DragonCrown Saga - The Grand Crusade Part 8

That was the dream. Time to go was then. Rounce figured you would be here, so we set out.

"First time around Temmer was enough to cause Chytrine all sorts of hurting. Four times that and some, now." His green eyes slitted. "They're swords for heroes. Choose."

Alexia drew back as he pointed at her. "These are your swords to give, Master Carver. You must have intended them for specific people."

He smiled. "One was for Hawkins. Knew that all along. Thought one was for Resolute. That idea has faded. Thought one was for the Norrington, but not anymore."

She started to tell him Will was dead, but the big man shook his head. "The dream."

Alexia nodded, then looked at Crow. "Which is yours?"

The white-haired man smiled and reached for Alarien. As his hand closed on the hilt, what she had taken for old bra.s.s glowed golden. Crow stood and unsheathed the gleaming silver blade. Elvish writing, washed in gold, writhed its length, and seemed to s.h.i.+ft and sway as if golden gra.s.s teased by spring breezes.

He turned to look at Nay, with tears running down his cheeks. "Temmer was autumn, and its breaking was winter. This is spring, with promises of summer."

"Might have felt something like that in the forging." Nay nodded solemnly. "Now you, Highness."

She wanted to protest that she already had a sword, a very nice one, given to her by the urZrethi of Bokagul, but one of these blades called to her. It wasn't the way asullanciriblade had called to her. She'd wielded the blade once used by Malarkex, and it was a foul thing. That sword had wanted her to be an agent of chaos and destruction. It wanted to use her, not be used by her.

She reached for the first sword, Heart, and the moment her hand closed over the leather-wrapped hilt, she knew it had been meant for her from the moment of its forging. Three and a half feet long, with a slight curve at the tip, Heart was both stout and light. Blood grooves ran the length from crossguard to six inches from the tip. There, both sides of the blade had been sharpened, allowing her to thrust as well as stab.

As swords went, Heart had been made by a master who knew both his craft and what would be demanded of the sword. Moreover, the magick in it bound the blade to her. It felt like a natural extension of her arm. She had no fear of its failing her. For as long as she lived, no other sword would she draw.

That came to her in a flash, and the truth of it made her tremble.

She bowed her head to Nay. "Thank you."

"The swords choose their own. It's what is meant to be." Nay stood and waved a hand at his son. "The others will find their masters."

Crow rested a hand on Nay's shoulder. "Prince Erlestoke should see the blades. He's a hero."

"Arrange it. Got the others all arranged, Borell?"

The young man slung the parcel over his back again. "All set."

"Wait, you can't go yet."

Nay looked at Crow. "You're an important man, though many don't know. Won't be taking up your time."

"You're not." Crow frowned. "Nay, a week and a half ago-even though it seems like months now-I spoke with my brother, Sallitt, for the first time since Fortress Draconis. The fact that I let everyone think I was dead, and that I didn't try to talk to my family, had hurt him. He thought I didn't trust him. When my father took my mask, I did stop trusting my family, and that was wrong.

"Rounce knew who I was because I needed his help to search for the Norrington, and to make war on Chytrine. I trusted him with that secret and I would have trusted you, but I was afraid what would happen if Scrainwood found out."

Nay shrugged. "You had your reasons."

"But I waswrong. I am sorry if you hurt when you heard I was dead. I'm sorry if you hurt now, thinking I thought so little of you that I didn't believe I could trust you."

The large swordsmith shook his head and landed a hand on Crow's shoulder that staggered him. "No tears were shed for you. Never believed suicide. When Crow tales started being sung, of Crow with Resolute, the truth was there. Fact is, youareimportant."

"But what's more important is spending time with friends." Crow smiled. "You must stay here, for dinner at least. Scrainwood has Rounce's estate, so you can't go there."

Rounce smiled. "He does have a point, Nay."

"You always were the smart one, Hawkins." Nay squeezed Crow's shoulder and smiled. "We'll stay.

The wife would skin me for impolite if not."

"Good, very good." Crow smiled broadly. "We'll all get caught up. It'll be a long night, but with friends, it won't be nearly long enough."

Kerrigan remained wary of Rymramoch's magick, but over the next three days he never found himself ambushed again. He'd not liked being tricked, and that he had been tricked so easily hurt his pride. He struggled with putting all that aside. He accomplished it when he drew two lessons from his disappointment.

The first thing he realized was that as much as Rym seemed to like him, and as much as he appeared to be human-even though he was but a puppet-he wasnothuman. Rymramoch and all of dragonkind had a focus in the matter of the DragonCrown that differed sharply from that of humanity. They wanted the Crown destroyed and their ancestors alive again when their Truestones were returned to them. Kerrigan could understand their goal and even applauded it, but knew its accomplishment was not the same as the defeat of Chytrine. Dragons would take the Crown from whoever offered it to them first.

The second perception that came to him seemed modest in comparison. Rym, the dragons, and even Bok had lived for centuries and had understanding of magick, the world, and perhaps even fate that he did not possess. Kerrigan was talented in the ways of magick. Everyone said so, and he knew it as well.

In the short time Rym had directed him, he had grown incredibly, both in his ability to shape spells and his ability to fuel them.

But his talents with magick, no matter how they grew, could not confer upon him the wisdom that centuries of life and experience would provide. Kerrigan knew he needed that wisdom, and to avail himself of it he had to trust others. Until he made that realization, he had no inkling of how little he had trusted in the past.

Granted, his upbringing had not really been conducive to trust. As he looked back, he knew Rym's take on his role at Vilwan was correct. He had been shaped as a weapon, but never had he been told that was his purpose. He certainly wouldn't have understood the full import of such a thing, but there were ways he could have been informed and prepared to accept that role. As it was, his life had been a continuous cycle of tutors and testing, with praise stinted and criticism in abundance. Despite his performance in any trials his masters could devise, there was always a lack of belief in what he could do.

His only recourse had been to manipulate his teachers, and he'd learned to do that well. Manipulation, however, breeds contempt for others. The only tutor he'd really respected-at least of those who taught him after he was of an age to think for himself-was Orla. He'd not been able to manipulate her. She had a clear goal for him, to prepare him for the war, and while she brooked no foolishness, she also praised him appropriately for his efforts.

Her, he trusted. Orla, as she lay dying, had told him to trust Crow and Resolute. Likewise, she'd told him he could not trust Vilwan. She clearly knew their plans for him. She helped further those plans, but also tried to make him more than some magick sword to be thrust into Chytrine's belly.

Rym's little ambush might not have inspired trust in anyone else, but it did in Kerrigan. Rym could have remonstrated all day and all night about the need to be careful, but that simple demonstration brought the lesson home in painful relief. It also started Kerrigan thinking about the links between various things, and how spells have effects on people and items.

Kerrigan rolled up the sleeves on the brown robe he wore and looked at Bok. The urZrethi squatted in the corner of the antechamber they used as a workshop, piecing together some odd device full of springs and gears. The urZrethi s.h.i.+fted his hands and fingers into the tools needed to make things fit, and when that was insufficient, a small burst of magick would light the project. Kerrigan had no idea what he was doing, but a.s.sumed that the device would be used later in some sort of test.

"Bok, I need information."

The urZrethi smiled and did not turn his head. "I'm certain of that, Adept Reese."

Kerrigan snorted, then wandered over and sat on the floor facing Bok's right side. "When I was at Fortress Draconis, I placed a spell on one fragment of the DragonCrown. I modeled the spell on something Neskartu had created. That spell killed my mentor, but the spell I created was intended to make Chytrine paranoid. I didn't want her thinking clearly."

Bok nodded. "You've explained this before. It was a good plan. Anything more overt and she might have noticed. Do you want to know how much it is likely to be affecting her judgment?"

"I'd like to know that, yes, but that's not the main question I have."

The urZrethi set the a.s.sembly of gears and springs on a small workbench, but did not s.h.i.+ft his limbs back into their normal form. "Chytrine is unique in many ways. Your spell would have exploited a natural weakness in her nature. I doubt it is having an overall effect, but it nudges and pushes from time to time. It is notaS if you have blinded her completely, but as if the blues or greens she sees are off."

Kerrigan thought for a moment, then nodded. "You do think it is having an effect on her, though."

"You weave magick well, Adept Reese. I am certain it is effective." He picked the a.s.sembly up again and began to attach curved silver plates to it, shaping it into a sphere. "Is there something more?"

"Yes, but I don't know how much you will tell me."

The urZrethi's smile grew, splitting his thick, dark beard. "I have told you I am her father."

"Yes, and that you knew Kirun."

"And it has only taken you eight days to decide you wanted to know about that?" Bok laughed, then spoke to the air. "You thought he would be more impulsive, Master, but I told you he was patient."

Kerrigan frowned. "I'm not playing a game here."

Bok gestured with a hand that s.h.i.+fted from wrench to hammer. "Don't imagine that I think you are, Adept Reese. Rymramoch and I merely discussed how soon you would ask after my past. That you have delayed this long is taken as a good thing. I would vouchsafe that if you'd not had an idea that could be helped by knowing my history, you'd have refrained from asking even longer."

"Probably." Kerrigan shrugged weakly. The most personal discussions he'd had were with Will, Lombo, and Orla, and all three of them were gone. He didn't think sharing confidences with them was what doomed them, but losing someone he'd gotten to know still hurt deeply.

"I shall tell you the story as I work, Adept Reese. If there are details I leave out, ask. When I hit upon what you need to know, tell me, and I can save the rest of it for another time."

"I will."

Bok smiled. "Rymramoch has told you that after the destruction of Vares.h.a.gul, all of urZrethi society changed. Many males had been killed, so the survivors were in a minority. Women reshaped our society, deciding who would breed with whom. You saw, in Bokagul, that many urZrethi males are feeble of mind though strong of limb, and thecoraxocoften choose them for these traits. Males are not challenged or trained for much of anything beyond hard labor but, on occasion, there is a throwback to the old times. I was one such, born almost eight centuries ago. In me was not only intelligence, but the ability to work magicks.

"I came from a family of sorceresses and, being a quiet child as well as precocious, I watched spells being worked. I learned much quickly, but what I learned best of all was to hide my abilities. You may have thought my choosing to act the simpleton beast was difficult, but it is the earliest role I ever adopted."

Kerrigan nodded. "Watching magick being performed is not learning the intricacies of it. I can't imagine how you mastered spells..."

"I was fortunate. I had a sister who was very intelligent, but her magick abilities were weak. She practiced her lessons hard, and found that if she could reduce things to the point where I would understand them, she could grasp them. Daily she imparted to me the finer points of thaumasophy. By the time two decades had pa.s.sed and I was to be severed from the maternal community, banished to a life in the mines, I knew enough magick that I could have challenged my grandmother in a duel."

"And that's why you are a Bok? Why you were exiled?"

The green sorcerer shook his head. "I was not so foolish. I was quiet little Loktu, a dreamer. One day I wandered off into the mountains of Bokagul and vanished. I made my way west and stowed away on a s.h.i.+p bound for Vilwan. I hid out there, watching and studying, going unnoticed for the longest time. I wanted instruction, but there are urZrethi Magisters there and I knew they would object to a male of their race being trained in magick.

"Fortune smiled, however, when I encountered a young Magister named Yrulph Kirun." Bok's dark eyes glittered as he fitted another plate onto his construction. "He was much like you in some ways-young and skilled, though he was whipcord lean, with white hair and cobalt eyes. To look at him you'd think a stiff breeze could knock him over, but he had the power to control hurricanes. He had an insatiable curiosity about everything, and saw that magick could make so many lives better. When he found me he didn't see an urZrethi vagabond, but someone whose potential would be wasted if I were not trained.

"He hit upon an artifice by which I could prove my worthiness to be trained. He instructed me in some simple combat magicks and I mastered them quickly. Kirun then set about spreading a rumor of a ghostly figure, tall and cloaked and hooded, haunting the south end of the island. He said he would find this creature and bring it to bay. We played a game, he and I, where I let myself be seen from time to time, building excitement, then he issued me a challenge. We met for a duel."

Bok set the construct down again and shook his head. "In those days, Kerrigan, the wizards of Vilwan dueled famously. The battle we fought lasted for over an hour, with spell being met by counterspell. A huge audience gathered and were awed. I'd s.h.i.+fted my shape, of course, to be tall and gaunt, and I remained hidden in a hooded cloak and old robe. We unleashed lightning and h.e.l.lfire, created phantasms that shredded each other, summoned creatures not seen before and banished them to pits from which they had been drawn.

"And, finally, as we had agreed, we asked each other to hold. I said to him, 'You are the best of Vilwan and my master. I would be your apprentice.' And he opened his arms to take in all the Magisters who had taught him, and said, 'I am but an apprentice here, myself, but if my masters give me leave, I would happily instruct you.' "

Kerrigan clapped his hands. "The Magisters fell all over themselves to welcome you."

"They did. There was protest when my true nature was revealed, but none could deny my abilities. Kirun put it simply: I could be trained and thereby made useful, or could be released to whatever mayhem I could commit. Since the urZrethi Magisters already knew any unsupervised male was a problem, they were forced to adopt the plan. Even so, word was sent back to Bokagul and I was made Bok."

"So you and Kirun were friends."

"Very much so, and for a long while-or long as reckoned in human terms. We were friends until the end, or close to it." Bok's face closed. "This next part I will tell because you will ask. It is not the whole cause of the rift, but a large part of it. Kirun changed in little ways and became obsessed with things. His curiosity had led him to uncover knowledge about the Oromise. At least, I think that is the truth of it because he became interested in the creation of new life. At first it was simple. He used magick to do more quickly what herdsmen had done for centuries and bred stronger, more desirable animals. To me, being urZrethi, that seemed the way of things and right. But Kirun took things a step further."

The human mage nodded. "I know he caused matings between elves andaraftuthat produced the Gyrkyme."

"Yes, and that experiment turned out well, all things considered. I did not know, until later, that the elves were compelled through magick to couple with the birdbeasts. As I had seen males of my kind all but forced into stud service, I am not certain I would have objected had I known. It didn't really matter, though, because Kirun had worked magick on me, too."

Bok looked away and his eyes dulled. "You know dragons can a.s.sume human form. The Gyrkyme tell you that cross-species matings can be viable and even fertile. Kirun knew that dragons and urZrethi were mortal enemies and I think he made himself believe that we could find peace if there were someone to bridge the gap between us. Among his friends was a dragon, a female, who a.s.sumed human form. She and I... Chytrine is our daughter."

Kerrigan's mouth dropped open. "A dragon and an urZrethi? But she appears elven..."

Bok closed his eyes, then shook his head. Slowly his body s.h.i.+fted its shape. He became taller and more angular, supple of limb. Ears sharpened and rose through dark hair. Even his eyes grew larger and more elven. If not for the malachite cast of his skin, Kerrigan would have taken him to be an elf.

"Chytrine could appear to be anyone. She can even a.s.sume dragon form. There was a dragon at Porasena, in Alcida. I believe that was her."

"But if she is a dragon, why does she need other dragons?"

Bok smiled, but still maintained his elf shape. "You saw Vrusuroel at Nawal. She is not nearly as powerful as he is. He helped raise her and would destroy her if needs be."

"Why doesn't he?"

The urZrethi shrugged. "His mind is his own. Let it suffice that he opposes her now, even if it is for his own reasons."

"Chytrine became Kirun's apprentice, didn't she?"

"She learned much from him, and from me, and Vrusuroel and others. She helped shape the DragonCrown. She knows more about its power and its abilities than anyone else."

Kerrigan frowned. "You said that you didn't think Kirun knew the Crown would let him control dragons, but that he must have or else those abilities would not have been part of it. Could she have worked them into it without his knowing?"

"As you worked the spell you did on that fragment?" Bok's face tightened as he thought, then he nodded. "Yes, that could be one explanation."

Kerrigan chewed his lower lip for a moment. "All that you told me fits with an idea I have. I created a search spell that can find fragments of the DragonCrown, but that's because I know their nature. More important than finding them, however, is finding her. From the fragment here, perhaps I can pick up a hint of her. And I can perhaps use a trace of the spell that's affecting her."

Bok held up his right hand. The thumb grew into a sharp thorn that he pressed to his own palm. "A drop of my blood would give you half her nature."

"That would be enough, I think."

"Perhaps, but why take chances?" Bok pointed deeper into the fastness of Vael. "Let us get something of her mother, too, and make certain your spell will not fail."

High up in the tallest tower Svarskya had to offer, General Markus Adrogans studied a map of the world. One of his aides had retinted the nation of Okrannel red, as it had been represented on maps before Chytrine's forces had destroyed it. The aide had also taken the liberty to recolor the whole of the nation even though the army had not ventured into the northeast and had little intelligence about the situation there.

The possibility of an Aurolani force lurking on the Crozt peninsula was but one of many things weighing on his mind. Foremost among them was the political situation brewing in Narriz. Adrogans smiled, recalling Phfas' saying that politics was not brewing but festering. He couldn't disagree, but the methods he had for lancing that boil were limited.

His game of asking for clarifications had only bought him a couple of days. His denial of possessing dragonels had not been accepted by the crowns. His allied commanders all brought to him messages from their leaders requesting clarification of his denials. Like General Caro, they replied that Adrogans did not have them; but politicians are naturally suspicious, so requests kept coming.

At least the way they are worded becomes more inventive and entertaining.

The crowns clearly feared his taking the dragonels and building an empire. It fueled renewed requests that he leave immediately for Narriz. That would remove him as the head of his army and lessen the threat he represented. As a result he was under a direct command to quit Svarskya within a day to begin his journey.

He turned from the map and looked at his advisors. "In Narriz the situation as they see it is simple: the Aurolani have quit Okrannel, we have dragonels and are about to take over the world. This makes us a bigger threat to them than Chytrine, even though she's far closer to Narriz than we are."

Turpus Caro clutched scarred hands around a tankard of steaming mulled wine. "King Augustus does not feel that way. I would guess none of the leaders who are facing her a.s.saults directly see us that way, either. It's the western nations who fear us. Their efforts in the east are minimal, but if their fear makes them turn on Jerana, you would have no choice but to move south and create the empire they think you intend to create."

"A self-fulfilling prophecy, yes." Adrogans nodded slowly, then looked at the raven-haired elf. "Mistress Gilthalarwin, what do your leaders say in this matter?"

She shook her head. "We have no one in Narriz. I have sent discreet reports back to Loquellyn, but I have received no reply. My leaders know we will not a.s.sist you in empire building, so the matter is a distraction they deem beneath their notice."

Adrogans accepted her words for their meaning, but the tightness in her voice suggested something was wrong. He'd not been privy to her messages back to Loquellyn in the past, nor had he known the frequency of her communication with her home. The fact that she'd mentioned not hearing back he took as significant, but had no idea what it might indicate.

Beal mot Tsuvo had been seated in a tall, thronelike chair. "You have liberated Svarskya. The Guranin Highlanders will follow you and do what you bid. We do not fear your building an empire because the first two nations you would have to subdue would be Gurol and Valicia. Both of them contributed to Okrannel's liberation and you would not dishonor them that way."