A Legacy of Dragons Page 4

  Warbær thundered past Lilbær, reaching the giants before Delinna's final words fell from the air. Vilmos drew in more and more power, and the raw energies of creation flowed through him causing the very air around him to swirl and crackle with lightning

  "I command you," Vilmos shouted. "Step back, step back! Do my mother no harm."

  Behind him, Vilmos heard Ærühn shouting, "Trolls, trolls!"

  Vilmos leapt from the bear's back, flying through the air and landing with a flourish in front of his mother where upon he wrapped her in wind and lightning. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked the giants in Ice.

  A giant, taller than others but lacking Windstorm's girth stepped forward. "Praefect Aamun Myrsk, at your service. This one was in no danger from us."

  Delinna's watchful expression and wary eyes seemed to say otherwise but she said nothing aloud.

  Ærühn turned Lilbær in a tight circle. "Kill us, don't kill us," he told the giants. "But first we should contend with our mutual adversaries."

  The Praefect scoffed at this, then seemed to come to a decision. He raised a hand, pointed. "Be quick about it."

  Suddenly, all but three of the giants were on the move toward the trolls. They did not run, but there was purpose behind their steps. Vilmos noticed then that not a one brandished a weapon, nor did any weapon materialize as they stalked away.

  As Vilmos let his magic fall away, the swirling air slowed and then all was still. He lunged at his mother, wrapping both arms around her before helping her to her feet. "Mother, are you unharmed?"

  Delinna stood tall, pulled her furs around her, a familiar regal look returning to her countenance. She cupped a hand to his cheek. "They've done me no harm as of yet, though they were about to."

  The Praefect turned away from her, addressed Vilmos. "Merely making necessary inquiries."

  Not far away, the ice giants engaged the snow trolls. Vilmos felt the pull of their magic as they unleashed ice and storm, heard the trolls retaliate with stone cudgels and claws.

  "My father?" Vilmos asked.

  Delinna said nothing. Her eyes were full of doubt and anger when she turned to face the Praefect. "Ask your questions, and then be done with it. If you must have a price in blood as you've said, let my son and his rider go. They've no part in this."

  The Praefect brought his hands together. When he pulled them apart, a circle of ice appeared between them, expanding rapidly into a dome of ice that he cast skyward.

  "Run!" Delinna shouted, pushing Vilmos at Warbær.

  Vilmos refused to leave her side. He wanted to tell her about Noman and how he was now Watcher of the Ice. "Mother, no. You don't understand--"

  "Go," she said, cutting him off. "Run and don't look back."

  Before Vilmos could cross the distance between her and him, the dome surrounded everyone and everything, save for those off fighting. Three giants remained in the dome, as did three humans and two bears.

  "Too late," Ærühn said. "I told you not to trust a giant. Never trust a giant, that's something you can count on every time."

  Aamun Myrsk dismissed this. "Merely so we're not disturbed by the sounds of death and dying."

  The giant spread his arms and opened his hands as if to say he was unarmed and wanted nothing more than to talk.

  Vilmos hid his terror, stepped between his mother and the giant. "Master Xith will learn about whatever transpires here today."

  The Praefect took a menacing step forward, his expression almost a snarl. "I'm counting on that."

  Still brandishing his twin blades, Ærühn jumped from the saddle, turned in the air and landed in a hunched over position. His head was down and his blades were angled back as if two long teeth of an enormous tundra cat.

  "Enough talking," Ærühn said. "Get on with it. If you're going to try to kill us, have at it."

  Chapter 9

  Emel walked Ebony. The marketplace was crowded, overflowing with the usual assortment of fire breathers, sword swallowers, haughty jugglers, painted tricksters, and wily merchants. He bought a dragon fruit for a half-drudger, tearing into the tender white flesh with his teeth and delighting in the exotic flavor as juice dripped down his chin. Farther into the market, he came upon a smokehouse that favored hickory and apple wood, and paid a silver loke for two hands of dried beef, which he wrapped in a thin cloth and put into his pack.

  Accosted by a juggler and trickster simultaneously, Emel showed them the steel of his blade, but without breaking city law by fully removing the sword from its sheath. The trickster though refused to beg off, mimicking Emel's walk, turning summersaults and leering with his dreadful painted on grin.

  By the time the trickster drew a line under his chin from ear to ear, Emel had had enough. He took two quick steps toward the trickster and punched him squarely in the face. As the trickster went down, Emel kept walking, as if nothing had happened.

  He was no more than ten paces away when he saw the city guard closing in on him at a run. He turned down one of the many paths in the market to get away, only to find another pair of guards who conferred with each other before pointing and shouting an alarm.

  He mounted Ebony and galloped away, yelling at the crowds to move out of his way as he raced for the open streets beyond the market. He caused such a commotion people began shouting and pushing each other. Before he knew it, it was a full-blown riot with him caught in the middle.

  He tried to maneuver Ebony through, making for openings in the fighting, but the openings closed as fast as they appeared. Soon whistles were blowing and cries of alarm were going out from the crowd. He was still trying to plot a course through when he was pulled from his mount by two large men.

  He fought to break free, managed to wriggle from their grasp. After a moment on his backside to catch his breath, he came up fighting, landing a blow to one's jaw with a left hook before making a clean right jab to the other's ribs.

  Both brutish men seemed to relish the idea of a fight. One even thumped his bare chest with his fists before signaling with his hands for Emel to come at him.

  The face tattoos revealed one to be a mercenary from Vale, but it was the other's half shaved head and distinctive nose piercings that gave Emel pause. He'd heard the legends of the Twin Isle fighters, but had never seen or faced one in a brawl.

  "I've no quarrel with either of you," he said quickly. He put up both hands, a sort of universal sign that he did not wish to fight.

  Carefully, he reached back for Ebony's straps, so that he could calm the horse's disquiet. Afterward, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of copper drudgers.

  The two men looked at each other, grinned, and then came in swinging. The copper drudgers went flying.

  Emel bobbed away, dropped to his knees, swung right then left, catching first one and then the other on the sides of their abdomen. The oblique muscles in this area were often thin and a weakness between one's hips and torso, so he used this to his advantage as he struck out again.

  As both men brought their fists down, he jumped up, his raised fists connecting with their chins.

  Blood dripping from his mouth, the Twin Isle fighter laughed openly and came at Emel.

  The Vale fighter took a step back, momentarily stunned.

  Twin Isle's blow caught Emel in the right shoulder, twisting him around even as Emel came back around with a roundhouse punch.

  Emel felt his hand and arm wing out and around as he pulled across and connected with the side of the other's head. Twin Isles went down on his ass, his legs crumbling beneath his weight.

  Expecting a moment's reprieve, Emel turned on the Vale fighter, but the other man bounced up much faster than Emel expected, exhorting his deity, Mallick the True, to come to his aid.

  As Emel attempted to land a follow up punch, the Vale fighter grabbed him in a bear's embrace. He twisted and turned trying to break free, just as the Twin Isle fighter unleashed a haymaker.

  Emel saw the wild swing coming out of the corner of his eye.
He had a split second to react and did the only thing he could. He pulled back, stomped on the booted foot of the Vale fighter, pouring in every bit of force possible.

  He heard bones break, felt a whoosh of air as the haymaker swooshed past his head, followed immediately by anguished screams.

  He put up his hands as Twin Isles came in swinging. "Enough. Enough. Surely this is nothing that a few mugs of ale can't settle?"

  The big fighter found humor in the statement, laughing even as his comrade groaned and moaned. "I like you, little man," he said as he jabbed right and then left.

  Emel handily avoided both punches. "You'd like me even better with a few mugs in you. I'm certain."

  "Ha," the other said.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Emel saw more movement. Guards were starting to push their way through the raucous crowd, using clubs to break up the fighting. Behind them were lines of cat patrollers.

  He said, "Time to end this or we'll both end up in the King's dungeon."

  Twin Isles came at Emel like an angry bull, intending to grab onto him much as the other fighter had, though from a different approach--one with his arms well out in front.

  Emel tried to turn away but was unable to and soon found himself locked arm in arm with the other man.

  At this point, the struggle became a contest of strength and he knew it wasn't something he could win against the big fighter without resorting to drastic measures. Still locked onto the other and pushing with all his might, he said, "If I submit, you win and this is over. Agreed?"

  "Greetings from King Jarom Tyr'anth," the big man said as he glared.

  Emel's thoughts turned instantly from ending the fight by submitting to ending the fight forever. He relaxed the grip of his left hand, even as he tightened his grip on the right. He thrust forward, his torso twisting so far his left shoulder dislocated with a resonant pop under the full strength of the other man.

  While pain shot through him, he wrapped his right arm upside down around the other's neck and throat. Using his weight to carry the other with him, he dropped down, angled back. His right knee out.

  As knee and neck connected, he tightened his grip. The cracking sound he heard confirmed the snapping of the other's neck.

  He flailed on the ground in agony, struggling to pop his shoulder back into place.

  Coming up against a wooden post, he stood and rammed back against it until he felt his shoulder slip into place. Sighing in relief, he slid down, slumped against the pole and it was here the city guards found him.

  "On your feet," one shouted.

  Another struck Emel with a club and said, "The king's justice."

  Emel tried to stand but before he could the guards took to beating him with their clubs. He curled into a ball, did his best protect his head and face.

  Chapter 10

  "My father?" Vilmos repeated, his eyes fixed on his mother's.

  Before Delinna could say anything, Praefect Aamun Myrsk shouted to the heavens, "Centuries of work, a lifetime, to reveal the secrets of killing the undying one and break his bond so that my people could know no master."

  The two giants standing protectively on either side of the Praefect seemed disconcerted by what they were seeing.

  Aamun Myrsk sank to his knees, put his head in his hands. His words reverberated off the thick walls of the ice dome and lingered hauntingly in echoes for what seemed an eternity.

  His enraged shrieks grew murderous. "Why? Why? I did everything, planned everything, sacrificed everything. The immortal one died. Free will was tasted."

  Vilmos shuddered involuntarily. His mother's eyes had been wary before but now they were full of panic. "Mother?" he asked.

  Delinna took his hand to hers. "We don't have much time. Our best chance is to work together. Pull strength from the Abundance even if the wellspring seems out of reach."

  To Ærühn, she said, "We need you. The fight of a lifetime comes."

  Vilmos thought about telling his mother of the battles of the previous day, but kept silent. He stared at her. Where had she been? Where was his father? Why had the Praefect sealed them in a dome of ice? His mother stared back at him. He leaned closer and stared into her eyes, looking for answers that weren't there.

  Ærühn bit into his cheek, spat bright red blood into the cold white snow. Vilmos returned the gesture, showing he pledged his life to the fight as well. Afterward, they jumped onto the bears with Vilmos' mother sitting behind him.

  Praefect Aamun Myrsk seemed to suddenly realize he wasn't alone. He stood. "You," he shouted, staring daggers at Vilmos. "You ruined everything. You are an abomination. You were not supposed to be."

  Sitting astride Warbær, Vilmos waited for whatever came. Delinna whispered in his ear, "Come what may never forget that you are an Alder, that the blood of kings courses in your veins."

  Without warning, the Praefect struck down the other two giants, pushing mammoth shards of ice that materialized out of his hands through their chests. As their bodies were falling, he set upon Vilmos.

  Vilmos' panicked screams sent Warbær running. The bear swerved just in time to avoid being skewered by a tree-sized ice spear. Crashing into the ground beside them, the spear sent a shower of ice and snow into the air.

  "What did you do?" his mother asked.

  Vilmos told his mother what he'd held back. "Noman is gone. I'm Watcher of the Ice now."

  His mother's eyes went wide. "Impossible."

  The bear turned sharply. Vilmos held on tight. "Noman died yesterday.

  "How?" she asked.

  "I'm unsure. We only just learned this as we were out searching for you and father."

  He reached for his magic, found, as his mother had warned, that the well source seemed beyond his grasp. Despite this, he pushed out with his will, fought to pull magic around them as a shield, and it was this razor thin shield that saved them from the giant's next volley.

  "You and Ærühn out alone?"

  "Yes," he hissed. "I was worried. We encountered giants not far from here. Windstorm himself tried to keep us from the Great Door."

  His mother wove magic that he didn't quite understand, but it protected them from the giant's next assault.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ærühn and Lilbær charge the giant. Ærühn was wielding his twin blades and with the giant's back to him, Vilmos thought he might have a chance.

  Hope was dashed in an instant, for the giant swatted them with the back of his hand like a human might do with a bothersome bug.

  Bear and man went flying, crashing into the dome.

  It was Delinna's turn to scream and her wrathful shouts echoed throughout the dome. "Noman was a friend to the peoples of the Ice. You are responsible. You killed him. You had no right."

  The Praefect's cold eyes fixed on Delinna. "I had every right."

  As shards of ice began flying out of the giant's hand, Vilmos felt his mother reach out to the earth for strength. He'd known her magic got its power from the world around them but had never felt the true pull of it before.

  Trees sprang from the snow-covered earth, full-grown and as thick as if they'd been around for a hundred years. In an instant, Vilmos, Delinna and Ærühn were surrounded by a forest of sentinel trees, the leafless limbless abhorrences of the Ice.

  Praefect Aamun Myrsk screamed. He began tearing out the trees and hurling massive shards of ice in every direction. "I'll not let a boy stand between me and what's mine. It took ages to figure out how to work around the watcher bond that tied our hands and prevented us from doing harm, but a way was found. There's always a way for those willing to do what must be done."

  As the Praefect broke through the trees, Delinna called more and more from the earth. "We don't have much time, Vilmos. Your father is beyond the Great Door, taken by those in league with a terrible darkness. If you can find him, you'll find the Shield Stone. A white stone the size of your hand. Only the Shield Stone can thwart the darkness. Only the Shield Stone can cast back the Void."
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br />   Vilmos brought magic to his hands and cast outward, throwing back a stray ice shard. "Mother, we can go together through the Door. Together, we can find him."

  "No, we can't," his mother said as she dismounted. With one wave of her hand, she opened a path through the trees to Ærühn. With another, she opened a gateway to the Great Door. "I must maintain the portal from this side. Your father is being held in the encampment of Nük T'nyr."

  Vilmos tried to make a desperate plea. He wanted to stay with her. He didn't want to go, but her eyes told him there was so little time left, even as her voice told him the same.

  "Go now. Hurry, there isn't much time. I can't hold the gate much longer. Find your father. Rescue him. He'll know what to do."

  "Mother?" Vilmos called out, his heart breaking. Everything was careening out of his control. He knew nothing of the Shield Stone or the Void. He knew nothing of what he must do once he was beyond the door. He knew only that his father was there. That he must obey. That he must go.

  "Run," he told Warbær and the bear ran. To Ærühn, he shouted, "Through the gate, to the Door."

  As he and the bear plunged through the gate, he looked back. His mother was standing defiantly before Praefect Aamun Myrsk. The giant had broken through the lines of trees. His mother had one hand out before her, another back and down. She was rising into the air as flames shot from her outstretched hand.

  Then he was on the other side of the gate, racing for the Door, and there was nothing to see behind him but a vast expanse of canyon.

  He heard the thunder of bear paws clawing into snow and ice. He heard Ærühn speaking words of power that opened the Great Door. The words were in Ice, but he understood them as clearly as if they were spoken in Common. "Yield before the strength of ice and snow and reveal your secrets."

  The Door was a colossus, arched and split in two great halves, each bound and banded in græsteel. As the door groaned and opened, Vilmos began to see what was beyond.

  He saw fire. Fire was everywhere. There were lines of fire cutting into the ebony of the heavens, bands of fire stretching and pooling along the earth, and great plumes of fire erupting and shooting into the air. It was a world ablaze and tearing itself apart.