Doom of the Dragon (39 page)

As for the stormhold, he would sooner take a spear to the gut than have anything to do with wizards or magic, and now he was forced to deal with both.

“The priests are assembled, sir,” Eolus reported.

Raegar lowered the spyglass and glanced at the priests wearing their heavy robes in the hot sun, undoubtedly broiling.

“We're in no hurry,” he said, and he turned to one of his servants. “Bring me wine and something to eat.”

Servants went running. Slaves brought out a chair and a small table. Raegar ate and drank at his leisure while the priests sweated and his soldiers grinned. Finally, Raegar rose to his feet, drank the remainder of the wine, then handed the goblet to a slave and announced loudly that everyone was to join him in prayer.

“Revered Aelon,” Raegar bellowed, shouting at the heavens, “we ask that you assist us to remove the magical spells so that we may safely enter the city of Tsa Kerestra.” Thinking a little flattery would not be amiss, he added, “We want all the world to fear you, great Aelon.”

Dressed in his finest armor, purple cape, and the royal crown, and escorted by his guard, elite troops, and a hundred priests of Aelon, Raegar undertook the long climb up Gray Beak to the stormhold.

 

CHAPTER

33

The march revived Raegar's spirits. He listened with pleasure to the rhythmic tramping of feet, the familiar jingle and rattle of armor, the flapping of the flags in the wind. He took confidence in the discipline and resolution of his men, and when he saw one of the men glancing askance at the storm clouds roiling above the plateau to the north, Raegar grinned.

“These wizards are impotent old men, shaking their canes at us and mumbling curses through toothless gums,” Raegar said loudly, making a rude gesture at the clouds.

The troops cheered and word spread, as Raegar had known it would. His soldiers loved him.

He arrived at the stormhold to find that his troops had cordoned off the building. The soldiers, resplendent in their armor, stood at attention in well-disciplined order. The ancient stone tower with its crumbling walls did not look particularly daunting. Eolus assured him that, as he had ordered, no man had entered. Having heard the rumors about the lethal magicks inside, no one had been tempted.

“The men have seen nothing, heard nothing, sir,” said Eolus. “The stormhold appears to be deserted.”

“No sign of that traitor Baldev?” Raegar asked in a low voice.

“No, sir,” said Eolus.

Raegar grunted. He'd ordered the wizard to be here, but hadn't really expected the arrogant bastard to obey. Damn all wizards to hell anyway.

“If the blasted place is guarded by deadly magicks, the wizards don't need anyone inside,” Raegar remarked.

“True, sir,” said Eolus. “Should we enter now?”

“We have to wait for the priests. And I've told you before, Commander, that I'm going in alone,” Raegar added.

“I wish you would reconsider, sir,” said Eolus earnestly.

The priests of Aelon eventually came straggling up the cliff, hot and tired and grumbling after the long hike. They formed a circle around the stormhold, preparing to offer up their prayers to Aelon.

Raegar stood outside the door, trying to will himself to enter.

The spies had left detailed instructions on how to remove the magical spells. He had committed these instructions to memory, reciting them so many times he could say them in his sleep. But he was loath to walk into that silent darkness. Had he been on his own, he would have turned and run back down the trail.

As it was, his men were watching him expectantly, and so were the priests.

“No matter what happens,” Raegar told Eolus, “do not enter.”

Eolus looked unhappy and shook his head.

“I don't like it, sir.”

“All will be well, Commander,” Raegar said. “Soon we will have all the wizard gold and silver and jewels we can carry. And we will show their women what real men are like.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eolus. “Aelon be with you.”

Unfortunately the blessing reminded Raegar of the two dead priests. Aelon had been with them, too. He reminded himself that she wanted him to bring these wizards to their knees. He drew in a breath and ducked beneath the archway.

He stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness after the bright sunlight and tried to calm the pounding of his heart. Once he could see, he continued down the short corridor to the central chamber that was open to the air.

Gray light filtered through the clouds. He located the stone globe and cautiously approached the wall that surrounded it, being careful not to touch anything.

The spies had described the globe, but their description did not prepare him for the sight of the immense ball of stone suspended in midair. He stared in awe and was forced to admit that up until now, he had never truly believed in a city built among the clouds. He had supposed it would turn out to be a trick of some sort, like those of rogues on the street who cheated men of their money by making beans disappear beneath walnut shells. He was forced to admit, with a gulp, that this huge hunk of rock was floating in the air like a will-o'-the-wisp. Outside the stormhold, the priests began to chant prayers to Aelon, their voices resounding like thunder.

Raegar felt sick and suddenly, he could not remember a single word of the spy's instructions for removing the magic. He reached into a pouch and took out the notes and tried to read them. The words seemed to crawl around like bugs, and made no sense.

He gazed in silent agony at the globe. He was supposed to step on certain flagstones on the floor, treading on some and avoiding others. Then he was supposed to push in certain stones on the walls until they clicked, but he couldn't remember whether he had to count five over and ten up from the wall or ten over and five up. If he made even one mistake, he would be pummeled by blasts of wind, shaken by concussive thunder, and fried by bolts of lightning. Not to mention what Aelon could do to him.

Raegar cast a longing glance at the exit, only to picture to himself what would happen if he ran out of here in a panic. He would be finished. The people would view him with scorn. The priests would see to it that he was deposed and sent into exile, or they might just forgo the trouble and hire an assassin to avoid the cost of an execution. Aelon would be furious. She would spurn him, cast him out …

I'm risking my life for her, Raegar thought angrily. I've been loyal to her. I've brought glory to her name, made her the most powerful god in the world, amassed wealth for her church.

What has she done for me? She claims she lifted me from slave to emperor. Yet, looking back, I see that she did very little. I was the one who did all the work. She has repeatedly lied to me, sided with Treia against me, scolded and humiliated me, lured me on with promises of her favors that have yet to come to pass. She has let her priests mock me and conspire against me.

And where is Aelon now? Raegar glared around the stormhold. I am alone. She could have at least come to support me, shine down her radiance on me, use her godly powers to dismantle the magic. And once
I
open the gate to Tsa Kerestra, Aelon has promised the traitor Baldev he would rule it!

Outside the stormhold, the priests were chanting Aelon's name. Inside the stormhold, Raegar was looking at a gigantic ball of stone suspended in midair by a magic more powerful than he could fathom … and all he could see were the faces of the two dead spies.

They had been loyal and faithful to their god and what was their reward? A horrible death.

Grimly, angrily, Raegar decided to take a stand.

“Aelon, if you want these wizards to fear you,” he shouted, raising his voice to the cloud-covered heavens, “then do not make me play their silly game! Do not make me dance on tiles and shove stones! Smite this rock! Tear apart their storm clouds! Smash the gates to their city! And make
me
their master!”

Raegar drew his sword. Aelon would either back him in this or she would not. If she didn't, the magic would kill him and that was fine.

“I am emperor of the mightiest nation in the world, Aelon,” he said through gritted teeth. “I am no longer a slave and I would rather die than let you treat me like one!”

He grasped his sword in both hands, raised it over his head and struck the stone globe.

Sparks flew; the force of the blow numbed Raegar's arms to the elbow. Nothing happened at first and he drew in a shivering breath. Then he saw a crack in the stone, small at first and then growing and spreading.

Raegar watched, awed, as the stone globe fell from its magical moorings, plummeted into the darkness, and burst asunder.

The ground trembled. The walls shook. Stones cascaded down from above as sections of the walkway gave way. Raegar was cut by shards of rock. A chunk of the wall struck his shoulder and another hit him a glancing blow on the head, knocking off his crown.

Raegar staggered and fell, dazed. He tried to stand, fell again, and then strong hands grabbed hold of him by the shoulders. Shouting for help, Eolus began to drag Raegar toward the door. Two other members of his guard came to assist Eolus and between them, hauled Raegar outside, just as the stormhold broke apart.

The tower crashed to the ground with a horrendous roar. The air was filled with a blinding, choking cloud of dust and debris, and for a moment it seemed to Raegar as if the sky itself were falling down.

And then suddenly bits of debris stopped hitting him and the rumbling ceased and the world grew blessedly quiet.

Raegar spat out rock dust and was amazed that he was still alive. He moved gingerly, trying to feel if anything was broken. His shoulder hurt and he had a splitting headache and grit in his eyes, but that appeared to be the worst of his injuries.

“Are you all right, sir?” Eolus asked in between fits of coughing.

“I am,” said Raegar. “Thank you and your men for disobeying me.”

“Only doing our duty, sir,” said Eolus.

Raegar grunted. He'd make certain Eolus and the others were well rewarded for “only” doing their duty.

Getting to his feet, he looked around, assessing the situation.

It wasn't good.

The stormhold was a pile of smashed and broken rock. In the distance, storm clouds boiled over the plateau, with no magical highway in sight. He had failed Aelon, after first defying her, and he began to wish the building had fallen down on top of him.

He had to find some way of appeasing her. Most of his soldiers were unscathed, only a few suffering from minor injuries. The priests were nowhere in sight.

“Where are those confounded priests?” he asked.

He needed them to intercede with him, to ask Aelon for forgiveness.

“They ran off when the ground started to shake, sir,” said Eolus.

“Bastards…,” Raegar muttered, then stopped to consider. “Aelon can't blame me. I did my duty, though I nearly died. It was the fault of her priests who stopped praying and ran off at the first sign of trouble.”

“What are your orders, sir?” Eolus asked

Raegar sighed. What were his orders? Pack up everything, dismantle the siege engines, return to their ships, and sail back home in shame and ignominy?

He groaned, and Eolus regarded him with sympathy. He was about to say something when he was interrupted by loud cries of “Aelon be praised!” and “All praise to Aelon!” coming from the beach below.

“What the devil's going on down there?” Raegar asked.

Eolus went to investigate and returned to say that priests were assembling on the beach.

“They're having some sort of celebration, sir,” Eolus reported. “Dancing and cheering.”

“That's why, sir!” cried out some of the soldiers. “Look there, to the north!”

Fierce winds tore apart the storm clouds to reveal silver spires and golden domes shining in the bright light of a fiery sun. As Raegar watched in disbelief, spires, domes, wall, and all descended from the sky. The city fell from the clouds and landed on the plateau beneath.

A voice exploded behind Raegar.

“You thrice-cursed barbarous clod, what have you done?” Baldev snarled.

Emerging from the ruins of the stormhold, the wizard came striding toward him, robes flapping, shaking with fury.

“You destroyed the magic! My city is now in the Realm of Stone!” Baldev yelled. “The other Lords of the Storm suspect me! There is still a chance I can take over the city, but you must follow my instructions—”

His voice sent pain shooting through Raegar's head.

“Kill him,” he told Eolus.

Baldev gave a nasty laugh. He drew a piece of paper out of his sleeve and waved it at Raegar. “You blithering idiot! You can't kill me! You need me to recover your precious spiritbone! You will do what I tell you or I'll—”

Raegar looked away from the raving wizard to the shining city squatting ignominiously on the ground.

“I don't need anyone,” he said.

He nodded to Eolus, who swiftly and efficiently thrust his sword into Baldev's back.

Baldev gargled and looked in amazement at the sword sticking out of his gut. Eolus yanked the blade free and Baldev fell to his knees, clutching at his stomach as blood spilled over his hands. He made a gurgling noise and pitched forward, falling on his face. The body twitched a couple of times and then lay still.

Raegar bent down and took the piece of paper from the wizard's limp hand. It was some sort of hastily drawn map. He thrust it into his belt, then turned back to look at Tsa Kerestra.

The city was surrounded by a stone wall pierced by a massive gate. Domes and spires, gabled roofs and graceful minarets rose from behind the walls, all seemingly made of precious metals that shone with a blinding light in the sun. He had never seen anything so beautiful or so rich, and it was his.

“I worked this miracle,” Raegar murmured. “Not even Aelon can take credit for it, for if she'd had her way, I would have been hopping from flagstone to flagstone like a frog on a hot griddle.”