Dragonlinks (40 page)

‘If only they knew the truth,' Jelindel said as Kelricka entered.

‘Even this brief meeting will be entered in Yalok's trip log,' grumbled Kelricka. ‘They watch me, even though I lead them.'

Jelindel began to towel her hair dry, and was surprised it was now so long when unbound.

‘One day I would like to walk about in robes again,' she said. ‘Each day I tell myself that, but each day I put on the mailshirt and sheepskins, strap on a sword – then swing my leg over a horse and ride until my backside hurts. Every so often someone tries to kill me, and from time to time I end up killing one of my attackers.'

‘How long before the last dragonlink is found?' asked Kelricka. ‘Do you have any clues as yet?'

‘Yes, and a strong one. I cannot say anything to anyone, but the end is very near now. The mailshirt will be complete and we may be able to render it harmless forever, but that will be at the price of tears, hate, and possibly deaths.'

‘How can you know all that?' exclaimed the shocked Kelricka.

‘Were I free to tell you, there would be no problem. Kelricka, that pair I ride with are enough to make me scream most of the time, yet they are my only family now. We have been through so much together, risked our lives for each other, yet … I know in the deepest corners of my heart that the last dragonlink will be the end of us.'

‘I do not follow what you mean.'

‘Don't try. It's … almost impossible, yet I have a scheme to ensnare the last dragonlink that may leave us in harmony. But what then? How could we settle down
together? Daretor has a warrior's heart and thinks of little else but honour. His true destiny is yet to be fully realised; I somehow know this. Zimak is an errand boy and alley fighter, but he too could be much more – if he ever grows up. Much as I despair for him, I think that if he stays with Daretor he may be guided to a better path.'

‘And you?'

‘Gah. I am a scholar. I don't fit in with all that. Besides, I'm a girl. Sooner or later one of them might look my way on some remote road and try to suggest a bit of dalliance. I would not like the idea and, well, things could get quite ugly. Zimak is shiftless, for all his good points, and I know for a fact that he would throw our friendship to the winds to cover himself. Daretor would do the same over some petty matter of honour.' She gave a mirthless, rueful laugh. ‘While I can admire them both for what they are and can be, I can also see their flaws.'

‘Jelindel, you sound as cynical as some old courtier,' said Kelricka, inclining her head and raising an eyebrow.

‘I've travelled too far and endured too much with those two in my formative years. I'm sixteen, but I feel like sixty.'

Kelricka stared at her sternly. ‘No, you're
still
in your formative years.'

Jelindel laughed in spite of herself. ‘Before we reached Dremari I heard what Daretor and Zimak thought about girls in the most candid and lurid of detail. Very few girls hear what men really talk about when they are alone together.'

‘But are they typical of all men?'

‘Maybe, maybe not.'

Jelindel began combing her hair back.

‘Leave the thonging off, Jelindel, your hair is lovely without it.'

‘What? No, it has to stay bound for me to pass as … what am I playing at now? A Mage Auditor passing for a Skeltian freerover, I think.'

‘Not today. This is a wedding and you should go as what you are. Besides, remember that my guards have noticed that I like you and spend much time with you. We cannot have such rumours getting back to my superiors, can we?'

At mid-morning the village bell rang out to summon everyone to the wedding and feast. Kelricka's guards remained outside the inn, muttering to each other and writing in their trip log.

There was a collective gasp from the tavern as the band beneath its awning caught sight of Jelindel when she emerged into the sunlight. Kelricka's guards goggled for a moment and dropped the trip log in the dust.

With the guards and village band trailing along behind them, Jelindel and Kelricka walked out into the village square.

Kelricka had taken in the waist of Jelindel's clean tunic to show her figure to full effect, and the Mage Auditor was wearing it over trews and newly oiled boots. Her hair was down and dancing in the wind. She wore cherry red lip-blush and green eye shade. Her wide-buckled belt was cinched tight, emphasising her figure even further – although she still wore the thundercast on her hip in a leather sheath that she had sewn.

The blacksmith Gemoti took one look at her and dropped a stoneware jar of wine, which smashed at his feet.

‘Mage Auditor!' he cried, and everyone nearby turned to stare.

‘Yes?' asked Jelindel. ‘What – what have – I mean, why are you dressed like that?'

‘Because I'm a girl,' she replied demurely. ‘You said to dress in my very best, so I have.'

Jelindel turning up to the wedding as Jelindel was almost enough to upstage the bride and groom. Although she had transformed from a fairly plain youth into a stunningly pretty girl, she still walked with a pronounced swagger and had learned only the men's dance steps in her travels since escaping Dremari. Any number of men, Gemoti included, were always there to be dancing partners and give her helpful instructions, however.

Finally the bell rang out again, and Kelricka met the bride and groom at the shrinestone steps. She read out a fairly long and elaborate version of the formal wedding ceremony, but for the villagers the presence of a real Verital priestess was an honour and blessing beyond purchase by mere coins.

After the newlyweds had kissed, the groom carried his bride to the centre of the square, set her down, and gestured to the band. They danced three jigs alone, then other married couples joined in, one by one and in the order of those most recently married.

The rest stood about clapping, then the two groups swapped roles and the unmarrieds all danced. Gemoti and Jelindel were first, followed by Zimak with a serving girl from the tavern and Daretor with Kelricka.

Kelricka's guards stood back looking unhappy, but they wrote nothing more in their trip log. One had already torn several pages out and fed them to the fire beneath a sheep roasting on a spit.

It was the bride who first saw the approaching dragon craft, and her scream pierced the music of the band and silenced them.

The craft was moving slowly among the peaks, and a deep rumble was audible even though it was still beyond the edge of the fields.

Everyone in the village square stood in silence for a moment, then the place dissolved into bedlam. Mothers gathered up their children and men ran for their swords, axes and bows. Only Jelindel stood where she had stopped dancing.

With legs planted solidly at shoulder width, she watched the dragon craft approach. Her knees were shaking, her bowels seemed about to betray her and there was a sharp, acidic taste of fear on her tongue. Despite it all she stood her ground and slowly drew the thundercast.

With great deliberation she depressed two studs.

As the thing got closer it was obvious that it was about the size of a very large grain ship, vaguely disk shaped, but with a neck-like structure protruding from what seemed to be the front and vanes like wings from the sides. The deep rumble that emanated from it shook the very ground that they stood on. The craft stopped above the market area and hovered. Its hulking mass cut off all sunlight from the village centre.

Suddenly it made a squealing sound and one of the larger cottages exploded into burning wood, thatching and broken stones. A line of blue fire became visible in the smoke.

A patch of heat moved on to the next cottage at the end of the blue beam, leaving a trail of melted, smoking ground in its wake.

J
elindel stood in the deserted centre of the square, teeth jammed together and heart racing. As soon as she retaliated, her presence would be recognised. She was so small, and the dragon craft was so big.

‘Jelindel, get under cover!' shouted Kelricka from somewhere behind her.

The words somehow broke the mesmerising effect of the dragon craft. Jelindel slowly raised the heavy thundercast in both hands, aimed at a place just behind what might have been the mouth of the dragon and squeezed the trigger bar.

A blast rocked the mighty flying weapon, but although fragments rained down into the market, the damage did not appear to be serious.

It turned like a ponderous bird of prey.

Jelindel fired again, but a cone of red tracery formed
around the dragon craft. It fired back, but Jelindel had set the shielding option in her thundercast. A cone of red tracery formed about her as well, and an ellipse of molten ground formed on the ground beyond its protection.

The reek of burning was in her nostrils. A deep rumble interlaced with the screams of the villagers pierced her ears. Village archers fired arrows up at the dragon craft, but they flashed into smoke before reaching its surface.

A hot wind whipped about Jelindel, flinging her unbound hair into her face. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead but evaporated even as they ran down her skin. She wanted to drop to one knee, but that might seem a sign of weakness and she was determined not to show that.

The beam from the ship snapped off as suddenly as it had appeared, but the cone remained until Jelindel also ceased firing.

For a moment there was no sound other than the rumble from the dragon craft's interior.

‘Puny GVG cannot stand against Korok's warship,' a deafening but familiar voice boomed down. The voice was Korok's, but it was as if a mighty volcano was now talking in broken Skeltian.

‘I know about this weapon, Korok,' Jelindel shouted back. ‘The shield utility absorbs the power from your own thunderbolts. It can last as long as you shoot at me.'

‘Maybe so, but Korok can kill all those around unless you give mailshirt.'

‘What is it to you?'

‘Mailshirt is control. Mailshirt is knowledge. Mailshirt is lost sciences and skills from ancients. Find
mailshirt, find lost links, Korok will have power to rule stars. You have mailshirt and Korok's link. Give both.'

‘Korok, hear me. The mailshirt has but one link missing now. I know where that last link is hidden. That's tempting, isn't it? The whole mailshirt.'

There was a pause that betrayed Korok's interest.

‘You lying.'

‘No. We can deal. I want revenge on the King of Skelt for the death of my family. Give me this, and I shall give you the final link.'

‘You lying,' he said again, but his voice held less conviction.

‘Why not check the truth of my words, Korok? Just as our spellvendors can cast truth charms, so must one of the crew of your dragon craft be able to glean when a person is lying or telling the truth.'

‘Hah, have no crew. This craft needs only com – but wait, yes, Korok
can
tell if one such as you is lying. Wait for moment.'

The dragon craft dropped lower, and another booming voice replaced that of Korok.

‘Speak your statement,' it said with a flat, metallic resonance, like that of the thundercast.

Jelindel shouted back as loudly and rapidly as she could.

‘Hear me, Systems Control: authorisation code Prime Override 96-haz-zega-1874! Cancel Korok's trainee pilot option.'

‘What? No, stop!' screeched Korok.

‘CONFIRMED, CANCELLING TRAINEE CONTROL OPTION,' boomed the deep, flat voice from the dragon craft.

A hatch suddenly opened on the underside, and Korok's head emerged.

‘Now, at my command,' began Jelindel.

‘No, no!' Korok screamed through the open hatch. ‘Korok make deal. Korok and you use warcraft to overthrow Preceptor in single hour. Please! You avenge your family, you be Queen of all Skelt, of continent, of entire world!'

Too late for deals, thought Jelindel. She took a deep breath and shouted to the ship again. ‘Ascend to five thousand miles at full inertial acceleration, then execute autodestruct sequence.'

‘No! No!' screamed Korok.

‘Provide authorisation code,' boomed the craft's voice.

‘6998-zega-prinkiv-tol!' Jelindel shouted back.

The craft slammed the open hatch shut, trapping Korok inside, then the huge mass of metallic glitter rotated smoothly and shot straight up into the sky.

The sudden silence was washed by echoes of the dragon craft's rumbling engines, and the only evidence that it had been there at all was the fires and damage. False memories from the link that Jelindel wore on one of her toes gave her a new warning.

‘Don't look up!' she shouted. ‘Everyone turn to the ground and close your eyes! Don't look up or you'll go blind!'

Suddenly an intense light blazed brilliantly white from horizon to horizon as the dragon craft destroyed itself. Even the light reflected back from the ground was so intense that it dazzled those foolish enough to have their eyes open. It faded quickly and the sky was again blue overhead.