Moth and Spark (46 page)

Hastily Corin thought the dragons back. That was more than he had expected. His pulse was racing.

He and the riders looked at one another again. Some of the neutrality had worn off their faces. It was time to make them speak to him now.

He called a single name. “Ennoc.” The word hung clear in the air. Kelvan had said this was the man the riders would follow. If he turned him, he turned them all.

From the back a rider came forward. He was tall for a Mycenean, with very dark hair cut helmet-short and golden-brown skin. He, or his parents, must be from some other vassal country. Corin saw antagonism in the lines of the man’s body. Antagonism and strength. Dragon cold ran through him. He might be outmatched.

The rider stopped perhaps ten feet away from him. They looked at each other. The expression on the rider’s face was not hatred or defiance but contempt. Corin’s anger rose, but he checked it.

The rider spat, drew his sword, and charged.

Corin had been prepared for such a possibility, but it was the dragons that saved him. The man moved as though he were swimming through treacle. Corin drew his own sword and brought it up in one smooth curving stroke before Ennoc jerked into ordinary motion and brought his down. The sun glittered blindingly on the blades.

The swords clashed with a tone that reminded him of dragonspeech. After a few more testing strokes he and Ennoc stepped back and circled each other, assessing. Corin caught the rhythm of the man’s movement and darted in.

Ennoc parried easily. Corin feinted, made a counterthrust, felt the quickness of his body. So fast. It felt like the swift descent of a dragon. The energy and ecstasy of it were almost unbearable. The swords struck in a blur of radiance. Again and again, the sound of the clash too high-pitched for him to hear more than a faint whine.

Abruptly Ennoc lunged at him with such speed that he seemed almost to disappear. Corin spun and ducked in one motion. Ennoc’s blade struck his with such force that he almost dropped it. Not fair, he thought like a child. Not fair at all. He was not able to be so quick.

He reached to the dragons again. They stretched the moment out. Suddenly there were two Ennocs, then four, all of them bearing down on him. Their movements were not identical. This was no mirrored illusion: it was a sequence. His own sword was a beam of light. When the blades struck each other sparks went flying. He sped up himself enough to face only one Ennoc and hold him off, again and again, but could not attack. Sweat poured from him. His arms shook with effort. His lungs were aching from the altitude. The rider had the advantage of him in that. When the blades struck, he could tell that he was stronger, but he was getting short of breath too quickly.

He began to feel desperate. That meant he would soon be getting careless. His mouth was drying up. There was so much sweat on his sword hilt and hands that it was hard to keep his grip. The granite did not yield, and his feet were hurting. There was no room for slipping or drawing back.

Why couldn’t the dragons help him more?

They had given him their magics, maybe he had to find it in himself. Something more than rider quickness.

He parried another thrust and felt himself weaker. Fire, he thought. They gave me fire.

Flames licked along the blade of Corin’s sword and sprang up at Ennoc’s feet. They writhed around the rider’s arms and wound their way, hissing, up his legs. The man cried out. Corin thought it was more in fear than in pain. He looked at his arms and saw the sweat gleaming on them like scales. He took his left hand off his sword hilt and watched the fingers elongate and curve into claws. With one swipe of his hand he could tear Ennoc to pieces.

He was consumed with dragonthoughts. The sweetness of blood, the rippling colors of flight. He was bound. Time only went one way now. Space was a confining net. It was wrapped around his wings and claws. He was trapped in ice. There was no way out. It would only break when fire roared again from the earth and filled him with light and heat and motion. Made him light and heat and motion.

He stopped moving and looked around. There was light wrapped around Tam’s neck and shadow falling down her back. The sky was the pearl of dragon eggs and the mountain was the darkness of coal. The riders were outlines of colored lights. The wind drifted silver among them. Somewhere, deep below, heat waited to hatch.

He had not that strength. Not yet.

Fire burned around his head in a band. It reminded him that he had been born a prince, not a dragon. He let go.

Ennoc was on his knees before him, swordless. Corin put the point of his blade at the man’s neck.

“Are you going to make me kill you?” he asked harshly in Mycenean. His throat was raw from the thin air.

The rider looked up at him. His eyes were a surprising green. After what seemed a tremendously long time, he shook his head.

“Say it.”

“I yield.”

Corin pressed the sword tip slightly harder.

“I yield, my lord.”

Corin sheathed his sword. “Stand up.” He had to play this delicately now. He raised his voice and said, “I command the dragons, and they command me. I will die to free them if that is what it takes. I will die to free your dragon, even if it is your sword that kills me. Would you do the same?”

“Why should I?” There was a measured quality to the tone, not defiance.

“I will not bargain with you,” he said, hoping he had imbued his tone with just the right amount of arrogance. He looked over the crowd of riders. “With any of you. But I can make a promise. When it is over, I will allow you to return to Mycene if you wish, or stay in Caithen. I will not force you to my service, nor will I turn you away. When the dragons are free, you have your freedom. What happens between you and the dragon is up to the dragon.”

“You are not the king.”

“In this matter I speak for him. And equally he will honor my promises if I die.”

To his great relief, Ennoc did not challenge him again. The man stood quietly, considering. He said, “If the dragon stays with me I can fly where I wish?”

“Yes.”

The mountain silence was immense. Not even a bird called. Corin had no idea what he would do next if the man refused him. He was tempted to have Ennoc’s own dragon engage in some theatrics, but better not. He did not need to show off might as a dragonlord now, he needed to show himself a better man than Hadon.

“And if the dragon does not stay I am not bound?”

“You are a free man,” Corin said. “Freer than you are now. While the dragons are slaves, you are slaves.” It was the one thing he could offer that he thought would tempt them away from the luxuries and privileges of Hadon’s court. He expected few if any to remain to serve him; they would want to be their own masters. That did not matter.

“If you fail I cannot return to Mycene. I am an exile.”

“There are always risks. But I won’t fail.”

“Do you know how to free them?”

“Yes,” Corin said. He could not help glancing at Tam.

The crevice glowed with heat. Flames shot up as though from a furnace. On the roof of the cavern was the shadow of a dragon. It writhed in pain. It screamed, and fire jetted to the cavern roof in a white-blue glow. A man with eyes that flashed silver stood on the edge of the crevice and drew the fire to him. He breathed it in. His skin shimmered. He became a puff of ashes that fell softly down.

That was what she had seen. He made fire curl above his hand and said, “I will go into the earth and stir the embers. The dragon is roused, it needs only to catch fire again.”

Ennoc stared at him. For the first time he looked frightened. There
was a very long quiet. Corin kept himself focused on Ennoc. Just the two of them, and whatever the other riders did while watching was less important.

“What do you need?” Ennoc asked, and Corin knew he had him.

“To do what Hadon should have done,” he answered. “He betrayed you. You must turn against him, be the knife that slips in his hand, the axe that falls to his foot. Drive out the Sarians, and then send the Myceneans home. Caithen is not theirs for the taking any longer. This is what the dragons want. And when it is done, you will be free.”

He pressed his left fist into the palm of his right hand and folded his fingers over it. “I am your lord. And this I promise,” he said.

Another stillness. Then one rider raised his right hand, palm outward, in answering salute. Then another, and another. Then they all were doing it.

He was proud, and sure, and exultant. This is what it feels like to be the king, he thought. Very very briefly he let himself enjoy it. Then he gestured Kelvan toward the riders and went to Tam.

She was still and quiet. He could not read her face. He wondered if he had somehow disappointed her. Then she caught his hands with both of hers and looked at him as she had that night on the roof, that fierce demanding loving gaze. She nodded slightly and released her grip.

“Well?” he asked.

“You did very well, my love.” She brushed his hair off his forehead with soft fingers. He briefly put his arms around her, not caring if the riders saw. “My lord.”

He did not deny it, but he bent his head and kissed her.

“What next?” she asked.

“I’ll go among the riders, but it’s not a social event.” He glanced up and saw that by the sun nearly an hour had elapsed since they arrived. The fight had gone on much longer than it felt. “They have to get back to Caithenor and the other cities and pass orders to the soldiers. There’s probably at least one here who will be going back to Dalrinia, do you want to send a message to your parents?”

It was too bright for her face to show any paling, but he saw it in the sudden tension of her body. He caught her hand and held it while she thought. He knew that for her hard moments still lay ahead.

At last she said, “No. If I could send a letter I would, but there’s too much explaining.”

“I’m sorry,” Corin said. He wished he could make it easier for her. But she had to come through this one on her own; he was not going to send a royal proclamation of marriage with a herald, nor was he going to appear alone and announce that he had married Hyrne’s daughter. He kissed her forehead. “Go sit down, you don’t have to be noticed anymore. I expect we’ll be done here within an hour.”

He expected her to protest, but she did not, which told him how tired and worried she was. He watched her find a sheltered place against the rock and sit before he went to speak to the riders.

Perhaps half an hour had gone by, and several of the riders had already called their dragons to them and departed, when sudden coldness froze his spine and set his teeth and head to aching. His skin pimpled. Then a dragon screamed, and he clapped his hands over his ears and fell to his knees with the dread of it.

Kelvan was at his side, helping him up, rushing him to his own dragon. Tam was there too, clutching at him.

“There,” Kelvan said. Corin followed his arm and saw them in the distance. A line of dragons, not many, only a dozen perhaps, but there was force and hatred coming from them that made him want to do nothing but run away.

“Get her out of here,” he said. “Go with him, Tam, go, go, back to the village.”

She straightened and took her hands off his body. She drew her knife. With pride and love he watched her decide it was the beginning, not the end.

“I see them,” she said. “It’s Hadon. He’ll want to talk to you, Corin, the dragons won’t attack yet.”

He clenched his fists and looked at Kelvan. The rider nodded and turned. They had not planned for the possibility of Hadon himself coming, but they had considered that there might be a battle of dragon turned on dragon. Kelvan knew what to do.

He looked back and saw the phalanx much closer. He could make out the colors of the dragons. Kelvan and two other men were directing
his riders while dragons tore from their perches and hurtled toward them. They would all be in flight in seconds, ready to hold off the approaching enemy.

Corin said, “Stay here with the dragon, love. Don’t let him notice you. This is between Hadon and me.”

She kissed him. This may be the last, he thought, and hugged her to him as tightly as he could.

T
am crouched beside Corin’s dragon where she hoped she could not be easily seen. As soon as she looked at the approaching dragons an image of Hadon had come to her mind. She did not know if it was Sight, or if the dragons themselves had given it. She could play no part in a battle of swords or dragons, there was nothing to do now but stay out of the way and wait. She tightened the grip on her knife nevertheless. The sky was very blue and very bright. The wind had died down entirely. Corin’s riders were up, circling, waiting.

The dragon carrying Hadon landed. It was the biggest dragon she had seen yet, red-bodied, black-winged. It had none of the serenity to it that she had come to associate with Kelvan’s dragon. Its tail swished, its wings were pulled back, steam came from its nostrils. It was full of rage.

Hadon’s other dragons circled above, guarding, keeping a wall between the Emperor and the riders who had come to Corin’s summons. Hadon dismounted slowly, but with nothing of an old man in his movement. He took his helmet off, revealing white hair. Tam knew he was ten years or so older than Aram, but he did not look it. She had imagined that he would be frail, a husk of himself, but his back was straight. Sunlight glittered at his neck. He was wearing armor of some kind.

Oh, why did we not expect this? she thought. Corin approached him with drawn sword. Tam did not think she could bear to watch.

“Highness,” the Emperor said, making it an insult.

“Betrayer,” Corin said. “Get to the point, if you have one.”

“Impatience is your weakness. You lack cunning. But I have no desire to extend this either.” He raised his hand. There was a sharp click.

Corin’s head jerked. Tam followed his eyes. The rider whose dragon had brought Hadon held a Sarian fire weapon, pointed at Corin.

No. No. She remembered the patches of greenfire as they fled Caithenor, the things Joce and Corin and her father had told her. The rider had several chances; even if he missed Corin once the prince would not be able to move before the next one, and the next one. She looked upward and saw, unsurprised, that the other riders who had accompanied
Hadon had the weapons too. This was not how it was supposed to end, not now, not when he had won the riders.

She trembled with the tension of keeping herself from running. Go to him, she thought at the dragon beside her.

The rider fired. White flame burst from the end of the weapon.

Dragonspeech came to her mind, images of deep deep cold. Time slowed. The flames unfurled like a flower in the morning. She saw the silver ball hurtling toward Corin. His breath plumed in the air. The blade of his sword had feathers of frost on it.

A loud explosive crack made her drop the knife and cover her ears. The earth shook. Tam swayed back and forth and watched unbelieving as her knife slid jerkily away from her. A crevice was opening in the rock, splitting the mountain, ripping it apart like a seam. Corin threw out a hand, palm outward, warding. Instead of striking him, the silver ball dropped vertically into the crevice, bursting into greenfire as it did. Steam roiled. Hot air roared around her as Corin’s dragon flew to him.

She steadied in time to see Corin sheathe his sword. Fast, so fast, he grabbed Hadon and pulled him onto the dragon. It rose. The Emperor writhed and struggled in Corin’s grip. Neither of them was strapped on. Tam bit her cheek.

Corin’s voice was clear and sharp, carrying well from the height. “I’ll let you fall, so help me.”

To Tam’s surprise, Hadon stopped moving. It’s a trick, she thought. The oldest trick of them all, to feign weakness and then turn. Corin had to know better than to fall for it.

His dragon rose higher. Hadon shifted. He’s going to jump, Tam thought, looking at the angle of his legs against the dragon’s side. He would jump, and another dragon would catch him, and the battle would take to the air. She did not think Corin had seized the Emperor as a shield; it had been a fury-driven attack directed at Hadon. But when Hadon was no longer in his grip, the riders would have no reason to hold back.

A fire weapon went off again, from farther away, high up. Tam’s attention turned toward the sound. One of Corin’s riders was hovering on his dragon with his own fire weapon pointed down toward Hadon’s man. Others had their weapons out and were firing. A rider near Hadon fell forward in a burst of greenfire as his dragon screamed in pain. It was the most horrible sound she had ever heard. Another weapon fired.

I’d better get away from here, she thought. The dragons were too close; a poorly aimed shot could continue downward and land in front of her. She picked up her knife and ran to where one of the spurs of rock began to extend from the mountain and climbed over it. When she was on the other side she climbed down until she was protected by the rock, then raised her head cautiously to keep watching. The stone was almost steplike, and she had solid footing. A wide flat area spread behind her.

Hadon was back on one of his own dragons. He must have dropped and been caught, Tam concluded. Corin was higher. She saw in panic that he was hanging over the side of the dragon, arms extended to grip the straps, legs dangling. He looked small and toylike. His body swung from side to side. She covered her eyes.

Coward, she thought, and looked again. She was certain she would see him striking the ground. The dragon had tilted to the side and Corin was pulling himself back up. She bit her cheek again. He was sitting straight. His hands moved. It was too far away to see what he was doing, but she was sure he was securing himself with the straps. She exhaled deeply. Her hands shook.

The riders were exchanging fire aloft. Bursts of white, then green flame consuming the bodies of falling men and licking along the stone. The air reeked of smoke and burning meat and some bitter chemical. There was nothing to burn on the stone, but the flames would not go out until they had exhausted their own fuel. A line of flames between the rock spur and the rest of the area had sprung up, cutting her off from a direct run now. She would have to go up the mountain if she needed to get away. She realized the dragons were not flaming at each other; it was a battle of men, not dragon set on dragon.

Another patch of fire broke out near her. It suddenly seemed like a very good idea to go higher. The slope was steep. There were cracks in the granite that she could put her fingers and toes in, and though the stone was uncomfortably rough on her hands it was not particularly difficult. She was panting anyway from the thin air by the time she thought she was safely out of the way of any rogue fire.

She looked back at the battle in time to see green flame burst from the base of a dragon’s throat. It fell downward like a stone. When it landed flames of mingled red and green shot up in a pillar of light. The rider was engulfed. He screamed and screamed. Tam thought she would be sick.

When she could stand to look again, she saw Corin still high up, watching, and Hadon’s dragon the same. They’ll have to confront each other again, she thought. They can’t resolve anything through proxy. One of them has to kill the other.

The spurts of fire began to lessen, and then were done. Three dragons had died and more than a dozen men. Greenfire still burned in places, but there were long streaks of char now on the granite where other fires had gone out. The crevice widened as it went outward. Tam was at no good angle to tell its depth, but she was certain it would be more than light could show. It reminded her uneasily of the crack she had seen in trance.

The memory of the cold air touched her skin, raising the hair on her arms. She felt horribly exposed. It would be no effort at all for a rider to land, grab her, and use her as hostage against Corin. She had lost track of whose men were whose.

Corin’s dragon began to spiral down in wide, graceful loops. Hadon’s followed. They landed, not far from the crack. The men faced each other, swords drawn, as their dragons retreated.

Corin did not want to do it at all. Tam could tell from the way he stood, the angle of his shoulders. It must go against everything he had been taught, everything he believed, to fight an old man. But Hadon held his sword with steady hand. There was no sign of weakness in his stance. Tam did not know if he was drawing power from the dragons or if it was his madness that gave him strength, but she was certain he was Corin’s match right now. Whatever edge Corin had in youth and practice, Hadon had its opposite in experience and wiliness.

The Emperor thrust. Tam jerked with anticipation. Corin countered it, apparently with ease. She recognized some of the moves from things Joce had taught her. Hadon was on the offensive. She thought Corin was letting him do it, taking his measure. The fight with the rider had been a chaos of movement and sound; they had been far too fast for her to see what was happening. This was slower. She wondered why Corin did not move so quickly now and realized that he was being fair and honorable. And perhaps tired.

The riders were watching, some from their dragons, others standing well to the side. Patches of fire hissed. The only other sound was the loud clash of blades. She had just realized that Kelvan was not among the riders when his dragon landed on the slant of rock above her and
he hurried to her side. She glanced at him, acknowledging, but said nothing.

Now Corin thrust. Hadon parried as easily as he had. A flurry of blows, followed with silence and circling, then more blows. She understood, ridiculously, why Corin’s shoulders were so strong.

The sun was hot even to Tam, unmoving. She could not imagine how hot the men must be. Both were sweating. Corin still wore his leather riding clothing. His face and hands glistened, and his hair was soaked. She hoped he would not lose his grip.

She looked at Kelvan. “Can he win?”

“Aye,” said Kelvan. “But it may take a while. Hadon’s fighting well.”

“How—how—why do the dragons help the Emperor? How could he bring them here?”

“They aren’t free. And those riders are still loyal to Hadon.”

And if Corin killed Hadon, then what? She could not even imagine the possibilities. She caught a glimpse of the Emperor’s face and shuddered. His madness was not frenzy, it was the death of all feeling.

Corin quickened his blows. She saw him slide through Hadon’s defenses, then heard a ring as the blade struck the mail Hadon was wearing. That was extra weight, it should have caused the Emperor more difficulty than it seemed to.

Corin stepped back a few paces, huffing. Hadon did not press him, he must need the rest too. This could go on until they were each too weary to raise a sword, what would happen after that? Would they go for each other’s throats? Tam forced her arms to hang looser, her fingers to spread wide.

Stroke, parry, thrust, counterthrust, feint, stroke. Corin appeared to be pushing Hadon harder. He had a longer reach. In rapid succession he made a pass to Hadon’s thigh, one to each shoulder, two more to the legs. Hadon whirled and spun and held him off, but for the first time Tam saw him begin to falter.

It appeared that Corin saw it too. He was darting, stabbing in and out, moving quickly. The effect was to push Hadon backward. Tam realized that Corin was driving the Emperor to where the granite began to slope downward more steeply.

One of Corin’s slashes struck Hadon on the forearm. Bright red splotches appeared on the granite as the Emperor moved.

“First blood,” said Kelvan in satisfaction.

“He didn’t hit an artery,” Tam said. It looked like a serious wound but not anywhere close to a fatal one.

“It will weaken him, though.”

Hadon struck Corin in the leg. Tam gasped. Kelvan’s hand came down impossibly hard on her shoulder, restraining her.

There was no fountain of blood, and Tam could not even tell over the darkness of the leather if it had gone through. Corin’s posture changed a little, though, she thought it had. The granite was full of cracks and humps and uneven patches, and she was afraid he would stumble if he had to bear weight on an injured leg. He parried a thrust aimed at his shoulder, countered a downward stroke at his thigh, swung at Hadon’s bleeding arm.

They were getting too close to a patch of greenfire. Their long shadows flickered on the granite, crossways to the stubby shadows cast by the sun. They coughed simultaneously. Tam did not know how Corin could see at all through the sweat running down his face, but now he raised a hand to wipe his eyes. The fire must be making them water. He retreated, which drew Hadon back onto level ground. Their breath was loud and ragged.

The blood flowed steadily from Hadon’s arm. His posture had changed too, perhaps he had pulled a muscle somewhere. Tam knew that he would not yield. Corin would have to slay him even if they were in exhausted crawls. She realized she had made her hands into fists again and once more forced them to loosen. Why could it not be over?

Sparks seemed to fly from the swords. Corin slashed, but Hadon countered perfectly every time. The Emperor raised and lowered his sword with a precision that might have belonged to a machine. Yet his face was paling.

There were only a few spots of greenfire left, but the smell of smoke was getting stronger. Corin started driving Hadon toward the slope again. They were drawing near to the crevice. Thin black tendrils of smoke were coming from it. Tam saw Corin realize it. He was limping now, and he made an off-balance swing. Kelvan’s hand came over Tam’s mouth, holding in her scream before she could even draw breath for it.