Throne of Dragons

Godwin rose from his throne, his anger propelling him. He wasn’t sure what he would have said then, what he would have done, but he didn’t get any chance to do it, because in that moment the doors to the great hall burst open, letting in a guard who seemed to be all but holding up a serving girl. Godwin normally didn’t pay that much attention to the individual servants, but he felt sure that this was one of the ones who had gone off with Lenore, just days before.

The sight of her there was enough to make Godwin stop short, a hand of cold fear wrapping around his heart where before there had been only the heat of anger.

“Your majesty,” the guard called out. “Your majesty, there has been an attack!”

It took a second before Godwin could even speak, his fear was so great.

“What kind of attack? What happened?” he demanded. He looked over to the young woman there, who looked as though she was barely standing.

“We… we were…” She shook her head as though she could barely even bring herself to say it. “There was an inn… there were people there. King Ravin’s people…”

Now the fear inside Godwin gave way to horror.

“Lenore, where is she? Where is she?” he demanded.

“They took her,” the servant said. “They killed the guards, and they took us, and they…” The pause told Godwin everything he needed to know. “They let some of us go, they wanted us to tell you.”

“And Lenore?” Godwin asked. “What about my daughter?”

“They still have her,” the young woman said. “They said they were going to take her south, over the bridge. They’re going to give her to King Ravin.”

In that moment, nothing else mattered; not his son’s overreactions, not his son-to-be’s demands. All that mattered was the thought that another of his daughters was in danger, and this time, he wasn’t going to fail her, not like he had with Nerra.

“Summon my knights!” he called out. “Send messages to the Knights of the Spur. Summon my guards. I want every man we have gathered together! Why are you standing there? Move!”

Around him, guards and servants broke into motion, some running to send messages, some hurrying to go get weapons. For his part, Godwin stalked from the hall, heading through the castle, not caring how many followed him. He all but ran down a spiral stair, feet rattling off the well-worn stone. He passed along tapestry-lined corridors, along paths that had been worn deep into the tiled floors by generations of feet. He headed down to the armory, where a huge door of solid brass stood between the world and the weapons that the castle held, the finest work that the House of Weapons had. The guards there stepped aside to let him pass.

His armor sat on its stand, breastplate dulled with age, greaves worked with interlocking swirls. Ordinarily, Godwin would have waited for a page to help him, but now he threw it on, fastening buckles, tying stays. He knew he should be making his way to the queen’s chambers, going to tell her that another of her daughters was in danger. Right then, Godwin could have faced a thousand armies, but he couldn’t face doing that.

What he was about to face was bad enough. Lenore was in danger, had probably faced horrors that were almost beyond imagining. Even with all his armies, Godwin didn’t know if they would be in time to retrieve her, or what foes they would face in the attempt. All he knew was that he couldn’t face losing another daughter, not now.

“I will get her back,” he said aloud. “Whatever it takes, I will get my daughter back.”

CHAPTER THREE

Rodry was furious, his anger bubbling up in him the way lava might have bubbled in one of the volcanoes of the far north, hinting at worse to come. Servants rushed past him, and Rodry had to move himself carefully out of their path; he wasn’t like his brother Vars, wasn’t the kind of man who would take his frustrations out on another.

Frustrations? That wasn’t the right word when his father had just humiliated him for doing something that he should have done in the first place.

A group of his friends were approaching now, and Rodry waited for them. None of them were yet the knights they wanted to be, but at least he could depend on them to support him.

“Your father seems angry,” one of his friends, Kay, said. He sounded nervous about the whole thing.

“You’re just nervous because you’re the one who escorted the ambassador down to the border,” Mautlice said. He was the son of an earl, always good to have on a hunt, and strong with it.

“I won’t let him do anything to hurt all of you,” Rodry said. “I’ve already told him that it was down to me alone.”

“There was no need,” Seris said. He was plump and dressed in layers of velvet, always quick with a quip, but just as quick to back Rodry up.

“I appreciate that,” Rodry said. “I have two brothers who will happily dance around what they really want to say. I value people who say what they feel.”

“You seem pretty angry about all this,” Kay said.

That wasn’t a big enough word for what Rodry was feeling now. Humiliated, maybe. Frustrated that he couldn’t seem to do the right thing. Frustrated with his father, who had already sent Nerra away, who seemed to be angry with him even though he’d done the only honorable thing when it came to the ambassador, and who seemed to be determined to pander to Finnal and his family, in spite of the rumors about him.

There were days when Rodry was convinced that he would never understand politics. Why should he have to, though? A man should do the right thing, the honorable thing, and trust that those around him would do the same. He should be strong enough to protect his friends and strike down evil. Everything else was… was just playing games.

He headed in the direction of his rooms, through the maze of corridors that filled the castle, the others following in his wake. They headed up along a gallery of stained windows, each twisting the light in a different way, then through a broad receiving room filled with deep oak furniture. Rodry shoved a table aside and kept moving.

Around him, the castle was abuzz, but Rodry was angry enough to ignore that. It was probably just something to do with the wedding. Ever since his father had sent the wedding harvest off early, the castle had been scrambling to keep up.

Rodry made it to his rooms. They were more starkly functional than those of his brothers, with trunks and chests along one wall. His armor stood on a stand, spotlessly clean, cared for with all the precision he’d learned among the Knights of the Spur.

Thoughts of the order brought with it thoughts of Erin, since Commander Harr had sent messages to let the court know where she was. Rodry should have guessed that his little sister would head out to the Spur eventually, but he hadn’t, simply because it wasn’t the kind of thing that girls did.

Perhaps he should be the one to go out there and fetch her back. As a Knight of the Spur, he had the right to enter their fortress home. As Erin’s half-brother, he might be able to talk her around, or at least drag her back. At the same time though, Rodry was glad that at least one member of his family could do as they wished.

“We’ll go to the House of Weapons,” he said to the others. “Spend some time in the training rings there.”

“Again?” Kay said. “I’d rather be hunting.”

“You all say that you want to be knights someday,” Rodry said. “Well, for that, you need to be able to fight better. Maybe enough lessons with Swordmaster Wendros and you’ll even beat me.”

That would take a lot of lessons, but there was no reason not to give them some hope.

“Come on,” he said. “It will impress that maid of my sister’s you seem to be so sweet on.”

“Do you think so?” Kay asked.

“Well, he needs something to impress her,” Seris said, and the others laughed.

The group of them felt as though it was about to fall into all the familiar joking and camaraderie, not quite that of the real knights Rodry spent time with, but close enough for now, and almost enough to keep his anger in check.

Then a servant came running in.

“Your highness,” the man said. “I’ve been sent to find you. It’s about Princess Lenore.”

Instantly, Rodry spun toward the man. “What about her? What’s wrong?”

Just the servant’s tone said that something was, and whatever it was, it was bad.

“She’s been attacked,” the servant said. “King Ravin’s people are supposed to be taking her south toward one the bridges. The king is gathering all the knights. He has sent messages to the Spur.”

“Gathering knights?” Rodry said, springing toward the stand where his armor lay. “And how long will that take?”

Too long, that was the obvious answer. His father was a king, which meant that he would move slowly, gathering assent, gathering troops. Always preparing, never acting. Like with the ambassador.

“My father will waste time,” Rodry said. “He will let them get away, and if they make it south, he’ll say that my sister is lost.” He looked over to the servant. “How was Lenore even attacked? Where were Vars and his men?”

“I… no one knows for sure, your highness,” the servant said.

Meaning that Vars hadn’t been there when he should have been. Anger flashed through Rodry at that, but also guilt. He should have argued more when his father sent Vars to accompany Lenore, should have insisted on guarding her himself. He should have been there.

Well, he would be now. Rodry looked around at his friends. They were not the Knights of the Spur, but they had been on enough hunts, trained with weapons enough times. They were here, and they were all he had.

“Seris, find the others, as many as you can, and as quickly. Tell them what has happened, and tell them that I need them. Mautlice, get us horses waiting. Bribe the stable hands if you have to. Kay, get together the weapons.”

“We’re joining your father’s forces?” Kay asked.

Rodry couldn’t contain his anger then. He struck the wall beside him, and the others flinched back.

“My father won’t be fast enough!” he shouted. “A small group can move faster. No, I’m doing this myself. I’m going to go and get my sister back, and get her safe. Kay, if that girl you like is one of her servants, she’ll be in danger too. Don’t you want to help?”

“I…” Kay nodded.

“All of you,” Rodry said. “You say you want to be knights. You say you want to prove yourselves. This is how you do it. We do the things that only knights can do. We protect those who need protecting.” He looked at them, imploring them. “Please. I’m asking this not as your prince, but as your friend. Help me save my sister.”

There was no reason for them to, of course. They should go to his father’s forces, should wait to take action along with the rest. Instead, Rodry felt relief as they nodded, one by one.

“I’ll find more people,” Seris promised. “I think I saw a few down in the long gallery earlier. Maybe a few guards, or knights…”

“Halfin and Twell might come,” Rodry said. “But the knights owe their first loyalty to my father.” He paused. “I’ll not pretend that this is safe. Even if we succeed, my father might still be angry with us for what we do. But I have to do this. I can’t stand by.”

The others nodded.

“Here, let me help you with your armor,” Kay said.

Rodry threw on the chain shirt himself, but he needed his friend’s help with the straps of the breastplate and the pauldrons. The gorget and the gauntlets came next. Ordinarily, Rodry wouldn’t have ridden like this, but he didn’t want to get close to his sister’s pursuers, only to have to stop and ready his protection.

“We need to hurry,” he said. “There’s no time to lose.”

The others rushed off about the tasks that he’d set them, and Rodry readied his weapons: sword and spear, dagger and mace. He started off through the castle, and servants moved out of his way. Perhaps they sensed the anger that still boiled inside him, pushing him forward.

By the time he got down to the stables, Mautlice had already succeeded in gathering horses for them. More of his friends were already gathering round, along with half a dozen guards, so that there were perhaps twenty in their company in total. Some of them were as armored as Rodry, but others wore only light leathers or chain, as if they’d thrown on whatever they could find close at hand. Would it be enough?

It would have to be, because there was no time for more. They had to get to Lenore.

Rodry’s own horse was at the head of the line. He put a foot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle. The gates of the castle were open ahead, showing a view down into Royalsport.

Rodry looked back at his group of men. For a moment, there in the sun, they looked as though they might actually be knights. He didn’t know how they would fare against the kind of soldiers King Ravin sent, but he had to hope that they could be fast enough, could do enough, to save his sister. He drew his sword, then gestured forward with it.

“Onward!”

As the wedge of their horses rumbled into galloping motion, Rodry just hoped that they would be in time.

CHAPTER FOUR

Devin staggered back toward Royalsport, still not quite able to believe what he’d seen, what he’d found. How could he have spotted a dragon, when they had not been seen in so very long?

It was more than that, though; right then, he wasn’t even sure who he was. The dreams that had come to him had hinted that he was someone else, someone from a strange place that wasn’t the Northern Kingdom. Devin didn’t know what to think of that, didn’t know who he was meant to be. Where did what he’d done against the wolves fit into it all, too? He’d done magic, but what did that mean?

As he reached the city, his feet turned automatically on the route that would take him over the city’s many bridges, toward home. He’d gone a dozen steps through the crowds of the city before he realized that he didn’t have a home to go to, not anymore. He couldn’t go back to the House of Weapons either, because he didn’t work there anymore, so what did that leave?

He looked out over the city, caught in the mid-morning sun that made it seem as though the mists of the day before had never happened. Its thatched houses spread out between the streams that filled the city the way spider-web cracks might spread across a mirror. Devin could make out the districts, noble, then poor, then poorer, down to the spot where Devin’s home sat… his former home, he corrected himself.

The people there bustled along cobbled streets, toward the businesses in which they worked, or toward the great forms of the Houses that stood over the city. The House of Weapons was already belching smoke from its forges into the sky, while the House of Scholars sat aloof from the cacophony of the city. The House of Merchants squatted at their heart of the city’s markets, while the House of Sighs was quiet during the day, the last of the patrons from the night before already gone. The smell of the city was a mixture of smoke and sweat, the press of people impossible to ignore.

Devin looked past all of that, toward the solid, gray-walled block of the castle. Rodry would be there, and the prince might help him. Master Grey might be there, and this time Devin might be able to get answers from him. Were Princess Lenore not off on her wedding harvest, there might have been a chance to catch a glimpse of her, and the thought of that made Devin’s heart ache even though he knew he should ignore that feeling.

He set off for the castle, his slender form weaving through the crowds on the streets. Being taller than most people, he could pick his route easily enough, steering clear of the stalls that lined the side of the thoroughfares, where the press was thickest, and looking on toward the network of streams that crisscrossed the city. Devin brushed dark hair out of his eyes, wondering if the streams would be low enough at this hour to wade. He thought better of it; even if the fine clothes he’d borrowed from Sir Halfin now had mud on them from the forest, it seemed better not to encrust them with more. At least, not if he wanted to get into the castle.

Devin took the bridges instead, hurrying over one stone and wood span after another, rising up toward the castle. On another bridge, he saw a small troop of horsemen charging their way through the city, clearly in a hurry. Devin thought he caught a glimpse of Rodry at their head, but they were too far away for him to call to.

Instead, he kept going for the castle, making his way up through the wealthier districts of the city. He was used to guards giving him glances as he passed, but now it seemed that they were distracted by something. That was enough to make Devin move faster, since it seemed obvious that whatever had happened, the castle was the best chance for him to find answers.

He reached the gates of the castle and stopped in shock, because of the figure standing there. Master Grey stood in robes of white and gold, worked with mystic sigils and runes that caught the light as he moved to stare straight at Devin. He pushed back his hood, revealing his shaven head and piercing eyes.

“What’s happening?” Devin asked. “Why are people rushing around here?”

“That is not what you came here to ask about,” Master Grey said, in a tone that suggested he knew exactly what Devin had seen.

“No,” Devin admitted. “I… I was following you, and then I saw… there was a dragon…”

“You want answers,” Master Grey said. “You want to know about magic.”

Devin nodded.

“How badly?” the sorcerer asked. “Do you really want to know about something that might consume you utterly?”

Devin paused. A day or two ago, and he might have walked away at that thought. Now though… now he had nothing left to lose. No home, no family…

“I want to know,” he said.

“Come with me,” Master Grey said, turning and walking as if it were settled that Devin would follow. For once, he didn’t seem to be disappearing out of view, and Devin was so grateful for the chance to actually keep up with him that he hurried to do so, falling into step with the sorcerer as Master Grey led the way into the castle. Crowds of servants parted, moving aside for the magus.

“I… I dreamed strange things,” Devin said as he walked. “I dreamed that I wasn’t who I had always thought I was.”

Master Grey didn’t answer, just kept walking to a set of stairs heading down into the bowels of the castle. There were torches flickering there, casting shadows on stones that seemed older than the rest of the castle, smooth edged, with a hint of the mortar that held them crumbling through time.

“We’re heading down,” Devin said. “Where are we going?”

Again, he got no answer from the magus. Devin could feel frustration building within him. He stepped in front of Master Grey, determined to get some kind of reaction from him. The sorcerer stopped, looking at him until the uncomfortable weight of his gaze made Devin step aside.

“I just want some answers!” Devin insisted.

“Answers are often valuable,” Master Grey said. “But they are rarely just given to us.”

“I just want to make sense of the things that I saw,” Devin said. “I know I was born on the dragon moon. I know my parents aren’t my parents.”

“Dangerous things to say,” Master Grey said. “Maybe even dangerous things to know.”

“And you’re not going to explain any of it,” Devin guessed. “Why did you even meet me at the gate if you’re not going to explain things?”

“Because you have a task to perform,” Master Grey said. “One that may prove important in the days to come.”

“What task?” Devin said.

They reached a door of dark oak, bound with iron, and Master Grey pushed it open, revealing a cavernous space with a vaulted roof, a window above letting in a shaft of light that spread into a bright circle on a floor of black and white tiles. The room had been equipped with a forge, a smelter, an anvil, and what seemed to Devin like every tool anyone could ever need to work with metal, arranged on racks of blackened iron.

That part was strange enough, but there were symbols worked into every surface, symbols that reminded Devin of those on Master Grey’s robes.

“You’ve put magic into all this?” he asked.

To his surprise, Master Grey shook his head. “This is not to bring magic into this, but to contain it when you use it.”

“And how do I do that?” Devin said.

Even Master Grey’s smile was enigmatic, impossible to decipher fully. “You already know what summoning magic feels like. You just need to guide it into the metal as you work.”

“And how do I do that?” Devin repeated.

“You will learn,” Master Grey assured him. He gestured to the forge. “You will need to, because star metal will not respond just to heat or the hammer.”

Devin looked over to where the star metal ore sat waiting by the smelter. He walked over to it, touching it, feeling the sensation of something running from him to it; something he couldn’t place, still didn’t fully understand.

“It responds to you,” Master Grey said. He moved to stand by the wall. “Now you need to control that response. Magic is dangerous. My spells will contain it, but were you to get this badly wrong… the metal might consume you.”

“Consume me?” Devin repeated. Iron and steel felt a long way away, suddenly.

“The metal soaks in magic. It needs it to shape it, but pour too much in, and you might lose yourself,” Master Grey said. “Find your magic, boy. Channel it; use it to shape the metal as you work it. Start the smelter.”

Devin wanted to argue, but this was the task that had been set for him. He needed to do this if he was going to earn his place within the castle. He needed to hand the sword to the king… or to Rodry. Either way, he would need to craft it first.

He built up the fire for the smelter, wood first, then charcoal, pumping the bellows, building the heat. He watched the flames, waiting for them to be the correct color to tell him that they were hot enough.

“More than heat, boy,” Master Grey reminded him.

Devin reached inside himself, trying to find the power that had come out so readily in the valley. It had responded to the metal, so Devin touched a piece of the ore, concentrating on that feeling. He could feel it, he could feel it. He tried to push that feeling into the smelter, into the flames…

He barely threw himself flat in time as flames leapt from it, scorching past him in a way that brought back the vision he’d had of the dragon. Even as he struck the flagstones of the floor, Devin saw the protections Master Grey had woven flare into life to absorb the unleashed power.

“I…” Devin stood on unsteady legs. “I can’t do this.”

“You can, and you will. Patience.”

Devin wasn’t feeling patient right then, especially not when he could hear the sounds of people shouting in the castle beyond, almost as loud as if the place were under attack.

“What is going on out there?” Devin asked.

“That is not relevant to your part in this,” Master Grey said.

“I want to know,” Devin said. He stood back. “What are you keeping from me?”

“There are many things I know that you do not,” Master Grey pointed out.

Devin started toward the door. “I’ll find out myself.”

“Princess Lenore has been taken by King Ravin’s men,” Master Grey said, in tones that held sympathy, but of a detached kind, as if none of this truly touched him. “Prince Rodry has already ridden to rescue her, while her father is gathering men to march on the bridges to the south.”

Devin felt as though his heart had stopped in his chest in that instant. Lenore was in danger? Just the thought of it was enough to make him want to go rushing after her, ready to save her. He didn’t know where the feeling came from, but it was there, and he knew that he couldn’t stand by while she was in danger.

“I need to go join the king’s forces,” he said, starting for the door again.

Master Grey moved in front of him. “And do what?”

“I could… I could help fight to get her back.”

“And do you think there aren’t enough men rushing to do that?” Master Grey replied. “Prince Rodry has his… friends. The king has his knights and his guards. You can do nothing by going with them except bring death upon yourself.”