and so, I’m afraid, will Rann. I can’t wait for the soldiers; it will take too long to gather them. Send them after me. He broke into a run.
“Dear gods!” Otter exclaimed. He
tried to get to his feet, then his head started spinning again and he fell back onto the bed.
tried to get to his feet, then his head started spinning again and he fell back onto the bed.
“Stay down or I’ll sit on you!” Maylin said, fierce as a snow cat. “What happened?”
“Linden suspects Rann was kidnapped for sacrifice,” Otter said; the thought made his stomach turn. “Something about an altar in the woods, and—”
Maylin was on her feet in a flash. “I knew it! I knew something would happen tonight!” She ran for the door, pausing only long enough to say, “Eel—don’t you dare let him leave this room, do you understand? He’s too ill. And Otter—Rynna is Linden Rathan’s soultwin, isn’t she?”
Otter considered lying. “Yes,” he said, ignoring Eel’s yelp of astonishment.
“I thought so,” Maylin said, and disappeared from view.
Otter yelled after her, “Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?” he thought he heard her say, and then the front door slammed.
Shan’s hooves skidded as they rounded a sharp corner, his shoes striking sparks from the cobblestones; a moment later the big stallion had regained his balance and was racing down the street. Late revelers scattered out of the way as Linden guided the stallion through the streets of Casna. He thanked the gods that he rode Shan now and not the pied gelding. The gelding hadn’t a hope of getting to the altar in time to save Rann; Shan’s Llysanyin strength and speed might be enough.
He swore. If only he could fly there, but the clearing wasn’t large enough for him to maneuver on the ground as a dragon.
Nor could he remain airborne and use his flames—too much chance of catching Rann as well. He thought about Changing once there, but abandoned that thought when he realized the dark magic there would catch him at his most vulnerable and might well unmake him.
Nor could he remain airborne and use his flames—too much chance of catching Rann as well. He thought about Changing once there, but abandoned that thought when he realized the dark magic there would catch him at his most vulnerable and might well unmake him.
A pity Lleld wasn’t here; the madcap little Dragonlord was small enough to fight within the clearing as a dragon. But she was far to the north; that left him as Rann’s best hope. He prayed he’d get there in time.
They were nearly to the city gate. “Make way!” he bellowed at the stragglers blocking the passage. “Make way!”
Soldiers and celebrants alike fled or threw themselves aside before the thundering stallion. Linden ignored the cries behind him, hoping no one had been hurt.
At last they were outside of the city walls. No time for the road and the leisurely way he’d taken before; Linden hastily recalled what he knew of the area and set Shan to run cross-country. A wave of dizziness made his head spin, reminding Linden that he was still not completely recovered. It passed and he settled into the saddle to ride as he’d never ridden before.
“Is he awake yet?” Althume asked.
“Still groggy, my lord,” said Pol. “He seems to have been hard hit by the sleeping draught. Is it necessary that he be fully alert?”
Althume paused a moment in his preparations. “Yes. The greater his terror, the more it will feed the jewel as he dies. And for this working we will need as much magical energy as possible. But we’ve time; our guest of honor has yet to arrive. And she’s certainly taking her time.” Once more he ran the honing stone along the blade he used for sacrifices. “Still, just a little more patience and the prize will be ours.”
Captain Tev has just reported finding the nurse,
Kief said.
She was hidden behind a bush in the garden. Her neck was broken, Prince Peridaen cannot be found.
Kief said.
She was hidden behind a bush in the garden. Her neck was broken, Prince Peridaen cannot be found.
Linden considered that. He left with the guards on their
first search for Rann. If he rode hard he could reach the altar soon.
first search for Rann. If he rode hard he could reach the altar soon.
And you?
Another wave of dizziness.
Not too far behind him, I hope.
He shook his head; the dizzy spells were coming more frequently. But worse yet was the fatigue spreading through his muscles. Whatever Sherrine had given him still visited her revenge upon him.
Not too far behind him, I hope.
He shook his head; the dizzy spells were coming more frequently. But worse yet was the fatigue spreading through his muscles. Whatever Sherrine had given him still visited her revenge upon him.
Linden—are you well?
Worry about Tarlna, Kief,
he said, clenching his jaw.
Not me.
he said, clenching his jaw.
Not me.
The boy was finally waking up. Althume leaned over him, smiling coldly. “Well met, young prince,” he said to the frightened brown eyes that focused on him. “I’m glad to see you’ve decided to join us. Oh, no you don’t—stay where you are, boy.” He trilled a note on the bone whistle.
The
dragauth
approached the altar. Althume stepped aside so that nothing was between it and the terrified child cowering on the stone. The mage held up a hand; the
dragauth
halted. Its foul reek hung in the warm night.
dragauth
approached the altar. Althume stepped aside so that nothing was between it and the terrified child cowering on the stone. The mage held up a hand; the
dragauth
halted. Its foul reek hung in the warm night.
Althume laughed quietly. “No, it isn’t very pretty, is it, little prince? And you know what it is, don’t you?”
Rann nodded. “A
dragauth,”
he whispered.
dragauth,”
he whispered.
“Clever boy. And it looks to me for orders.” Althume grabbed the boy’s face in one hand, forcing Rann to meet his eyes. “You will stay right where you are and obey my every order. Run and my pet will hunt you down and eat you. Disobey me and I will give you to him. Do you understand?”
Rann’s white lips formed “Yes.”
Pol said, “Someone’s coming, my lord,” and set off down the slope.
Althume took a moment to listen the snap and rustle of a horse breaking through the underbrush. “Back to the woods,” he ordered the
dragauth.
“As for you,” he said, shoving Rann flat onto the altar, “stay there and not a word out of you. Remember the
dragauth.”
He flung a cloak over the boy’s trembling form and went to meet his guest.
dragauth.
“As for you,” he said, shoving Rann flat onto the altar, “stay there and not a word out of you. Remember the
dragauth.”
He flung a cloak over the boy’s trembling form and went to meet his guest.
The horse broke through the last of the trees. Auburn hair glinted in the torchlight as the rider dismounted. Pol led the horse away.
“My dear Lady Sherrine,” Althume said as she came up the hill. “You’ve no idea how happy I am to see you.”
Maylin clung to the horse’s back like a burr as it galloped across the grasslands. She wondered if this were a fool’s errand; after all, she didn’t know just where the altar was. Indeed, until this night, she’d been half inclined to consider it a legend.
Ah, well—if she was meant to find it, she would. The gods knew their business. Hers was to get to the woods opposite the standing stones as soon as possible.
“What is that?” Sherrine asked as they reached the flat crown of the hill, pointing to the cloak-covered form on the altar.
Althume said, “Nothing that concerns you.”
To his annoyance the girl stopped. “Why did you tell me to come here? What do you plan to do?”
He cursed under his breath. His voice tight with suppressed fury, he said, “Just do as you’re told.”
“No. Linden nearly died of that potion—the potion you had me give him. You didn’t tell me that might happen,” said Sherrine.
“That was a mistake; he would have had an antidote if I hadn’t been interrupted. Now go stand at the foot of the altar; after tonight you will have power as you’ve never dreamed of—and Linden Rathan will be yours for all time.”
That caught her as he knew it would. Still, there was a rebellious light in her eyes and her gaze kept returning to the form on the altar.
“You want Linden, don’t you? Some things must be bought with blood, Sherrine. This is one of them. Decide now.” He waited. He was certain he knew what the outcome would be; if he was wrong Pol was between her and her horse. Willing or not, Lady Sherrine would play her part this night.
Her lips trembled. Then she held her head up a fraction higher and walked past him to take her place at the altar.
At last, the final wards were set. Only one last thing to make ready and the ceremony could begin. Althume nodded to Pol. At once the servant brought out the small chest that contained the soultrap jewel from the saddlebags by the base of the altar. He started to open it.
“No, Pol!” the mage said sharply. “It’s too powerful now for you to handle; you’re not magically shielded. Touch it and you’ll destroy it and yourself. Give the chest to me.”
Pol gingerly passed the chest to him. Althume opened it, reverently pulled back the silk covering inside. Light welled out of the chest to drip like falling water to the ground. Sherrine gasped as he raised the soultrap jewel in his hand and offered it the stars. Then he set it at the head of the trembling boy still hidden under the cloak. “Such a good boy to listen so well,” he murmured, amused. Then, louder, “It is time.”
He began the chant of invocation. He called upon the dark powers to witness, aid him, protect him. He promised them blood, blood with the taste of magic in it. The ancient words, in a tongue so old it was half forgotten even in Ankarlyn’s time, rolled off his tongue with a rumble like an earthquake.
The power grew. Althume rejoiced deep inside; at long last he would see his dreams made real. The time of the Dragonlords was at an end.
Then a crashing in the woods made him pause; an exhausted horse collapsed into the clearing. Althume recognized Prince Peridaen as he leaped from the saddle.
“Rann! Rann!” Peridaen screamed as he ran up the slope. Rann sat up. Althume tried to shove him down again, but the boy squirmed and the cloak fell aside, revealing him.
Sherrine turned and ran like a deer. Althume snapped out, “Pol!” as he held Rann against him. He cursed. The wards were meant to keep out malevolent spirits and turn aside casual intruders. They would likely fall before a determined invader. Still, they might slow Peridaen down just long enough. Althume raised the knife.
The wards didn’t slow Peridaen down in the least. He charged through them with the fury of an enraged bull. And he was upon Althume before the mage could do anything. As they struggled for the knife, Peridaen yelled, “Get away, Rann!”
The younger prince jumped down and fled into the woods. Enraged, Althume slammed a fist into Peridaen’s stomach. The man fell back across the altar, gasping.
Althume sprang upon him. “You’ll do just as well, Peridaen!” He slashed the razor-sharp blade across Peridaen’s throat.
Blood fountained up. Peridaen made a last gurgling sound, then the light faded from eyes filled with terror. Althume seized the soultrap jewel, bathing it in the blood of the sacrifice as he began chanting once more.
Pol dragged Sherrine before him and threw her down. The jewel glowed now like a tiny sun; Althume held it up and directed its light upon the girl sprawled on the ground, blinking groggily up at him. She screamed in agony as the light touched her.
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