Fortress Draconis (38 page)

This changing gown, and her surroundings, perplexed Alyx. In the past, when she’d become aware of being in a dreaming state, that had been enough to kick her out of the dream. She’d awake with the images slowly evaporating. But now the odd surroundings didn’t melt away. Frowning, she took a step forward, letting the skirts and mist swirl around her legs. The ground felt smooth and slightly cool beneath her bare feet. As she moved through the mist, it began to thin, and dark images slowly resolved themselves.

Ahead of her, perhaps a mile off, lay the top of a dark mountain, the peak still sharp. Arrayed around and behind it were dark thunderheads, with lightning flashing from deep within their hearts. Lower clouds surrounded the mountaintop like a snowfield, cutting off any view of what lay below. Even glancing down she could see nothing save hints of green where the mist parted with her steps.

When next she looked up, after only a step or two, the mountain loomed over her, barely a hundred yards off. A cavern gaped in the mountainside, and in another step she was at its mouth. Words had been chiseled into the stone around the arched opening.

“The secrets within remain secret without, for the good of all the world.” Alyx read it aloud and was not impressed with its profundity, nor its gravity, if it was a warning. Still, the fact that she could read it ran against the idea she was dreaming, since she could not read in dreams.

Cautiously she took a step toward the entrance and discovered her rate of progression had returned to normal. Aside from the words at the opening, the cave appeared unaltered. Long, fanglike stalactites hung down, forcing her to thread her way through a phalanx of them. She strode across a narrow arch over a vast chasm, then down through a curving pathway that opened into a large room with a huge lake in it.

At the edge of the lake waited a boat at a quay. It had no masts and had been styled after a dragon. Torches burned fore and aft. Two figures waited at the stern, on the wheeldeck, watching her as she walked along the dock and boarded amidships.

The smaller of the two figures took a step forward, but he was not a small man at all. She watched him closely, comparing him to military men she knew. Instead of a robe he wore a black surcoat made of the same material she wore, though his was more fully scaled, as if it had been cut from the flesh of a dragon.

Her choice of the dragon image was not drawn from the ship alone, but from the elaborate headgear the man wore, as well as his gauntlets and boots. Dragonish talons capped his toes, and the fingers of his gauntlets had been similarly fashioned. The helm had a jutting dragon’s muzzle, and horns and ears rose from it. What disturbed her about the helm was that the ears appeared to move, and a forked tongue slithered out to flicker around.

And those great golden eyes seem to be looking straight through me.

The mouth moved as the Black Dragon spoke. “You wish to know where you are almost as much as you wish to know why you are here.”

Alyx nodded slowly. “Last I knew I was in Yslin, in Fortress Gryps.”

“Part of you yet is.” The Black Dragon’s voice came in measured tones. The long muzzle distorted them enough that she couldn’t identify his voice, but she suspected the man was General Caro. “If anyone were to look in on you, they would find you sleeping soundly.”

“But I am not dreaming.”

“As was explained to me, dreams are your spirit at the theater, watching and hearing, experiencing. This is when your spirit has sallied forth. It is nothing to fear, especially not here.” The Black Dragon’s ears flicked back and forward. “This place also allows us a bit more flexibility in choosing the image we wear.”

Alyx nodded. She was sorely tempted to try to revisual-ize her gown as a coat of scale armor, but without knowing how to do it, the effort would likely not succeed and would prove a distraction. “Despite what you have said, I still do not know where I am.”

“This is the meeting place of the Great Communion of Dragons. You have been invited to become a Communicant, and are being initiated as a White Dragon.” The Black’s helm smiled, revealing white teeth, while his larger, steel-grey companion did nothing. “It is a great honor.”

She half lidded her violet eyes. “I imagine it is. The power expended to get me here is impressive.”

“Always the pragmatist. This is good.” The Black nodded slowly. “The Communion of Dragons is the oldest of the Great Societies. All others are mirrors of it. This society grew up before the Estine Empire was established. It anticipated the power into which men would grow. While many view dragons today as creatures of great rage and destructive power, our founders recognized that dragons, in their wisdom, used their power only as needed. They punish poor behavior and benignly encourage good. They are parents disciplining unruly offspring, chastening them. So we seek to perform this same function within human society.

“The other societies have similar goals, but to accomplish them, they draw from all levels of society. We select only those who, through training, breeding, and accomplishment, have proven themselves capable of handling the great responsibility of guiding humanity.”

“You deem me worthy of such an honor?”

“It is my hope you will be seen to be so.” The Black looked back at the steel dragonman. “This is Maroth. He is a magickal construct and pilots the ship here on the crossing. When next you come here, you will say to him,

‘Maroth, take me forth.’ He will bring you to the appropriate destination.“

“And if we do not leave the quay, I am not initiated into the Communion?”

“It is possible that such could be the case. Were it so, however, you would not get this far.” The Black wrapped his left hand over his right fist. “The summons to join the Communion, to journey here and speak with your brethren, will come often but the choice to do so is yours and yours alone. On the other side we meet and discuss— advising each other, settling disputes. There are moments, on the other side, when time and distance, melt to nothing. You will always be anchored to your physical form, and what might take hours here will pass in an eyeblink. Were I seated before a warm fire, the cup of wine I hold would not have had a chance to fall from my fingers before our business here was completed.”

Alyx lifted her chin. “If I join, am I subject to the orders of others? I will not betray my nation or people at the order of another.”

“Other societies operate with a hierarchy that demands obedience, but not the Dragons. As you gain in knowledge, your ability to interact more fully with people expands. As I noted, we discuss, inform, and advise, we do not compel. At best you will see other Dragons gathering to oppose recklessness or unbridled ambition.”

The Black grasped his hands at the small of his back. “The Communion is not a path to power. It is a means to guarantee that power is used wisely and to its best effect.”

She nodded. “You know who I am. When will I have the courtesy of knowing who you are?”

“In time it will come. We each choose to reveal ourselves to other members at a point where we feel it is appropriate. I’m certain you have decided I am General Caro, but this is only because I have chosen to adopt a form akin to his.” The Black spun once, quickly, and the thick-limbed, dragon-helmed figure changed as skirts flared and bosom swelled. For a heartbeat she looked very much like Grand Duchess Tatyana, but flowed into the more pleasant form of Queen Yelena. “Once you have a Communicant’s confidence, you will see them as they truly wish to be seen. Until then, this game of mirrors should make you wary. I have no doubt that you would have been so anyway, carefully weighing what you were told before you acted upon it.”

Alyx caught herself wondering if the glimpse of her great-grandaunt had been intentional or unintentional, then realized it didn’t matter.Game of mirrors is correct. She smiled slowly. “You brought me here, then, to get my permission to submit my name for membership in this Communion?”

“I did, daughter.”

Alyx’s head came up sharply. “Daughter? You presume much.”

“Please, I beg your pardon. Within the Dragons this is how we address each other. You could call me father, or uncle, were it more pleasing to you. Cousin, niece, nephew, brother, grandfather, and so on, all of these are what we use to stress our ties, not ranks and divisions.”

She nodded slowly. “I clearly have much to learn … Uncle.”

“And you will have time to learn it.” He returned her nod. “If you do not mind, I wanted to offer you a word of caution in what will follow in the Council of Kings.”

“And that would be?”

“You are quite competent, even brilliant—better than any expected you would be. You could easily teach everyone there some vital lessons. You taught them to Caro at Porasena. Chytrine, however, is not a foe who will fall at a single blow, and certainly not the first struck at her. Listen, learn. Observe the strengths and the weaknesses of soldiers and statesmen. Study your friends as you would your enemies, for there will come a time when you will have to treat them as such to do what is best.”

Alyx thought for a second, then nodded. “Sound advice and quite worthy of adoption. Thank you, uncle.”

“It pleases me that you found my guidance useful.” The figure plumped back into the black dragon who had greeted her. “Have you any other questions?”

“Is there anyone in these meetings I can trust?”

Echoes of the Black’s laughter fled deep into the cavern and did not return. “Augustus, certainly, and your grandfather—if you hear his words yourself. Cavarre can be trusted as well, in most things, though his bias for his realm does narrow his focus. And Crow, you can trust him.”

“Crow?”

“Kedyn’s Crow.”

“He’s a ghost, a phantasm. A legend with a Vorquelf army.” She smiled. “Minstrels made him up so poor people would think someone could oppose thesullanciri”

“He is real. I have known him for a long time. He’s not a Dragon, but I trust him regardless.” The Black’s golden eyes half shut. “As for the minstrel songs, if the minstrels knew a fraction of what Crow has really done, they’d not dare sing of him, since none of it would be believed.”

Alyx arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ve heard that sort of thing said of many, but this is the first I’ve been told the songs play down exploits, instead of making more of them.”

The Black smiled. “The entertainment value of history depends less upon accuracy than drama; and where the two conflict, drama wins.”

“What of the Norrington? Do I trust him when he is found?”

“I don’t know. I have not met him. I would rely on whatever impressions of him Augustus and Crow have.”

“Fair enough.” She smiled cautiously. “How will I know if I am accepted?”

“You’ll see a sign.”

“And I can discuss this with no one?”

The Black slowly shook his head. “As the warning on the arch noted, what goes on here is confidential, and remains so. While you will remember everything, to speak of it, or write it, to make pictures or to do anything associated with it will be impossible. When you meet other members in the flesh, you will know you know them, and that you can trust them, but you will not know why. It will not concern you, either.”

He opened his hands and spread his arms. “So, to the Communion I bid you welcome, and for now, I bid you farewell.” His body expanded until it became a black sphere that engulfed her. Her world went completely dark and she began to suffocate.

She fought against the blackness, then threw the blanket off and sat bolt upright in bed, gulping in huge lungfuls of air. Alyx swept white-blonde hair from her face, then sank back onto her pillows.

She wanted very much to believe that what she had experienced was a dream, but too much had occurred in it that was not remotely dreamlike. And while surreal elements did predominate, the fact that she saw in color, and that she had been able to read, these spoke against the idea of it being a fantasy.

Alyx shrugged. Regardless of it being dream or reality, the experience just confirmed the things that she’d already taken as true. She could trust King Augustus, her grandfather, and Dothan Cavarre. With the first two she had a long history of trust, and with Cavarre, the impression she had gained of him in the first Council had been very favorable. The fact that he stood in opposition to Tatyana, and did so without fear, likewise spoke well of him.

The comment about Crow surprised her, and again spoke against her having dreamed. Kedyn’s Crow was a legend to her, and she had no reason to suspect he would be present at the Council. She actually had doubts that he was, since a man of his reputation would certainly have been very useful and part of the discussions from the start.Then again, his known fellowship with Vorquelves and desire to see

their home freed once more marginalizes him since his goal is shared by few men.

She ran her fingers through her hair and thought for a moment before shaking her head.It was just an odd dream. She shivered and tried to pull the blanket up to cover her, but it had slipped full off the bed. As she leaned over to retrieve it from the floor, a jolt ran through her.

There, on the floor, the blanket had fallen twisted in a shaft of moonlight. The way it had ended up, the dark wool blanket clearly formed a head and a tail, and one corner rose like a dragon’s wing. Try as she might, she couldn’t find another image to fit the figure on the floor, then a cloud slid across the face of the moon.

Her blanket lay there in a tangled heap, no more sinister than a twisted piece of bed linen.

Alyx growled at herself and snatched the blanket from the floor. “Just as well I saw it now. Saves me trying to interpret everything else …” She meant to add “as a sign of the Dragons,” but the words refused to come.

She sighed and shivered beneath the blanket. Sleep, when it did come, brought no dream or clouds, mountains or dragons. This pleased Alyx no end, because the Council of Kings was certain to give her more than enough to lose sleep over soon.

A’t first blush it had seemed like a sound plan. Will’s ob-f’tjective had been to learn who was after him. Whoever it 1 lwas had enlisted Marcus and had done something to the kids to make them behave like little soldiers. Will had seen that sort of discipline before, but only after Marcus had administered a severe beating, or after one of the older kids had disappeared.