The Queen of Death

53

“What do you mean no?” Kandler said. He couldn t believe he had heard the word come from Esprë’s mouth.

“Just what I said.” The set of the young elf’s jaw reminded Kandler of her mother at that instant. “I’m not going to run any more, not if it means letting everyone I care about get killed.” Kandler glanced up at the silver dragon looming over him. The creature sat there on his haunches, rubbing his injured eye with a long-taloned claw. Burch’s bolt hadn’t done any real harm to the dragon, just annoyed it.

The justicar grabbed his daughter by the shoulders. “You can’t throw your life away. Every one of us is ready to die for you.”

“Which is exactly the problem,” said Esprë. “I don’t want any of you to do that.”

Kandler gaped at the girl as he stared defiantly at him. “You’re in shock,” he said. “I’m half in shock myself.”

“No,” Esprë said, and Kandler found himself starting to hate the word. “I’m not. I’m seeing things clearly for the first time.” She reached up and held Kandler by the chin. “You need to let me go.”

Kandler felt like his guts might melt out of him. He grabbed her hand and held it tight. “After all we’ve done to take care of you, there’s no way I’m going to let you throw your life away.”

The justicar heard the shifting of the dragon’s massive bulk behind him. The fact that the creature had yet to turn him into a bloody paste was good, but it also meant that Greffykor had decided to watch this argument with Esprë to see who might win. If Kandler failed, the dragon would have no need to kill him.

Which, of course, was Esprë’s point.

“Do you think you’re old enough to make this kind of decision?” Kandler asked.

Esprë’s eyes flared. “It’s time to quit using that argument against me,” she said. “I’m older than you.”

“But still not full grown.” Kandler pointedly looked down at the girl. He knew he was grasping at ghosts here, but it was all he had left. “When your mother and I got married, I swore to her—”

“ ‘That I would always protect you.’ I know. I’ve heard it a million times, but answer me this, Kandler. When did you think that duty would end?”

“Never!” The word surprised Kandler as it leaped from his lips, but he knew it to be the truth.

He’d thought that he would act as aging father to Esprë constant childhood until the day someone slid him into his grave. The idea that she might somehow mature then leave him had failed to enter his mind.

Esprë steamed at Kandler. As she did, he could feel the dragon move behind him. No matter how silently the creature shifted about, he displaced the air around him so much that the justicar could feel it caress his bare neck.

“It ends now,” Esprë said. “I don’t care about the dragonmark any more. I never really did. I didn’t want this damned thing on my back, and it seems like there’s only one way for this torture my life has become to end.”

“I’m not letting you give up on me.”

“I’m not running from my fate,” Esprë said, a wry grin twisting her lips. “I’m embracing it. From the moment that dragonmark appeared on my skin, I was doomed. At least this way I get to choose the how and the why.

“I don’t want to be killed like a trapped rat,” she said. “I want to go out there on my own two feet and tell that bitch of a dragon just what I think of her.”

Kandler nodded as he tried to collect himself. “I understand how you feel,” he said. “I really do. There’s something noble in what you’d like to do.”

“But what?”

“But this is no time for nobility.”

Esprë laughed. “It’s the perfect time.”

“I’m not going to let you do this,” Kandler said.

Esprë peered up at the justicar, tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t make me do it,” she said.

It took Kandler a moment to understand what the girl meant. Then he glanced down at her hands and saw them glowing black.

Kandler felt his heart stop, just for an instant. “Don’t,” he said in a soft voice.

Esprë blinked away the tears, and the blackness grew until Kandler could see it running up and down her arms too. He told himself that she would never hurt him, but he’d never seen her like this before.

“Think about this,” the justicar said. “You’d kill me to save my life? You’re letting your emotions rule you. Use your head.”

“I—I won’t kill you,” Esprë said. “I just want stop you from stopping me. Just let me by. Greffykor will take me to the queen, and this will be all over.”

Kandler looked back over his shoulder at the dragon looming over him. The creature stopped rubbing his eyes and gave him what he probably thought was an understanding smile. The dragon’s breath smelled like ancient ice.

As Kandler brought his head back around, his gaze flicked toward Burch. The shifter had reloaded his crossbow, and he stood with the weapon aimed at Greffykor’s teeth.

Kandler opened his mouth to say, “No,” one more time. He’d keep repeating it to Esprë for as long as it took to sink in.

No matter how hardheaded she insisted on being about it, he would never allow her to sacrifice herself for him. That was the role of the parent, not the child.

Before he could explain all this, though, Sallah screamed in the chamber above.

“We don’t have time to argue about this now,” Kandler told Esprë.

The girl reached out to put a hand on Kandler, but seeing the black glow still on her fingers he pulled his arm away. “If you leave to help her, I’ll surrender myself to Greffykor,” she said.

Kandler hesitated. He couldn’t let Esprë give herself up to the silver dragon. To do so would be certain death for her, but he couldn’t just wait and listen while the red dragon made Sallah the first victim of a murderous rampage.

Something rumbled in Greffykor’s chest, and it sounded like the thunder of an approaching storm. “You should listen to the girl,” he said.

Kandler spun on the dragon. “You’re just worried about your damned observatory.” He raised his sword to strike. He refused to give Esprë up without a fight.

Burch’s crossbow twanged, and a bolt whizzed past Kandler’s shoulder. The dragon raised its snout, and the bolt glanced off his teeth. Then the creature pursed his lips and blew.

A blast of arctic air burst between the dragon’s teeth. Kandler dodged to the side to avoid it, and it passed straight over his head in a white cone of wind.

The air above the justicar froze. Snowflakes crystallized out of nowhere and cascaded down onto his face. The dragon’s breath missed him, though, and the snowflakes melted as they touched down on his skin.

Kandler rolled to his feet and glanced behind him. He saw that he hadn’t been the dragon’s target after all.

A frost-rimed Burch knelt on the floor, curled around his knees, his empty crossbow on the floor beside him. The frozen weapon had broken when it struck the hard, stone floor, its bow snapped in half.

At first, Kandler thought his friend might be dead. Then he heard the chattering of the shifter’s teeth and saw him shivering as his body fought the dreadful cold.

Kandler took a half step back and prepared to launch himself at the dragon. It was a hopeless fight, he knew, but he hoped that he might be able to at least give the beast some sort of scar to remember him by.

Then something icy seized the justicar’s sword arm. He yelped in surprise, and that emotion turned to horror as he saw Esprë’s slim fingers there on his forearm, her hands glowing black.

Kandler tried to pull away from the girl, but his limbs refused to respond. The power of Esprë’s dragonmark had paralyzed him. There was nothing he could do now but wait for his daughter to end his life.

From somewhere above, Kandler heard Sallah scream again.