When Dragons Rage

74

The appearance of the sullanciri, the revelation of Rym Ramoch as a puppet, the spear, the sharp war cry of a furious Gyrkyme, the ruby’s glittering arc as it spun through the air, and Will’s dive all left Kerrigan stunned mindless. He saw Will grab the Truestone, spin, and throw it. His eyes followed the stone’s arc and saw the Spritha’s flight intersect it. He only caught the explosion of flame in the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t look. He couldn’t confirm that the new fire in that lake was Will. He opened his mouth to shout, to scream, to do anything, but he couldn’t breathe.

Then he saw Qwc flailing and falling. Kerrigan’s left hand went out and triggered a spell. He caught the Spritha softly, then whisked him over to Alexia, redoubling the spell to restrain her from lunging after Will.

Back above him, on the ledge, Nefrai-laysh snarled in anger. “Oh, you can all be dragon-hearted, but my wrath shall not be thwarted!” He gestured with his right hand, and from it burst a golden sphere the size of a ripe melon with little tendrils of golden lightning racing around its surface. It shot forward, piercing the wall, and veered straight for the blue.

The blue snorted, and a magickal shield smashed the spell away toward the grey. With a flick of a claw, the grey sent it spinning farther into the Congress Chamber. The dragons, like adults marveling at a child’s invention, invoked spells to send the sullanciri’s attack skittering between them. The spell lost none of its lethal fury, but this seemed only to amuse the dragons.

Lombo let go of an explosive roar and charged the cliff beneath Nefrai-laysh. In two huge bounds he reached it, then scaled it fast and furiously. The sullanciri half turned to face the Panqui, but the haft of the spear caught on the edge of the magickal doorway. A spell began to gather in his right hand, but before Nefrai-laysh could finish the casting, Lombo tackled him, sinking fangs into his left shoulder. Both of them tumbled into the portal, which snapped shut, trimming head and butt from the spear, and shaving a tuft of black hair from the tip of Lombo’s tail.

The sullanciri’s disappearance did not affect the spell, which the dragons still batted back and forth. Then the golden orb swerved straight up, slamming hard into the apex of the roof arch and spitting rock everywhere. It burned its way up higher, golden sparks drizzling down through the hole. Then a huge gout of red-gold fire shot down and touched the surface of the lake. The spell’s detonation shook the entire mountain, spilling everyone to the landing save for Crow and Alexia, who cradled Qwc between them.

Above the dragons, red cracks spiderwebbed through the ceiling. Chunks of stone began to fall, splashing into the molten lake. Hot rock splattered the shielding spell and dripped down like rain. Some stones crashed into the rocky pedestals, and one dragon spilled from his perch. His scrabbling claws gouged stone, but they found no purchase and he pitched screaming into the liquid rock.

His screams defied translation, yet their meaning could not be mistaken.

Dragons breathed and gestured. Wave after wave of magick flowed out and up, bolstering the roof, but rock still fell. Tremors shook the ground. The entire mountain was coming down and, as powerful as the dragons and their magick were, not even they could prevent that.

“Kerrigan!”

The mage looked over at Crow. The man had drawn his sword and stood over Alexia. Kerrigan shook his head. “I can’t do anything! The whole mountain is falling in.”

Crow pointed his sword toward the hole the sullanciri‘s spell had created. “Get this sword in there. Now!” He tossed the blade into the air. “Go, Tsamoc. The promise will be completed!”

Kerrigan reached out with a spell and plucked the sword from the air. He drove it past the shield and saw the metal begin to glow. The gem set in the forte was also glowing, with opalescent highlights pulsing. It almost seemed as if the gem was shifting and melting, for the closer it got to the hole, the larger and more solid its light appeared.

As the blade ascended into the hole, the gem exploded into a round, flat disk, then it curved down into a milk-white bowl alive with flashing lights. In places, the bowl twisted as more rock fell, but no stone pierced it. Then the bowl expanded, pressing up against the shattered ceiling.

The light bled up into the mountain, leaving the chamber as dark. Above, the rumbling ceased and the earth stilled itself. Then the light reappeared, pouring down through the central hole. Eight luminescent lines shot out. Two ran down the original arch, while the other six ran at angles to it. Rock cracked ahead of them, as if they were plows splitting crusty earth, then stone oozed out through the furrows. It swelled like rising bread, then solidified.

Four gleaming opal arches now supported the Congress Chamber’s vaulted ceiling. And there, at their heart, an angular, eight-sided cone of rock pointed down. In it, Kerrigan saw something moving, something vaguely manlike.

He shook his head. “What was that?”

Crow swallowed hard and swiped a tear from his left cheek. “The weirun of a bridge in Okrannel. It destroyed itself to stop Chytrine’s marauders, but only after we promised to let it fight against her. A friend bound it into my sword, and we did wonderful things together. This, however, is what it was meant for.”

Peri landed next to Alexia. “Are you all right, sister?”

“I’m not hurt.” Alexia’s face came up, with tears etched in red reflections on her cheeks. “But, Will…”

Kerrigan looked over at where Will had gone through the wall. Where he went into the lake. “He’s gone. Just gone.”

Rym Ramoch’s wooden limbs clattered as Bok collected the Truestone from Qwc and stuffed it back into his chest. The puppet clambered upright, but made no attempt to adjust the mask. The left-hand glove had come off, exposing the hand as wooden bits linked by spring-and-leather joints.

“Yes, Kerrigan Reese, your friend is gone. His sacrifice, however, will not be forgotten.”

Erlestoke dusted his hands off. “It best not be. If this has not shown you how little Chytrine can be trusted, then you walk blindly into the doom she’ll bring you.”

The grey, settled again on his pedestal, snorted. “We walk nowhere.”

“Fly, then, and the quicker into doom for it.” Erlestoke shrugged off the harness with the DragonCrown fragment. “As Will said, I’ll leave this piece here, to show you we have no desire to re-create the Crown.”

The blue’s azure eyes half closed. “Pity, for only by bringing all the parts together can the Crown finally be split asunder. When it was created, we were complicit in its making. At that time it seemed wise, but events conspired to make us question that wisdom.”

Alexia stood. “If that is true, why haven’t you collected the pieces?”

Rym opened his arms. “Complications, Princess. We knew where five of the Truestones were, as you did. Three in Fortress Draconis, one in Okrannel, and one in Jerana. There had been one on Vorquellyn, but it is lost. Of the seventh, we have no report. Without being guaranteed success in gathering them all, we chose to wait. In our reckoning, it has not been that long.”

Erlestoke frowned. “My original point stands, however. You now know that Chytrine cannot be trusted. You should help us gather all the fragments together and stop her.”

The grey curled a lip back. “Chytrine cannot be held responsible for the actions of a subordinate, especially since he was attacked here. That was a violation of our peace.”

Crow arched an eyebrow. “But Nefrai-laysh was in the act of attacking Rymramoch.”

The puppet held up a hand. “There are nuances of our ways that complicate the situation, Kedyn’s Crow. Allowing myself to be as I am now, I have placed myself in jeopardy and no dragons are compelled to save me. In fact, most here would have been pleased to see me pay for my foolishness. The Peace of the Congress Chamber did not extend to me. But the Gyrkyme’s attack on Nefrai-laysh violated that peace.”

Peri screeched defiantly. “Evil reveals itself; rules do not.”

Kerrigan looked at his mentor. “You’re saying Will died for nothing?”

“No, his death—his sacrifice—counts for much.” A cold tone entered the puppet’s voice. “I am not without influence in this assembly. And we shall not pretend, shall we, Vriisureol, that you did not lead this Gyrkyme here? Or shall we be led to believe you failed to notice her trailing in your wake?”

The Black Dragon’s mouth opened in a bit of a smile. “Why would I be concerned with something that could neither catch nor harm me?”

“Would you deny giving her magickal assistance to find this chamber? You always seek to be too subtle, Vriisureol.” Ramoch looked in Peri’s direction. “Perrine was lured here so she could intervene. While her action violated our law, Perrine did not act wholly of her own volition.”

Peri screeched again, angrily, at the Black. Vriisureol, presumably having heard her curse translated into his tongue, widened his eyes for a moment, slowly closed them.

“So, it is this way, my friends. The violation of our peace here will be used by Chytrine’s allies to justify their support of her. Conversely, Nefrai-laysh’s attempt to bring down the mountain will justify the position of those who oppose her. As those forces are currently balanced, dragonkind shall remain neutral.”

“Neutral?” Erlestoke shook his head. “She already has dragons as allies, and dracomorphs as well.”

Rym Ramoch pressed the wooden hand to the hole in his chest. “Individuals, yes, as do you. I have helped Kerrigan, and shall help him even more. Dravothrak has helped you, and Vriisureol, well, he plays his own games, but so far they have benefited you. And there are others here who will feel compelled to aid you. To most, however, you and Chytrine are in a race. Whoever amasses the majority of the Truestones first will be the side for which we shall intervene.“

The Oriosan Prince crossed his arms over his chest. “You play a dangerous game. If you support the wrong side, you will be denied the Crown. If you come into the war too late, the same thing will happen.”

The blue raised his head. “Lecture us not on politics, for that is what is being played here. While we do not all move to intervene, some of us do. The factions here who win will win much, and those who lose will lose even more.”

Kerrigan’s hands balled into fists. “But this isn’t a game. It isn’t a race. It’s a war’t People have died. Orla died. Will just… and Lombo… Who knows… ?”

Grief suddenly overtook him. His stomach shrank in on itself, and Kerrigan folded around his middle. He sank to his knees, then curled up into a ball. In his mind he saw lightning play through Orla’s guts. He watched Will burst into flames.

He wished his tears could have doused that fire, could have healed Orla’s wounds. He knew, however, that they could not—that all the tears that had ever been cried could never heal anything.

And yet, even with that realization, he could do nothing but cry.