The Outworlder (24 page)

Jared’s face suddenly hardened. “Of course
they aren’t directly involved,” he said. “Have we all forgotten why
they’re called the Dragon-Lords?”

Rafe’s head snapped up. “What are you
saying?”

“I’m saying that the victim isn’t slain by
the Dragon-Lords at all. She’s fed to the dragon.”

“How can you be sure?” Brytnoth asked.

“It’s the only rational explanation. The
mountain setting, the cliff edge, even the hour of day—all these
make sense if the dragon is the executioner. They tie her there and
then summon the dragon with this gong.” Jared pointed to the detail
in the first illumination.

No one spoke for a long time, and the
guttering of the candles sounded loud in the silence. Jared got up
and began to pace the room, hands clasped behind his back and head
bowed.

Finally, Rafe took a deep breath. “What are
we going to do, then? Taking on the Dragon-Lords is bad enough, but
this….” He shrugged helplessly. “How are we supposed to fight a
dragon, Jared?”

“Well, we’ve got three options, as I see it,”
replied Jared, rejoining them at the reading table. “Option number
one: we outfit a ship and rescue her before they take her off
K’ilenfir.”

Brytnoth raised his hand. “Slight problem
with that one,” he said. “What ship? And does either one of you
know how to fly?”

“I do,” said Rafe. “And we have a ship…just
not a very big one. It’s fueled and ready, but it’s only supposed
to be used in the most dire emergency.”

“And we’d have to convince Arnauld of that,
right?” Brytnoth said.

“That’s why option one isn’t so great,” Jared
agreed. “Option number two: we infiltrate the Dragon-Lords’
fortress and kill them all when they bring her to the sacrifice
chamber, whisking her away before they can summon the dragon.”

“I see a problem with that one too,” Rafe
said. “How the hell are we supposed to get inside the old fortress?
Not to mention the tiny problem of killing five Dragon-Lords.”

“Four,” Jared corrected. “I’ve already taken
care of one, remember?”

“Whatever! We’re still outnumbered.” He shook
his head. “Very slim chance of victory there, my friend. Very
slim.”

“Well, then we have option number three—and
this is my personal favorite. We go after the dragon.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rafe. “I thought I just
heard you say—“

Jared grinned. “You did. We go after the
dragon. Kill it. And maybe, without their dragon, the Dragon-Lords
won’t survive. Maybe their life-energies are intertwined so deeply
that killing the one means the death of the other.”

“Like a host-parasite relationship?” asked
Brytnoth. Jared and Rafe looked at him blankly. “Sorry…looked
through too many agriculture texts, I guess.”

“So? What do you think?”

Rafe shook his head. “I think you’re crazy.
But—” an enormous grin lit up his face— “I’m in. I can’t think of a
better way to die than this.”

“What about you, outworlder?” Jared turned to
Brytnoth.

“Well, seeing as I’ve got nowhere to go if
Albadir is destroyed, I guess you can count me in too.”

When Jared finally left the library, it was
the darkest hour of the night. The air was hazy with the dust
whipped up by the sandstorms still raging outside the city walls,
shrouding everything in a veil. If it hadn’t been for the torches
flickering around the courtyard, he wouldn’t have been able to see
his path.

He glanced up at the sky and considered idly
what Sahara’s homeworld might have been like. She’d never spoken of
it much, and he remembered how strangely she had always reacted to
his own love for Albadir. She’d laughed at him for appreciating the
beauty and taste of the
edulia
, and his enthusiasm over the
sight of the oasis rising out of the cruel desert had inspired her
to scorn—or at least to mystification.

But he knew her well enough now to know that
her feelings ran deep below the surface, where she’d buried them in
order to survive.

He sighed and paused by the fountain, leaning
on its smooth side and staring down into the shimmering water. Tiny
droplets, tossed up by the cascades tumbling from the top tiers of
the fountain, clung to his face and hands. A sudden overwhelming
doubt engulfed his mind and he bowed his head.

What if I misread those illuminations? What
if there is no dragon? What if there’s nothing I can do, and Sahara
will die no matter what?

He knew thoughts of this kind were
unproductive. They made him slow and stupid, paralyzing him with
fear. And yet, he couldn’t stop. He sank down onto the stone lip of
the fountain and buried his head in his hands.

You’ve got it wrong, you know. About the
Dragon-Lords.

Jared’s head snapped up. This was not his own
mind’s voice speaking. A wild hope sprang up within him. He
couldn’t see her yet, but he could feel her presence.

Jared.

“Sahara!” The sound of his own voice, husky
as if he had been hours in the desert without water, startled him.
Sahara.

You’re wrong about them.

At last he could see something—superimposed
on the blank canvas in front of him swam her face, dingy walls,
chains holding her hands and feet. There was something wrong, but
he couldn’t sense what it was.

Why am I wrong? What—

I don’t have time for that. Listen to me. All
our lives are at stake now…not just mine.

Her eyes were closed, her lashes flickering
against her pale cheeks. There was blood crusted on the right side
of her face and matted in the hair above her ear.

Have they hit you? Have they—

Her eyes flashed open, stared straight into
his.
I told you there’s no time. It doesn’t matter.

Speak, then.

Albadir is the focus of all their energy now.
They’re ready to destroy it.

How do you—
he began, but she cut him
off with a sharp movement of her hand, rattling her chains.

It doesn’t matter. But there is no dragon,
Jared. At least, not the way you think. There isn’t another
dragon.
She shivered a little, clenched her jaw, and continued.
That’s not why they are called the Dragon-Lords.

I don’t understand.

There isn’t another dragon, Jared, because
that’s what they become.

What?

Don’t you see? The Dragon-Lords are just the
many aspects of that mythical thing we know as “dragon”. And when
they join their collective power, that’s what they become. That’s
the form they choose to take. And when they come for Albadir, they
will come with everything they have and blot you out.

Why now? Why will they come now?

I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. But
you have to believe me! You have to tell Arnauld. It’s over…it’s
all over.
Her eyes burned into his.

Jared’s heart hammered in his chest so
powerfully that he could hardly breathe.
Tell me what to do.
Tell me.

You have to be ready to meet them, Jared.
When they bind me to that pillar, you have to be ready. They will
all be there, and they will reveal themselves as one, as dragon,
and you have to be ready. Be ready…be ready…

Her voice was slipping away. The vision
evaporated like mist.

“No!” Jared cried.

He lurched forward, tripped, and fell on his
hands and knees on the stones, such a burning within him—whether
from anger or sorrow he didn’t know—that the tears sprang into his
eyes.

He bowed his head to the stones, feeling
their coolness against his hot skin and allowing it to seep into
his fevered mind. And then, with a sudden rush of inspiration, he
knew what he had to do.

*****

He pounded on Rafe’s door. When there was no
answer, he pounded again and continued to hammer the door until it
swung open under his fist.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Rafe
asked, his voice laced with murderous irritation. “Didn’t we spend
long enough in your cursed library for one night?”

“It’s not about the library, Rafe. Let me
in!”

Rafe stepped aside to allow him through the
door, and then closed it behind him.

“So what’s wrong with you?” he growled.

“I’ve had another vision. Sahara came to me
again. We’ve got to get Brytnoth. We have to go. We have a bit of a
journey ahead of us.”

Rafe blinked slowly, sinking onto the low
couch that faced the fireplace. “You’ve got to be out of your mind.
Crazy. I mean, completely.”

“I’m not crazy, Rafe! This is important!”

Rafe let out a huge yawn and ruffled his hand
through his hair, then rubbed his face vigorously. “So tell
me.”

“We’ve got it all wrong about the dragon and
the Dragon-Lords,” Jared told him.

“And how do you know that? More tomes?”

“No. Sahara told me.”

“And how does she know?”

“She didn’t say.”

“She didn’t say.” Rafe heaved a sigh. “Of
course not. So what’s the real situation, then?”

“They
are
the dragon.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They
are
the dragon, Rafe! Each of
the Dragon-Lords embodies some aspect of the dragon. And when they
join together… And they’re all coming here. All of them. They’ll
unite themselves and become the dragon to accomplish the
sacrifice.”

“What, you don’t mean the whole council?”

“The whole council. She said they mean to
make one final assault on Albadir and obliterate us.”

Rafe sat up, fully awake now. “Are you sure
about this? Is she?”

Jared sat down next to him, his hands
clasped. “Rafe, when have I ever lied to you?” When Rafe opened his
mouth to say something, Jared added swiftly, “And I don’t mean that
time when we were kids and I told you I didn’t eat your noon
ration!”

“Well, if you aren’t counting that
particularly malicious instance—for which, as I recall, Harper got
a sound thrashing in your place—then never.”

“Then please take me at my word now.”

Rafe’s grin faded and he stared down at the
floor for a few minutes. Jared waited, scarcely daring to
breathe.

“Suppose you’re right,” Rafe said at last.
“What are we supposed to do about it?”

“I’d rather get Brytnoth up and tell everyone
at the same time.”

“Go get him, then. I’ll be dressed and ready
when you get back.”

Brytnoth received Jared with frustrated
weariness, but when Jared explained the situation, he became
fiercely animated.

“I knew there was something we didn’t
understand!” he said, leaping to his feet. “That explains
everything! Let me get dressed, Jared.”

Jared had scarcely stepped into the hallway
to wait for him before Brytnoth was beside him, stomping his feet
into his boots and shoving his shirt into his pants.

“You seem more excited about this than I am,”
Jared said. Brytnoth flashed him a smile and set off down the
hallway.

When they got back to Rafe’s chambers, Rafe
had a fire blazing against the chill and was sprawled in a chair
next to the fireplace.

“So what’s the story?” Rafe asked as Brytnoth
dropped onto the couch and crossed his feet on the settle.

Jared leaned against the mantle. “Sahara said
that we would have to be ready for them. This is it, gentlemen. The
night of the blood-offering will be the night of our utter
destruction…or our freedom.” He couldn’t help the smile that was
spreading across his face. “We finally have a chance, friends! We
have a chance to liberate Albadir…all of Silesia…and who knows how
many other worlds!”

“But how are we supposed to be ready?” asked
Brytnoth. “Do you have any idea?”

“Yes. And Rafe, you were right…sort of. This
does go back to the library. Have you ever been to the Great
City?”

Rafe sat up. “Why?”

“I’ve never been, myself.”

“I went once, as a child. I don’t remember
much about it except that it was an enormous sprawling place—all
tall white towers and buildings that seemed to reach the sky. There
were ships anchored near the mouth of the river. I remember my
father telling me that they traded with the cities on the other
side of the Southern Sea. There was a space port too…and my father
told me that our textiles and fabrics were prized by many other
worlds.” He smiled at the memory. “But the Great Temple was the
most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen…right in the center of the
city. My father took me there and presented me to the priests. They
gave me a blessing or something, I think.”

Jared grinned at him. “How would you like to
go back?”

“But the Great City was destroyed, wasn’t
it?”

“Do we know that for sure? And whether it was
or not, we have to go.”

“Why?” asked Brytnoth.

“There’s a crypt beneath the Great Temple,”
said Jared, carefully framing the words. “And in the crypt is an
empty tomb that houses a cache of sacred weapons.”

Brytnoth gave a strange snorting laugh, but
then saw that Jared was completely serious.

“Really?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“Sacred weapons? A secret cache? Really?”

“That’s what the legend says,” Rafe said.
“You think it’s true?”

“Yes, I do,” said Jared. “And I think that
those weapons may be the key to defeating the Dragon-Lords. That’s
why they were concealed so carefully.”

“What’s so special about them?” Brytnoth
asked with a puzzled frown. “Ordinary weapons won’t work? If Sahara
was able to kill the Dragon-Lord Chieftain on her homeworld with a
dagger….”

Jared shook his head. “That was a
Dragon-Lord, not the dragon itself. From everything I’ve read, no
ordinary weapon is effective against the dragon. Those weapons in
the crypt of the Temple are not native to Silesia…they come from
Askalon.”

Brytnoth started violently and his face
paled. “Askalon! Are you sure?”