James Wyatt - Dragon forge

“It’s simply a matter of untangling the knots, Lady. I find it quite intuitive.”

“I require a demonstration.”

Gaven frowned at her. Ashara was always kind and mild with Cart, but her manner with Gaven, and now with Aunn, could be curt. Imperious-given her position in the House, she was used to issuing commands and having them obeyed. She had to remember that she was not in charge of this group, he thought.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Gaven said. “I’ve seen Aunn do-”

Aunn interrupted. “It’s all right, Gaven. I’ll give a demonstration.” He made a small bow toward Ashara. “Would you care to name the task?”

“Cart, would you let Aunn borrow your axe, please?”

Cart hefted his axe and passed it to Aunn, who looked at Ashara expectantly.

“Do your best,” she said. “Prepare it for the battle ahead.”

Aunn closed his eyes and placed his hand flat on the blade. A smile danced at the corner of his mouth. Gaven watched him carefully but couldn’t make sense of what he was doing. He ran a finger down the edge, ran his hand down the haft, traced twisting runes on the head with two fingertips. After a long moment, he opened his eyes, let out his breath, and handed the axe to Ashara.

As soon as her hand touched the weapon, Ashara’s eyes shot open wide. She examined the axe for only a few heartbeats, then handed it back to Cart.

“This will serve you well,” she said. Turning her eyes back to Aunn, she returned his bow. “Your skill is at least the equal of mine. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Now it was Aunn’s turn to look surprised. “That is high praise.”

“Yes, it is. Now let’s get to work on the rest of our preparations.”

Gaven’s sword was next, and when Aunn handed it back he could feel it sing in his hand, longing for the battle ahead. While Aunn worked on the sword, Ashara handled Aunn’s mace, and then she put her hands on Gaven’s back, weaving magic into his armor.

An ache fell on Gaven’s heart, thinking of Rienne’s hand on his back, the touch that always calmed and soothed him. Where was she? Then he thought of her bitter words on the Sea Tiger: “I’ll cover your back. I hope you can spare a thought to cover mine.” Did she still hold that bitterness in her heart? Did she think he’d simply abandoned her in Rav Magar, forgetting to cover her back once again? Facing Malathar would have been so much easier, he realized, with Rienne fighting beside him.

On Jordhan’s ship, they had talked about the Prophecy, about the Time Between that was just beginning. Now it appeared the Time Between had reached its end. The fleeting time it took for the hourglass of history to reverse itself was over, or would soon be. The Time of the Dragon Below was beginning, and he had no more insight into what the future held than he had on the Sea Tiger. The Blasphemer’s legions… Who was the Blasphemer? Malathar?

Gaven stared at the ground between his feet as Ashara finished her work.

I’m lost without you, Ree, he thought.

Then the preparations were complete, and Gaven led the way back to the Dragon Forge.

The dragon and the soldiers who had fenced them into the worgs’ temple hadn’t returned, so they approached the forge the same way Gaven, Cart, and Ashara had fled it. They squeezed between the rock and the blue crystal, and worked their way slowly through the tunnel.

You walk boldly to your doom.

It was the merest whisper at the back of Gaven’s mind, but he felt it gnaw at his resolve like a rat. Darkness stalked through the crystal, shadowing his movements.

You think to stand before a power that was already great when Karrn the Conqueror took his first infant steps.

The Keeper of Secrets, that darkness was called, and the Messenger strained to keep it bound. Gaven tried to feel the presence of the Messenger, some shred of good or hope left in the crystal, but he felt only the hatred of the other.

Malathar the Damned will consume your body and annihilate your soul.

Gaven looked back at Ashara and Aunn and saw a grimness on each of their faces. Cart’s steps were heavy and his head hung low. All of them heard the Keeper of Secrets. All of them were wrestling with doubt and despair.

“It lies,” Gaven said. His voice sounded muffled in his own ears, as though he were calling to his companions through a thick fog. They looked up at him as though lost in that same fog, their eyes distant and distracted.

“It lies,” he repeated. “Truth would burn its tongue. It’s the Keeper of Secrets.”

Aunn murmured something, perhaps a vague echo of the warning he’d repeated several times in their camp.

“It’s trying to sow despair,” Cart said.

“It’s very good at it,” Ashara said.

“Fight it! It speaks nothing but lies.”

Gaven pressed forward, trusting the others to follow. If they could just escape the tunnel, he felt sure, the despair would ease.

You were the Storm Dragon. You bore the touch of Siberys. Now what are you? Nothing. Just another would-be hero marching to certain death.

I was the Storm Dragon, Gaven thought. Is it possible that I’m not anymore? Was my destiny stripped from me as well? Your destiny is to die in Malathar’s claws. I am player and playwright. I will decide my own destiny.

Malathar will decide, and you will die.

Gaven’s voice sounded faint against the fog in Aunn’s mind, as he called back some warning over his shoulder. Another voice was trying to drown Gaven’s out-the harsh whisper of the evil held within the crystal. It grated against his ears but didn’t break through into his consciousness.

All he heard was a velvet hush of words, soft and quiet and yet still more powerful than either Gaven’s shout or the Secret Keeper’s rasp.

He will soon be free. You must stop him.

“How can I stop him?” Aunn murmured.

Be not afraid. I will be with you.

Gaven plunged ahead through the tunnel, and Aunn followed as fast as he could. It felt like walking through water-the air was thick with the warring energies of the two spirits. He closed his eyes, and he saw himself in a raging torrent, power churning out toward the Dragon Forge, splashing and foaming against rocks that strained feebly to hold it back. The end of the tunnel came into view, visible to Aunn’s senses as a lattice spidering out from a central point, where a blade, radiant with powerful magic, was thrust into the stone. Coiled around the blade was a shining silver corona. Aunn opened his eyes with a start. Distorted through the crystal, he could just make out the silver torc he’d taken from Dania’s body.

Gaven squeezed and stumbled out of the tunnel and down the short jump to the canyon floor, and Aunn followed. He had expected his mind and his ears to clear once he left the tunnel, but the steam and flames of the Dragon Forge just added a sinister drone to the cacophony. He turned back to the crystal as Ashara, already through the gap, helped Cart squeeze out, and he closed his eyes again to see the intricate weave of magic that fueled the Dragon Forge.

Ashara and then Cart dropped to the ground beside him, and he turned to Ashara.

“It’s incredible,” he breathed. “I’ve never seen anything-”

Cart cut him off. “On your guard!”

Aunn whirled. A sudden wind kicked dust and gravel up into the air as a huge shadow fell across the canyon. He looked up, and laid eyes for the first time on Malathar the Damned.

“Into the Forge!” Gaven shouted. He ran without glancing back at the others, but then Rienne’s voice rang in his mind again. “I hope you can spare a thought to cover mine.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder as he ran.

Cart and Ashara were right behind him, but Aunn seemed paralyzed, his gaze fixed on the dragon-king. “Aunn!” he called, but the changeling didn’t move.