The Realms of the Gods (23 page)

“Would you dragons mind setting down for a moment?” asked Numair. “I would like to learn what the situation is here.”

—And I would like to talk to
you,
duckmole,—
said Diamondflame, gliding down to light on a broad expanse before the palace wall. Daine saw the soldiers' bows follow them down. The catapults on the walls were being turned in order to dump rocks and liquid fire on the dragons, if necessary. She crossed her fingers and prayed that none of the defenders would lose control—she had the feeling that Diamondflame and Wingstar would have little mercy for human error. Looking over, she saw Numair talking into a small, fiery globe on his palm. He'd opened a speech spell to one of the mages below, and was explaining matters, talking with a speed only he could manage.

When the dragons settled on the bare earth, a gate in the wall opened, and two people came riding out. One, mounted on a horse and wearing chain mail, was unmistakably a knight, albeit older than most of the knights on
active duty. His long-haired companion wore the brown tunic and trousers of the Queen's Riders and rode a mountain pony. Daine waved. She knew Duke Gareth the Elder and Buri, a commander of the Riders, almost as well as Numair did.

“They're friends,” she told Wingstar as the female extended her forelegs, raising her chest, and the girl, higher in the air. “It's all right.”

—They may well be friends, but do they know that
we
are?—
The female sank down again. Once she was close enough to the ground, Daine slid off her back and went to their welcoming committee. Numair caught up with her, as Diamondflame, Wingstar, and Broad Foot turned their backs to everyone else, and spoke mind to mind.

Tugging an earlobe, Duke Gareth eyed the dragons. “I had thought that I was past being shocked by your companions,” the king's uncle said. “Clearly I was mistaken.”

“You should have seen where we got them,” Numair informed him, shaking hands with Buri. “Where's the queen? For that matter, where's the enemy?”

“Gone, except for our prisoners.” Dismounting from her pony, Buri came to give Daine a hug. “They scrambled out of here half a day before a relieving force from the Yamani Islands came in—just pulled up stakes and vanished.”

“We still maintain our forces on alert, however,” the duke told them. “Just in case the enemy attempts something crafty. The army is camped throughout the Royal Forest, and between here and Port Caynn.”

“Thayet took a picked force and some mages and went south on some of the Yamani ships,” Buri told them. “They're going to try to break the siege at Port Legann.”

Daine gasped. “There's a relief fleet going there from the Copper Isles! They'll be caught betwixt and between!”

“I'd ask how you know, except anybody can tell you've been strange places,” the little K'mir remarked, looking at the dragons.

“We'll have to catch up with Her Majesty, then,” Numair said. “You're certain everything is well here?”

Duke Gareth smiled. “Enough that you can go to them. We are well situated. You know that Her Majesty would not have left us vulnerable—”

“No more than she'd go if she thought there was still work to do here,” added Buri.

Daine looked at the dragons and the duckmole. “Will you take us to the queen?” she asked. “They're at sea, on their way to Port Legann.”

—The badger and Gold-streak are with them,—
added Broad Foot. He had ended his secret conference with the dragons.

—We will do more than convey you to her,—
said Wingstar.
—Broad Foot has told us enough that my mate and I have decided to help you, and our grandchild, fight.—

“Do you think your fellow dragons might be concerned enough about the danger from Uusoae to fight on our side as well?” Numair asked hopefully.

—If you are prepared to wait a few decades for them to reach the decision,—
said Diamondflame, mind voice dry.
—That is one reason why few of us will argue with a personal choice. Long-lived as we are, we still would die of old age before our peers would agree on anything.—

Numair winced. “Please, forget I asked.”

Barzha glided down to join them, her elegant brows knit in a frown. “Why do you gab here like pigeons?” she demanded. “Ozorne is not here. Our people are not here.”

—I needed to speak to the duckmole,—
Diamondflame said.

“You have spoken, have you not? Then let's find our battle,” snapped Barzha. “We didn't come to admire scenery.”

Daine and Numair gave Duke Gareth and Buri a hasty farewell and climbed onto the dragons' backs once more. As they flew up, leaving the palace and the capital far below, Wingstar remarked,
—I see no reason for us to tire ourselves by flying all that way to their queen's ships—not if we can use the spiral spell to transport all of us.—

—Come, Stormwings,—
said the blue dragon.
—Let us keep our strength for our enemy.—
Up they flew until they disappeared into the clouds again.

NINE

THE BATTLE OF LEGANN

Under the cover of dragon spells and the night, Daine watched as Queen Thayet of Tortall landed her army on a beach a day's march north of Port Legann. All around the girl, men, Riders, knights, mounts, and immortals waded onto the sand as carefully and quietly as they could. The two dragons, as well as centaurs and ogres, towed the ships' longboats. These were packed to the rim with arms and supplies, first to be emptied on the land, then to be sent back for more. In the morning, the relief force would try to cut through a dense forest that lay between this beach and the enemy's main camp. Their task would be easier than it had been for enemies of Tortall: It seemed that Wingstar knew spells that would hide and silence their passage. Ozorne and his commanders thought they were safe from attack on their rear, knowing the forest was nearly impassable, and having
mages experienced at the detection of other mages' spells. The dragons had been quick to assure the queen that no mortal or immortal could sense
their
power. Remembering old tales of dragons who walked through cities unnoticed while shrouded in their magic, Thayet had accepted their offer of help.

Daine sighed. She would not be with the army: She was to act as courier between Thayet's force and Port Legann, with Diamondflame himself to take her back and forth. In a pack she carried things that the king and Lord Imrah of Legann should find helpful: bespelled mirrors for use in communicating with the queen and her generals, maps of the plan of attack both for the queen's land army and for the Yamani ships, and descriptions of the extremely varied collection of folk who would be fighting on Tortall's side.

Someone tapped her shoulder; turning, Daine found Queen Thayet. Co-ruler of Tortall, she was dressed in the simple Rider uniform and wore her crow's-wing black hair tightly braided. Only the helmet tucked under her arm bore any royal insignia, a small gold crown set over the visor. She also carried a soft leather bag, which she offered to Daine. Taking it, the girl realized that it held something heavy that was the size of her palm.

“If you'd give this to my lord, I would appreciate it,” Queen Thayet told Daine. “And tell him that I said the
next
time he goes on a long tour of our embattled cities, he had better take the Dominion Jewel with him.
I
don't know how to wield the dratted thing.”

“You know he hates to use it.” Harailt of Aili, chief of the mages in Tortall's royal university, came over, rubbing his hands against the chill. “He thinks it's a crutch. He doesn't want to be too dependent on it.”

“With a relief force coming here from the Copper Isles, we need all the help we can get,” Thayet said flatly. She kissed the girl's cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered, and went to the longboat that awaited her, Harailt
close behind. Leaning over the rail, Daine waved to the badger and Gold-streak, who had been in the boat when they lowered it from the ship. Her reunion with them had lasted only half a day: They would stay with the queen and her generals, sending messages to the commanders through the darkings who had spied on them until recently.

Daine turned Thayet's leather pouch over in her hands. She'd heard tales that with this jewel King Jonathan could ask the very plants and stones to rise up in defense of the realm. “I'll believe it when I see it,” she muttered. Tying the long drawstrings around her neck, she stuffed the pouch inside her shirt, to hang next to the badger's claw. Leaning on the rail, she squinted at the shore. She wanted to get
moving.

“Fretting about your stork-man?” Rikash inquired, lighting on the rail beside her. He dug steel talons into the wood. “He'll be fine. Mages always are.”

“I'd feel better about that if I could be here to look after him.”

“Then stay.”

“I can't,” Daine replied, shaking her head. “I don't want Kitten there without me when the big noise starts. In the Dragonlands, I saw—she's just a baby still. She ought to be in a safe place. Since she isn't, I need to be with her, as much as I can.”

“You're breaking my heart,” drawled the immortal.

“Got a bit of sand in your crop?” she demanded irritably. “A swallow or two of oil should wash it right out the end that does your thinking for you.”

To her surprise he laughed. Around them, she saw gold-skinned Yamanis and Tortallans make the sign against evil. “I deserved that. Don't mind me.” He fell silent again, flexing his talons, digging chips of brightly colored enamel from the rail. All the Yamani ship rails looked tattered after two days of Stormwing company. “Barzha and Hebakh said to wish you happy hunting,”
he said abruptly. “And if they get Ozorne first, they'll save you a piece.” He grinned, showing all of his pointed steel teeth. “Perhaps it's treasonous of me, but I really think
I
would like to reach Ozorne ahead of them. If I do, they may take all the leftovers from me. How about if I just tell him you said good-bye, before I rip him apart?”

“That's very thoughtful of you,” Daine told him solemnly, her eyes dancing with laughter. “I appreciate that.”

Rikash looked up at her, green eyes black in the lamplight. “I
think,
if I'm careful, I can at least keep one of his braids for you. I'll try, anyway.” He tossed his long, blond hair, making the bones that were braided into it click. “Souvenirs are always important.” His tone changed to one of mockery. “Gods help us, it's the stork-man, come to make sure I'm not corrupting you. Has your grand conference ended, Longshanks?”

Numair joined them. “It has. There go Barzha and Hebakh now.” He pointed to the silvery shapes flapping their way to shore. The rest of the Stone Tree nation was there already, perched on the limbs of trees that edged the forest.

“And I must follow, like a good servant,” Rikash commented. “I'll see you both when the dust settles in two days.” He took off, gliding over the water. At the last second, he swerved to avoid a collision with the back of Wingstar's neck. The dragon whirled and lunged, jaws snapping. The Stormwing rolled, inches from her muzzle, flipped up his tail, and sped on.

Numair put an arm around Daine's shoulders. “It's time,” he said quietly.

“Come with me,” she whispered, turning to grab a fistful of his shirt. Jelly squeaked at her. “Well, if you wouldn't hide in his clothes all the time,” she snapped.

“Magelet, I can't.” Numair caressed her face, eyes intent on hers. “No one else can take on Inar Hadensra,
not without risking lives needlessly. He could have been a black robe mage like me, but—he thought the university was too confining. He's in the main camp for certain—I can sense him even at this distance. I
must
be there when Thayet attacks.”