Dave Smeds - The Schemes of Dragons

"What do you mean?"

"Think of what might happen to the world if an adept as powerful as Alemar Dragonslayer were set loose in it. Your ancestor changed the face of the civilized world."

Keron nodded. "That's true. But Alemar had the help of his sister, who by all accounts was nearly as powerful as he. And the two of them lived an incredible number of years. They had already lived more than a normal lifetime before they killed Faroc and Triss. To build Elandris required centuries more. No sorcerer since that time has learned how to stretch his years over such a long span."

"Don't remind me," Obo said.

Keron frowned. The skin on the back of Obo's hands and on his temple had thinned almost to translucence. Dark purple veins showed through. His gait wobbled. The last three years had not been kind to the wizard. It pained the king, after losing so many comrades to the war, to have nature snatching another away.

"There is a master in Acalon known to be almost two hundred years old," Obo mused. "But he has dedicated his career to longevity spells and elixirs. You have a point. Toren has limits, if for no other reason than that his talent was stunted in childhood. And this speculation may be moot. He may die fighting Gloroc."

"And will he be willing to fight for us?"

They came to the portal of the dome. Obo paused. "Yes. I think he will. Not that he will be eager, but at this point he has little to gain by refusing. I pray we are not leading him to suicide."

They crossed the threshold. Janna waited in one of her divans. She stood.

"Welcome, son of Alemar," the high priestess called. "The goddess awaits you." She gestured at the opening in the floor. The stairs beckoned him.

Keron sighed. Even after three years of alliance and a half dozen visits, an audience with Struth intimidated him. Obo hung back. "Aren't you coming?" the king asked.

"No. I need to rest." The wizard turned and waddled away, spine bent. A dagger of melancholy nicked Keron in the chest. He stroked his waist, but the belt was not there to comfort him.

Janna waited calmly, as alluring as he had always found her to be. The sea vista outside the dome's walls reminded him of his home. He wished he could linger, but he sighed again and descended into the blue werelight of the passageway.

"What word from the emperor?" Struth boomed.

Keron waited near the base of the stairs, where the speaker's great bulk did not seem to loom quite so high. "He has agreed to send his army. He has recognized that Gloroc poses a threat to the commonwealth. The muster has already begun. The battalions will be led by the emperor's second son, Fanhar."

"An excellent choice."

"Yes. A level-headed young man. He seems willing to put himself completely at my disposal, and stay out of the way when necessary. I couldn't have asked for a better field commander. He is very unlike his father."

"The prince is a bastard," Struth said. "The emperor is sterile. All his children are the result of his wife's infidelity."

Keron did not ask how Struth knew, but he had no doubt it was the truth. "Then I admire the lady's taste. She chose the right stud," he commented dryly.

"The queen is a remarkable woman. I went to some lengths to maneuver her into the emperor's bed, some thirty years ago. It is no accident that the weight of the Calinin Empire has tipped in our favor."

"I did not assume that it was. The emperor acted like a man under certain… pressures. Though it did not strike me as coming from the queen."

"It came from all quarters. My temples have been busy. How soon will you be ready to march?"

"I'll begin the offensive as soon as Fanhar and his army arrive in Tazh Tah. We have the strength to push Gloroc's forces back to the coast. If Toren succeeds, I'll seize ships and take the fight back to Elandris."

"Good. Once the usurper is dead, the dynasty of Alemar must show its fitness to rule. Gloroc's generals and sorcerers are an ambitious lot."

"I'll gladly fight his men. Without a dragon to bolster their confidence, they can be daunted." Keron wiped sweat from his eyebrows, though the cold and clammy chamber provided little reason to perspire.

"Indeed. I will be happy to let you. Gloroc is all I care about. Once he is dead my duty will be fulfilled. I promised the Dragonslayer only that I would help destroy the children of Faroc and Triss."

"But you will continue to aid us?" Keron asked quickly.

"Of course. I may decide to erect a temple in Elandris. But my support will not be on the level of finding candidates for the gauntlets, and hiding them from skilled searchers. I am weary. It is time for the game to end. I have searched the surface of Tanagaran and there are no more people alive with the qualities we need. Toren must succeed."

"And do you think he will?"

For the first time in his life, Keron thought he detected a shrug out of Struth. "He must."

Keron's joints ached. His muscles protested each time he did as little as trade his weight from one foot to the other. An end to the game? That seemed an incredible luxury. Keron could not see an end, only the part he must play, and that burdened him like a cloak laced with gold and lead.

"How soon will Toren be ready, assuming he agrees to the mission?" the king asked.

"Janna will give him his final test in three days. By the time you have rejoined Prince Val and your subjects, my messenger will have caught up with you with the news."

Keron sighed. Not the end of the game, but perhaps the conclusion of endless preparations. In a few weeks, successful candidate or not, the campaign would begin. Keron's shoulders drooped.

"Do you have more questions of me?" Struth asked after a silence.

"Not now," Keron said. "Perhaps I will think of more later today. A request, however. I would like to see my ancestors."

"Certainly." Struth's giant eyes blinked, and suddenly a narrow doorway appeared in the wall behind Keron. The king turned and without a word strode across the threshold.

The doorway opened out into a sepulcher. The cerulean tones of the werelight shifted to emerald. The greenish glow reflected off two sarcophagi in the center of the chamber. Pale fungus streaked the stone surface of the coffins. A body lay in each, visible through transparent vartham covers.

Embalming and the sorceries within the sarcophagi preserved the corpses in an almost lifelike state. Only a waxy stiffness in the skin betrayed that they were dead, not merely asleep. On the left rested a woman. She was slender, short, girlishly figured, attired in an exquisite satin gown. A thick sprawl of jet black hair pillowed her head. The first crinkle of age showed in the corners of her closed eyes and the creases of her lips. The wilting of a flower, Keron thought. By rights the body should have resembled that of a crone, since she had died of old age.

In the other coffin lay a short, spare man. His hair matched his companion's, except for a dusting of white at both temples. Again, only slight signs of age marred otherwise youthful features. Plush silk upholstery lined both sarcophagi, cradling the occupants in finery as rich as their garments, beds fit for the highest royalty.

Both resembled Keron as if they were his parents.

The king tried to swallow, but his parched throat refused. He had had the same reaction the first time that he had viewed these remains of Alemar Dragonslayer and his sister Miranda. The latter particularly affected him, since he could not help but recall the phantom of her he had seen at her oracle in Firsthold, when she had told him of the existence of the talismans of Setan, and he had sent his twin children to the Eastern Deserts in search of them. She had seemed so alive then.

How much easier his burden would be now, had the sorcerers been able to cheat time another millennium. How long had they lived? Seven centuries at least, before the years bore them down at last and they hid here, with Struth, where Gloroc could not find their bodies and violate their repose as he had that of the line of Elandri kings housed in the royal crypts in Firsthold. Alemar the Great could have taken up the gauntlets and defeated Gloroc upon his first appearance, before the Dragon could conquer as much as one city.