The Fifth Magic (Book 1) (13 page)

These words made Benjin's blood run cold. He'd suspected Trinda was behind this, but having it confirmed made him feel even worse.

"I can't fly in circles all day," Kenward shouted into the silence following Brother Vaughn's words. "I've only got enough fuel and fresh water to get me back to the Firstland. Trinda really wants that second forsaken throne, and we can't pull it off without the dragons."

"Throne?" Benjin asked, a sick feeling in his stomach.

"The ones from the
Eel,
" Brother Vaughn said, saving Kenward from having to say it.

Fasha turned to Benjin, her eyes pleading. Both knew how painful it must be for Kenward to go back there. How difficult it must be to once again transport the cargo that doomed the
Slippery Eel.
Benjin wasn't certain he wanted to go to Catrin's Vale, but he could not make his friend go there.

"Drop the fishing gear," Benjin ordered. "Once we have enough food to get us back to the Firstland, we sail."

Fasha nodded and though it was his and his wife's ship, Benjin turned to Wendel. Sinjin was Wendel's grandson, and the boy was flying into the child queen's hands.

"There is nothing we can do to help Sinjin if we can't even get into Dragonhold," Wendel said, his face grim and determined. "With the throne, she has at least a reason to hear us out."

"It's decided," Fasha said. "Kenward, fly on ahead. We'll be behind you."

"You'll catch up, Sis," Kenward said, and Fasha blew him a kiss. Benjin would never really understand those two. For much of their lives, they had been at each other's throats, yet as they grew older, they were almost nice to each other--almost; they were Trells, after all.

Benjin had made the decision, but he had a strange feeling in his gut. He watched the
Serpent
until she disappeared behind the cloud banks rolling in. Winds tossed the seas and the ship. Benjin would never admit it, but his sea legs weren't what they used to be.

"Fish aren't going to bite in these winds," Wendel said.

"We've enough stores for three more meals, sir," Jessub reported without being asked.

Benjin nodded and took in his surroundings. Everyone was waiting for him to decide. He was unsure, a sense of impending doom descending upon him, from where he did not know. For once he felt true empathy for Nat Dersinger. Now he knew what it felt like to have dark premonitions, and he liked it not at all.

Looking to his wife, he silently asked her. A weaker person would have deferred to him or had difficulty deciding what to do, but that was not Fasha. "Pull the lines! Get us back in the air, and point us back toward the Firstland. Jessub, prepare the next meal with one-third rations."

Jessub nodded and retreated into the deckhouse. No one protested, instead pulling in the fishing gear and preparing for flight. It was a mixed blessing when a pair of tuna came in with the trawls. While it bolstered their stores, it took time to clean and store the fish before they could prepare for flight. Benjin's impatience had rubbed off on Fasha, and she joined him in securing the rigging.

Dark skies harboring cold winds descended upon them by the time the
Dragon's Wing
was ready to take flight. The conditions made it easier in some ways since the winds provided lift, but these winds were gusty and unpredictable, which could unexpectedly drop them back into the water. Instead, the ship leaped upward and backward on a sudden, persistent gust. Turning the ship to use that wind to their advantage, Pelivor strained. It didn't take him long to bring the ship under control and gain altitude, but it felt like an hour to Benjin. He was just about to take a deep breath when a hulking form burst from the clouds and nearly collided with the rigging. With a deep, rumbling roar, the dragon swerved and missed them, but it was a close thing.

Shouting could be heard from the tierre, but Benjin couldn't make out the words. Onin of the old guard's voice was easily identified, and he recognized Jehregard.

The dragon continued toward the Godfist, his path unerring, and Benjin had a bad feeling in his gut. "Make all speed!"

* * *

Durin knew nothing. He was stranded on the Firstland with the Dragon Clan. Sinjin and Kendra would never have left them intentionally, and Benjin had told him about Trinda Hollis's singing before also leaving. He had no insight into her motives and nothing to ensure the future of his friends and his people. He wanted to scream, but the Dragon Clan watched. They saw him as some sort of measuring stick on Sinjin's and Kendra's motives and the intentions. The Dragon Clan were one people in name, but the clan consisted of three different cultures, and they had yet to come to fully understand each other. Harmony was difficult without understanding.

Normally Durin acted as a mediator between those with differences or ill feelings, but he didn't feel up to it on this day. For once, he wanted someone to try to calm
his
ragged nerves. Just one time, he would like it if someone solved his problems. This tirade was interrupted by the mental parade of problems that had been solved by others, and he drew a deep breath.

The storm had left parts of Windhold in disarray. Those parts of the hold were not anyone in particular's responsibility, and Durin knew he needed to organize work groups to get the windblown debris cleaned up and sorted from the still usable materials. They discarded almost nothing on the Firstland, and even windblown detritus could be what they needed to survive.

He was a few steps away from Valterius's stall when someone cried out. At first he couldn't make out the words, but the Dragon Clan gathered near Windhold's seaward openings.

Finally a clear voice rose above the din.
"Dragon's Wing!"
the man said.

Relief flooded over Durin; he'd begun to think no one would ever come back. He heard no cry of Drakon or Al'Drak, which quickly tempered the relief.

"The
Serpent
!" came another cry, and Durin slowed as he neared the opening, having reached a full run. There, on the horizon, were two flying ships in some ways similar to each other yet completely different. The
Dragon's Wing
outpaced the
Serpent
and reached the shallow waters off shore. There they glided into the smooth waters, barely disturbing the surface as they did. The process was so subtle, it was like an illusion to Durin.

The
Serpent,
in contrast, soared over the
Wing
's masts and continued toward Windhold. Caught up in the spectacle, Durin and the Dragon Clan failed to recognize the danger until Kenward's cries reached them. "Look out! We're coming in!"

At once, the Dragon Clan cleared the opening, and a few brave souls charged across the windblown open expanse, moving crates, bales of stick weed, and bundles of herbs. The
Serpent
continued an orderly approach. The winds directly surrounding the hold were anything but predictable. Sinjin had described entering Windhold on the wing as the most terrifying three breaths of his life. The
Serpent
exaggerated the effect and proved to Durin he belonged on solid ground. Twisting at the last instant, the
Serpent
tipped forward, slamming Kyrien's likeness into the stone. The ship stopped fast--too fast. Durin worried there would be injuries.

The wind socks deflated, but as they had in the past, they reinflated as they caught the wind within the cavern and began dragging the ship deeper into the hold. The Dragon Clan showed their tenacity and ingenuity by jumping on atop the wind socks, causing them to completely deflate. The first two or three were taken for a ride, but their efforts eventually paid off and brought the
Serpent
to a halt.

Kyrien's now badly scarred visage, struck Durin as a bad omen. Still, at least someone had returned to them. His heart was still sick with worry over the Drakon. He even missed Valterius trying to step on him or swat him with the sledge he had for a tail.

"Thank you for your help, Dragon Clan," Kenward said when he stepped from his airship and onto Windhold's solid stone. "Sorry for the abrupt entrance, but on a finer note, we could use some help unloading all these supplies. Trinda would have let us all starve, I'm sure, but a Trell is never without options."

Durin smiled. He'd long since lost hope in getting the requested supplies from the Godfist. For a time, there would be at least some comforts from home.

"Thank you, Kenward," Durin said. "We're in your debt."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Kenward said, and Durin felt a little sick. What had he just gotten himself into? "You might want to get your fill of things from the Godfist before I tell you. I don't want to spoil your appetite."

"Tell me now," Durin said.

"As you wish," Kenward said. "Trinda sang and summoned the dragons to Dragonhold. And we need to get the other stone chair onto the
Dragon's Wing.
"

"Without the help of any dragons?" Durin asked without thinking. "Are you joking?"

"Still hungry?" Kenward asked in response.

Durin walked to where the supplies were being opened and inspected them, despite having far less appetite than he'd had a moment before.

Chapter 12

Marry the sword, sleep in a cold bed.

--Morif, soldier

* * *

Benjin found himself, once again, grateful for the Dragon Clan. Their strength came not from their dragons but from within. As ever in his life, when he needed help, they had been there for him. They had not always understood each other, and there had not always been love and respect between them, but that was long ago. Now Benjin considered himself an honorary part of the Dragon Clan, if not the Drakon. Sinjin had often said flying the
Dragon's Wing
made him and his crew Drakon, but Benjin knew his place.

Finding a way to sufficiently thank the Dragon Clan for the risks they took and the burden they bore this day would take years. Only a single mention that the throne might help keep Sinjin, Valterius, and the Drakon safe was needed to motivate the people. It gave Benjin great pride, not just in what Sinjin had accomplished, but for the Arghast themselves. They were, after all, his countrymen.

Flying any ship to the place where the
Slippery Eel
lay was risky and dangerous at best, and strong winds made it an even less viable option. Thus they found themselves carrying the bulky piece down the mountainside. Benjin had serious reservations about the plan's practicality as well, but his people never ceased to impress him. Once they had removed the throne from the
Slippery Eel,
it was apparent they had sufficient strength to bear the burden. Benjin prayed for their stamina as well.

Another reason Benjin was grateful for the Dragon Clan was that they had spared Kenward the need to revisit the
Slippery Eel's
resting place
.
The anguish had been clear in Kenward's eyes, and Benjin couldn't imagine how the man must feel. At least when he had sunk the
Kraken's Claw,
the wreckage had been lost to the depths. The
Slippery Eel
remained much as she'd been left, save the slow ravages of time. Encroaching mosses coated the wood, giving the appearance the ship was growing out of the mountain.

There were other restless spirits in that vale as well. It was a sacred place. The regent dragons had said the vale belonged to Catrin, but one couldn't visit the place and not be overcome by the fading presence of those majestic creatures, now gone from his world. Benjin shed more than one tear in their memory and that of Catrin and Kyrien. Not for the first time, nor the last, he sucked unsteady breaths past his quivering bottom lip.

Shouts brought Benjin from his mourning. Methodically he made his way around the narrow ledge to see the throne teetering on the precipice. Those carrying one side had slipped on loose scree and were having a terrible time trying to get back under the timbers they were using the hoist the massive weight.

"Lower your corner!" Benjin shouted to the men opposite the low corner. As they did, daylight shone under the support braces, and the people wasted no time getting the timbers raised back up onto their shoulders. No one had been killed, and the throne hadn't been lost, which was a testament to just how strong these people were, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Somehow they knew they would not fail, which drove them to success. Benjin had always known the world worked this way, but never had he seen it quite so clearly demonstrated as with the Dragon Clan. Nothing would prevent these people from achieving what they believed they would do.

Their progress gave Benjin hope and belief of his own. They had made it past the worst of the descent. Here and there they would have to clear brush and take down a tree or two to clear a wide enough path, but they had essentially achieved their goal. Benjin worried less about potential loss of life.

It was nearing dark when they finally reached the lowlands, making their way onto the trail leading to the beach. As soon as Kenward's crew saw the Dragon Clan emerge on to the plain, they rushed to assist the now exhausted tribesmen. The windlass and ropes had already been prepped, and only Kenward and Sevon remained to mind the
Serpent.
Sevon was not known for his brute strength and would have been of little use. Still, knowing what he knew, Benjin wondered if Sevon had other reasons. Kenward said he trusted the man, but Benjin couldn't help but view him with suspicion. Anyone who'd been in the employ of Trinda was suspect. Knowing he could do nothing but guard his own coin purse, Benjin let his concerns about Sevellon the thief go and concentrated on the dangers they might face while lowering the throne into the
Serpent
's hold.

Kenward, though, proved he knew his business. Though it was full dark by the time they had secured and rigged the throne to Kenward's satisfaction, the actual act of loading the heavy chunk of stone went smoothly. Windlass, levers, and pulleys were all used with tremendous effect.

The captain of the
Serpent
came to Benjin and leaned close, "Don't tell anyone I said so, but I think this might be the most dangerous and stupid thing I've ever done in my life."

Considering what Benjin knew about Kenward's history and having been there for some outrageously reckless behavior, the thought made Benjin feel a little sick. "I still think it would be a lot safer and faster to take the throne on the
Dragon's Wing.
Pelivor and Gwen say they could handle the additional weight without much trouble."

"If all we wanted to do was deliver the throne to Trinda," Kenward said, "then the
Dragon's Wing
would indeed be better suited to this task, but there are other things that must be done. The
Wing
would have to dock in one of the harbors; the
Serpent
has the advantage of being able to fly directly into the hold. How do you think Pelivor and Gwen would feel about that?" Benjin didn't have to ask; he knew doing it safely was beyond the
Wing
's capabilities. "The best thing you can do for me is escort us back. You can fish and provide us with provisions so I don't have to carry the extra weight. That alone will make this journey safer than the last."

Benjin saw Kenward's point, but he couldn't help feeling they were playing directly into Trinda's hands.

* * *

Kenward Trell watched the Godfist growing larger with ever-increasing trepidation. He'd known this was a bad idea from the beginning, but something was telling him things were far worse than he'd thought. Soon they would leave their escort behind, and the
Serpent
would be on her own. Usually that was how Kenward liked it, but this time was different--far different.

"We'll wait for you in the harbor!" Benjin shouted from below.

Leaning over the rail, Kenward waved good-bye to his friends and his sister--he hoped not for the last time. Once they were over land, the feeling aboard the ship changed. Kenward's orders were often anticipated by the crew at this stage of the journey, and the severely shorthanded crew worked with alacrity. Kenward watched closely to make certain speed did not affect quality. These tasks were required not to suit his whim; they were matters of life and death; a single bad knot could send them crashing into the rock face or the valley floor. Despite his efforts, the
Serpent
moved with too much speed. One thing Kenward had never figured out was how to slow down his airship when pushed by prevailing winds. The crew's skill manipulating the sails gave him some control under good conditions, but stronger gusts sent the
Serpent
out of control. The lack of a solution was now Kenward's foremost concern.

When Dragonhold came into view, Kenward was glad to see the gates open. A part of him had been wishing for the gates to be closed, but Trinda awaited his cargo, and the trader in him knew a good captain always delivered. Darkness was all he could see within the hold, and he could only hope they were ready for his entrance. "Sound the horn! Secure yourselves!" Kenward shouted.

Farsy pulled down three times on a cord running into the boiler room, and three deep blasts issued from the ship's horns before Kenward's trusted friend looped a rope harness over his shoulders and grinned. Their speed was likely to send them deeper into the great hall than on their previous entrance into Dragonhold. Kenward did everything he could to scrub off speed. Nothing helped. The
Serpent
entered Dragonhold with her crew screaming in terror. Just barely clearing the gates, the ship turned sideways as the wind socks dragged against protruding edges. When the
Serpent
struck stone, she skidded and bounced on her starboard side, leaving everyone aboard bruised and scraped.

Kenward's vision slowly adjusted, and he cursed himself for not using the oldest pirate trick known. He should have worn a patch over one eye to preserve his night vision. Had he pulled off the patch upon entering the darkness, he would have been able to see with one eye, at least. A strange puff of warm wind buffeted Kenward for an instant, and his vision was slow to return. The air smelled of smoke and something else. He was worrying over the furnaces and boilers when his vision cleared. A dragon's head towered over them. The mighty beast's roar was more than Kenward's psyche could handle. He fainted, crumbling to the
Serpent's
angled deck
.

* * *

A mature dragon's roar bellowed through Dragonhold like chained thunder. Sinjin wondered for a moment if the sound truly was thunder. It had been known to rain within these parts of the keep, but he'd heard that thunder, and this was different. This sounded alive and Kendra appeared to agree. Both turned to leave the inexplicable stone wheel they had been contemplating, and Sinjin feared someone would bar their path; it had happened before.

Mostly they had been honored as guests, but there was no question as to who was in charge and who determined their fate. Trinda was not unkind, but neither was she friendly. Not for the first time, Sinjin wished he'd been nicer to her in the past. They say the true measure of a person can be seen in the way he treats people less powerful than himself, and Sinjin was ashamed of things he'd said and done.

Regret was a part of growing up, but he'd been taught not to let past mistakes prevent great things in the future. Those mistakes taught him how to be a better person, his father had always said. Sometimes it was as if he could still hear his father's voice in his mind. He missed his father terribly.

"What do you think that was?" Kendra asked softly. Trinda's guards were never far away.

"I don't know," Sinjin said, not wanting to admit he hadn't been thinking about it.

"Not sure how much more excitement I can take," Kendra said.

Sinjin laughed. It felt good to release some of his tension, even if just a small amount. A crowd had gathered along the shoreline of the God's Eye, waiting for the barges to return from the far shore. These people wanted to know what was happening just as badly as he and Kendra did. Their arrival among the crowd did not go unnoticed, and though no one spoke to them, they did clear a way for Sinjin and Kendra, silently acknowledging Dragonhold's rightful masters. He wasn't certain what exactly the child queen had said to the people, but it was clear they feared communicating openly with him and Kendra. It saddened him.

The barges were larger and more substantial than the ones originally built under Catrin's leadership. These barges required four men to pole them and could hold many more people, though it appeared the original, smaller barges were also still in use. When they arrived, however, no one boarded. Instead, Sinjin and Kendra were left standing closest to the shoreline, and they boarded in uncomfortable silence. Even the young men manning the poles did not speak to them, despite Sinjin's knowing three of them fairly well. Bradley, at the very least, met his eyes and gave him a nod. The others were afraid to do even that. Such things made him dislike Trinda, and he remained conflicted with regard to the child queen. Only water lapping against the barge and moving poles accompanied their journey across the lake.

On the far side of the God's Eye, the passageway and the great hall beyond were eerily quiet and empty. Normally a steady flow of people moved through this hall, and now their boot steps echoed in the silence. A distant shuffling sound like leather on stone reached their ears but was too distorted to tell them much. A sinking feeling nauseated Sinjin.

A horn sounded three times, and he recognized its call. Screaming and shouting were followed by another deep roar, this one unmistakable.

Entering the great hall at a full run, Sinjin and Kendra slowed and stared at the spectacle unfolding. It took a moment before they truly understood what they saw. Clouds of black smoke mingled with steam rolling across the ancient mosaic floor of the hall. Rising out of smoke and steam stood a dragon that dwarfed the regals. Sinjin soon recognized Jehregard, still wearing his tierre, and Onin of the old guard glaring at anyone who dared approach.

Before the dragon, like a child's toy in disarray, the
Serpent
lay on her side. Nimsy and Farsy helped Kenward off the ship. Sinjin and Kendra were soon running again, seeing their friends in trouble. By the time they reached the others, much of the excitement was over. The fire on the
Serpent
appeared to have been quenched, and the wind socks, emptied. Kenward was unsteady on his feet, but he did stand, and that relieved much of Sinjin's worry.