[Hurog 01] - Dragon Bones (29 page)

“The outside door is past the basilisk,” I said. “You said she was smarter than Kariarn believes. Could we negotiate?”

He shook his head. “She won't negotiate with her food. But if I can touch her for a few minutes, I can control her.”

“Even here? Where there is dragon magic?”

Oreg smiled, “Especially here.”

“So all I need to do is distract it for a while.”

With the same magic that allowed me to find lost things, I found where the basilisk was, waiting outside about ten feet from the door. I still wasn't used to having my magic back: I knew
exactly
where it was. Surely there would be some way to use that. And, as if it had been just this afternoon that Tosten and I fought blind, I knew what I could do. Before I'd seen it come off the ship, I'd have been a lot more confident of my chances.

There was a broom leaning against one corner of the room where Oreg and I were held. It wasn't much of a weapon—more of a stick than a staff. And I would have to try it blindfolded, using my magic to tell me where it was.

“Give me your shirt,” I said at last.

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to end up like Landislaw. I need to cover my eyes.”

“What about your shirt?” he said as he complied with my request.

“I'd rather have some protection if it hits me. I trust you'll spell the creature soon as you can.” I took the broom and gave it a thwack against the wall. It bent, but it didn't break. Beyond the wooden walls, the basilisk moved restlessly. “It sounds like there is a lot of space out there. Are we in one of the warehouses at the docks?”

Oreg nodded. “Cleaned for the new harvest.”

There was no time to waste. Kariarn and his army could
be at Hurog by early evening, even on horses that were weak from the sea voyage. We had to beat him there.

I took Oreg's shirt and ripped several ragged strips off of it until I could fashion a blindfold. Oreg led me to the door the Basilisk waited behind. My knowledge of magic hadn't increased with my abilities, but
finding
had always been mine.

Where was the basilisk?

As before, the response I got back was better than sight. I hoped.

“Open the door,” I said.

He threw it open, hard, and the basilisk retreated enough for me to get out into the open room.

“Yeah! Over here!” I shouted, anything to get its attention.

It moved toward me slowly. Oreg had said it wasn't stupid. I backed away from it and bumped into something unexpected: an upright timber, identified by a brush with the back of my hand. I dodged behind it, and something hit the timber hard enough to crack it. The basilisk cried out either in anger or in pain and darted forward with that sudden swiftness it was capable of. I ran at it.

Running away from it was out of the question. I'd likely brain myself on one of the support posts or run into the wall. Magic told me where the basilisk was, but I couldn't see warped floorboards or walls at the same time.

I thumped it hard on the nose, and my broomstick broke. Before I could think anything but an astonished,
help,
something my finding sense insisted was taller than me and about to hurt me badly swept in from my left. I jumped, lifting my feet as high as I could, tucking them like a horse going over a fence.

It caught my heel; the force of the blow stretched me flat out in the air and tossed me away from the basilisk. I tucked, but unable to see the ground, I landed badly, slamming my head on the ground. Instinct forced me to my
feet, but I was dazed and unable to recover my sense of where the basilisk was.

Something flickered over my face, and sheer terror brought me to my senses. I'd seen the basilisk tongue Landislaw's face before eating him. Seeing me standing still, the basilisk must have assumed I was caught in its gaze.

Urgently, I called my magic,
found
the basilisk, and dove beneath its head. Blindfolded I might have been, but terror showed me its gaping jaws as I rolled on the ground beneath it.

Startled by my action, it didn't move for just long enough for me to get a firm grip on a hind leg. I hadn't realized I was still holding the broken stick until I had to drop it to secure my hold on the basilisk's leg.

I'd underestimated the creature's flexibility. It reached over with its other hind leg and caught my back with a sharp claw. If I'd have held on, I think I would have been dead. But my aunt's drills were firmly fixed in my body's reflexes, and I went with the force of the blow rather than resisting it. I let go of the leg and flung myself forward onto the ground and rolled to my feet. At which point I scurried away like a rabbit, hands outstretched to hit wall or support beam before my face did. When I reached the wall, I turned, panting.

Once again, I'd lost the sense of where the creature was. The warehouse was silent except for the slight sound of clicking scales, but I couldn't be sure which direction it was coming from. Something warm and wet dripped down my leg from my back. I couldn't tell how much damage the basilisk had done.

“I've got her,” Oreg said. “You can take off the blindfold.”

“Now what do we do with it?” I took off my blindfold in time to see Oreg slide down her shoulder onto the floor.

“She'll die here; the climate is too cool.” He frowned at her.

“Does it eat things other than people?” I asked. I was all for helping rare creatures, but I wasn't going to inflict it on a helpless village.

Oreg slanted me a humorous glance. “Sometimes. I think I'll take the same tack some long-ago wizard did.”

He drew in a deep breath and put his hands on its side. I closed my eyes, trying to hide my ecstasy as Oreg's magic swept into the room like a warm wind, filling the empty places in my soul that leaving Hurog had made. I drew that warmth around me as if it were a blanket.

“To stone,” said Oreg in old Shavig. There was such power in his voice I had to open my eyes.

Magic glittered like a golden fog over the room, covering Oreg, the basilisk, and me as Oreg used it to draw patterns over the basilisk scales. As I watched, the basilisk began to draw into itself, changing color from forest green to gray as delicate scale edges blurred and disappeared.

When at last the magic was gone and Oreg and I stood alone in the storage room, the basilisk was nothing more than a boulder less than half the size the creature had been. The dirt floor under the stone was muddy.

Oreg flexed his hands and stretched his neck, as if working magic had tightened his muscles.

“We've got to go,” I said.

Oreg nodded. “I'll just see that Kariarn's mages don't wake her again.” He made an abrupt pushing motion, and the stone sank through the wet ground until there was nothing left of it but a dark stain on the earth that would dry in a few hours.

There was no time to look for horses. After Oreg unspelled the door and wrapped what was left of his shirt around my back, he and I ran down the path Kariarn's army had taken with less than an hour's head start. Holding hope tightly to my chest, I ran as I'd never done before, ignoring burning lungs and burning legs.

After the first few miles, I quit speculating,
concentrating only on moving my feet, one after the other. There was a rhythm to running, an echo of the pulse that beat behind my ears.

When Oreg grabbed my arm, I didn't even pause, so I tripped over the stool in my bedroom, where he'd brought us, and I landed hard on the stone floor.

My room smelled musty, as if the servants hadn't aired it out in a long time. Light streaming down from the narrow windows revealed that the surfaces of the furniture had been dusted. “Oreg, where's Duraugh?”

Oreg reached for my arm again. I rolled out of reach and got to my feet before I let him touch me. I was not going to be sitting on the floor when we confronted my uncle.

I don't know what I expected Duraugh to be doing, but it certainly wasn't conferring with Stala in the great hall. Stala should only be halfway here, even if Tosten had managed to sprint all the way to Callis. But Beckram, Axiel, Tosten, and Ciarra were standing on the other side of the table from Duraugh and Stala. Gathering round behind them were eight or ten very short, very broad men. Dwarves. I was still gaping when Tosten looked up and saw Oreg and me.

“How did you get here?” I asked, betraying to Tosten that I had known they wouldn't make it. But somehow they had.

Beckram tilted his head at Axiel, a wry look on his face. “I think that's
our
question. I didn't hear the door open.” But he let it go. “You know how some of the Guard say that Axiel, when he is really, really drunk, claims to be the son of the dwarven king?”

“He is,” I answered.

Beckram nodded in agreement. “And they have the most interesting method of getting from one place to another.”

“Beckram's told me what you've been up to, Ward. Do
you know how many soldiers Kariarn's bringing?” asked Duraugh, breaking into the conversation.

“About a thousand,” I said, pulled back to more urgent matters. “And they've just left Tyrfannig. They'll be here by nightfall. Even if you've managed somehow to get the whole of the Blue Guard, you cannot hold Hurog. Unless . . . Axiel, how many of your people are here?”

“Just those you see here. The days when my people could afford to waste lives in armies are long gone, Ward. We've left the rest of the Blue Guard at Callis to come home the slow way.”

“Right,” I continued after drawing a breath. “So we need to get every person out of Hurog and into hiding in the mountains. Kariarn doesn't want Hurog. He wants something hidden here. He knows where it is, and once he has it, he'll leave. But there is no time to waste. The bronze doors on the mountain make a good place to gather. It's high. You can see for miles if Kariarn sends men up it, and it might be possible to defend it from people attacking from below.” It was only as I finished that I realized I was issuing orders.

Duraugh gave me a considering look. My uncle had only known me while I was pretending to be stupid. I didn't know how long Beckram and Tosten had been here nor what kind of story they'd told my uncle, but it must have been something, because he only nodded and said, “If Kariarn is so close, explanations can wait. We'd best get organized.”

 

EVACUATION
TOOK MUCH LONGER
than I was comfortable with, but Duraugh was thorough. He mounted all the grooms and sent them and the horses on to Iftahar. We gathered all the foodstuff and anything that could be used as a blanket or a weapon. I found my father's sword
and knife in the armory and fastened them on my belt. Kariarn still had mine.

As I strode out of the armory, I came face-to-face with my mother.

She smiled at me vaguely. “When did you get back, Fenwick?”

The skin on the back of my neck crawled. “Mother, I'm Ward. Father is dead.”

Her smile widened but didn't cover the blankness of her eyes. “Of course you are. And how is my baby today?”

“There you are, my lady.” Her maidservant trotted around the corner of the hall. She shot me a defensive look and wrapped a heavy wool cloak around my mother's shoulders. “Let's get you out to the courtyard.” To me she said, “She's been like this for a while. Mostly she doesn't even know where she is.”

Oreg appeared at my side, his arms full of blankets.

I took a deep breath. “Are you through gathering things? We need to get to the bailey.”

When we got outside of the keep proper, my uncle was already hard at work. Fascinated, I watched Duraugh use the Blue Guard as the base of the troop of soldiers he formed out of household servants. When he was finished, a ragged army marched smartly up the trails to the great doors high in the mountains overlooking Hurog. It was a tricky climb at best, but with such an urgent need for swiftness, I found our pace unbearably slow.

“So,” said Beckram marching beside me, carrying a sleepy child of three or four who belonged to one of the kitchen maids, “Did you ever try to dig under the bronze doors?”

I think it was the first time my cousin had sought me out for conversation. I knew he could care less about the doors. It was a peace offering between us.

I accepted it. “No. After you and Erdrick dug that trench around them, my father made me fill in the holes.”

He laughed shortly. “Erdrick thought it was a waste of time.
I
did the digging.” The child he held peered worriedly into my cousin's face. He smiled at her, and she tucked back down against him. “Why do you think they are there?”

I shrugged and began climbing with him again. I suppose I could ask Oreg. “They've been there a long time, Beckram. I used to think they hid the dwarven ways, but I take it the entrance to the dwarven tunnels is in Hurog itself. The Hurogmeten—my father—said he thought it might have been the grave of some ancient hero.” We buried our dead on the side of the hill. Perhaps it was an ancient tradition.

Just ahead of us, my mother fell and wouldn't get up when her maidservant tried to tug her to her feet. Hesitating, I knelt beside her. “Mother?” I said.

Blank eyes stared into mine.

“Aunt, you can't stay here,” said Beckram, hampered by his burden.

I didn't know what to do. In my extremity, I reached for the familiar comfort of Hurog's magic. I hadn't meant to do anything at all, but I had been looking for my mother in those blank eyes—and I was a
finder.

Cold chills crept up the back of my neck as I realized what the magic told me. There was nothing behind the blank gaze, truly nothing. My mother was gone forever.

“I'll carry her,” I said, answering the maid's anxiety.

I picked up my mother's body, which still breathed and moved, and carried it the rest of the way up the mountain. I would remember my young mother who played with me while my father was away at war and not the woman who hid in her herbal potions until there was nothing of her left.