The Dragonprince's Heir (2 page)

"The walls!" he bellowed again, and then he planted a hand between my shoulder blades and flung me to the earth as though I'd been a doll. "Everyone else down!" he screamed and leaped past me.

At the same time I heard a noise from the gate. It was a quiet crackle at first, punctuated by occasional loud pops, like the sound of sheet ice splintering under the spring thaw. I saw the tiny seams in the gate stretch, stabbing fast as an arrow up and down. The whole surface of the gate began to shimmer like the heat haze over the hard earth.

Caleb stood between me and the gate. The sword was in his hands, broad-bladed and sharp as a razor. He lifted it now, body turned sideways to the gate, and extended the blade as though warding off an enemy.

"Down!" he cried one more time.

Then the gate gave one last groan that seemed to shake the whole courtyard. The heat shimmer disappeared. I heard a boom like a thunderclap, and a thousand splinters of the great wooden gate the size of tentpegs blasted out in all directions. I curled up tight, the way Caleb had taught me when I was that little boy, with my arms over my face and hot-tempered fear stabbing around inside my stomach.

Caleb fell silent only as long as the thunder of the explosion hung in the air, and then he was shouting again. "Crossbows topside! Pike and shield forward! Swords to me. To me!" He fell silent for a moment, and I heard the practiced rustle of many men moving silently to their places. I heard sobbing, too, from children who had been at play in the courtyard. I felt a shameful little gratitude that I'd been too afraid to even think of crying.

But then Caleb's hand was knotting in my shirt behind my shoulder again. He slapped ineffectually at first, as though he were reaching without looking, then he got a grip and hauled me up. He made no effort to be gentle, and when I got to my feet his thumb locked painfully beneath my collarbone, his grip like iron on my shoulder. He held me pinned behind him, and I saw his head swinging rapidly left and right, taking in the movements of his own soldiers and trying to see through the rain of shrapnel what was happening beyond.

At last he stopped just long enough to glance back at me. Blood slicked his face, running thick around his right eye and soaking his cheek, his jaw, his neck. I saw the wound on his scalp where a bit of shrapnel had cut him deep. His stark white eyes fixed on me through a nightmare mask, and he said, "Get inside."

"What's happening?" I asked. It came out a scream.

He didn't scowl at me. He didn't glare. He blinked, then turned his attention back to the gaping gateway. "Pike and Shield! Positions! Now!"

I stumbled back, but my feet weren't working quite right. My mind didn't seem to be, either. I shook my head. My arms were shaking. I couldn't catch my breath. "Caleb, what's happening?"

"Go!" he growled over his shoulder. "Taryn, go! Wind and rain, where are my Shield?"

I saw them, now, as the dust of the first explosion drifted from the air. The children were mostly gone, mothers having cleared them from the courtyard with the same efficiency the men had moved into their ranks.

And the ranks were impressive. Swordsmen in three squares near Caleb on the marble platform. I saw the battlements swarming now, packed end-to-end with soldiers frantically readying crossbows. Two squares of pike stood gathered between the platform and the empty gateway, and another ragged formation of shield-bearers was gradually filling as red-faced men puffed heavily up, carrying heavy iron shields and wrestling with their straps as they went.

I knew Caleb still kept every able body in the fortress on some manner of training regimen, but it had been years since I'd seen them in formation. I looked out over the rows now, remembering the excitement I'd felt when I'd seen them arrayed for inspection as a child. Now, though...now I trembled. I remembered the army I had seen on the other side of the wall, numberless warriors stretching to the far horizon, and I saw our paltry force lining up opposite them.

I bit my lip to keep from crying. I tried to obey Caleb's order and run. I couldn't make myself move.

Then a gentle hand slipped into mine and squeezed it lightly. More delicate fingers settled softly around the back of my neck, and the light, familiar smell of summer flowers cut through every other sensation. My mother pulled me to her side, and I groaned despite myself.

"Be still," she said softly, and I almost missed the frightened catch in her voice. "Be still, Taryn."

I nodded for her and pulled away. I stood up tall and straightened my shoulders. I sniffed. And then I nodded again. "Yes, Mother."

Her eyes were tight with worry. They always were now. She measured me for a moment, and I took another breath and gave her another nod. "The gate," I said and nodded to Caleb.

She tore her gaze from me. She turned to Caleb and laid a hand lightly on the back of his shoulder. I thought I saw him flinch away from the touch.

"You should not be here, Isabelle," he growled. "Take the boy—"

"I must be here," she said, and she used the voice of a queen. She used it well. Even Caleb fell silent when she spoke like that. "What has happened? They sent no messenger?"

Caleb raised a hand and pressed two fingers to his scalp. Then he showed the bright blood to my mother without ever turning. "This is their message," he said.

"There must be some misunderstanding," she said.

He shook his head. "I warned you this could be Timmon's true intent. I only wonder why they have not yet charged. Three hundred Green Eagles and the wizards who broke our gate could clear this courtyard in less time than it would take you to
get back inside
."

"Then I have nothing to gain by trying," she said. "Caleb, I do not want these men to die."

"Nor do I," Caleb said. "But I have trained them all to die well." He raised his voice on the last two words, and all around us—throughout the three squares of waiting swordsmen—nearly a thousand voices raised up in a synchronized grunt, "Hrah!"

"No," Mother said. "You cannot destroy his whole army, no matter how dedicated these good men."

Caleb's lips peeled back from his teeth. "I would like to try."

"No," she said again. "Not now. The dying is over, Caleb. We did not bring these people safely through the nightmare of the dragonswarm only to throw them against the spears of the rightful king. We will meet with him."

Caleb dared not defy that pronouncement. Instead he turned his attention back to the gate. A moment later, a new sound broke the silence over the courtyard. It was the shuffling clatter-clop of a single horse moving at an idle walk. Even as I recognized it, a chill breeze sprang up within the courtyard and washed out through the gateway, gusting away the honey-colored dust still heavy in the air without.

It revealed a magnificent horse dressed in barding of violet and gold, and on its back rode the straight-backed, frail form of the king I had seen before. He wore the crown of gold on his head and carried a jeweled scepter in his right hand. It might have been shaped like a mace, but even draped in gold it was not heavy enough to use as a true weapon. It was a trinket. Unarmored and unarmed, he came alone into our fortress.

The horse walked unhurried toward the formation of shield-bearers. I saw all of them turning, nervous, throwing questioning looks back at Caleb. He growled under his breath and opened his mouth to shout an order.

"Caleb," Mother said, and he choked on his own bellow. "This is a matter for me to resolve."

"Give him ten paces and it's a matter for the pikemen to resolve," Caleb said.

Mother only shook her head. "You never truly listened, did you?"

The king reached the line of shield-bearers, and he did not slow. The front line automatically withdrew, respectful, opening a path for the king. The king never even glanced at them.

Caleb growled. "Oh, I listened. But I think Daven gave too much credit to the wizards' magic."

"There is magic," Mother said, "and there is politics." She stepped up beside Caleb, moving out from behind him for the first time, and he gave another disapproving growl at that. But he did not challenge her in public. Mother stepped forward once more, one pace behind the forward square of swordsmen, and she raised her voice.

"Your Majesty, we give you welcome. Come."

An irritated huff escaped Caleb's nostrils, then he barked, "Rest!" and every soldier on the courtyard fell to one knee. They moved with perfect precision, and I knew from my own training it was a move meant to clear a line of fire for archers in the rear. But here and now it looked like a grand show of respect.

For his part, the old king smiled across the courtyard. He raised a hand to Mother, and the scepter glinted in the sun. My mother went forward to meet him halfway.

I started immediately after her, but I made it less than a pace before Caleb slapped his left hand down and caught me in the chest. It stopped me hard and drove the breath from my lungs. "Not you," he said. "Get inside."

"But—"

He spun, fast as lightning, and took a knee facing me. Even kneeling he nearly came eye-to-eye with me. "This is not a suggestion, little prince. It's not a discussion. This is an order, and I'll do what I must to make you obey it."

I raised my chin. "I still do not answer to you."

"No one in your family does," he said. "But I am honorbound to see you safe, on oaths I've given to your father and your mother both, and I will not be compromised because you are too spoiled to see reason."

"This concerns me," I said. "This is my family. I should be with Mother."

"You should be far enough away that you do not distract her, do you understand? This is delicate business—"

"I do not answer to you," I said again.

"Wind and rain, boy, this is no game! Go now or I shall carry you myself."

I drew myself up, as much as I could, and tried to look unafraid of him. "I am not a child."

I got no farther. He rose to his full height, towering over me. He stabbed a finger past my shoulder, toward the tower. "I said go."

Some of the blood still staining his face fell in a great drop from his chin and landed over my heart, soaking through the fine linen of my shirt. I felt it, hot and sticky, against my skin, but I could not tear my eyes from his face.

"You cannot make me," I said. "I wish to go to my mother. I belong with my mother." I took a deep breath. My chest felt weak and empty, but I set my jaw and tried to step around him.

He slipped backward, still blocking my path. He moved with an easy grace, keeping himself always between me and my mother. I felt my temper cracking. "Move, Caleb! Get out of my way."

"I cannot," he said.

"Then I shall make you," I said. "Mother shall make you." I nodded to myself. I caught a deep breath, my eyes fixed on Caleb's, and shouted, "Mothe—"

He moved faster than a snake. His left arm flicked out—it looked almost casual—but the back of his gauntleted hand crushed into my face with astonishing force. I felt sharp-edged pain on my cheekbone and eyebrow, saw a flash of brilliant white light behind my eyes. I coughed in shock and surprise. I stumbled back and caught the heel of my boot on the lowest step of the marble platform.

I fell. The whole left side of my face throbbed and my vision in that eye went blurry. But I could see well enough the hundreds of swordsmen close enough to have witnessed it. Fire flared hot and sudden in my chest—anger and outrage and humiliation—but before I could give voice to any of it, I saw my mother.

She stood by the king's horse, half a hundred yards away. Her eyes were fixed on me, drawn by the sudden commotion. For a long heartbeat I met her eyes, and she must have seen my tears. I swallowed hard. She would come for me now. She would chastise Caleb and comfort me, in front of all these eyes, and my humiliation would only burn hotter. I steeled myself for it.

But she did not come. Instead her gaze flicked briefly to Caleb who still stood looming over me. Then she nodded in approval and turned back to the king.

That betrayal stabbed sharper than all the rest. I scrambled to my feet. I almost lashed out at Caleb, but I remembered how easily he had knocked me to the ground. My face still throbbed, and my vision was getting worse. I blinked and felt the tears touch my cheeks. My breath lay heavy in my lungs. If I stood here a moment longer, I would be crying in front of all the assembled soldiers in my father's fortress.

Caleb's gaze never wavered. He had done this to me, but he showed no sympathy, no remorse. He only stared after me, cold and cruel, until at last I turned and fled.

2. The Politics of Court

The Tower of Drakes rose in ten floors above the courtyard, each of them nearly a thousand paces across. The outer doors gave entrance from the marble platform to a small antechamber. From there another pair of doors opened onto the Great Hall that filled the heart of the first floor.

But arches in the left and right walls of the antechamber both gave access to the wide, curving stairs that climbed to higher floors. I rushed to the stairs on my right and up past the barracks, past the library, past the servants' quarters. My legs burned with the effort and every heavy beat of my heart pressed new pain against my bruised eye.

I moved from the stairs at the landing of the fifth floor and took the long left-hand corridor that bent right with the outside curve of the tower, then threw open the fifth door on the left. I slammed it hard behind me and slung myself full-length upon my mattress on the floor.

My breaths were coming ragged, my heart still hammering with shame, but I heard a little sound within the room that made it worse. I forced myself to turn and found Toman waiting patiently against the outer wall.

He was about my age, maybe even younger, but he was tall and wide across the shoulders and strong as an ox. And he could be astonishingly quiet. I'd only noticed him there because he wanted me to.

Now he nodded. "Good morning, Taryn."

I hated that he'd seen me like that, almost sobbing, but at least it wasn't Jen. She would have been cruel. Toman would pretend not to notice. He was kind enough, even if he had been set to spy on me.