Michael Stackpole - When Dragons Rage

Alyx raised an eyebrow. “Checking to see if his sister was hurt?”

Kerrigan’s eyes popped open again. “That could be it, yes.”

She laughed. “Definitely sinister.”

“I still don’t like it.” Will snorted. “He wasn’t friendly to her at all. They should be thanking her.”

Crow winked. “Don’t assume they are angry. Being worried would be enough.”

“Well, if they do anything to her, I’ll…”

“What will you do, Will?”

The thief sighed in response to Crow’s question. “No fair asking me to make good on empty threats. I just hope she’ll be okay.”

“I’m sure she will.” Crow faced forward again, but Alyx still caught the full force of his smile. “Your friend will be fine, you’ll see, Will.”

Captain Twynham led the main company into the city and on up to the central quartet of towers. The easternmost pair comprised one building, the palace, while the other two were used by the Caledo Academy of Magicks and the Guilds Tower, in which most of the nation’s guilds had offices. Once he’d taken them through the palace gate, they turned left and approached the South Tower. Attendants took their horses to the stables there, while body servants emerged to conduct the travelers to their own accommodations.

Alyx and Crow parted company quickly, as he went to see to the billeting of the rest of the company. She bid him a silent farewell, then followed a middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks up a spiral staircase to the small suite of rooms they had been given. The sitting room faced east, with the sleeping alcove off to the left, complete with a huge four-poster bed thick with quilts. To the right lay a toilet and bathing area. A folding screen decorated with painted wooden panels showing scenes from a hunt would allow privacy in that area.

A slender woman not quite as tall as Alexia was standing in the room as they entered. The servingwoman gasped and immediately dropped to one knee. “Begging your pardon, Highness, I didn’t know.”

The woman shook her head. “It is no matter, Meg. Leave us for a moment. Perhaps Princess Alexia would like you to fetch some food?”

Alyx caught a note of familiarity in the voice. “I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“Very well, then.” The woman’s features were sharper than Sayce’s, but close enough that the familial resemblance could not be ignored. She waited for the servant to depart before smiling. “Greetings, Princess Alexia. I am Dayley. I feel as if we have met before.”

Alyx nodded, knowing full well that this was the woman she had met in the Communion. “So nice to make it a reality.”

The Okrans princess offered Dayley her hand, and was met with a firm, warm grip. They shook hands, pumping each other’s arms three times, but before they could release, something odd happened. Alyx felt herself shifting—there was no other word for it—as if moving into the Communion. Despite that feeling, she remained there, in the South Tower with Dayley.

But they were not alone.

Off to the east appeared a beautiful woman with snowy white hair and a soft innocence to her features and expression. Her eyes immediately caught Alexia’s attention because, despite her being semitransparent, they glittered silver. Her mouth moved and Alexia caught pieces of words. “… Kesh, here things… victorious… casualties…” There was more, but the volume waxed and waned, with the words sometimes coming slowly and other times squeaking quickly.

When their hands parted, the vision vanished.

Both women looked at each other, then held hands again, but it did not come back.

Dayley frowned. “You saw it, of course. What was it?”

Alyx shook her head. “I don’t know.”

She shivered and Dayley caught it in her grip. “Something, Alexia. What is it?”

The Okrans princess frowned. “‘Kesh’ has to refer to Nefrai-kesh, Chytrine’s general. Was she communicating with him? Warning him? Something like that?”

Dayley nodded, letting her hand slip from Alexia’s. “Logical, but it was something else that made you shiver. What?”

Alyx shifted her shoulders uneasily. “In Meredo, Will saw someone, someone he said saved him from dying. She could have been the person he described.”

“Someone in league with Nefrai-kesh saved the Norrington?”

“So it would appear.”

Dayley sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to make of that, if it is welcome news or not. If the gods are merciful, perhaps we have a chance to figure it out.”

Kerrigan awoke with a start. Bok had clapped a knotty hand over his mouth, stifling an outcry. The mage clawed at the hand, but could not move it. The urZrethi’s hand remained in place for a moment or two more than it needed, then finally moved away as Kerrigan stopped fighting him.

The young mage blinked his burning eyes. He’d not intended to fall asleep when guided to his chamber. He just lay down on the bed while Bok went for the luggage and shifted things around. He remembered yawning and deciding to close his eyes for a moment—then the hard press of Bok’s hand on his mouth brought him back to consciousness.

Rym Ramoch, standing there at the foot of the bed, shook his head. “I asked you to awaken him, Bok, not scare him.”

The urZrethi sank to the floor in a low crouch and mewed an apology.

Kerrigan pulled himself upright and banged his head on the headboard. “Ouch.”

“Don’t be doing that, Kerrigan. We can’t have you dashing your brains out when we need them.” Ramoch moved stiffly to an overstuffed chair near Bok’s corner and seated himself. “I apologize for my absence, but when you detoured into Bokagul, reaching you was too difficult. Knowing your goal, however, I was able to come here ahead of you. I have learned some things that might be useful in your quest.”

“Learning how to detect fragments of the DragonCrown?”

“The same. But first, however, I need to know what happened in Bokagul.”

Kerrigan yawned as Bok slunk across the room to Ramoch’s side. The elder mage idly tangled fingers in the urZrethi’s hair and scratched him as one might a dog. The younger man smoothed a wrinkle from the blankets upon which he’d slept, then began to recount his adventures beneath the mountains. Rym Ramoch did not interrupt him, and because his face was masked and shadowed, Kerrigan had trouble telling if he was even listening.

When he finished his recital, the crimson-robed mage nodded solemnly. “The power you displayed is impressive. If you are able to harness that and direct it toward our goal, Chytrine will not be able to stand against you. And this thing with Will and his blood is surprising. You’ve seen nothing like this before from him?”

“Well, he curses all the time, but this… I could feel the magick pulsing off him. The effect his blood had on the Aurolani and their allies was horrible—and incredible. Even when we were leaving, after the hallway had been washed clean, I could still detect the magick. It would not surprise me if an araftü flying above that spot would not be stopped by the columns of power marking where his blood lay.”

Ramoch drummed his right index finger on the arm of his chair. “Something must have happened to him. What was different?”

Kerrigan shrugged his shoulders. “I think maybe he likes Princess Sayce, and she had been hurt when he acted.”

“A factor, certainly, for it lent power to the oath, but something else.”

“Well, before Bokagul, while you had me, he had been bitten by a sullanciri and said a woman in white healed him. He has two burn scars on his neck and is always cold.”

The elder mage’s head came up. “You have examined him?”