Dragonlinks (38 page)

Jelindel took out her farsight and studied the scene. The bench was a heavy, crossed-beam type. Perfect. Curious villagers began to crowd around her and she collapsed her farsight and put it in her pouch. She began to walk forward, with the villagers trailing after her.

Korok was intent on his writing and the mercenary at his side had never seen Jelindel. At twenty paces she dropped to one knee and spoke a finely tuned word of binding.

A thin, blue coil lashed Korok's left leg to the frame of the bench, just below the knee. He screeched in alarm and struggled to free himself, toppling the half-barrel and spilling his notes and writing kit onto the ground.

The villagers scattered back from Jelindel at once.

‘That's him, kill him!' Korok shouted, pointing at Jelindel. The mercenaries drew their weapons and moved to surround her.

I'm competent but I'm no veteran warrior, Jelindel reminded herself. The minor word of binding had not left her too drained, but she was standing in the open with no wall or ally to put at her back.

J
elindel's opponents closed and she drew her shortsword and the parry-hilt knife. Korok was shouting for the other mercenaries, which meant Daretor would be there soon. Jelindel knew that she could not wait, and that she might be dead by the time he arrived.

The mercenaries circled warily, slowly closing in while Korok hacked at the bench frame with his sword. It must be obvious that I'm hardly more than a child, she thought frantically. Why don't they attack?

The word of binding! They thought she was a potent Adept! They could not know that as yet she had only a rudimentary grasp of magical words.

She sheathed her parry-hilt knife and tossed her shortsword to her left hand. Holding her right hand out in front of her she spoke a snare word, timed for a hundred heartbeats. Blue traceries enmeshed her hand, and a glowing blue spike about a yard in length stood out
straight like a sword. She twirled it in the air for the benefit of the mercenaries. Because the life-force of the snare word was still attached to her, she felt no further fatigue.

‘Take 'im, flank 'im right!' barked one mercenary.

‘What is that thing?' cried the other.

‘Flank 'im!'

‘That fire-sword thing's too fast.'

Jelindel lunged for the wavering man, who jumped back and fell over a pile of trays and pots being unloaded from a cart. The other hesitated, then lunged also, but by now Jelindel had her back to the cart.

Sword met snare word; the blue spike wrapped itself about cold steel and detonated with a bright flash as the snare word collapsed, quenched by the steel. Jelindel had known to blink at the right moment and she chopped her shortsword into the dazzled mercenary's knee. He toppled and Jelindel skipped clear.

The other man had circled the cart by now. Jelindel spoke a second binding word that bound his left hand to the tie-rail of the cart. She had timed it short, but its strength was too great and her knees almost jellied. She pushed the cart's brake lever free and slapped the already terrified pony across the rump with the flat of her short-sword. It bolted, dragging cart and mercenary away through the village, off the roadway and into the fields.

Three other mercenaries appeared, with Daretor following at a distance. There was blood on his axe.

‘Jaelin!' he called, seeing her staggering.

She held up two fingers, then pointed to the ground with them. Two down.

‘Leave me, dolts! Kill those two!' cried Korok as the mercenaries reached him.

Three against two, but Jelindel could spend no more of her life-force on binding words if she wanted to remain standing. The newcomers had not seen her in action, and were unaware of her magical powers.

‘Mind the smaller one, 'e can do 'chantments!' warned the man who still lay on the road clutching his knee.

Saved. The boldness went out of the three attackers. Two faced Jelindel while another turned to fight Daretor, knife and sword against knife and axe.

The sword sliced out in a descending snap, which Daretor deflected with a hilt-block of his own parry-hilt knife, but as his axe came around in a flat snap the mercenary tried the same block. It was a foolish move. He discovered that an axe weighs considerably more than a sword and the blade smashed past the knife and buried itself in his throat.

Just at that moment the word binding the mercenary to the now overturned cart collapsed and flew back across the fields to Jelindel. Suddenly strong again, she spoke the snare word onto her right hand and the glowing blue mock-sword flashed out once more.

That was enough for the two mercenaries. Flanked by a large and skilled warrior on one side and a seemingly high Adept mage on the other, they dropped their weapons and fell to their knees with their hands in the air.

Jelindel sauntered over to where Korok was still trying to chop through the piece of wood to which he was bound.

‘Korok, I've had a foul day and I'm in a really vile mood,' she warned. ‘Throw that sword away and hand me the link before I lose my patience.'

He complied, suddenly meek and cringing.

‘Knew this would happen. Korok knew. Fled, but knew in Korok's hearts that you would catch Korok.'

‘Give me the damn dragonlink!' Jelindel shouted, swatting at him with the blue spike. He held up his sword by reflex. Word met cold steel and collapsed with a loud bang, startling Korok so much that he dropped the sword.

‘Dragonlink, yes, dragonlink, Korok has link. Very nice ring, it makes.'

He removed the dragonlink from his finger with his teeth.

‘Swallow it and I'll cut it out of you,' said Jelindel.

Korok placed it on the table.

Jelindel snatched it up. ‘You will stay bound for two thousand heartbeats, Korok. Cold steel cannot collapse your bindings because they exist only between you and the table's crossbeam. By then I suspect that the mayor of this village will be very interested in learning who torched the bridge back in Serpent's Gap.'

‘How you know that?'

‘I'm a Mage Auditor. It's my job.'

The metal of the link continued to glow as it lay on the palm of Jelindel's hand.

‘What are the properties of this dragonlink?' she asked. ‘What weapons skills does it confer?'

‘You Mage Auditor, you find out.'

‘Korok! One more remark like that and you'll find out what I know about pain.'

‘Korok not afraid to –'

The word that Jelindel spoke to enmesh his remaining hand and wrist was small and brief, but the coil was very, very tight. Korok screamed and howled with the crushing pain of the coils, batting at the blue tendrils with the
stump of his other wrist until they suddenly collapsed, flashed over to dance about Jelindel's lips, then vanished.

‘No more! Korok convinced. The care, servicing and control of thundercast – that is what dragonlink confers,' Korok whined.

‘How did you come to have the thundercast and dragon -link?' she asked. ‘Linkriders tend to be rather possessive about their dragonlinks, and you had this thunderbolt weapon as well.'

She took the thundercast out of her tunic and held it up.

‘One man rides into Korok's village, very sick, very cold. Stays at inn, he does, and has much money. Comes to Korok for warm riding gauntlets, Korok makes them. Takes off ring during fitting. Man falls asleep as Korok works. Very tired. Korok thinks, “Very plain ring for very rich man”, puts on ring and learns about thundercast. Korok … finds thundercast, borrows thundercast. Hides both. Man complains, denounces Korok, but village sides with Korok, beats him and drives him out.'

‘So, he had a better reason than some mere tavern fight to melt your village into the mountainside. How did you learn about the mailshirt?'

‘Korok meets other holder of link, both links glow when close, you see. He teaches Korok about lead locket that stops glow from ring. Tells about mailshirt. Have pact. He makes Korok rich if Korok helps get mailshirt.'

‘Indeed,' said Jelindel, shaking her head.

‘You not believe Korok?'

‘No. You have green blood, so you are not human. What were you doing as a glovemaker in a mountain village?'

‘Ah, very tragic. Korok exile. Korok speaks out against
King of stars.' He pointed up to the sky. ‘Evil King. Banishes Korok.'

‘Sensible King, I'd say. Why here?'

‘Ah. Lonely exile, all around are humans, nobody of Korok's race. Very tragic.'

‘A whining, cringing coward,' growled Daretor, who had come over after binding the surviving mercenaries. ‘As I expect from a linkrider.'

‘What were you writing?' Jelindel asked Korok.

‘Chronicle of Korok's suffering. One day Korok's people come back, check here. Find Korok dead, but find beautiful epic of Korok the Exile. Have many copies transcribed by monks, maybe. Korok be famous.'

Jelindel put the link into the locket and pressed it shut. The glow from her mailshirt ceased at once. She searched Korok's pack and found a dozen sheets of reed-bond paper covered with close-written but unfamiliar script. There was also another lead-lined locket, maps and some phials of coloured pills and fluids.

Korok was also found to be carrying twenty-five silver argents and fourteen gold oriels.

‘There is now the question of what to do with you,' Daretor said as Jelindel packed Korok's belongings away again.

Korok shrugged and spread his hands. ‘Korok poor, helpless.'

‘Korok also has his stall back at the port marketplace,' Jelindel pointed out.

‘Korok has only one hand now.'

‘But you are alive,' added Daretor. ‘Back down the trail I suspect that there is a burned-out bridge, and that you and your scabby friends were the last to use it. The
money can pay for new beams and planks, and your labour can help build the new bridge. What do you think, Jaelin?'

‘I have a feeling that he's lying about that other linkrider,' said Jelindel slowly, turning the locket over in her fingers, ‘but it's only a feeling. Yes, let him help rebuild the bridge, then go free.'

Based on what Jelindel told him, the mayor had Korok and the four surviving mercenaries riveted into chains and manacles on suspicion of burning the bridge. Riders were sent out with ropes and grapples to confirm the story, and Daretor went with them.

The village blacksmith was a stocky, blue-eyed, cheerful man with a pointy beard. He had seen the fight outside the tavern, and had shackled the prisoners in its aftermath. Jelindel showed him the link and asked if he could attach it to the mailshirt.

‘Aye, but it's a wee bit out of my usual work,' he replied brightly. ‘How much time d'ye have?'

‘How much time do you need?' asked Jelindel wearily, sitting down and rubbing a bruise on her arm.

‘Well now, I'd like to practise making and joining a few links meself, but before that I'll need to run up some finework tools fer the job.'

‘That seems like a lot of trouble –'

‘Oh no, Mage Auditor. If those rogues really did burn our bridge, then ye've provided us wi' money and labour to help build a new one. We're in your debt. Now let's see. I'll start on the tools today, but tomorrow's market day, then there's a big wedding on the day after. Fine young couple, the taverner's son and my very own cousin.'

‘So three days, you think?'

‘Ho ho, but you're a direct young man. Three days it is.'

Jelindel stood up and stretched. ‘I had better take rooms at the inn.'

‘Oh, and if you please Mage Auditor, you and your warrior are most welcome at the wedding.'

‘A wedding. I … would be honoured.'

Just then a boy came running in from the direction of the stables.

‘Mage Auditor!' he gasped. ‘The man Korok's gotten away!'

According to the mercenaries who had been chained with him, Korok had been able to dislocate the joint of his own ankle with no apparent pain, then he wriggled his foot free of the manacle. He had clubbed down the stablehand keeping guard, then dressed in his clothes and walked off leading a horse. The taverner said that Korok's pack was missing from the shelf in his taproom.

‘Well, we still have his money, and he was too scrawny to be of much use in repairing the bridge,' said the mayor. ‘Besides, he only had one hand.'

Jelindel rummaged around outside and found one sheet of Korok's reedbond paper that had slipped behind one of the benches beside the wall. It had only a few lines of script on it, but she could make nothing of it at all. She sat in the sunlight for a moment, considering what to do. Daretor was away, and she had Korok's link. Korok had been writing frantically and wearing the link when she had found him. When he had escaped he had taken only the sheets of paper.

Almost of their own volition her fingers popped open the lead-lined locket, and the link glowed faintly in the sunlight. She slipped the link onto her finger.