The Fifth Magic (Book 1) (8 page)

The only thing he was allowed to concentrate on now was the viewing chamber. He knew what had happened to Catrin and Prios when they had used the chamber without the metal-streaked stone throne, like the one present within Ohmahold's viewing chamber.

A stack of books with descriptions of the stone chairs and their composition were brought to him, but he was no miner or prospector. He was trained to build things made of stone, not figure out where to dig for rare and specific types of stone. He didn't know how much metal there had to be within the rock for the chairs to serve their purpose, or even exactly what types of metal were needed. All he had were dimensions and a vague idea of the required material.

He could deduce from what he knew of Catrin's work that she had commissioned stone thrones from the Greatland. This led him to believe the required stone was not known to exist here on the Godfist and that it was known to exist somewhere in the Greatland. It occurred to him that the thrones Catrin commissioned were probably still resting within Catrin's Vale upon the Firstland. That thought stuck and Martik struggled to find words capable of convincing Trinda to allow Sinjin to bring the throne.

There was nothing else for him to do regarding the viewing chamber. It was fully functional, had no moving parts, and essentially consisted of two holes cut in a stone wall. It was exasperating.

He could no longer avoid the inevitable. He needed to face Trinda. They had not spoken in person since his "betrayal," as she referred to it in her missives. She was clearly still not pleased with him, but he could stand his current assignment no longer. Perhaps if he was able to negotiate a trade with Sinjin, he would be allowed to go back to work on the wheel until Sinjin arrived.

Walking into the hall, he found Bernerd, Trinda's trusted guard.

"I need to speak with the queen," he said.

"Why?" Bernerd asked, disinterested.

"Because I need to speak with her about the viewing chamber."

"What, exactly, about the viewing chamber do you need to speak with the lady about? You see, the thing you must understand is that anything you wish to say to the queen must be said to me first."

"The thrones we need are on the Firstland."

"See now? That wasn't so difficult. And how do you propose to retrieve them? Do you require a boat?" Bernerd asked with a smile.

"I suggest we trade with Sinjin Volker for it."

It took a moment for Bernerd to stop laughing, but he finally wiped a tear and drew a deep breath. "This should be fun to watch. I'm going to allow it just to see her react when you say the name Sinjin Volker. Trade, he says . . ." Bernerd continued to laugh as he led Martik to Trinda's day apartments. It was rare for him to be allowed into her personal space. Bernerd wanted it as uncomfortable for him as possible.

"And why is
he
here?" she said by way of greeting.

Bernerd smiled. "He insisted on seeing you." Trinda turned to Martik with a raised eyebrow.
Insisted
wasn't the word Martik would have used. "He has a question he simply must ask you. Go ahead, traitor, ask her."

Could there be a worse setup for a question? Martik wondered. He thought not.

"You have asked me to understand the viewing chamber and bring it to full utility, as you put it," Martik said, pausing to take a breath under Trinda's cold stare. "It is my opinion the correct composition of stone is not known on the Godfist, and commissioning new thrones will be expensive, laborious, and take a long time. This all seems avoidable since the very thrones Catrin commissioned are resting on the Firstland."

Trinda's soured.

"Surely if we offered them something, they would be willing to trade. I'm betting they would bring the thrones to us."

"Only if the thrones are delivered by Brother Vaughn," Trinda said, shocking both Martik and Bernerd.

He knew the man had been close to Trinda, but it was an odd thing for her to request, especially when he had expected a real fight. "What may I offer them in trade?" he asked, wondering if this was where it would begin.

Trinda tapped her chin for a moment then gave him a wicked smile. "Perhaps I should offer them you."

Martik didn't know what to say.

"Or perhaps I'll keep you just a little bit longer," she continued.

The girl did have a cruel streak.

"Offer them food and goods of equal weight. They may select what they wish from the market when they arrive. I believe they are aware of the quality of our produce, herbs, spices, and other goods. You have way to get word to the Volker boy?"

"Uh . . . yeah," he admitted.

"At least you were honest about that bit," she said. "Go. Send your missive."

* * *

Sinjin sat across the table from Strom, Osbourne, and Durin and had Kendra by his side, along with Arakhan and Mikala. Surely they would find some solution to their problems, he thought, yet they mostly came up with more questions. What was in the head of Trinda Hollis was a subject of much discussion, but no one could say for certain what the girl was up to. She was as easy to understand as dragons, Kendra had come to say.

Sinjin thought the same could be said for women in general.

Durin sighed. "I'm worried we might end up spending a lot of resources and energy with the very real chance there's nothing in those holes worth having," he said. And Sinjin recalled Durin had just been saying how nice it was to have finally settled in to his new home.

Sinjin could see his point, but he also saw what Strom and Osbourne meant about the sheer lack of physical security. If the ferals wanted to attack, they could fly right in, just as they had when the regent queen had been here, and knowing where her skull rested made clear the outcome.

"It's worth at least investigating," Kendra said. "If you don't believe me, then I'll take you up there and show you. No one who has been there would feel as you do."

Durin waved his hands in front of him, "No need. I just wanted to make my point. Do what you need to do, just try not to use all of our precious resources in the process, and try not to get anyone killed. You all aren't the folks I'd call if I needed help moving dragon-sized rocks, except maybe because you actually have dragons. But seriously, don't kill yourselves."

Sinjin turned to Arakhan. "Who among you are the builders?"

Arakhan shrugged. "No builders, only shaman. There are Drakon shamans. I am one."

"Do you know how to move heavy stone?"

Arakhan shook his head. "Not much stone in Arghast Desert."

"I guess it's up to us, then," Sinjin said, turning at Kendra.

"We'll find a way," Kendra said.

As if summoned by her words, a young member of the Dragon Clan ran up, holding a pigeon. It bore a message. Sinjin smiled. The birds were working out well, even if he had to send many birds to get a single message through; it was better than being cut off from Dragonhold and the Vestrana.

After removing the tiny, rolled parchment wrapped around the bird's leg, Sinjin saw a simple note.
Send stone chairs and Brother Vaughn in exchange for equal weight in food and goods. No dragons.
As soon as he saw the words, his mouth watered. There were things from the Godfist all of them longed for and could not have. If this was a chance to open up trade with the people of the Godfist, Trinda Hollis aside, then it could be a boon for him and his people.

"It sounds like a trap," Durin said. "I wouldn't put it past her. That girl has issues. And she's sneaky."

"And why ask for Brother Vaughn?" Kendra asked.

"I really don't know," Brother Vaughn said. "Though I'll admit I'm not certain I wish to go. It's a long voyage by boat, and I don't remember seeing any docked in the bay. And she said no dragons."

Sinjin's visions of sausage breads and cheese faded.

Chapter 8

Potential is often smothered by doubt.

--Brother Vaughn, Cathuran monk

* * *

Within the dry dock, ropes sang with tension, as four regal dragons lowered the stone chair directly into the
Serpent's
hold
.
Even as a group, the weight was almost too much for the mighty beasts. Valterius bellowed and Gerhonda responded, as did Atherian and Grekka, ridden by Arakhan and Mikala. The four strained and struggled to work together against the wind and the weight; it was a perilous and risky venture, and it was just the beginning.

"I know they say I'm insane," Kenward said, "but this is beyond even my foolhardiness. Everything my mother has ever said to me tells me not to do this."

Those words made Sinjin consider his options once again. They could send for a traditional ship, but that would take months. The
Dragon's Wing
could do the job, but she wasn't due back from the Greatland for weeks either.

"The
Wing
is a faster ship, yes?" Brother Vaughn asked. "I mean no offense, of course."

"Under certain conditions," Kenward admitted grudgingly. "The journey between the Firstland and the Godfist is dangerous due to far more than just distance. A single storm can add weeks to the voyage. Those seas are among the stormiest I know, and it can be impossible to avoid them on the open seas. The
Serpent
can sometimes fly above storms that would relegate the
Dragon's Wing
back into the waves. The
Serpent
does not require someone with access to Istra's powers to stay aloft, which makes her the faster vessel under many circumstances."

Brother Vaughn nodded. "It's said that Catrin and Kyrien made the trip in under a week."

"If that is true," Kenward said with a shiver. "I suspect it was not an entirely natural occurrence."

Again, Brother Vaughn nodded.

"There is no way Valterius and I can travel that fast--at least not that I know of," Sinjin added. "We would be at the mercy of the winds as much or more than either ship."

Brother Vaughn sighed in frustration.

"I'm not even certain the
Serpent
can handle the weight," Kenward said.

Brother Vaughn stood next to Kenward, looking no more confident. When the throne had been lowered into place, the knots in his guts snatched tighter, making him fear he would be sick. It was the least of his troubles.

With but one stone chair in place, Sinjin and Kendra dismounted, knowing the ship could carry no more. Still, two trips with the
Serpent
should be faster than a single sea voyage.

"Trinda isn't going to be happy," Kendra said.

Sinjin shrugged.

The other Drakon went back to their usual business, some flying out to sea in search of fish bulky enough to feed growing dragons, others soaring low through the valleys or high above on patrol. Soon that rhythm would be disrupted, but Sinjin enjoyed the new familiarity while it lasted. The awkward ship reminded him change was inevitable and moving at a pace unrivaled in history.

"We've discussed this," Kendra said to Kenward. "Without most of your crew aboard, you'll need far fewer supplies, which will offset the additional weight."

"Myself, two crewmen, and him?" Kenward asked. "I mean no insult, Brother Vaughn, but you aren't trained in the workings of this airship, and your usefulness will be limited. That's about enough people to operate the boiler and man the tiller. What about the sails and rigging, and the lookout? Do you think the monk is going to climb to the crow's nest?"

Brother Vaughn said nothing, knowing that climb was truly beyond his abilities or desires.

"How much of your crew do you plan to leave behind?" Kendra asked.

"I don't want to leave any of them behind," Kenward sulked.

"And once you're in the air, you'll know if the
Serpent
can support more weight, correct?"

"I suppose so, yes," Kenward said.

"Then I'll bring Bryn on Gerhonda and we'll lower them onto your deck. Is that satisfactory?"

"That's a dangerous plan," Brother Vaughn said. "Gerhonda could easily get hung up in the rigging."

"That's why I didn't offer to have the Drakon ferry more of the crew onto the ship once she's in the air," Kendra said. "However, one or two I think we can handle. And if it truly is too dangerous, then we'll abort the mission."

"Don't mind my wife," Sinjin said. "She hasn't had sausage bread in too long, and the thought of Godfist food is perhaps more than she can bear." She elbowed him in the ribs. "You don't have to do anything you don't think you can handle. We could just wait until the
Dragon's Wing
arrives. I don't think she'll have any trouble."

"I may be pushy," Kendra whispered in his ear, "but you're evil."

Brother Vaughn remained silent. Part of him wanted to return to Dragonhold and see all those he'd left behind. Leaving his wife, Mirta, in Windhold was not something he wanted, especially since he had just been gone to the Heights for so long. He'd also sworn never to board the
Serpent
again, let alone the
Serpent
with a skeleton crew and too much weight in the hold. Kenward had said he thought the ship would float, despite not being water tight, but the truth was that the
Serpent
had never touched the water and there was no way to know what would happen if she ever came down over the seas. This was particularly disconcerting knowing just how much water they'd have to cross to reach the Godfist.

"Where are the minstrels among you?" Kenward said. "Songs" will be sung of this."

Brother Vaughn swallowed hard. He'd secretly been hoping Kenward would refuse, for he could not. He'd long ago taken an oath to put the good of those around him before his own needs. It was an oath some of his order interpreted loosely, but Brother Vaughn had lived his life in accordance with his vows, and he wasn't about to stop now. His bravery had difficulty matching his nobility, though, and his knees trembled.

"I'll not ask anyone to board the
Serpent
unless they wish it," Kenward said. "I know she'll fly, but you must find your own belief."

Farsy stepped forward without hesitation. He'd been with Kenward the longest and trusted the man implicitly. Nimsy and Sevon stepped forward next, and neither said a word; they just took their places next to Farsy, having been integral in the design of the more experimental parts of the ship. Though new to the crew, Sevon's nimble fingers and uncanny understanding of mechanics had proven invaluable. All had known they were the captain's first choice, and they were unwilling to let him down; risking their lives for Kenward had long since lost its chill.

Next Bryn stepped forward, despite knowing he might not get aboard. He looked as if he were trying hard not to think about what he was getting himself into.

"Very well," Kenward said after a prolonged silence. "Farsy, Nimsy, and Sevon, pack the coal bins tight, stoke the fires, fill the barrels, and check the ropes. More weight requires more fuel, which means more weight. Anything more, and I'll have no crew at all. Bryn, you ride with the lady. May you find your way safely to my deck once again."

Bryn nodded solemnly. The
Serpent's
crew responded to these orders, and the ship was soon nearly ready to fly. Farsy and Nimsy manned the fires from belowdecks, and Sevon worked amid the rigging. Brother Vaughn wished the man well; all their lives depended on his work, which was something he tried not to think about.

Slowly the wind socks filled, the air pulling at them, and the
Serpent
sat lightly in the dry dock. Kenward rushed about the ship, checking and double-checking things usually the responsibility of others. His frantic movements did little to ease the knots in Brother Vaughn's gut. It was a terrifying feeling to know you were about to gain the air with no way of knowing if you would fly or come crashing back down. Trinda had requested him by name, and Kenward was unwilling to risk having Brother Vaughn flown in by dragon. The monk reconsidered the decision. Now that the time had come, flying in became more appealing.

"Maybe the dragons could escort the
Serpent
until we get near the Godfist," Brother Vaughn said as the wind picked up.

Black smoke belched from the chimstack, and the socks billowed one last time before snapping taut in the wind. The sound of flakewood grinding against stone gave the impression the ship was being torn apart. Those aboard had secured themselves and were as prepared for this as they could be, but there was nothing that could completely prepare a person for being taken by a sudden gust of wind with sail and wind socks fluttering around you.

A rocky shoreline rushed toward them, scrubby trees ready to provide a final embrace, Brother Vaughn screamed; he was not alone. The
Serpent
spun out of control, losing what little altitude they had. Shouting came from above as well, but he could not understand what was being said. The only thought his mind could comprehend was that he was about to die. Wings flashed by and Brother Vaughn saw Bryn leaning out with a gaff and trying to free a snagged rope. His valiant effort lacked the strength or leverage to free it. What the young man had done, though, was show Gerhonda exactly what needed doing, and she used her claws to untwist the lines securing the wind socks. The ropes snapped taut with a whip like sound, and the prow moved upward, righting the ship. Dragons latched on to the
Serpent
from all sides and helped to lift the otherwise doomed ship away from the jagged shoreline. Branches smashed into the hull even as the dragons strained, and black smoke filled the air.

Taking deep breaths, Brother Vaughn did his best to not hyperventilate. The ship gained the air, and the dragons peeled away, one by one. Kenward guided the ship out over the water, where the air was cooler. The
Serpent
did not fly as high as she had in the past, despite the fires radiating heat through the slats of the deck. Gerhonda and Kendra came closer, Bryn riding anxiously behind Kendra and still wielding a gaff.

"I'm sorry, m'boy," Kenward shouted over the sound of his hissing and whirring ship. "There's just too much weight. I can't get her higher than this without throwing the monk overboard."

Brother Vaughn swallowed, not entirely certain he was joking.

"May the winds be kind and bring you home," Kendra said. Gerhonda turned and wheeled away, back toward Windhold.

Bryn's expression made it clear he longed to be on the ship, and Brother Vaughn felt bad for having taken his place. Trinda had given him no choice. What she could want with him, he had no idea, but he did not fear the girl. It was the waters separating them he dreaded most. Again, he wished the dragons would escort them, but he also understood the Drakon were still in survival mode and could scarcely afford to lose their most valuable resources for weeks or months on end. Still, a single dragon and rider could not have hurt, and they would soon burn enough fuel and consume enough rations to allow for additional weight. If Kendra and Bryn were not already beyond earshot, he would have called them back and begged.

Kenward approached with a smile on his face. That worried Brother Vaughn more than anything. "How are you with a shovel?" Kenward asked, his grin never fading.

* * *

Approaching Dragonhold was surreal. The Pinook Valley was wide, providing sufficient room to move, but Kenward still kept them as high as he could, which wasn't high enough to clear the peaks. It also wasn't high enough to reach what Kenward knew was an airship dock atop Dragonhold. It was from there Trinda had saved Brother Vaughn from the ferals. Kenward reminded himself of that act. She had been kind to him, and she had treated the people of the Godfist well. He had no quarrel with her, save the actual taking of Dragonhold. It was something he would need to bury deeply and quickly. The wrong words within the hold could get them all killed, no matter how kind she'd been in the past.

Denied the proper airship dock, Kenward reluctantly flew toward the main entrance to Dragonhold, which was far grander than when he'd last seen it. Rising from the valley floor was a bulwark to dwarf any other on Godsland. The stairways, once exposed to dragon attacks, were now concealed within white stone fascia. Near the top, construction continued, and the old gates remained in place. These gates had served Dragonhold well since their hasty construction and would still deny the
Serpent
entrance should the child queen wish it. The gates ponderously swung open. Kenward gripped the wheel, watching the approach with intense concentration. The
Serpent
had yet to land the same way twice.

The entrance to Dragonhold was large enough to admit them into the towering great hall, but there wasn't much extra height. Gusting crosswinds made this an even more perilous endeavor.

"We're going to have to come in fast," Kenward shouted. "We need all the air in the socks, and all the thrust we can muster. We can come in a little high, but we can't come in too low. The socks will likely catch, so be ready for a rough landing."