The Dragonbards

Chapter 16

Rebellion against the dark is the greatest gift one can make to the Graven Light—it is the gift we must try to give.

*

Teb lay barely conscious, strapped to a tilting table. His mouth was bruised and torn; he was covered with sweat and blood. His drugged mind drifted among labyrinths of terror, and of obedience. Not even when he had lain for weeks on the drowned seawall, mind tortured by the black hydrus, had he sunk to the depths he now embraced. Now he loved Quazelzeg with a raw fear. Quazelzeg was All, was everything, Teb was a part of him, Teb’s will was Quazelzeg’s will.

He had no notion that Quazelzeg had left the room, nor would it have mattered—Quazelzeg was everywhere, his immediate presence only a minute part of his total presence; his power was in everything.

Teb had no notion that a small gray owl had winged into the room high against the ceiling shadows, then come to perch on the table to watch him. He would have killed it had he seen it. The floor was scattered with the tools of Quazelzeg’s torture and with the metal tubes the dark ruler had used to siphon the drugs into him. Quazelzeg had given him a boiled derivative of cadacus, powerfully intrusive and deforming of the mind.

As Kiri and Marshy approached down the dark passage, a sickening smell made them gag—the same smell as of the caged monster. Could Quazelzeg have brought the monster here? But how, in these small chambers? Soon they stood staring, from the shadows, into the chamber where the smell was strongest.

The room was lit by candles and rich with velvet and gold. Teb was not there, but in the corner stood a small cage. Inside, pressing against the bars, was a little dirty-yellow animal with creased and folded wings and an evil, wrinkled face. They couldn’t make out what it was, but its blazing red eyes searched the doorway and the darkness where they hid. When it glanced away, they went on quickly, following Tybee’s fluttering shadow. They had left Aven posted down the passage in a storage niche.

They found Teb alone in a bare room, pale, blood-streaked, unconscious. When Kiri untied him and took his shoulders, his head lolled against her. Marshy took his feet, and they fled down the passage and into the storage alcove. His hands and face felt so cold. They hid him behind some crocks and buckets, and Kiri wrapped her cloak around him. His breathing was uneven and thin.

“What did they give him, Aven? Would cadacus make him like this?”

“Boiled cadacus would. They put a metal tube down his throat. See the bruises around his mouth?”

Kiri didn’t want to look. She spit on her handkerchief and wiped blood from his face. If his body was so damaged, what scars did his mind hold? “Can we wake him?”

“No, it must wear off.”

She took Teb’s feet, Marshy and Aven took his shoulders, and they fled past the stinking room of the yellow creature and up the dark stone passages. When they heard the shuffle of boots, they froze against the wall, laid Teb on the floor, and waited, knives and sword drawn.

Two human warriors went by along the cross passage, never looking to right or left, walking with the rigid, unbalanced gait of the drugged.

The bards were almost to the scullery when a shout sent them running and stumbling. They pushed Teb beneath a scullery table and crouched, weapons drawn, as footsteps pounded toward them.

“Albee . . .” Kiri breathed. “Albee . . .”

“Ooo—here.” The owl dropped onto her wrist.

‘Tell Iceflower—tell her, Now!”

The little owl fled, winging through the scullery and out through a crack above the shutter. Feet pounded by them, and more toward the main door, some so close Kiri could have tripped the dark soldiers. Suddenly a dragon’s scream filled the palace, echoing from the courtyard, and confused shouting began—Iceflower had begun her act. Kiri slipped to the scullery door to look.

The courtyard was aflame with Iceflower’s breath. She was rearing, dodging swords, screaming—she twisted away from soldiers who leaped at her head, trying to throw ropes over her. All attention was on the dragonling. Kiri grabbed Teb’s legs; they pulled him from under the table, fled into the shadows of the courtyard, and ran stumbling along the dark wall. They made for the blackest corner, nearly knocked down by milling soldiers backing away from Iceflower. Behind them, Quazelzeg had appeared in the main doorway, shouting, “Get the nets—get the nets on it!” Kiri was terrified he would see them.

Suddenly white fury dropped out of the sky as Seastrider dove, spitting flame, crushing soldiers. She banked to Kiri, took Teb in her mouth, and shoved him onto her back. Marshy climbed up to tuck Teb’s legs into the harness. In the center of the yard, Iceflower knocked chains away and melted them, burning soldiers—but a captain saw Teb.

“The bard’s escaping! Get the bard!” The soldiers abandoned Iceflower and charged Seastrider.

“No!” Quazelzeg roared. “Forget the bard! The bard is mine now! Catch the dragon—I want the dragon!”

As the dark soldiers turned back to circle Iceflower, Seastrider lifted clear. Kiri grabbed Aven’s hand, and they ran for the slave cage. “The girl first,” Kiri said. “Get the girl!”

Windcaller dropped down out of the sky to them as the slave children swarmed around the gate. When Kiri flung the gate open, she saw the bard girl. The bolder children surged out, and the bard girl’s eyes met Kiri’s. She was pressing forward three timid, confused children, but they fought her, backing and staring. Aven moved to help her, and together they herded the children toward Windcaller, pushing and dragging.

“Don’t be afraid,” the bard girl begged. “It’s a singing dragon! She’ll free us.” But the three children balked and turned back.

“She won’t hurt you!” Kiri cried. “She’ll carry you to safety. Go to her!” She lifted one and pushed him up onto Windcaller. “She’s a singing dragon, she won’t hurt you!”

They got ten of the boldest onto Windcaller’s back, Aven and the bard girl pushing the last ones up as the big dragon lifted. In the center of the courtyard, Iceflower was bleeding badly but she thrashed and roared, teasing and distracting the soldiers.

Seastrider returned and Marshy slid down, panting, “Tebriel is safe on the barge.” As they pushed children onto Seastrider’s back, they saw soldiers poised on the wall above Iceflower, spreading a net.

“Heave . . .

“Now!”

The net fell over the fighting young dragon in pale folds.

“Tighter—pull it tighter!”

Iceflower plunged and flamed, burning net, burning soldiers, as Windcaller returned.

It was all Kiri and Aven and the girl could do to get the last children mounted. Where was Marshy? Then Kiri saw him in the center of the courtyard, clinging to Iceflower, both of them tangled in the net. Kiri swung onto Windcaller’s back behind a tangle of children, and Windcaller sped at the soldiers, blasting flame. Seastrider, loaded with children, dropped to fight beside her.

The dragons cut the net away, Marshy scrambled onto Iceflower’s back, and the three dragons lifted, Iceflower limping in flight, the big dragons heavy and slow with the weight of the children. They made for the cadacus field as soldiers with torches stormed out the gate.

While Seastrider and Iceflower circled, Windcaller dropped to the oak, and Kiri reached in. “Quickly, come on. Neeno, Afeena. Hurry.”

Tybee and Albee swept out to her shoulder. Afeena and Neeno crept into her hand as torches appeared, coming fast. She tucked the two owls into her tunic. The dragons pulled for the sky, fighting to lift themselves above the treetops.

High up in cloud, Kiri felt the child behind her relax against her. The pounding of her own heart eased. She felt like screaming with relief. She looked across at Iceflower. The poor dragonling was fighting the wind instead of using it, breeching across it in weak, uneven struggle. It won’t be long, Kiri said. It isn’t far to the barge. You were very brave—you did a fine job, both of you.

She could feel Marshy’s pride in the dragonling and his shivering relief that they were out of there. She could feel Aven’s wonder as the little boy looked down through the night sky. Now that they were away, the bard girl seemed strangely remote. They were just over the lights of Lashtel’s harbor when Kiri remembered what Teb had intended to do. “Drop!” she cried. “Circle, drop down!”