Michael Stackpole - When Dragons Rage

As Will had understood things, Linchmere was supposed to get up and say that the charges hadn’t been proved and that Crow was free to go provided someone would assume responsibility for him. Will would do that, then slip his real mask on, everything would be fine, and they would be free to fight Chytrine.

“I don’t understand,” he mumbled under his breath.

Alexia leaned slightly in his direction, her shoulder pressing against his. “I was afraid of this. Scrainwood is playing games. The wizards’ evidence that has vanished can reappear at any time and the charges can be reinstated. If Scrainwood gets his way, Crow will never be free from the threat of execution. He won’t do anything right now, though. King Augustus wouldn’t be here if King Scrainwood had gone back on his agreement.”

Will snorted. “Scrainwood is a snake.”

The princess smiled. “You’ve insulted snakes.”

Linchmere continued. “It is the opinion of the tribunal, then, that insufficient evidence exists to convict this man, Crow, of crimes ascribed to Tarrant Hawkins. You, sir, are free to…”

The doors at the far end of the room sailed open, shoved wide by a woman in red riding leathers and a billowing scarlet cloak. She wore a red leather mask that covered her from cheeks to forehead and right up to her hairline, though a lock of her long red hair did curve down over her right eye. The flesh of her lower face likewise was red with cold and windburn. Melting snow glistened on her cloak.

“Where is he?” She stopped in the center aisle and her cloak splashed against her back like a woolen wave. “Where is he?”

“W-who?” Linchmere started to take a half step forward, but he saved it when his voice broke. He lowered it to the serious tone from which it had risen. “Who are you?”

She thrust a finger at him. “You, sit . You’re not the one I want.” She looked around the room, her pale blue eyes lighting on Will for a second, then shifting away again before returning. “You, you’re the Norrington, aren’t you?”

Will stood slowly. “I am.”

She came forward, quickly, not as forcefully as before, and swept past the prisoner’s docket. She sank to one knee and took Will’s right hand in hers. Raising it to her mouth, she kissed it, sending a jolt through Will.

She glanced up and her gaze met his, sending another jolt through him. Her eyes burned with an intensity that threatened to ignite him. The woman was beautiful, there was no denying that, but it was something else in her, running deep in those eyes, that captivated him.

Will swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

“My lord, I am Princess Sayce of Muroso. I’ve come from Caledo to beg you to save my nation.” Desperation arced through her words. She bowed her head again, touching her forehead to his hand. “Please, my lord, you are our only hope.”

“I, um, I…” Will looked hopelessly at Alexia, Crow, and then King Augustus.

The Alcidese King rose to his feet. “Princess Sayce, you have interrupted a proceeding, one of some importance.”

The young woman stood abruptly and let Will’s hand slip from hers. “Important? This is important? You’re Augustus of Alcida and she’s Carus of Jerana. I have seen you before with my father. Finding Oriosa bound up with nonsense does not surprise me, but you? How could you be here?”

Her voice rose and bitterness crept into it. “Have you no idea of what is happening? Sebcia has collapsed. Chytrine’s troops laid siege to Lurrü with dragonels. They shattered the gates, toppled the walls, and the slaughter was beyond imagining. Refugees have been streaming south, but the snows catch and overwhelm them. Come spring, if there ever is a spring, we will find families who lay down in the cold together and died. Roads will be strewn with bodies. Yet here you sit, listening to people prattle on about little things that matter not when people are dying. Dying in the hundreds. In the thousands.“

Sayce turned and pointed a finger at Will. “I’ve come for the Norrington, to bring him to Caledo, so he can lead our troops and destroy Chytrine.”

“Wait a minute.” Will held his hands up. “I may be the Norrington, but you need Princess Alexia to lead the troops.” He nodded at Alexia. “She will win the fight for you.”

Sayce sniffed at the air, then cocked her head slightly. “You’re Alexia? Hmm. What a perfectly lovely dress . I hardly thought I would find you here when Aurolani needed killing. My nation will not fall as yours did.”

Alexia stood slowly. “I would not wish that on you, Princess, and will do all I can to prevent it.” Alexia raised her voice. “Prince Linchmere, I believe you were about to set Crow free.”

Linchmere roused himself from his throne and unsteadily took to his feet again. “Yes, Crow, you are free to go.”

Will clapped his hands. “Yes!”

Sayce turned and watched as Will and Crow shook hands, then embraced with much backslapping. “I am pleased for your friend, Lord Norrington, but every moment we delay makes the situation more grave.”

Will slipped out of Crow’s hug, then looked up at her. She stood about a fist taller than he and was lean like a wolf. Over the right breast of her leathers had been burned the bear rampant crest of the Murosan royal house. Her mask hid the upper half of her face, but her strong jaw and full lips suggested the beauty that hid beneath it.

“Princess, if you want me to head north with you, then Crow and Alexia and everyone else will have to come, too.”

“Everyone else?”

“My friends. Resolute and Dranae and Peri. There are more, they’ll help. We all got the DragonCrown fragment from Wruona.”

Sayce nodded solemnly. “Yes, we shall have all your companions. My men are out rounding up more horses—we fair killed ours on the ride here. Once we have fodder for them, and provisions for us, we must go.”

“I’ll be ready.” Will smiled at her, but beyond her Linchmere stiffened. The thief turned to follow the prince’s gaze, then began to snarl as he saw a familiar figure framed in the doorway.

King Scrainwood stood there smiling. “Ah, there you are, Princess Sayce. You shall be forgiven the affront of not visiting me first, since I understand you were under the impression the Norrington was to be found here.”

Sayce’s eyes tightened. “Forgive me, Highness, I meant no disrespect. The Norrington is here, so I have accomplished my purpose.”

“Alas, you have not. I would not have you or my sister nation to the north labor under the impression that this fraud is the Norrington.”

Will’s jaw shot open. “What?”

Scrainwood smiled. “Bosleigh Norrington did not go away without issue. Legitimate issue. His son shall arrive here in Meredo in a day or two. As it should be, an Oriosan noble , loyal and true, shall lead the world against Chytrine.”

Isaura breathed deeply of the crisp, clean air of her homeland. She drew it in as best she could, feeling it cool her head and throat and lungs, then exhaled slowly. She let the outgoing breath carry away as much of the taint of the Southlands as possible, though she secretly feared she would never be fully free of the stink of Meredo.

Slowly she wandered through the rime garden behind the citadel in which she lived. No walls separated it from the white tundra that stretched to the north. No vermin would wander in to nibble delicacies, for the treasures of the garden, while they did grow, sustained naught but the spirit of those who wandered amid its splendors.

Several times a year Neskartu’s students used magick to form a pellet of ice into which they worked a spell. The magick itself was something Isaura found fascinating because it used the imagery of an illusion and combined it with constructive elements to create wonderful things. Many young students, for example, might imbue their creation with the form of a creature—either realistic or an imagined beast. Once that ice seed was planted in the garden, it would mature and grow up into the image the magicker had envisioned.