The Queen of Death

45

Zanga screamed, and before he could think about it, Kandler drew his sword. Sallah did the same, and Burch and Xalt unlimbered their crossbows with practiced moves. Of those who had made the trip to Seren on the Phoenix, only Esprë held no weapon in her hands. Of course, Kandler reminded himself, she didn’t need one.

The Shroud of Scales fell to Zanga’s knees and she continued to keen. The dragon did not move more than to let its terrible excuse for a smile close around its vicious teeth.

“Check on her,” Kandler said to Esprë. “See if she’s hurt.”

The girl reached out for the woman, but before her hand even touched the shroud, Zanga threw back her head and sat on her haunches. “Do not fear for me,” the woman said under the shroud. “I was overcome with delight, and I fell to my knees to beg my lord for his mercy and understanding.”

“Rise, faithful one,” the dragon said. His gray eyes took in the intruders all at once. “Come in further and speak.”

Kandler fought an urge to fall on his knees himself. He’d never been in the presence of a creature so … regal.

He couldn’t think of a better word for it. By its sheer physique the dragon seemed to demand worship or at least awe. He understood, in that moment, how the Seren had come to revere such beasts.

“O great Greffykor,” Zanga said as she leaped to her feet. “I have brought to you the one you sought, as well as her traveling companions. They come to you in the greatest of need and beg for you to bestow your wisdom upon them.”

“Tell me which one it is.”

The dragon stared at each of the newcomers in turn. When Greffykor’s eyes fell on Kandler, he had a strong desire to turn and flee from the tower. Perhaps if he could reach the landing in time, he might be able to hurl himself from its edge before the dragon caught up to him—but he doubted it.

Esprë stepped forward before Zanga could speak. “Hello,” she said. Her voice did not tremble, nor did her knees shake, but Kandler could tell from the set of her shoulders that she was a fragile piece of crystal ready to shatter at the slightest touch. Despite that, she had not shirked her responsibilities here, and he could not have been prouder of her for that.

“Come forward,” Greffykor said.

The dragon shifted his weight onto his rear feet, and Esprë froze. She took a deep breath and walked toward the creature, ready as she would ever be for whatever might be coming next.

Kandler had never been entirely sure of the wisdom of coming to Argonnessen. It had just seemed like the best choice out of a handful of horrible alternatives. Now, here, standing in a dragon’s tower while Esprë walked toward the creature, every doubt he had resurfaced.

He hefted the fangblade in his hand again. He wanted to call out to the dragon, to remind him to be careful with the girl, to threaten him if he did anything to hurt her. The justicar knew, though, that the dragon would only laugh at such hollow words.

Still, Kandler wanted Esprë to know he stood behind her, no matter what danger she might face. He followed her, his footsteps echoing hers as they moved toward the dragon through the large, empty chamber.

As he walked, Kandler realized that another set of footsteps shadowed his. He glanced back to see Sallah marching behind him, the metal of her armored boots clanking hard and cold against the thick, stone floor. Her eyes shone with love and fear, and he mouthed his thanks to her.

Back near the great entrance to the tower, Burch and Xalt had spread out in opposite directions perpendicular to Esprë’s path. Each of them had their crossbows trained on the dragon, ready to loose their bolts at the first provocation. Between them, Zanga glanced back and forth at them and giggled at their foolhardiness.

When Kandler looked forward again, Esprë had stopped walking and turned to talk with him. She focused her bright blue eyes on him, and the determination he saw there reminded him so much of her mother.

“1 have to do this on my own,” she said.

Kandler opened his mouth to protest but then shut it instead. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, then stood back and smiled at her.

“Go get him,” he said.

Esprë smiled at him, a tear welling in one eye, then turned back to the dragon. She strode up to the creature, more confident this time, and presented herself.

“I am Esprë of Mardakine,” she said, “daughter of Esprina and Kandler. I bear the Mark of Death.”

Behind Kandler, Zanga screamed again. This time, the sound came not from joy but astonishment.

“So the Prophecy foretold,” Greffykor said. “Ask your questions of me.”

Esprë paused, and Kandler feared she might break down with the dragon’s full attention focused on her. When she spoke, though, her voice was proud and strong.

“How can I avoid my fate?”

The dragon spoke without hesitating, as if he had anticipated the question and formulated an answer long before Esprë spoke.

“Fate cannot be avoided, only fulfilled.”

“Then what is my fate?”

“That has not yet been written.”

Esprë pouted for a moment. “What does the Prophecy say about my fate?”

“You are doomed.”

“How?”

“That is unclear. Your thread in the great tapestry ends soon.”

“How soon?”

Kandler could hear the tremble enter Esprë’s voice. “Soon.”

He rushed forward when he saw her knees start to buckle, but she managed to right herself before he reached her. She waved him off without even turning to see him. “How?”

“That is unclear. It involves grief and pain.”

“Is there anything I can do about it?”

“No.”

Esprë’s shoulders started shuddering then, and Kandler knew she had started to cry. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he knew that she wouldn’t want that right now. First, she needed to finish this conversation.

When she spoke again, her voice was raw and low. “Is—is there anything you can do about it?”

The dragon remained silent. He stayed as still as a statue as he stared at the girl with his unblinking eyes.

“Is there anything you can do about it?” Esprë repeated.

“Ask me to kill you.”

Kandler’s heart sank.

“Wh-what?” said Esprë.

“Ask me to kill you.”

“Why?” she asked, her surprise already turning to frustration.

“As a favor.”

“A favor?” Her frustration had started to become rage.

“I will not cause you to suffer.”

Esprë gagged. It took her a moment before she could continue.

“Is that the only way? To prevent me from suffering?”

The dragon inclined its head but did not speak.

“I …” said Esprë.

“Stay as long as you like. Inform me when you reach your decision. My tower is impervious to scrying. No one will find you here.”

With that, the dragon turned and prowled back to the giant crystal. It did not look back.

Esprë walked back to Kandler. He gathered her up in a comforting hug.

“I heard everything,” he said. “That dragon doesn’t know a thing.”

“I think Zanga and her people would disagree with you.”

“Prophecies are a fraud,” Kandler said. “They’re just a collection of ancient words cast so broad that they could catch any victim in their net.”

Esprë pushed herself away from Kandler and craned her neck back to look at the crystal ball and all the strange, dragon-sized mechanisms in the room. “You can stand in a place like this and tell me Prophecy has no meaning?”

“Not to you or me,” Kandler said. “Humans are short-timers. We don’t think in terms of the grand sweep of history. Each of us is just a stitch on the ‘great tapestry’ that dragon went on about. We’re beneath their notice.”

Esprë smiled as she wiped her face. “But I’m an elf.” “You’re a young elf, and your thread has been woven mostly with humans. I think someone with eyes as large as Greffykor can make a mistake about such things.”

Kandler felt Sallah’s hand on his back as he spoke. She didn’t say a word, just squeezed his shoulder in solidarity, but it meant the world to him. He smiled at Esprë.

“Do you really mean that?” the girl said.

Kandler gave her a wry half-smile. “Honestly, I don’t know. All this stuff is over my head. All I know is that we have to make the best decisions we can with what we have. Worrying about things like fate can only help make bad predictions about us come true.”

Esprë began to respond, but the smile that had been forming on her lips melted away into a look of sheer terror as she gazed over Kandler’s shoulder.

The justicar whirled about toward the entrance, and there—framed in the entrance of Greffykor’s tower—stood a gigantic red dragon, its wings unfurled.