The Seventh Magic (Book 3) (3 page)

Tanaketh flew in close, overlapping Jehregard's wing with his own. Though crowded by the larger dragon's wingtip, Onin dared not insult the giant oaf. Jordic walked Tanaketh's wing with confidence but stepped down onto Jehregard's hesitantly. Tanaketh wheeled away almost immediately. The change in air pressure pulled Jehregard's wing upward, causing Jordic to stumble.

When Jordic wormed his way into the small tierre, Onin smiled. He liked this young man more and more. Wing walking took guts.

"Why'd you do it?" Jordic asked almost immediately.

"Do what?" Onin asked just to be contrary.

"You know. Offer to go with me--or in my stead--depending on how you look at it."

Onin shrugged. "Our lord chancellor may have some strong points, but dealing with the Midlands is not among them. Diplomacy in general seems to be a problem."

Jordic smiled at this statement. Such conversations were unusual. They had been trained to take orders not ask questions. Onin had always had difficulty with that. In Jordic, he saw himself.

"We can't just ask them to send us all their resources when they are surely also preparing for war," Jordic said.

Onin nodded. "That is the reason."

"Is it the only reason?"

"I don't like smoke."

That made Jordic laugh. "I think we need to reinforce relations with the Midlands," he said after a moment, his voice once again serious. "They have things we need, and we have things they need. When we work together, like during the Jaga War, we are all stronger."

"I agree," Onin said. "The problem is that the lord chancellor understands neither our strengths nor our weaknesses. He views the Midlands as a threat to his absolute power."

"But you know that's not the case," Jordic said with passion.

"I do. But I'm probably not the person you want to quote to get his chancellorship's approval."

"Not even Sensi can convince him of this," Jordic said.

Onin had his own issues with Sensi, but at least the man had tried.

"So how do you plan to fix this?" Jordic asked.

Again, Onin shrugged. "At least we're not breathing in smoke." Jehregard trumpeted his agreement.

"They say you're crazy."

Onin nodded.

"I say it's hard to tell the difference between bravery and lunacy," Jordic continued. "You’re a good man, Onin of the Old Guard, even if you don't want to admit it."

"You, too, are a good man, Jordic of Kern. Though, I must admit, I've been trying to think of what I'll say to your parents if you don't survive the wing walk back."

Jordic took the hint and summoned Tanaketh. The big dragon moved in fast, once again crowding Onin with his wingtip, flaunting his size. Jehregard must not have taken kindly to this. As soon as Jordic grabbed Tanaketh's wing, Jehregard dived, leaving Jordic hanging.

"He was a brave kid," Onin ruminated out loud, Jordic's cursing in the background as he pulled himself up. "A little slow . . . but a good kid."

* * *

Allette Kilbor knew nothing. She shared memories with the most powerful person on the planet, along with her own life experience, but nothing prepared her for this. Slipping through the keystones had been risky once she'd cracked them but had seemed safer than remaining in the cavern with Mael. Knowing she had destroyed his way out, she doubted he would have shown her any mercy. Seeing the Jaga through the fractured keystone, she'd thought fate smiled upon her; in actuality it was about to stand on her neck.

She had walked into a trap not knowing the danger she faced. And Trinda Hollis, thinking to capitalize on Allette's good fortune, rushed headlong into the very same trap. The Black Queen almost felt bad about that. The child queen had been manipulated along with the rest, and Allette's animosity toward her waned. Even without the knowledge of Mael's influence, Allette and Trinda faced a common foe. Both were trapped and working together might be their only chance of escape.

Both had been separated from their physical forms, which rested not far away within an altar presumably constructed for that purpose. Energy flowed to those bodies, sustaining them in their suspended state. Within the Noonspire, Allette and Trinda were mere shades of their physical forms, their spirits reflecting how they perceived themselves. Wearing a perpetual frown, Trinda clearly felt guilty for what she had done.

Allette's spirit looked much as she had aboard her father's ship. It was there her identity had formed and that self she clung to. Their captors seemed not to care. Both Allette and Trinda had learned not to attract Aggrezjhon and Murden's attention. Almost indistinguishable, they often resembled a single spirit, but sometimes they disagreed and the two grew more recognizable and distinct. Allette could only imagine what ages in a prison such as this would do to a person. She tried not to wonder. Thinking too much might raise their ire.

When their captors did pay attention, it was to dominate them and crush their spirits. The ancient magic users were extremely skilled, and Allette hoped never to experience it again. Too many times, she knew, and she would cease to exist. This was their true goal. Once their spirits had been subdued, Aggrezjhon and Murden could inhabit Allette's and Trinda's physical forms and finally escape their prison. That would, of course, leave Allette's and Trinda's spirits in their place. That thought alone kept Allette fighting to maintain her identity.

Even when the sorcerer and sorceress ignored them, their thoughts radiated through the crystal. They had seen Mael through the keystone and blamed him for their imprisonment. He had betrayed them. He had helped build this forsaken prison and lured them into it. He would have gotten away with it if not for their quick thinking and teamwork. These thoughts ran in circles, reinforcing each other and creating a predictable pattern.

During a rare moment when Aggrezjhon and Murden were transfixed on something in the outside world, something flying high above them, Allette reached out to Trinda and held her hand. Even if only in spirit, the contact was reassuring. Though they had never been friends, Allette was glad Trinda was there. She understood much of what Allette had been through, and at least she wasn't alone. Whenever she came close to losing herself, she leaned on the child queen, and Trinda leaned on her. It was a small thing, but in circumstances such as these, small things could make all the difference.

Across their bond, Trinda sent a mere whisper of thought. "Together, we will survive."

It was enough for Allette to know she had at least one ally in this world.

* * *

Sleeping upon a broken spire, mostly submerged in cool water, Mael enjoyed his freedom. After so long, he'd forgotten the sheer variety of things to see, smell, eat, and drink. Never would anyone take it from him again. That thought niggled at him, preventing him from enjoying his newfound freedom. It wouldn't last. They were still out there. They did not want him to be free. Waiting for eons could have made him act in overenthusiastic haste, but he had learned true patience. Thus far, he'd used little more than gentle nudges to move the puzzle pieces into place.

A smile crept over him as he remembered when the humans rediscovered the keystones. After so much silence, their inane conversations had been the most interesting thing in the world. Of course the humans had no way to know how susceptible they were to persuasion when using the keystones. Just a little nudge in the right direction, here and there, was all it had taken. It was a good thing since power had been available in such minute quantities. He'd been agonizing over pulling every last bit of energy from the air beneath a mountain, and now he soaked in sun and comet light. The potent combination left him giddy.

Saltbark trees provided an excellent restorative. He'd eaten three trees whole before the effects kicked in. Now he floated above a natural energy flow. Though cracked, the keystones remained powerful. It was a reminder. Eventually Aggrezjhon and Murden would have access to enough power to escape their prison. He'd done his best to keep them occupied, but their interference had already cost him. If he'd not had secondary, tertiary, and quaternary plans, he might have remained trapped. Surely his former colleagues had plans of their own.

Now he had an advantage, just as he always had. He'd always been just a little bit better than the other two. That was why she had married Aggrezjhon and not him. No one had ever said it but he knew; he'd always known. No matter how close they had been at times, he could not forgive betrayal. Memories of their last days had played in his mind ever since. The others had remained true until the very last moment, when the Noonspire trap was sprung. Weaker and slower, Aggrezjhon and Murden had fallen almost instantly. There had been no time to save them. He'd barely saved himself. Had they not turned on him then, he would have broken free. Trapped and realizing they had lost everything, they became jealous and made certain he did not get away.

Without them to offset his power, he would have been unstoppable. He would have been . . . That thought had run through his mind so many times, it ignited familiar fury. His colleagues--his friends--had latched on to his very humanity and would not let go. Jealous, they had exacted one last vile act of revenge against him. Even then they had been lesser beings, their combined effort not enough to ensnare his spirit. Still, they took something from him. Fully assuming dragon form cost him his humanity. He'd long since forgotten what that meant or why it was important; he was, after all, a dragon.

Without another thought he flew toward the Noonspire.

Chapter 3

To put the well-being of another above your own is the highest form of existence.

--Mother Gwendolin, Cathuran monk

* * *

Kenward Trell paced the deck. "Wherever bolts aren't holding, I want the joints wound in rope and torqued. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," his crew responded.

With such a large ship and so many bolts to reinforce, the work took time.

Eventually Farsy emerged from belowdecks. "Good thinking, sir. The ropes are doing a better job than the bolts were."

Kenward wasn't certain he liked the word
were.
"You fixed the bolts, right?"

Grinning, Farsy held up a leather bucket filled with cracked and bent metal. Kenward swallowed. He'd intended the ropes to be a temporary fix to reinforce the bolts. Now he flew a ship held together with string. His mother and sister would be so proud.

"The thing is, sir, the ropes provide a sturdy connection but also allow for some flex. The bolts would just break again and damage the beams. This is better."

It had been Kenward's idea, but he still wasn't so sure. "Repair the bolts anyway," Kenward said. Farsy never stopped grinning, which unnerved the good captain as few things did. "How much rope do we have left?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Enough to build another ship," Farsy said. "I'll get you a damage and status report, sir."

Kenward nodded. Farsy frequently managed to stay one step ahead.

When the Jaga coast came into view, Kenward had second thoughts about everything. This place no longer followed the natural order. For miles, the waters along the coast were fouled. What should be white sands and blue water were covered in noxious brown and black ooze. A child of both land and sea, Kenward was repulsed. Beyond that waited a pervasive sense of doom. Allette was trapped within a pit of pure evil. He spared a thought for Trinda as well; whatever he did for Allette he also did for the child queen. It was enough.

Sinjin and Kendra guided their dragons back toward deck. They had been flying ahead but no longer. Scouting inland would have been pointless since the Jaga threatened from the very start.

"You are a good man, Kenward Trell," Kendra said, coming to his side. "You've a noble heart, and she knows how you feel. Dying is a poor way to prove your love." Reasoned, convincing words delivered in a measured tone.

Kenward listened without looking at her, his tears falling to the deck. "I can do nothing to save her. I am weak, helpless, and impotent at the very moment I so wish to be strong. I can fix so many things . . . but I can't fix this."

"There is no dishonor in turning back," Kendra said.

Kenward nodded and turned to his skeleton crew. Those he trusted most and who trusted him stood at the rails, watching madness approach. "If you plan to see the morning, get off the
Portly Dragon
now. The last favor I will ask of my dragon-riding friends is that they fly you all to safety."

Dragons stood ready to transport the crew, but no one stepped forward. Kenward swallowed hard. It was one thing to sacrifice himself, entirely another to take his crew and friends--his family--down with him. Kenward Trell faced an impossible decision, feeling as if he were being physically torn apart. Jessub Tillerman moved to his place between the thrust tubes. The rest returned to their work. They knew what they faced, and they stood ready to do their jobs. Proud of his crew, he would not dishonor their bravery.

"Sinjin, Kendra," Kenward said, "you may take your leave. The
Portly Dragon
sets sail for the Noonspire with all haste."

"You're just going to fly in there and save her?" Kendra asked.

"The
Dragon
will get me close, and I'll take the bumblebee in the rest of the way. If all goes well, we leave with one more than we came in with."

Kendra shook her head. The time for persuasion had passed. "Travel well, my friend. May we meet again on the other side."

Sinjin and Kendra said their final good-byes and climbed back atop their dragons. Running to the part of the deck marked
stern,
he looked out to see two verdant dragons coming fast, one significantly smaller than the other. Kenward felt relief on recognizing Jehregard. Still, the larger dragon approaching at such high speed intimidated. Roaring as it passed, the mighty beast left the air roiling, which shook the
Portly Dragon
, her rope-bound joints screaming in protest.

The two regal dragons took flight. Kenward watched the large verdant dragon as it executed a wide turn, hoping to be recognized as friends. Onin's voice could soon be heard bellowing the words, "Turn back! If you wish to live, turn back now!"

Kenward really didn't need another reminder, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless. He couldn't say he hadn't been warned.

"The heart of the Jaga is lousy with ferals," Onin said as Jehregard flew circles around the
Portly Dragon
. "And the Noonspire presents a far greater danger. We must join together if we're to defeat this darkness."

Kenward knew the wisdom of his words.

"Leave them!" came shouting from a tierre atop the second verdant dragon. The sheer size of the beast made it terrifying, its bellowed displeasure no more reassuring. "You've warned them; now let's move on. You've seen. There's no more time."

"Evil threatens us all," Onin said after a brief pause. "I must go. I must do my duty."

"Be well, Onin of the Old Guard!" Kenward yelled with a wave. "Jessub, take us into the darkness."

* * *

The problem with living remote enough to keep away the fools is that you occasionally have to come out. Even knowing the shortest route to a serviceable wagon and team of horses, Madra of Far Rossing was already tired.

"We're not hauling all this stuff ourselves, right?" Chelby asked while hooking up both horses.

"Of course not. But if you happen to be negotiating for large quantities of food, you might as well fill your own wagon on the cheap."

Chelby laughed. "Knowing you, they'll pay us to fill the wagon." He turned serious then. "Do you remember the last time we filled the wagon?"

"Oh, I remember."

"Do you think we could negotiate for some help unloading?" Chelby asked, looking hopeful.

"And by unloading, I assume you mean carrying it all the way to the root cellar?"

Chelby nodded.

"We'll see," Madra said as only a mother could.

"It's not like Medrin will be there to help!"

Both quieted as they turned along the wagon trail leading to Mackey's place.

"Oh, look! Madra has come. And she's brought her wagon!" Mackey shouted from the barn doorway. Young Jarn peeked from the hayloft.

"And two horses, pa!" Jarn added.

"You are a little predictable," Chelby said with a laugh.

"A wise boy is a quiet boy," Madra said. Chelby laughed again. He was most certainly her son.

"What do you need a wagonload of today?" Mackey asked, grinning.

"She probably needs it real bad, pa! Real bad."

"Not a wise boy to be seen," Chelby muttered.

Madra ignored them and walked into the barn. Mackey followed. Chelby stayed outside to play ball with Jarn.

"What have you got that's for sale?" Madra asked.

"All of it is for sale. Or at least enough to fill that wagon of yours."

"What if I needed to fill that wagon many times over?" Madra asked while thumbing through bushel baskets of dried corn. "Many many times. How much for all of it? Including what comes out of the smokehouse. All of it."

"Well . . . I . . . uh . . . What are you feeding? An army?"

"Yes. That's it. I'm building another army of the infirm to save us all. Do you want to join?"

Mackey just shook his head and scribbled a number on vellum with charcoal. Madra grabbed them and wrote some figures of her own. Mackey's eyes bulged. "I can't do that! It's just too much."

"With enough gold," Madra said, "you can do just about anything. I need you to do this for me."

"I'd have to buy from others in the surrounding areas," Mackey said. "And that would create a shortage, which would make the price . . . Yes. I'll do it. What do I tell people?"

Madra shrugged and added an additional stack of coins to her deposit. "Tell them whatever you want. Tell them your crop failed or your cows are extra hungry this year. I don't care. Just don't tell them it's for me."

Mackey nodded slowly, looking half lost in thought. Chelby came through the door, smiling.

"Oh, that reminds me," Madra said. "I'm going to need some things loaded onto my wagon."

It wasn't until they were loaded and halfway down the rutted drive before Chelby said, "I notice you left some room in the wagon. Are we going to see our young baker friend?"

"We are."

Dancing in his seat while he drove, Chelby urged the horses just a little faster.

"Don't beat me to death on the way there, boy."

The dilapidated condition of the trails out this way gave evidence to how seldom they were used. Even these made Madra feel exposed, and she was glad when the aroma of baking bread was all she could smell. Another small farm, this one far more accessible than the last, came into view. A mud brick farmhouse backed up to grain bins, chicken coops, pasture, and fields beyond. Two other wagons, each single horse, were tied beneath the trees. Madra waited.

"You're killing me," Chelby said. "Can you not smell that? How can you just sit here and wait patiently? We could go in and have a pastry while we wait for every other person with a nose gets theirs."

Madra grinned and waited. It didn't take all that long before the two local farmers headed back toward civilized lands, as they called them.

"They're gone," Chelby said. "Come on."

Waiting a little longer just for spite, Madra then urged the horses out of the trees and along the smoother trail leading up to Timit's place. Smoke poured from all three chimneys. She would always think of old man Timit, though his son had been the heart of the farm for many years. A small bell announced their entrance, the tinkling sound not quite sweet.

"Greetings, Miss Madra!"

"Greetings to you, Timit son of Timit."

"I see you've brought your wagon," Timit said while peering out the window. Chelby chuckled.

"Feed my boy before he starves," Madra said.

"I want one of those and two of those," Chelby said before Timit could respond. The baker put the pastries on a wooden paddle and slid them into the closest brick oven.

"How is business?" Madra asked.

"Slow," Timit said. "Rumors of war in the east. Talk of dragons attacking villages. People don't want to leave their homes."

"Well, that's good," Madra said, and Timit looked confused. "I'm going to need everything you can sell me."

"What? Are you building another army?"

"I've decided to remarry," Madra said. "I can't have all my suitors starving while they wait their turn."

Timit was flummoxed.

"Here's what I need," Madra said, handing him a strip of parchment.

Timit's eyes went even wider. "I can't do that. I'd have to turn away all my other customers."

"Are your other customers here?" Madra asked, the coins in her hand making a clinking sound. "Did your other customers pull you from your momma and smack your bottom?"

"But--"

"Do you want me to put you back where I found you?"

"No, ma'am," Timit said. Madra put coins in the young man's hand. "Do you want anything else?" he asked Chelby, who nodded and pointed, his mouth still full.

"About my wagon," Madra said.

* * *

The
Portly Dragon
flew without joy. Beneath them passed a landscape reeking of death and wrongness. Soon the entire Jaga would be a rotting quagmire. Along the edges of the corruption, where lush greenery could still be seen, gathered the animals. Trees bent low, laden with creatures never meant to live so close together. The lack of feral dragons brought no comfort. Kenward suspected a multitude gathered around the heart of this madness. There, too, he would find the most complex and fascinating creature he'd ever known.

Allette Kilbor was the one thing Kenward Trell wanted most but could not have. He knew unrequited love. He'd known the sting of rejection, but this was different. She felt the same for him. He was certain. He'd seen it in her eyes. Someone or something else had stood in their way and kept them apart. It infuriated him and gnawed at his soul. When the Noonspire appeared on the horizon, Kenward quailed. Nothing he'd imagined prepared him for the scale of what had been buried under the swamp. The Noonspire sank beneath ground level to dizzying depths. The land around it had been thrust away, a wall of plasma and fire holding the soil, rock, water, and everything else out.