The Silent Dragon: Children of The Dragon Nimbus #1 (33 page)

His staff lay at his feet, where he’d placed it at Darville’s first cry of alarm. Hours ago. Actually only a few minutes.

Darville tried to follow him. “Where’s my sword and dagger? The Coraurlia . . . must wear it into battle.”

Mikka pushed him back with a single finger, resting his head in her lap.

“I know. I know what drives you, what needs to be done. But you can’t do it. Not yet. You’ve trained General Marcelle well. He and his men know what to do and will do it.”

“Cold,” he whispered. “I’m so cold. The people need to see their king . . . The Coraurlia will protect me.”

“That glass crown will give you a headache, but I suppose it is necessary right now. This will help, my love.” Mikka supported his head with one hand and pressed a cup to his lips.

Jaylor listened carefully at the door. Steady even footsteps down the staircases. Family and servants followed the evacuation plan. They’d gather in the old keep.

He took the time and concentration to let his heart reach out for Valeria and Lillian. They were safe.

He searched a bit further, widening his awareness.
Glenndon?

Nothing.

His heart stuttered in fear, then returned to a normal cadence. Glenndon lived. He knew that much. But did he fare well or face danger?

Darville rolled and thrashed trying to sit up. Mikka didn’t have the strength to stop him, or help him.

“One more drink and we have to get you out of here, Your Grace,” Jaylor said, returning to them.

“Go where?” Darville asked, slurring his words a bit from blood loss, fatigue, or wine. “Where are my girls? Glenndon? I need to see to their safety.”

“They are safe.” Jaylor hoped. He knew they lived. “You and I are going to the last place your enemies can get to. The place you need to be to direct the defense of the city.” Jaylor got an arm beneath Darville’s shoulders and steadied their balance before heaving him upright.

“If Lucjemm knows the tunnels, he can go anywhere in the city,” Darville reminded them both.

Good, his mind was working again.

“Except the old University buildings. He can’t get in there.” Jaylor affirmed. “Only one entrance at each end to the long tunnel that runs between here and there, and both have traps for the unwary or untalented.”

Darville frowned silently for a long moment. “You’re right. And the University buildings are now a barracks for my troops. That is where I must be. Mikka, you stay here and direct the withdrawal of our family and retainers to the old keep. Set two guards at each tunnel entrance so Lucjemm can’t escape. Warn them about the snake.”

“The girls know what to do, Darville. Linda will direct everyone. I’m staying with you. Maisy will set the guards.” Mikka folded a big square of cloth into a triangle, which Maisy fitted around his right arm.

Darville sighed in relief the moment the cloth took over supporting the arm.

“General Marcelle and Fred have spent the last three days weeding out any troops and officers who even considered siding with the lords. Fred? You said he’d been knocked unconscious?”

“He’s up and moving. I sent him to the watch over our daughters,” Jaylor said, checking his mental contact with the man.

Around them new sounds filtered through windows and along corridors and staircases.

“The palace prepares,” Mikka said. “We need to get out of here before news of your injury spreads. Right now we do not need word of any weakness reaching our enemies. Our people do not need to know how vulnerable their king is. You must appear strong before them, bolster their courage and determination to defeat the invaders. Wear the crown.” She placed, one hand flat upon his back, steadying his balance.

“Glenndon? The people need to see their prince . . .”

“He’ll be here shortly after dawn,” Jaylor reassured him. “We have only one enemy to contend with. Once Lucjemm and his snake are dealt with, the rebellion will collapse. I suspect the Krakatrice has directed most of his actions,” Jaylor said. He grabbed Darville beneath his armpits and hauled him upright, also steadying him until he found his feet and knees, and made them work.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Darville muttered. “Old grudges die a long and lingering death.”

“So long as it isn’t your death,” Mikka said. “Or the death of Coronnan.”

CHAPTER 50

L
OUD NOISES penetrated Linda’s dreams of giant snakes battling iridescent dragons.

Darkness outside tugged her eyelids closed again. She rolled over and buried her head in a nest of pillows and covers.

One long gong, five short peals.

The alarm bells.

Linda wrestled with the bedclothes that threatened to strangle her as she fought her way upward and outward. Bells. The invasion had begun. She needed to rouse her sisters, organize the ladies, get moving.

A sheet caught across her throat and threatened to choke off her air. She clawed at the annoying fabric.

The bells rang again. Two long, three short. Second bridge breached. Stargods, the enemy approached rapidly. Too rapidly.

Treachery. Lucjemm and his obsession with snakes.

S’murghit,
she ached from her toes to her middle in regret. She
liked
Lucjemm. She’d found companionship with him that she missed with her ladies, her sisters, and even her brother.

And he’d kissed her with genuine fondness. She was sure of it.

A tear leaked out the corner of her eye. She could never trust him again. Even if he could come up with a rational explanation, she couldn’t ever let him get close to court, her family, or her heart again.

She cast off the covers, finally, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, seeking the portable steps with her toes. A stealthy hand slid across her mouth.

Startled, she bit down. Hard.

“
S’murghit,
Linda I need you to stay quiet, not alert the others,” Lucjemm cursed. He hopped away from her, sucking on his fingers.

She could barely see him. Dawn had not yet sneaked around the edges of the window shutters.

A long shadow slithered from around his neck, down his arm. A wedge-shaped head nuzzled his fingers apart.

Was that a long, forked tongue licking away the blood she’d drawn?

She gagged, then clenched her mouth shut, stilling every muscle, every thought, waiting; afraid to capture the snake’s attention. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and her breathing remained sharp and shallow. Her blood tingled in her toes and fingertips, ready for . . .

“Hush, my princess,” Lucjemm leaned over and whispered in her ear. The snake had disappeared.
Where?
She nearly panicked at the thought of it slithering beneath the covers, unseen, ready to bite . . .

Maybe she’d only imagined it. She hoped she’d only imagined it. Lucjemm’s breath was warm and sweet, smelling of fresh fruit and flowers, not blood and carrion as she expected with the snake image so fresh in her mind.

“You are safe with me, my love. I have come to take you to safety.”

Her rigidity must have told him she did not believe him.

“Trust me, my darling. Your father sent me. I will not allow anyone to hurt you.” With that, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

She wanted desperately to trust him.

“Come with me now, my love. We have things we must do to ensure the safety of the kingdom,” he pleaded.

The alarm repeated.

Linda stilled again. This was an opportunity to find out his plans, to learn just how far he’d gone in his betrayal of the kingdom and the crown. Her ladies and the governess could tend to her sisters.

“I . . . I must dress,” she whispered.

“Certainly, dearest. I shall turn my back to protect your modesty. Though soon we will have no secrets of mind or body between us.”

He withdrew a few steps. She looked over her shoulder to make certain he had turned his back, then leaped out of the big bed on the opposite side from him. Hastily she dragged on undergarments and her trews beneath her nightrail. Strangely, he did keep his face averted from her. This gave her the courage to turn her back to him as she dragged off her sleeping garment and threw a masculine shirt and vest on. At the last minute she grabbed a leather jerkin with long sleeves. Scant armor against a determined attack, but more protection than just a shirt.

The horizon only hinted at sunrise. A chill breeze blew off the Bay. The days might grow exceedingly warm, but it was still early spring with cool nights. She could justify the extra clothing if he asked. While his back was still turned she secreted sharp throwing stars in each of her thigh pockets and small knives in the tops of her boots.

Fred had taught her to be prepared for attack from any quarter at any time. He’d given her these weapons for a purpose.

“Will Glenndon be coming?” she asked quietly as she stuffed her braid beneath a cap. Too much hair had escaped control; not enough cap. It would have to do.

“No. We do not need your brother for this.” Lucjemm turned around and graced her with one of his charming smiles.

Her heart melted. Briefly. She reminded herself that she really couldn’t trust him. But she needed to keep him smiling and willing to share his plans with her. Then she’d throw something sharp at his eyes and make a run for it and tell P’pa everything.

“Glenndon and I share everything. We’re very close. I’d like him to come along.”
You’re only a thought away.

Glenndon did not respond to her brief probe.

Brother? Where are you?

Still nothing. But she did catch a whiff of water rank with decaying plants.

Flusterbumps ran up her arms and down her spine.

“Now is not the time to cringe with cowardice,” Lucjemm sneered at her. “Where is your famous royal courage, Princess Rosselinda?”

She firmed her spine and her chin, staring him straight in the eyes. “Ready and waiting for you to tell me your plan. I have a duty to my sisters and our retainers. I must make certain they are safe.”

As if to punctuate her statement the alarm bells rang out again. Three long peals, a pause, then two short. Stargods, the enemy approached the third bridge already.

“They can fend for themselves!” he shouted. Then he calmed, instantly, as if his outburst had never been. “What I must show you cannot be told. It must be experienced.” He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her hastily out to the landing around the broad staircase that led downward toward P’pa’s office and other public rooms. She glanced toward her parents’ suite. No glimmer of light peeked beneath the doorway. The office and all of the other private rooms looked equally dark. Where were they? The alarm bells were tolling long and loud. Servitors and retainers ushered people down the stairs in an orderly mass. But there was no sign of her parents. Had they gone to the old keep already?

She was on her own.

I wish Glenndon were here.

(Courage,)
Indigo’s voice came to her unbidden.
(You are not alone in this. I cannot bring your brother to you yet. You must keep your mind open to me. You will not see me, but I will follow you. I will rescue you when the time is right. You may wish it sooner, but you have to be patient. Play this game to the end. All the way to the end.)

The end of me?

No answer.

Glenndon’s teeth chattered, his bones ached, and he could no longer feel his toes. His knees sagged and his head drooped in weariness. Water surged up his nose and down his throat. He coughed and gagged. The vile burning taste of regurgitated swamp burned the full length of his throat.

He spat and snorted to get rid of it.

Can’t fall asleep. Have to keep moving.

Still blowing crud out his nose, he inched to his left, facing the walls of the pit, again. With fingers and knees and nearly numb feet he explored the edges for the sixth or eighth time, seeking something solid to grab hold of and leverage himself upward.
Fifteen feet across,
he figured.
The rim?
He pulled the glowing stick out of his belt and jumped extending it as high above him as possible. The tip brushed the rim sending clods of rank mud and grass raining on his head. He ducked and huddled close to the wall until debris stopped falling. He couldn’t trust the crumbling dirt at the top even if he could jump high enough to reach it.

He pushed at the water, making it slosh a little. It lapped below his chin. It had receded three inches. At least.
Absorbed by the dirt? Hmm. How long before it lowers below my knees?

He rested his back against the wall without danger of slipping down and drowning.

Linda!
he summoned the most receptive mind he could think of. He caught only a foggy wall of sleep that his weak probe could not penetrate.

Da? Are you there?
He found only a busy turmoil, anxiety and fear, barely an acknowledgment that they both lived.

Valeria!
he called into the night with every bit of magic and love he could muster.

Something stirred at the back of his mind. His sister was still healing. All her strength and magic had to go into setting bone and muscle to rights again.
Val, just wake up and tell someone I’m in trouble. Please!

He hoped he survived long enough for Da to realize this was more than just a failure of his journeyman test.

He looked up. Again. Anxious to find something, anything to get him out of here before his mind numbed and he drifted off to sleep and drowned.

The outline of tree branches appeared more clearly above him than the last time he’d looked. He could count the vibrant green of the new leaves that stretched over the pit. Fat leaves veined in pink.

As the light grew slowly around him, a shaft of low sunlight glimmered on a drop of oil on the pink tracery on an older leaf.

Tambootie! The tree of magic. The tree of life for the dragons. Of course the Tambootie grew on Sacred Isle. Where else would they grow unmolested by humans?

Please grant me sustenance, so that I may save this land from Lucjemm and his Krakatrice, your enemy as well as ours. Help me return to the city so that I may assist in restoring the Well of Life,
he prayed to the Stargods, the dragons, to anyone who might be listening, prayed that this tree still held enough vitality to renew his talent and help him out of this pit.

Someone must have heard his pleas. A leaf as big as his palm drooped from a low branch. He took a tentative step toward the middle of the pool and swatted at it with the glowing wand. It dropped and drifted in a tightening spiral atop the murky water. He snagged it before it could sink in the whirlpool of its own making.

“Thank you!” Gently he licked the oil from the central vein. Instantly his mouth burst with exotic flavors, spicy, aromatic, gentle, and invigorating at the same time. Another drop on his tongue held bitterness, yet it cleared his mind.

He couldn’t see any more oil droplets so he nibbled the tender tip of the leaf. His toes burned from the insult of frigid water trapped inside his boots.

He welcomed the pain as a sign of returning life and energy. He wanted to gobble the rest of the leaf. An old story or lesson heard in childhood warned him against too much too soon. One small bite at a time, chewing thoroughly and counting to sixty in between, he consumed the rest of the leaf.

His stomach awoke and growled angrily. Queasiness swamped his newly warmed body and mind. One deep breath, then two, and a third helped ground him. Another round of meditative breathing settled his stomach and eased his aching joints.

“Thank you,” he repeated. Somewhat restored, he needed to find a way out.

A transportation spell was still beyond his strength and concentration. Tricky at the best of times, he didn’t want to find himself inside out and trapped within a stone wall somewhere he didn’t want to be.

Something like a dragon chuckle wiggled through his mind. Not a dragon.

The tree perhaps? He’d never known a tree to have a mind, but he wasn’t beyond believing it could happen. Especially with a Tambootie.

Another laugh of agreement, soft, barely a whisper. Under normal conditions he’d not hear it, or understand it.

The tree snapped. The sound ricocheted loudly in the quiet just before dawn.

Glenndon started and clung to the wall of the pit, hands grasping for a weapon, anything. All he found was mud. Mud laced with rootlets.

Then a splash in the center of the pool sprayed his face. A long branch stripped of greenery and side shoots bobbed to the surface. The narrow end forked into two, each tine the length of his arm from wrist to elbow. The full length of the shaft appeared to be nearly twice his height.

“Is this my staff?” he asked hesitantly.

He caught a sense of agreement.

At dawn, if you are found worthy, the Stargods will grant you the gift of a fallen branch to use as a staff,
Da had said.

Well, he had a fallen branch the right length and sturdiness. He hadn’t cut it.

“Thank you, again,” he said and clasped the staff in the middle. His fingers traced the whirling grain down the length. “Whirlpools broken by knots,” he half-laughed. “I’ve never seen my magic before but that sounds like my pattern. Da’s is a red and blue braid of light and energy. His staff also looks braided.”

Another sense of agreement laced with impatience. He had a staff, now he needed to get out of the pit and get back to the palace to save the world from Lucjemm and his snakes.