Dragon Choir (41 page)

The man’s eyes
lit up with the change in his captive’s attitude. “The triple
stripe drops. They were your favourite.”

Behind the
reaper a grand boulder of treasure rolled toward them, gathering
speed and layering a fortune upon itself. Amber ran behind it, her
hands outstretched, controlling the monolithic orb. Minni averted
her gaze to the left, not wanting to give away the twisted
perversion’s approaching doom, but there came Tikis and a band of
drakkin, carving their way through the enemy to her aid. The reaper
noted a change in her expression and followed her stare to the
warriors.

A smile
ossified around the bones penetrating his cheeks and he swelled
with magical power, drawing it up from the dead and dying. “I’ll
keep you safe, Little Miss. I’ll take you home to Jando.” The
surface of the hoard underfoot quivered in anticipation, spreading
outwards with anxious fervour, snagging the essence of combatants
and sapping their strength, dropping them to their knees. The
reaper was intoxicated with the power, arms wide, delirious
appetite demanding ever more. The treasure channelled his desire,
arcing pulses of energy into his swelling, radiant body from a
battlefield of sacrifice. “Such power! I see the Lord’s throne
anew!” The reaper pointed to the sky with a maniacal laugh and
bolts of lightning struck down, jolting around his body and setting
the bone piercings aflame.

The drakkin
unit hesitated, but Tikis muscled forth. The reaper levelled his
charred finger at Tikis and cast a blistering crackle of energy.
The drakkin warrior dove to the side and rolled as the spell
sizzled past him, electrifying a chain of combatants before
dissipating.

Amber’s
rolling mass of treasure sped toward Minni and the reaper. The
young elementalist no longer ran, but skimmed across the hoard on a
cushion of air. Tikis kept on barrelling forward, pumping his legs
like a bull. The reaper raised his finger and sneered. The drakkin
would not dodge another bolt at such close range.

The rolling
ball of treasure loomed into the reaper’s line of sight, rousing a
moment’s confusion. He loosed the next bolt of energy at the ball
and treasure exploded where it hit, but the ball swallowed the
magical force and kept coming. The distraction was all Tikis needed
to close the gap and leap through the air. The reaper turned to
attack the drakkin too late. Tikis ploughed into Minni, bending the
bonds of gold and silver as he tackled her to the ground, swamping
her beneath his huge frame.

With a
sickening crush, the ball consumed the reaper. His hands poured
forth energy to slow it, to repel it, but Amber’s creation absorbed
the magic like a sponge and rolled on, mashing the Jandan to death
with no regard to slow its journey to the water. There it steamed
and churned the sea before collapsing upon itself.

Minni squirmed
under the drakkin. “All right, you’ve had your fun. Off!”

Huffing like a
pair of bellows, Tikis got up and inspected his tail, his lips
retracted, baring razor teeth in pain. The tip was crushed in a
kink. “A happy memory,” he shucked a tight breath and helped Minni
up.

Amber ran to
them and embraced Minni in the biggest bear hug her scrawny arms
could manage. The battle in the channels was all but over with only
a few pockets of fighting to the south. The rebels had the enemy
boxed up and when the Jandan horns of retreat blew across the sea,
they knew they had won the day. A roar of voices shook the sky and
the remaining Jandans yielded.

It was no
victory Minni could celebrate. She busied herself along the
shoreline, looking for any sign of Elrin. The horizon was a ragged
stage with jagged masts and tattered sails. Ships listed and
flotsam swayed with cold bodies in the sea’s slow dance. Waves
lapped the shore in a gentle rhythm while gulls gorged on war’s
fortune, singing their joy with sharp clarion calls. All Minni
found was the silent knowing of the dead and the jubilant victory
of the living.

Neither gave
her comfort.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The Plan

Minni hated
the prophecies.

They always
bloomed. Their truth was at once abstract and precise. Unbelievable
and unfathomable when told, confusing and contradictory as events
came to pass, and for her, their fruit was ever more bitter than
sweet.

For the
others, things were not so bad. The dragon they called Wyggen had
left Hurn atop the Caldera wall before flying to his doom. Obst had
done the same before battling the muscle bound red savage, saving
Jaspa from a lung full of water. They had watched the whole battle
from the safest seats in the theatre. She had put her life on the
line in the final battle and recklessly endangered Amber and Tikis
with her impulsive charge. Even then, they all survived.

All but
Elrin.

He had fallen
in her hand; a gift of fate, the key to their victory, the key to
the choir. He had trusted her as she led him to his death. He would
never find his father, because she had let him fall. He had fallen
into the rebellion, into her heart, and into the sea.

For all the
ships and all the eyes on the water, no one had found his body. She
had looked in the dead eyes of hundreds of bodies on the beach,
even sailed out in a skiff with Delik, searching the channels and
the open water in case he had drifted.

Nothing.

She begged
Qarim to help by searching from the sky, but the great gold dragon
would not budge from his love’s side. Tetula was dead. Minni had
been overcome with the mourning dragon’s pain. Tears had poured
down her cheeks and fallen on the beach of gold and silver. She
should never have left Elrin’s side.

Obst was no
help. She claimed the sea did not speak his name. Minni had laughed
at that; the gods enjoyed such heartless irony. Delik told her not
to blame herself. Jaspa told her she would feel better in time.
Time would heal. They both knew the pain of love lost and while
their words may have been true, Kobb was the only one who gave her
true comfort. He told her time might dry the tears and time might
scar the wound, but the hurt would forever remain beneath the
surface. She would never heal.

Kobb had
proved more than fair to his word after the battle was won. He
could have turned on the rebels, slaved them off or marched them
into the sea. After all, he had the numbers and the means. Instead,
he and Jaspa divided between them an equal share of prize ships and
cargo then opened up their ranks for any man or woman who wished a
new life at sea or on land. Kobb released every former slave and
Jandan prisoner, and offered them the same.

Minni considered crewing with Kobb aboard
Bone Dancer
. She would have a better
chance of forgetting Elrin at sea, but there were too many counting
on her and too many other debts to pay. So Minni found herself
on
Juniper
with
her companions, leaving the Hoard Islands and her heart
behind.

The rag tag
convoy of ships limped through the Salroc Sea heading for the coast
and safe harbour. Jaspa called his generals into the captain’s
quarters. There was much to arrange. They had taken charge of many
hungry bellies and the season was almost upon them. Obst warned it
would be dire with the Choir broken.

Jaspa popped
the top off a large cylinder and removed a scroll, spreading it
across the table. A Jandan map depicted the coast with precise red
and black ink.

“
Right then,” said Delik, tapping his finger on the city of
Calimska. “Here’s the plan ...”

Minni shrunk
away, holding in the swelling sob that rose in her throat. Her
weakness made her angry. She walked to the dresser, where Elrin had
changed into the Jandan officer’s uniform. He had been so shy; she
had laughed, turning away while he got changed. The awkward
Calimskan had taken so long she had peeked just to satisfy her
curiosity. He was so out of place, a handsome shiner blushing in
the blue. She’d helped him with his hat, tucking in the restless
raven hair to hide his obvious heritage. He had smelled of
sandalwood and cloves.

Opening the
drawer, Minni found Elrin’s satchel and inside, folded in a neat
square, was his vest. She lifted it to her face and inhaled. A note
dropped out, falling on the dresser. It was wrapped in string with
a black wax seal, devoid of any initial or insignia. Desperate for
answers, she broke the wax and read.

Herik,

The shankakin
do not fare well. The increased schedule you have set is taking an
awful toll. The workers delivered last moon started strong and
healthy. Now they are half in number and half again are already
afflicted by the lung blight. The shankakin take worse to it than
the others. They are not suitable for work underground.

Have you
considered the measures I outlined in our last meeting? Improving
the conditions of work has the twin benefits of improved production
and decreasing input costs.

Surely this is
a good thing for all concerned.

Yours,

Kleith

Minni read it
over again, finding it hard to believe what Elrin had carried all
along. This was the note the prophecy spoke of, not the dead
letter. It held the truth of what was going on between the City of
Gold and the City of Bones. She was sure of it. What were the
Calimskan’s doing with shankakin underground? Mining? Why not
employ dwarves to do it? Calimska had the wealth to pay them and
they would do a better job than any shankakin. Surely that was a
better arrangement than trading with their rival, Jando.

The message
was from Kleith. This had to be the same Herder Kleith that Elrin
had spoken of, but he was Elrin’s mentor who had dressed the
fleeing Calimskan as a collector and sent him to find the Dragon
Choir. Kleith had known about the Choir and thought they would
help. Why would he be involved with this awful business, drafting
Elrin to ferry the clandestine messages? And who was Herik? The
Guildmaster? Why would the great Golden Shield be using shankakin
slaves? What had any of this to do with Elrin’s father? Was all of
this for black powder? It made no sense.

With slow
strides, Minni returned to the table, watching her companions argue
about the politics of Calimskan guild hierarchy. Seeing her return,
they quietened, pity diluting their passionate discussion. Where
once they looked upon her with respect, now flaccid condolence
overshadowed every conversation. No one dared say Elrin was dead,
but every expression was a silent eulogy. This had to end.

She read the
secret missive aloud, translating every neatly written word with a
cold coherence that froze her grief. Once finished, she slapped
Elrin’s note onto the map, knocking the markers they had placed
around Calimska.

“
When I find this, Herik, I’m going to see him stripped to
ash.”

The
adventure continues in . . .

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