Authors: Deborah Chester
Almost
contemptuously, Caelan pushed the boy away and circled him, waiting to pick his
moment.
Tears were running
down the boy’s cheeks, but he was still cursing Caelan in his own tongue.
Heedlessly, he swarmed Caelan in a frenzied, almost mindless attack, jabbing
and flailing.
Caelan parried
strongly, sidestepped another furious thrust of the javelin, and ignored the
chance to cleave the boy in half. Instead he leaped behind the boy and got one
arm around the boy’s throat.
The boy kicked and
flailed, but the javelin was useless at such close quarters. Caelan knocked the
weapon from his hand, and it plunged into a snowdrift.
Yanking the boy
around bodily, Caelan forced him to stand where he could look at his dead
dragon.
“Look at it!” he
shouted in Lingua. “Look at it!”
The boy twisted
and struggled, but Caelan tightened his hold until he heard the boy choke. Then
he pushed the Thyzarene to the ground and planted his foot on the boy’s back to
hold him pinned.
“That’s what is
going to happen to you,” Caelan said.
The boy heaved in
an effort to get to his knees, but Caelan stamped him flat again. Sheathing his
sword, he drew his dagger instead and tested its edge with his thumb. It needed
honing, but it would be sharp enough for what he intended to do.
His mind flooded
with the memories of that long ago day at E’nonhold when the dragons had set
the buildings on fire. He remembered dear old Anya’s face as she ran for her
life, only to be burned beyond recognition. He remembered the screams,
remembered his own helpless feeling of rage and frustration, remembered the
laughter and exultant shouts of the raiders. He remembered lying on the ground,
trussed in a net, while one of the raiders slit his father’s throat.
Gripping a handful
of the boy’s dark curls, Caelan jerked him up to his knees and held his dagger
in front of the boy’s terrified eyes.
“Stop! Stop!” the
boy said desperately in heavily accented Lingua. “By the gods, stop!”
Caelan took grim
pleasure in hearing the boy beg for his life.
“A Thyzarene afraid?”
he jeered. “You are going to die out here. One quick slash, and you’ll be as
dead as your dragon.”
“Wait! I can offer
you money,” the boy babbled. “Take my bracelets. They are gold. Take my—”
“Shut up,” Caelan
said, contemptuous of this whining. “When you are dead, I will take everything
I want anyway.”
“No, please! You
don’t—”
“That’s the
Thyzarene way,” Caelan broke in. “You live off plunder. You dance in the ashes
of your victim’s houses. You cart out all their possessions and pick them over.
Bloodsucker! Carrion-eater! Reap what you have sown!”
He put the dagger
to the boy’s throat, steeling his heart against the boy’s sobbing. There were
no more pleas for mercy, much to his relief. He hated the boy’s tears, for they
made him realize the boy was younger than he looked. For a moment Caelan
wavered. But then he remembered all that he had suffered, and his fingers
tightened around the dagger hilt.
“Caelan, let him
go!”
It was Elandra’s
voice. Caelan hesitated, but then refused to look in her direction. He kept his
gaze grimly locked on the back of the boy’s head. This was not her business, he
told himself.
He lifted his
elbow to turn the blade to the most efficient angle. One swift slice, and ...
“In the name of
all that’s merciful, stop what you are doing,” Elandra commanded.
Her voice rang out
across the small clearing.
Caelan glared at
her, standing nearby. Her eyes were huge in the pale oval of her face.
“He’s only a boy,”
she said. “What are you doing?”
“Little Thyzarenes
grow into big ones,” Caelan said grimly. “If this one is old enough to kill,
he’s old enough to be killed.”
“You have slain
his dragon and wounded him to his soul. That is enough.”
“It is not
enough!” Caelan shouted. “It will never be enough! He killed my father—”
She came running
up to them, close enough now for Caelan to see how red her cheeks were, how
furiously her eyes blazed. “This boy is not your enemy.”
“All Thyzarenes
are—”
She scooped up a
double handful of snow and threw it in Caelan’s face. “He is not your enemy!”
she shouted. “He was not there the day your father died. He is not responsible
for your being sold into slavery. Genocide is not justice!”
Caelan glared at
her, slowly cooling down. She was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. He was
furious at her interference. “I will have my revenge.”
Elandra didn’t
flinch. “Then kill him in cold blood if you wish,” she said in a raw, scornful
voice. “But I will tell you the problem with such a revenge. Once his blood
spills hot over your hands, your father’s death will not be undone and your
guilt will not be one ounce lighter than before.”
Caelan scowled,
the muscles in his jaw clenching hard. She was right. He wanted to curse her,
but she was right. The admission tasted like ashes in his mouth.
Growling, he
released the boy and stepped back.
Sobbing, the boy
sank into the snow, and Caelan looked at him with disgust.
Then he shot
Elandra a resentful look. “Satisfied?”
“Would you
jeopardize your soul to avenge a man you didn’t really love? A man you said
yesterday wasn’t your real father?”
Confusion filled
him. “Damn you, will you leave me with nothing?”
“Kill him, then.
Kill him because he attacked you. But don’t lie to yourself and use false
justification.”
Caelan refused to
look at her. Turning wrathfully on the boy, he gestured. “Get out of here.”
The boy, however,
didn’t move. His dark eyes were locked on Elandra. “Thank you, lady,” he said,
sketching a little gesture of respect.
“Get out!” Caelan
yelled at him.
Uncertainly the
boy scrambled to his feet, his gaze shifting back and forth between them. “I
cannot leave until my Shierfa is properly mourned.”
“If that’s your
dragon, you can mourn it on your way home,” Caelan said without pity. “Start
walking. You have a long way to go”
“Caelan, don’t,”
Elandra said. “His dragon was important—”
“Then he shouldn’t
have attacked me,” Caelan said.
“It was sport,”
the boy said. “Only sport.”
Caelan, his rage
still barely held in check, turned his glare back on the boy, who blanched.
Baring his teeth, Caelan said, “Then when I cut off your Shierfa’s head, that
was only sport too.”
Furious tears
filled the boy’s eyes. Screaming, he launched himself at Caelan, but Elandra
stepped in the way.
“Stop it,” she
said. “Both of you—”
But the boy threw
his arms around her and spun her to face Caelan. As he did so, he pulled a
knife from his boot and pressed the point to her side.
“Now, Traulander,”
he said, his thin, swarthy face alight with triumph, “I have the lady. Stay
back!” he warned as Caelan came at him.
Caelan froze, his
gaze never leaving the boy’s. Rage still flamed inside him, but his mind had
gone utterly cold. A Thyzarene could never be trusted. He wouldn’t forget that
again. And as soon as he got the chance, he would take great pleasure in
breaking the brat’s spine in half.
Looking both
alarmed and angry, Elandra struggled in the boy’s grip, only to yelp and
suddenly stand very still. All the color drained from her face, and Caelan’s
rage grew white hot.
Still he held
himself in check, making no move, waiting for the right opportunity. He eyed
the boy the way a predator eyes its prey. He had all the patience in the world,
and nothing would stop him when it was time to attack.
Quietly, his large
body lithe and graceful, he began to slowly circle so that the boy was forced
to turn to keep facing him.
“Stand still,” the
boy commanded, “or I will hurt her.”
Caelan continued
to move, slowly and deliberately. His eyes never left the boy’s. “If you hurt
her, I will tear out your throat.”
Defiance flashed
in the boy’s face. “I am Kupel,” he said proudly. “I am a chieftain’s son, and
I have captured the empress. Much reward gold will go into my coffers. I will
be richer than my father when her ransom is paid for.”
And before Caelan
could reply to this bold announcement, Kupel lifted the hilt of his knife
swiftly to his lips and whistled through a hole in it.
Caelan stepped
forward, but with a grin Kupel pressed the knife point to Elandra’s side. “Be
careful,” he warned.
Fuming, Caelan
froze again. This was not the opportunity he wanted.
Kupel’s grin
widened even more. “Now, the others will come.”
“You’re making a
mistake,” Caelan said.
“No, you are!”
Kupel retorted. Tightening his hold on Elandra, he started backing away.
Caelan followed.
“Don’t follow me!”
Kupel said.
Caelan stopped. He
glared at the boy, picking targets in the boy’s hide, and wished he had killed
him when he had the chance.
Elandra said
nothing. Her eyes were big with fear; her face was pale and strained.
He only knew he
had to act fast before more Thyzarenes came.
“What makes you
think she’s the empress?” he asked.
Doubt flashed
momentarily in Kupel’s eyes; then he sneered. “Very clever. Of course she is.
Agents across the empire are looking for her.”
“I know nothing
about the empress,” Caelan said. “But if you think you can trick such agents
into paying good imperial gold for my wife, you are a fool.”
“Watch what you
say,” Kupel warned him angrily. “I am not a fool. I hold her, do I not? Eh?”
“You hold her,”
Caelan agreed.
“Then I am not a
fool.”
“Fine. But she’s
still my wife.”
Elandra’s strained
expression lightened. For a moment she nearly smiled. He met her eyes and felt
his own guts twist in fear for her.
Don’t think
about how much you love her,
he told himself. He had to concentrate. He
could not let his emotions rule him, or he would lose his nerve.
“Wife? Huh,
maybe,” Kupel said with a shrug. “But as empress she will bring big reward.”
“If she’s my wife,
and she’s also the empress, that must mean I’m the emperor,” Caelan said. He
spread out his hands. “Do I look like the emperor?”
Kupel grinned,
enjoying the joke, but he didn’t loosen his hold on Elandra. “We see her. We
know. All people know empress.”
“Impossible. She’s
never been to Trau before. She’s certainly never been to your camp.”
Kupel backed up a
few more steps, keeping Elandra tight against him. Then, never taking his eyes
off Caelan, he put his knife between his teeth and dug a coin out of his
pocket. He tossed it at Caelan, and whipped his knife back into place at her
ribs with another quick grin.
“You see,” he
said. “You see empress.”
Careful to make no
sudden moves that might be misinterpreted, Caelan picked up the coin and turned
it over. It was a new half-ducat, very shiny, and pocked with teeth marks near
the rim where its owner had tested its value. Elandra’s profile was stamped on
the coin, clear and unmistakable.
“Word has gone
out,” Kupel said as Caelan’s fingers closed hard over the coin. “Empress
missing. Stolen by Traulander. We get big reward.”
His words were
nearly drowned out by the twin bugling of dragons. Glancing up into a sky
radiant with new sunlight, Caelan saw the two beasts circling high overhead.
Kupel’s friends had arrived. Caelan’s heart sank.
Elandra chose that
moment to stamp sharply on Kupel’s instep. Howling with pain, he hopped on one
foot, and she rammed her elbow hard into his stomach. When he doubled over, she
twisted free. He grabbed at her cloak, but there was an arm’s length of
distance now between them. Caelan threw his dagger, and it thunked into Kupel’s
chest.
An astonished look
filled Kupel’s face; then his eyes rolled up, and he toppled over in the snow.
Overhead, one of the dragons roared. Caelan raced across the ground, drawing
his sword as he ran, and kicked Kupel over on his back to pull out his dagger.
“Take cover!” he
shouted at Elandra. “Get back to the cave, if you can. The trees aren’t safe if
they start breathing fire.”
She nodded,
crouching low to pick up Kupel’s knife. “I should have let you kill him at the
start,” she said, then ran in a flurry of long skirts.
He grinned after
her, admiring her more than ever. She had been right to stop him; he could
admit that now. He would tell her so later, if they survived this. But already
one of the dragons was swooping low in her direction. Caelan’s heart nearly
stopped. Again, he had to consciously shake off his fear. Somehow he had to
distract them from her.
He held up Exoner
so that its blade flashed in the rising sun. “Cowards of the sky!” he shouted
at the top of his lungs. “I have killed your chieftain’s son. I have killed
Kupel and Shierfa, his dragon. Come and take the Dance of Death with me!”
One of the
Thyzarenes howled with anger, and both dragons soared and wheeled in his
direction. Caelan braced himself, knowing he could not fight both at the same time.
But at least Elandra would have a chance to reach the cave. As long as she
remained hidden inside it, the Thyzarenes would not be able to see it, and she
would be safe.
“Dragon riders!”
Elandra shouted, her voice shrill and clear. “I am the Empress Elandra, your
sovereign. Call off your attack, and you will be well rewarded. I carry much
gold, much imperial wealth. This I will share with you!”
Caelan groaned,
furious with her for not following orders. He risked a glance in her direction
and saw her standing in the open, straight and proud. Her arms were lifted, and
the sun rose above the treetops at that moment to bathe her in golden radiance.
With her auburn hair and gold-colored cloak, she looked like she was made of
fire itself, blazing bright in the snow.