Authors: Deborah Chester
Still
breathing hard, he gripped his own dagger in his fist and felt fear like a wall
around him.
The
gates burst open, and Caelan could glimpse smoke and flames inside the
courtyard.
A
pair of wild-eyed ponies came plunging out, dodging and snorting. Both were
badly burned, and the mane of one was smoking. One pony broke for the forest,
but the other passed too close to a dragon that was landing.
Unfurling
its wings, it whipped its head and struck the pony in the neck.
Screaming,
the pony dropped to its knees, still fighting despite the crimson blood that
spurted across the snow. With a fierce shake, the dragon ripped open the pony’s
throat and gulped down a chunk of meat.
The
lifeless pony fell sprawling in the snow, and with roars of greed, other
dragons broke off the attack to fall on the carcass. They ripped it apart and
gulped hide and steaming flesh, ignoring the riders who beat at them and
shouted commands.
Fresh
screams came from inside the hold, whether from animals or people Caelan could
not tell. Agonized, not sure what to do, he drove himself to think of something
that would help. The people inside were helpless since Beva had destroyed all
the weapons in the arms room. As for the warding keys, they’d been spell-forged
to keep out malevolent spirits, not to prevent physical attack.
Caelan
turned and went running through the trees, keeping as much to cover as he
could, until he’d circled around to the rear wall of the hold. The standing
rule was that all trees and undergrowth were to be kept cleared well away from
the walls, but saplings sprouted and grew tall every summer. As Old Farns had
aged, more and more chores slipped by without getting done. Raul had plenty of
his own work to do and could not get to everything either.
As
a result, Caelan found a sapling stout enough to shinny up. At its top, it
swayed alarmingly beneath his weight, but he kicked out and managed to get his
elbow hooked over the top of the wall. Grunting, he hung there a moment, then
swung his legs up. From the sky, he was an obvious target. He knew he had only seconds
to move before he was seen by one of the raiders circling overhead.
As
though from nowhere, a dragon came hurtling over him, wings tucked, talons
raking. It bellowed, giving Caelan a split-second of warning. He dived
headlong, flinging himself onto the low roof of the larder, and vicious claws
clutched only air where he’d been crouching just seconds before.
Roaring
in fury, the dragon could not shift the angle of its descent in time. It passed
over, and Caelan scrambled back, yanking his dagger from his belt as he did so.
Another
dragon arched its neck and blasted fire from its nostrils, raking the thatched
roof of the stables, which were already on fire. The door to the stables stood
open, and smoke boiled from inside. Several ponies were rushing about the
courtyard in raw panic, an obvious danger to the people trying to dodge them as
well as the attackers. Caelan could hear other ponies still trapped inside the
burning building, their screams horrible.
More
fire raked down from the sky, crossing the roof of the infirmary. It was made
of slate, however, and the fire did no damage beyond scoring twin black marks
across the surface.
The
house also had a slate roof, but the kitchen at the back was thatched. It was
also in flames. The stench of smoke and the dragons filled the air.
People
burst from the buildings, running, shouting. Caelan saw Anya trying to help old
Surva, who could barely hobble.
“No!”
he shouted at them, waving his arms. “Stay inside!”
But
they could not hear him in the general melee. Beva came running through the
smoke, easy to see in his white robes. He was gesturing at the women, shouting
something they did not heed.
A
dragon passed over Caelan, not attacking him, intent instead on other prey.
It
was close enough for him to see the sun glint off the scaly hide, close enough
for him to see old battle scars, to see a sparse hank of hair hanging from its
lower jaw like a beard. The man astride the dragon was swarthy and small,
hardly bigger than Lea. At first Caelan thought he might be a boy, but the
rider turned his head to reveal a gray-streaked beard. His teeth flashed at
Caelan in laughter. He lifted his jagged spear in mock salute.
Infuriated,
Caelan dragged in a breath and went skidding off the roof of the larder.
Landing on the ground and staggering at the jolt to his ankles, Caelan looked
around swiftly and plucked down the first warding key he came to.
It
glowed in his hand, growing hot the moment his flesh touched it. Caelan focused
on it in an effort to reach its full power. He’d been able to utilize the
mysterious force within the metal once before in driving off the wind spirits.
Perhaps it would strengthen him now.
Gritting
his teeth, he tried even harder until sweat ran down his face and his hand was
afire with pain.
He
felt something within him leap, as though he drew in a lungful of fire.
Suddenly he was connected with the metal, which became a living, fluid thing in
his hand. The power stirred, flowing into him until he was filled with it. His
fear dropped away, and he knew only the hum of the Choven force that twisted
and stirred within him. Across the courtyard, he saw a flash from the warding
key hanging on the side door of the house. Another flash came from the gates,
then another and another as all the keys came alive, glowing brightly enough to
be seen even through the black smoke.
And
Caelan was one with them, a part of the interwoven net of power and protection
crisscrossing the hold. He rode it, letting
sevaisin
join him. Exhilaration
swelled into his throat, and he wanted to laugh at the Thyzarenes and their
monsters.
Brandishing
both the key and his dagger, Caelan ran for the steps leading to the top of the
walls. There, he paused and turned around, his clothes whipping in the air
stirred up by the dragons’ wings.
One
of the raiders flew at him, but Caelan raised the warding key without fear. “We
are protected here!” he shouted, his voice deep with the power thrumming
through him. “Leave us! Gather your beasts and depart.”
The
Thyzarene stared at him in astonishment.
Caelan’s
confidence grew. He had defeated a wind spirit. And now he defied a raider. If
this was to be his destiny, then he embraced it willingly. He laughed again.
“Fear
this!” he cried, bathed in the glow from the warding key. “Go, and come no more
to E’nonhold.”
The
raider was still staring. Then he threw back his head and bellowed with
laughter.
It
was scorn, mockery, and contempt all rolled together.
Surprised
in turn, Caelan blinked, but he set his jaw and gripped the key harder as its
fire raced through his veins. “You cannot harm us here while we have the
protection of the Choven,” he said fiercely. “Go!”
The
Thyzarene was still laughing, holding his sides and lolling about until it
seemed he might fall off his hovering mount.
“Barbarian!”
Caelan shouted in fresh anger. “Respect what you do not understand. We are
loyal subjects of the emperor, not enemies for you to plunder.”
He
tried to hurl the key’s power at this laughing fool, but instead the burning
force raged more strongly in himself. No matter what he did, he could not
direct it against the other man.
Below
in the courtyard, a woman screamed. Caelan whipped around in time to see Anya
running for her life, her skirts gathered high and her plump legs churning in
thick woolen stockings. Overhead a dragon chased her with little snorts of
fire, driving her back and forth for the amusement of its rider. Tongues of
flame caught the back of her gown. The wool cloth ignited and suddenly she was
on fire, screaming and spinning around in panic. The flames raced up her back,
then her hair was on fire.
“No!”
Caelan screamed. He started for the steps, but he was too far away to save her.
Beva
reached her and hurled her bodily to the ground, making her roll. He grabbed
someone’s cloak and threw it over her, trying to smother the flames.
Caelan
felt sick. Anya had been like a second mother to him. She had cared for him all
his life. He stared at her, rolled up and unmoving in the cloak, and prayed to
the gods for her life.
The
raider hovering before him laughed afresh. “We take what we please. You are
nothing to us,” he said in a taunting voice, his Lingua strangely accented. “How
do you make us go from here, little spell master?”
Furious,
Caelan lunged at him. “I’ll drive you barbarians away with this—”
The
dragon whipped its black head around to face Caelan’s attack. The dragon’s eyes
were crimson, glowing fiercely against the black scales. It lifted its crest at
him, and a narrow, forked tongue flickered from its mouth. Caelan nearly gagged
on the hot, sulfurous stench of its breath. Then it roared, blasting him with
sound, and he saw the rows of vicious teeth behind the fangs.
Holding
the warding key as a shield, Caelan struck with his dagger, slashing the tip of
the dragon’s snout. Dark, viscous blood welled up. The dragon whipped back its
head, squalling in pain. The rider also shouted, but the dragon struck back
furiously, hitting Caelan’s hand and knocking the warding key flying.
The
triangle of metal sailed through the air, its glow dimming as it went, and it
landed far below on the cobblestones. When it hit the ground, it shattered into
pieces.
The
connection to its power snapped in Caelan like an explosion in his chest.
Doubling over, he cried out. Around the hold, in swift succession, the other
keys also shattered into pieces.
The
wounded dragon roared, making the walls shake, and was barely restrained by its
rider.
“Keep
your spells for demons,” the Thyzarene shouted furiously, still struggling with
his mount. “Stupid Traulander! I’ll teach you a lesson for this.”
“And
I’ll open your dragon’s belly!” Caelan shot back. The blood on his dagger stank
of sulfur and something worse.
“Ho,
Kuvar!” the raider yelled. “Drive him down.”
The
dragon beat with its wings, lifting itself above Caelan. Then it came.
With
talons raking the air above him, Caelan ducked back and stumbled. Pain ripped
along his jaw, making him howl. He felt blood run down his neck, and that drove
him to slash back. This time he managed to nick the dragon in the leg. Roaring,
it drove him to a corner of the wall, beating its huge wings until Caelan was
whipped and buffeted by wind.
When
the dragon wheeled, one wing tip struck Caelan and nearly swept him over the
edge. Only a quick grab saved him from falling.
Heavy
net dropped on him. Twisting around in a panic to fight it off, Caelan found
himself hopelessly enmeshed.
The
Thyzarene gave the net an expert yank, and Caelan was pulled off his feet. He
landed hard with a grunt, and started hacking frantically at the net with his
dagger.
The
cords were made of some tough material that resisted his knife. He kept
cutting, knowing he was done for, but too frightened to give up. Another cord
reluctantly parted. Tugging at it, he sawed away.
The
dragon extended its wings and lifted, beating powerfully at the air. Caelan
felt a sharp yank; then he was flipped upside down.
His
dagger slipped through the hole he’d managed to cut and was lost.
Caelan
found himself suspended in midair, dangling and spinning in the net, which was
fastened to the dragon’s harness.
Sobbing
for breath, his fingers gripping the net as the ground fell farther and farther
beneath him, Caelan stared down at the burning hold until the dizzying spin of
his view made him feel sick. He closed his eyes until an unexpected bump made
him open them again.
He
found himself on the ground, with the dragon settling itself beside him. In the
air, the beast might have extraordinary grace and agility. On the ground, it
looked ridiculous and awkward as it folded its enormous wings and balanced on
short, stumpy legs. Its barbed tail lashed angrily back and forth, and as
Caelan stared at the creature, it turned its head to glare at him with those
vicious red eyes. Its crest flared upright, and it hissed with a frightening
displaying of fangs.