The Free Kingdoms (Book 2) (20 page)

“Hurry,” the king urged. He drew his sword and hurried toward the khalifa’s litter. “Hurry.”

Kreth ignored him, but picked his way slowly through the Balsalomian army, watching. Behind the first, visible world lay an unseen world, where vines of magic stretched and grew in response to the powers that controlled them. He’d expected magic to flow from the khalifa as if she were the center of a magical spring that fed all around her. But instead, he stood in a desert.

For one thing, there was only a single wizard, a young apprentice with little power, and not a single torturer, whose powerful magicks cursed so many of the khalifates. But more importantly, nothing came from the khalifa’s litter itself, where he’d expected to find the book. He supposed she could have given it to one of her wizards, but there was so little magic in this army that he doubted she had any who could read the tome. Toth must have killed or captured them when he took Balsalom.

Collvern walked alongside the khalifa’s litter, even as men stepped out of his way without realizing why they did so. It took a few minutes for Kreth to reach the king’s side, and by then Collvern frowned in impatience. Together, they scrambled into the khalifa’s litter.

The litter was more like a small room than simply bedding, although it wasn’t high enough to stand up inside, so they knelt. Kallia lay back on her pillows as the litter swayed beneath them. The air was cool inside, ventilated by the breeze outside, but sweat stood out on her face. Kreth had watched her from afar through a seeing stone, but this was the first time he’d had a chance to study her this close. Kallia Saffa wasn’t particularly beautiful, although there was a certain appeal in the mixture of dark, eastern skin and the facial features of an Aristonian. Even as she slept, Kreth thought he saw both determination and vulnerability on her tensed lips and the slight crease in her brow.

Something else was in the litter. He hadn’t seen it at first in the dim light inside. A shadow swirled around the khalifa’s head, drawn in and out of her lungs with every breath. He held out his hand to hold the king back before he drew too close to the shadow.

“Now,” Collvern said, ignoring his gesture. “Now we force her to give us the tome.”

“Put the sword away,” Kreth told the king. He had warned the man about the limitations of the spell, but Collvern needed reminding. “You are only a shadow here. The sword will not touch her.”

“Then
you
wake her,” Collvern urged. “Make her give us the book.”

Why must he be so hasty?

“Quiet,” Kreth said. “I must have quiet.”

He obeyed and Kreth watched. He recognized the shadow at last when he caught a flicker of its features. A wight trailed her, poisoned Kallia’s soul. It was a powerful spirit, no doubt bound by the dark lord himself and sent to gather Kallia to his power. And there was a second presence inside the khalifa. A bright pinprick of light grew in her womb.

Kreth said, “There is no reason for us to stay. I was wrong. She doesn’t have the book.”

Collvern looked up sharply. “Impossible. How else did she liberate Balsalom? How did she break free of the enemy’s power?”

“I don’t know how she retook Balsalom,” Kreth admitted, admiration rising for the doomed queen. “But she hasn’t broken free of his power. A wight attacks her soul. It will soon bind her in the dark lord’s service.”

“What?” the king asked. “Are you sure?” When Kreth nodded, he added, “But perhaps she will fight the wight and win.”

In spite of Collvern’s professed hatred of Balsalom, and the indignity of seeing Balsalom sit atop Syrmarria’s ruins, where Collvern’s ancestors had reigned, Kreth sensed a grudging admiration for the khalifa in his words.

“Unlikely, but suppose that she
does
fight the wight and win,” Kreth answered. “She carries the dark wizard’s seed, my king.” He shook his head, feeling sorry for the young queen, swept into events beyond her control. “Whether or not the wight takes her soul to the enemy, she will die in childbirth.”

#

Markal denied Nathaliey’s assertion that Chantmer had turned the gurgolet against them. “I don’t believe it. Chantmer is a hard, unyielding man, but he is devoted to the Order. And as long as the Citadel stands, the battle might still be won.”

Nathaliey said, “What then? Do you want to seek for Chantmer?”

“It’s our only choice. You stay and protect the retreat.”

The Veyrians poured across the bridge. Enemy mammoth and giants joined masses of camel and horse cavalry to break the Eriscoban line. Hoffan’s troops rushed into the gap and the battle degenerated into a thousand separate battles, that spread like a wave from the bridge. Arrows cut down many of the enemy troops as they crossed the bridge, but the dragon and the gurgolet put an end to that defense.

The dragon swooped around the tower that guarded the west side of the bridge, while dragon wasps forced the griffins away. It bathed the tower with its fiery breath. Arrows sped to meet it, but they did no damage to the dragon. The gurgolet spewed mud on the archers along the banks, wreaking more havoc.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, and Markal hoped that night might bring a few hours respite to allow Hoffan’s army an orderly retreat to the Citadel. He didn’t know how long the gurgolet would hold its life force, but not indefinitely. And if he could find Chantmer, they could fight the dragon. He was not yet ready to surrender.

Nathaliey found another wizard, a man named Kennett Rogha. The man placed his good hand on Markal’s shoulder. Markal bowed his head and waited, his spine stiffening at the influx of power that came when the man spoke his incantation. It was a simple spell, and Kennett was strong enough that his left hand was only mildly scorched, instead of blackened like his right hand after raising the gurgolet.

The sky dimmed and Markal thought for a moment that one of the cloud castles had passed in front of the sun. But it was Kennett’s spell that dimmed the sky. Through the shade that passed over his eyes, he saw a string of light that extended from his chest and stretched northwest from the hill. Follow the string and it would lead him to Chantmer.

#

The griffins fought an increasingly desperate battle. Three fell on the dragon’s first blast, and half a dozen more sped away badly burned. Dragon wasps attacked from all sides, but Flockheart charged the dragon, knowing that it could obliterate the entire army. Hoffan’s wizards had summoned the other monster that now decimated men on the bridge, let
them
deal with it.

The dragon burned the tower. Men jumped from windows to the river, clothes burning. It took the dragon some time to stoke its fires; Flockheart took the opportunity to lead a charge. Darik pulled hard on Joffa’s lead, and the griffin followed the others, flying directly at the dragon with a scream.

Dragon wasps closed from all sides, trying to drive them away. One attacked from Darik’s right side and he braced himself with sword outstretched, holding the griffin with his other hand. The dragon kin pulled back on the wasp, but the wasp’s underbelly rammed into Waspcleaver. The wasp screamed and whipped its head around to bite at Darik’s face, while the dragon kin stabbed at him with his spear.

Joffa rolled onto its back and only Darik’s grip kept him from falling loose. He tangled in the tethers. Darik freed his sword and grabbed Joffa with his forearm. Joffa righted himself, the dragon wasp jolted loose. The kin fought to bring its mount for another attack, but the wasp dropped toward the ground with blood streaming from its underbelly. More wasps came from below, but Joffa outran them, joining the others in attack on the dragon. Griffins clawed and bit at the dragon’s flanks.

Eighty feet long including tail, the dragon presented the hard, leathery skin on its back and lashed its tail to drive away the griffins. Darik stabbed its neck as he passed. His sword bounced off harmlessly. The dragon turned its massive head to bite at Darik and Joffa. Its eyes glowed like embers and its breath stank of hot ash. Darik saw fires in its belly, light rising from its blackened mouth and down its neck. Joffa lurched away just in time.

Another griffin and rider weren’t so lucky. Distracted by wasps, the griffin got too close to the dragon’s mouth. The dragon grabbed the griffin in its mouth by one wing and a forelimb. The rider screamed, her ankle also caught in its mouth. The griffin pecked and scratched at the hardened scales around the dragon’s mouth while the monster shook its head back and forth like a dog worrying a bone. The woman tried desperately to pry her leg free with her sword.

Darik sped to help but the dragon finished before he got close, opening its mouth to let its victims fall. The griffin dropped straight to the ground, two hundred feet below. The griffin was dead before it hit, but its rider, leg mangled, was not.

The dragon belched more fire, and caught two griffins, which fell burning toward the river. The wizards’ monster savaged Sleptstock with hot mud, but the griffins had turned the dragon long enough for Hoffan to form a defensive perimeter about the town. A well-shot arrow caught the dragon in the wing and it roared and turned away. Just below Darik a griffin fell with two spears in its side. Its rider was nowhere to be seen.

Some griffins fled, pursued by wasps. Others pulled out of range of the dragon. Darik found himself surrounded by half a dozen wasps. He pulled hard on the tether, climbing Joffa higher. One of the cloud castles loomed overhead and, remembering how he’d escaped with Daria at Balsalom, Darik climbed higher. The wasps broke off pursuit as he drew close. But he had no time to find Collvern and plead with the king to help the Free Kingdoms. He dropped toward the village to look for Daria.

Griffins scattered from the battle, leaving the skies to wasps, the dragon, and the wizard’s monster. And as it grew dark, Darik found it harder to look for Daria. He returned to the battle, staying over friendly forces.

The Free Kingdoms had lost the bridge Hoffan hoped to hold for an entire week. Dead men and horses lay everywhere, far too many from the Free Kingdoms. Veyrians poured across the bridge by the thousands, pushing the Eriscobans from Sleptstock.

A massive caravan pushed its way through the enemy army from the east, an oversized cart pulled by teams of oxen. Darik looked at the cargo and recognized the rounded iron surface of the bombast at once. Cragyn’s Hammer, all the way through the mountains and approaching the Citadel. Fresh despair washed over him.

Dusk came at last, and with it a small respite. The wizards’ monster sank quietly from sight. Perhaps worried about ambush, the enemy stopped its advance, allowing Hoffan’s men a retreat toward the Citadel, fifteen miles distant. But as they retreated, the dragon flew along the Tothian Way, burning wagon-trains and killing dozens.

So much lost, Darik thought as he dropped his exhausted mount on a deserted hilltop a few miles northwest of the river. And they hadn’t even seen the dark wizard yet.
Toth.
What magic would he wield when he finally presented himself? In the distance, he heard the Harvester’s horn, and baying hounds. Hunting aplenty tonight.

Joffa screamed at a dark shape that dropped to the hill: another griffin.

“Did Flockheart send you here?” the rider asked, stumbling from his mount. He had a gash on his arm, but it was the exhaustion and defeat written on his face that struck Darik more than anything.

“No,” Darik admitted. “I just had to stop. Joffa couldn’t fly any farther.”

A second griffin wheeled overhead, then a third. Within a few minutes half a dozen griffins gathered on the hillside. Other survivors came during the next few hours, drawn by the screams and the campfire someone lit, together with the enticing aroma of roasting sheep. Darik counted sixty. One of these was Flockheart.

He sought out Darik immediately. “Daria?” he asked. “Where is she?”

Darik shook his head. “I’d hoped to find her with you.”

Flockheart let out a small groan. “No. I flew several times over the Veyrians before wasps drove me off.”

“And I looked over Sleptstock. Could she be hiding along the river? I saw some griffins fighting wasps over the marshes north of town.”
“You might be right.”

Darik looked back toward the campfire, where the lamb was almost done. There would be time enough for eating later. “Let’s go look for her.”

Brasson was too tired to fly any further, but Flockheart found a riderless griffin and took it. Darik roused Joffa from a sleep and the griffin lifted its head from beneath a wing, squawking a protest. Darik tried to climb on its back, but it snapped irritably at his hand.

“Come on, boy,” Darik urged, jerking his hand back in a hurry. “Daria is in trouble. And Averial, too. We’ve got to help.”

He didn’t know if the griffin understood, or if the reasonable tone in his voice soothed the beast, but it turned its head to the side and let him climb on its back. Darik and Joffa rose into the sky, following Flockheart.

The night was dark, with only a hint of moon in the sky, and Darik strained to pick out Flockheart and his mount. The other griffin keened softly, and Joffa followed the sound. They flew low over the hills. Sleptstock still burned, sending columns of fire into the sky. Darik heard shouts, singing, and the screams of a woman, so anguished that it turned his blood cold.

They swooped low over the marshes, Flockheart’s griffin keening softly. Darik thought he heard an answering cry, then something massive and black flew by with a rush of wind. Joffa tensed suddenly and wheeled away. Fire blazed in the sky.

The dragon.

But it didn’t hunt them. It flew along the river bank, blasting fire down into the marshes, crisping them and sending smoke and steam into the air. In the light Darik could see large charred patches. He heard a griffin cry out from below.

“Find her,” Flockheart said, just over Darik’s shoulder. “The dragon has poor eyesight.” He rushed by on his mount.

“You!” Flockheart cried from Darik’s left and his griffin screamed a challenge to the dragon. “I have killed all of your spawn!” he shouted. “Cut them down like maggots. And now I will kill you!”