The Wandering Dragon (Children of the Dragon Nimbus) (33 page)

It died with a last screech that made Lukan’s ears ring.

Another screech, longer, louder, farther away, much, much farther away. The grieving protest of all the male Krakatrice in the city reverberated around his brain and across the whole land.

He didn’t think he’d ever leave that sound behind, no matter how far he fled.

R
OBB STUMPED ABOUT his room, leaning heavily upon his staff for support. He healed. But his heart still beat arrhythmically when he did anything other than lie still. He didn’t have time to be an invalid. Things happened too quickly in other parts of the castle. Some sort of storm or war was moving rapidly among the people of Amazonia.

“The fever has left you completely,” Maria said with approval. A frowning female nearly as tall and broad as Robb hovered at the doorway of his cell.

“You were with my boys when they came to me in the dungeon,” he said bluntly, facing Gerta. She reminded him a lot of Maigret in their youth, before the boys were born. Before maturity and responsibility gave her an excuse to trade in her trews and weapons for matronly skirts and a stillroom with enough herbs and potions to kill or heal a continent. Many of those exotic herbs and recipes came from Mabastion, the Big Continent. Much of it still unexplored.

“I would hardly call Lukan or His Highness a boy,” the woman snorted.

“Maybe not. But I trained Lukan, and Chess. They will always be boys to me. I do not know your prince.”

“Aunt Maria!” Said prince skidded to a halt on the landing outside. “Aunt Maria, you’ve got to stop them.” He looked harried and drawn. Toskellar, the prince who had forsaken his heritage to become a bard. Now he was back, with a heart aching for one of Jaylor’s daughters.

Robb thought he could do something about that, but not from here. He took three more awkward steps, determined to build up his strength as quickly as possible. The young prince’s anxiety told him he didn’t have a lot of time before the castle erupted in a major crisis.

“Slow down and breathe, Toskellar,” Maria ordered. There was a new firmness in the set of her chin and the angle of her back.

“You have to stop Princess Rejiia and Captain . . . Captain Stavro. They are preparing to flee the city.”

“Rejiia!” Robb roared rather louder than he thought wise. “When did that conniving bitch become a princess? She’s barely a lady, daughter of an outlawed and exiled lord.”

The prince dismissed his protest with a wave. “Don’t you see, Aunt Maria, they are fleeing like rats off a sinking ship. They know something . . .”

“They know my women have replaced many of Stavro’s men. They know that Lokeen’s days as king are numbered,” the grim female said, as if reciting a routine report of what she’d seen on patrol.

“Where will they go?” Maria asked. “If they leave, then the king has two less allies to fight for him.”

Robb caught the prince’s eye. “Are there other city-states with a grudge against Lokeen, or even just a lust for power?”

The young man nodded.

“The captain of the guard and a strong rogue magician could sway them to attack while you are vulnerable,” Robb said quietly.

“What can I do? I have no authority. I have no strength . . .” Maria wailed, wringing her hands. All traces of her earlier pride and determination evaporated.

“You have
us
, my lady,” Gerta said. She toyed with the grips of both her knives, one long, one short. He bet she had other weapons hidden on her person.

She wasn’t like Maigret at all. She was much more ruthless.

Suddenly Robb didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that woman’s wrath.

Toskellar cringed a bit too as he took another step into the room, away from the Amazon. She was one of the legendary warriors for whom this city had been named. Robb wondered that Lokeen had dared depose them.

Only he hadn’t deposed them. Just shifted them aside for a while with the power of his snakes to back him up.

He prayed that Lukan had succeeded in wiping out the farm.

But they still had a full nest of the monsters in the dungeons.

“Lady Maria,” he said gently. “Have Gerta and her warriors capture the captain and the witch and put them in separate cells in the dungeon, near the snake pen. There is a bubble of magic around the snakes that drains a magician of power. Let them wallow in the stench and the evaporation of their strength.”

“Can I do that?” The lady turned bleak eyes up to him. Ordering meals and laundry and the cleaning were easy for her. Taking charge of politics was quite another thing.

“You have to. There is no one else who can. This is the first step to stopping Lokeen’s tyranny,” he replied gently. “Your nephew and your warriors will back you up. There is no one else with the authority of heritage to do it. You
must
.”

She looked around the room, out the window, into every face, seeking another solution, trying to defer to others. Her moment of decision came as a visible straightening of her neck and a clearer gaze. “Very well. What must I do?”

“Put it in writing, and sign it. That way Lokeen can’t countermand the order,” Robb said.

The prince nodded vigorously in agreement.

Gerta, or should he say Captain Gerta, dipped her chin once, decisively.

“You can’t do this to me. I am the king’s betrothed!” I yell at the four women disguised as soldiers. They do not blink, they do not flinch, nor do they falter in their steady march through the corridors of the castle. One leads, opening doors with a huge ring of iron keys. A second woman follows, prodding my back with a spearpoint. One on each side of me holds my arms above very heavy manacles in a grip that will leave bruises.

I cannot doubt that any one of them will kill me before I can raise enough power to throw them off.

I am so outraged I forget to draw strength from the pain.

I am out of practice. Then I see that four more women have captured my captain. He wears iron manacles on wrists and feet that drag him down.

“Where are you taking us?” I demand.

“The dungeon, where you belong,” the woman behind me sneers.

The dungeon. Part of me recoils in abject fear. I have been in prison before. The prison of a cat body and stripped of my magic. For fifteen years I had to live by my wits, evading large predators, escaping human kicks, eating stolen scraps, rodents, and carrion.

I will not be subject to imprisonment of any kind again.

“You will be right next to the foul snakes, living with their stench day and night,” the woman in front says as she unlocks a small but heavy door, bound in iron. The entrance to the dungeon. I know it well.

“You . . . you can’t feed us to the snakes. The king will not allow it,” my captain protests. He is not so strong and brave or attractive to me anymore. His weakness robs him of beauty.

If we are separated I cannot draw upon his fear and pain to gain power over locks. But the snakes feed me. They will give me the means to escape the dungeon.

What I will do afterward I do not know. Yet. But I will think of something. Something that will destroy this miserable city-state and their backward government and their disdain of magic. I will triumph even if it means if I have to bring down the entire castle stone by stone.

Lukan balanced upon his staff and stared at the grazing steed. Somehow he had to transfer himself from the ground into the saddle. So far he’d managed to stand and rest a tiny bit of his weight on the ball of his left foot. Mostly he leaned on the staff and relied upon his intact right leg to keep him upright.

This was the disguise of a crippled beggar he’d worn to court. Only it wasn’t a disguise anymore. He shuddered at the thought that he’d invited this wound by pretending.

“Maybe if you grabbed the pommel and hoisted your whole body across the saddle, then shifted your legs around,” Chess offered. He stood near the steed’s head, ready to grab the reins the moment Lukan tried to mount.

“Doesn’t look as if there’s enough room in the saddle for both of us,” Lukan grumbled, stalling.

“I can climb behind the saddle.”

“It won’t be comfortable, and we’ve a long way to go. I’m not sure this steed is sturdy enough to carry both of us all the way to the city.”

“I can walk beside you,” Chess replied, relentless in his efforts to get them moving and back to the city so they could release Robb.

“I’d gladly walk if I could. But I can’t. So I guess I have to take your suggestion. Hold him tight.” Lukan hopped to the steed’s side. It sidled away the same distance as Lukan moved. He could foresee an endless dance in a big circle.

Just then the glass in his pocket vibrated strongly, nearly visible through the fabric of his trews. Grateful for the reprieve he dropped to the ground and pulled the little circle of glass free. A bright swirl of gold and green twisted and coiled within the circle. Glenndon.

His heart both sank in disappointment that he needed his brother’s help and rose in gratitude that his brother bothered to call to offer help.

The glass continued to bounce in his hand with some urgency.

No bowl of water, no candle. He licked the glass, a quick and dirty trick useful only in dire emergencies.

“What have you been up to, little brother?” Glenndon asked, almost before his face came into view.

“What I’m supposed to be doing, journeying.” What else could he say?

“Only you could find the only magician in all of Mabastion, a spy of Da’s sent there years ago when he first noticed Samlan taking long leaves of absence.”

“Huh?”

“The slave who summoned me along with Robb’s apprentice.”

“Oh. Juan. He’s a spy for the University. He said something. I wasn’t. . .”

“He told me that he’s been too afraid to mention his true mission to anyone, even another magician. He was too afraid to work magic even when he could. And he couldn’t until you broke the protective bubble around the snake farm.”

“Yeah. About that . . .”

“Juan also told me that you are in trouble. Wounded.”

“That is sort of a problem.”

“You’ve got to get away from the area contaminated by the snakes. Quickly.”

“Not exactly viable.”

“Listen closely, Lukan. Lily discovered that a plague infests the land anywhere the snakes have been in large numbers. She and her assistant have found a remedy, not a cure. All the drugs do is reduce the fever and keep the heart strong and steady until your body heals naturally. You’ve got to get away.”

“Already had the fever. Came on after your spy cut a goodly chunk out of my calf.”

“Oh.”

Glenndon’s face faded but his magical signature continued to twine and twist into knots in the glass. He hadn’t gone away or ended the spell, only paused to think.

“Can you work any magic at all?” Glenndon surged into the glass again, almost close enough to step through it from his distant post.

“Not sure.”

Chess snapped his fingers and brought a nice flame to his palm. The steed neighed and stepped back, as far away as it could get from the fire while on the short rein.

“We’ve got access to magic now that the Krakatrice are all gone and the dragons are patrolling the area,” Lukan confirmed to his brother.

“Then I suggest you gather your strength and use the transport spell to get back to the city.”

Chess’ eyes grew wide as he shook his head in fear.

“Just stay away from those snakes. They are almost as nasty dead as they are alive,” Glenndon continued. He hadn’t seen Chess’ reaction.

“Um . . . Glenndon, did Juan tell you what we found in the castle? The castle where Robb is held prisoner and my friend Skeller is trying to yank the reins of government away from his father the tyrant who sent the Krakatrice eggs to Coronnan?”

“Uh, no. I don’t think he’s been in the city for a couple of years. How he survived the farm without succumbing to the plague I don’t know.”

“We have to go back and rescue Master Robb,” Chess insisted quite loudly, as if he knew he had to put some extra push into his words for Glenndon to hear them within the spell.

“I’m coming to help,” Glenndon said curtly. His colors began retreating from the glass.

“No, Glenndon. You can’t,” Lukan protested loudly. The rush of worry for his brother surprised him. He’d nurtured anger toward him for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to care . . . to love his older brother. Warm emotions washed through him, memories of their childhood. Barely a year apart in age, they had been as close to each other as the twins Lily and Val.