Dragon War: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Three (3 page)

Ashara cleared her throat. “My House, the Arcane Congress, and Kelas worked together to construct the Dragon Forge. At first, we—House Cannith—believed that it was simply a new source of magical power, something that would increase our production, create new weapons. Kelas offered it to us in exchange for our support in his attempt on the throne. We were not initially aware of the role that Gaven’s dragonmark would play in the use of the Forge, and we—well, I overlooked the risk of the fiend’s evil corrupting the power.”

“But the Forge was actually a weapon,” Cart said. “It created that storm we saw and sent it toward the Reaches. So Kelas planned to use it against the barbarians?”

“And the Eldeen Reaches would shower praise on their Aundairian liberators,” Aunn said.

“So that’s what the queen was here to see,” Ashara added. “A demonstration of this new weapon Kelas offered her. But why …”

“Why should Kelas offer the Forge to the queen if his goal was to overthrow her?” Aunn said.

Ashara nodded. “Exactly.”

“To win her confidence, her trust. To make Thuel look bad, shown up by one of his underlings.”

“Thuel?” Cart asked.

“Thuel Racannoch,” Aunn said, “the head of the Royal Eyes. Sea of Fire, I’ve just committed treason by telling you that.” He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to sort out the jumble of thoughts. “Why is Jorlanna
involved in all this?” He looked at Ashara, who frowned. “Why chase after power in Aundair, rather than trying to unify House Cannith? She already has holdings in the Reaches and Thrane as well as Aundair. Why limit herself?”

“Well,” Cart said, “if Aundair retakes the Reaches, she hasn’t lost much, has she?”

“She’s playing a dangerous game,” Ashara said. “She’s making such a break with tradition that she could lose some of her own enclaves, leave them open for Merrix or Zorlan to step in.”

House Cannith was fragmented, Aunn knew. It hadn’t split like House Phiarlan had, with the Thuranni family forming its own house, but many people believed it was just a matter of time. Jorlanna controlled the house enclaves in the northwest, but Merrix d’Cannith held sway in the south from his headquarters in Sharn, and Zorlan oversaw the house operations in the east. Anything that tipped the balance of power among the three factions could lead to a true schism, or to one baron finally claiming victory over the others. Ashara was right—it was a dangerous game.

“But I don’t think that’s all,” Ashara said. “I think it has to do with the Dragon Forge.”

“How so?” Aunn asked.

“Well, what if Jorlanna could rule a nation that didn’t need the other dragonmarked houses? What if Aundair had its own lightning rail and airships, its own banks and security, its own message stations, all operated by the Cannith family?”

“Using dragonmarks stolen from the other houses,” Aunn said. “With the Dragon Forge.”

“Exactly.”

“So it’s not a question of choosing national power over the economic power of a dragonmarked house. She wants both.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Aunn drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So what about the dragons? What was the dragon king doing here?”

“Malathar was interested in the Prophecy,” Cart said, “and in Gaven’s mark. Kelas spoke of the Forge as a refinery, separating the gold of the dragonmark from the dross of Gaven’s flesh.”

“Kelas certainly had an interest in the esoteric side of it all. This torc, the Ramethene Sword, the Prophecy—they were all part of it.”

At Aunn’s mention of the Prophecy, Cart turned his head to look at Gaven, and Aunn’s eyes followed. Gaven hadn’t moved.

“I think there’s only one person left alive who can help us sort out that part of Kelas’s plans,” Aunn said.

“But in the meantime,” Cart said, “Aundair is at war.”

“And we’re still stranded in the middle of the wilderness,” Ashara added, “four days from Arcanix or Vanguard Keep and not likely to be welcomed in either place.”

“I’m sure we can find supplies in the camp,” Aunn said. “Certainly enough for a short journey.”

Ashara frowned. “But all the soldiers who fled the camp when we fought Malathar are sure to make their way back eventually, with their eyes on the same supplies.”

“We’ll need to be careful,” Cart said.

“What were you two talking about?” Aunn said. “Before I came back?”

Ashara’s face turned red again and she looked away.

Cart answered, “Xandrar.”

“Xandrar? That’s at least ten days from here. And the wrong direction.”

“What do you mean?” Ashara said. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Aunn blinked. “I … I suppose I assumed we were going back to Fairhaven, sooner or later.”

“Why?”

Why? Aunn realized that he didn’t know. He always had returned to Fairhaven—was it simple habit? His mission accomplished, he’d return to the Royal Eyes and await his next orders? What would happen now that Kelas was dead? Would he go to Thuel and tell him of Kelas’s treason? Warn him that the queen’s life might still be in danger? Wouldn’t Thuel just throw him in prison or have him killed?

When he had killed Kelas, Aunn had dealt the final blow to his old life. And he didn’t know yet what his new life would be.

“Wherever we’re going,” Ashara said, “how do we take him with us?” She nodded toward Gaven.

“I can carry him,” Cart said.

“Even you’d get tired with that much weight on your shoulder for ten days.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“So we get him to Xandrar,” Aunn said, “or Fairhaven, or wherever we’re going—then what?”

“I hoped you had an answer in mind,” Cart said.

“I don’t. I don’t have any answers.” He stood up. “I need to think.”

“Think quickly,” Ashara said. “People will start trickling back to the camp any time, now that the storm has died.”

Aunn stalked away from the pair and found himself beside the blue-gray monolith again. He leaned his head against the cool, smooth stone and tried to think. Only a short time ago, he’d been filled with a sense of purpose—a driving force that spurred him into action, the goal of destroying the Dragon Forge and ensuring that the evil of the Secret Keeper didn’t escape into the world. Not only had he been driven into action, he felt he’d been helped along in that action, supported and guided by the Messenger. He’d been helped in the Labyrinth, given purpose by the Traveler or Kalok Shash or the ghost of Dania or some other presence. He needed to find that same sense of purpose. And that same source of help.

Help me, he thought. Please.

Be not afraid. I will be with you
.

Had he heard the Messenger’s voice again in his thoughts, or just remembered it speaking before? He couldn’t tell. He put his hand to the torc at his neck, and felt a tingling chill course through his body.

It was still there, he realized—the magic that had fueled the Dragon Forge. It sprang into his mind, not a knot or weave of magic, but a raging fire, alive and unbound. It still burned in the heart of the monolith, and in the silver torc around his neck, and in himself. It was magic as he’d never seen it before, power he could taste but didn’t dare touch, a force and a presence that left him awed and humbled.

Slowly a purpose took shape in his mind again.

*  *  *  *  *

“I’m returning to Fairhaven,” Aunn announced. “I’ll take Gaven with me—there has to be a mule or horse around here that can carry him there for me. You two don’t have to come—maybe it’d be best if you don’t. I can hide myself, but I’m not sure I can hide you.”

Ashara’s eyes widened. “And what are you going to do in Fairhaven?” she said.

“Aundair’s in danger, thanks to me. I need to warn them, to make sure the queen and her generals take the threat of the barbarians seriously. I also need to find help for Gaven. And I want to find out more about Kelas’s plans. There were others involved in his plot, and someone else might be ready to pick up where he left off.”

“That’s hard for me to imagine,” Ashara said. “The plan belonged to Kelas—no one else there had the initiative or the intelligence to pull it together.”

“You’re probably right. Even so, knowing Kelas, there were probably other pieces of the plan, pieces we don’t know about, that might have enough momentum to keep moving without him.”

Cart got to his feet. “I suppose I was being foolish to think I could just walk away from all that.”

“You can,” Ashara said, standing beside him and taking his arm. “You’re a free man.”

“I’m not asking you to come with me,” Aunn said. “I really don’t know what I’d do with you.”

“I’ll take care of myself.” Cart turned to Ashara. “And freedom doesn’t mean running away from responsibility. I played a part in Kelas’s plans because I thought I had a duty to help and obey Haldren. Now I have a duty to help make it right.”

Aunn smiled at the memory of walking with Gaven and Cart in Whitecliff, what seemed like years ago and worlds away. He had just started to see the mind behind Gaven’s distracted appearance, and Gaven observed that Aunn, too, had been concealing his true face. No one had ever seen through him so easily. Cart had shattered the tension, though, by taking pains to point out that he, too, was “really quite complex. Many-layered.” It had seemed like a joke at the time.

“I’ll be glad to have you along, Cart,” he said.

“Will you come as well?” the warforged asked Ashara.

“How can I?” Tears welled in Ashara’s eyes. “I’ve betrayed my family. I’ll be excoriated!”

“You’ll be in excellent company,” Aunn said, nodding toward Gaven.

“True,” she said, smiling up at Cart.

“We’d better gather supplies,” Cart said. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Ashara’s eyes widened, and her mouth spread slowly into a grin. “Not necessarily.” Her gaze drifted to the upper rim of the canyon, the area where Aunn had fought Kelas.

“The circle!” Aunn said. The queen’s party had used a ritual circle to transport themselves back to Fairhaven.

“Exactly,” Ashara said. “Working together, I’m sure we can activate it again.”

“Where will we appear?” Cart asked. “And how do we stay hidden?”

“Ah, that’s where my plan gets devious.” Aunn’s face melted away, passing quickly through the blank gray of his natural face before it became the smiling visage of Kelas ir’Darren.

R
ienne stood looking down over the airship’s railing as the sun descended toward the green and gold expanse of the Towering Wood. The Aundairian army kept growing as more squads and companies trickled in from the ruins of Varna and the surrounding forest. They stood at attention, waiting for the command to march, but in their stillness she sensed an energy, a drive that would carry them forward to overwhelm the Eldeen Reaches.

The Reaches had been part of Aundair once, and the loss of their fertile farmlands and vast forests during the war was a hard blow. But with Thrane to the east and Breland to the south, Aundair couldn’t mount a concentrated effort to take them back while the Last War still raged. Haldren ir’Brassek, the former general who had helped Gaven escape from Dreadhold, had earned his place in that prison by refusing to let the war end, continuing his campaign in the Reaches in violation of the Treaty of Thronehold—that, and his brutal treatment of prisoners and civilians, in defiance of every convention of war.

With the war over and after a few years passed to rebuild its military strength, Aundair could manage a more concentrated effort to retake the Reaches—at least until the other nations became involved and threatened its other borders again. Then Khorvaire would be back in the full heat of war, and what would Aundair have gained? Already, in their travels across Aundair, Rienne and Jordhan had heard rumors that Brelish troops were massing in the south, prepared to help defend the Reaches from Aundair’s aggression.

The difference, Rienne supposed, was the barbarian horde sweeping into the Reaches from the west. It was Aundair’s pretense for the invasion—Aundair couldn’t rely on Reacher forces to fight back the barbarians, so it had to protect its borders with its own army, before the barbarians started pillaging Aundairian lands. It was a thin excuse to begin with, and the ruins
of Varna proved that Aundair took the business of retaking the Reaches far more seriously than it did the barbarian threat.

And that, Rienne feared, was Aundair’s deadly mistake.

Heavy footfalls on the deck stirred her from her thoughts. For a moment she dreamed that it was Gaven stepping up behind her, ready to enfold her in his arms. But it was Jordhan’s voice that asked, “What’s our course from here, Lady Alastra?”

She turned around and tried to smile at him. “I’m not sure,” she said.

“Something tells me Gaven is somewhere south of here, if those storms were any indication.” Jordhan’s smile seemed forced as well. “Shall we head that way and look for him?”

Rienne sighed and turned back to the railing, gazing across Lake Galifar to the hazy silhouettes of the distant Blackcap Mountains. Jordhan’s question had said a great deal, and his face had told her more. They had sighted two great storms in the last days of their journey west, both forming somewhere on the Aundairian side of the lake, near those mountains. The storms appeared in clear skies and flashed with lightning. The second one, though, had swept across the lake and crashed into the city, leaving it in ruins. Rienne didn’t want to believe that Gaven was responsible for demolishing the city, for Aundair or any other cause. Perhaps the storm was some new weapon of Aundair, nothing to do with Gaven at all.

More than three weeks had passed since she last saw Gaven, and not an hour had gone by without some thought of him surfacing in her mind and pricking at her heart. But she had chosen to pursue her own destiny, whether that course brought her back with Gaven or not. She wouldn’t veer from that path now.

“No,” she said. “We’ll continue west. Gaven will have to find us.”

*  *  *  *  *

Evening found Rienne back at the railing, looking down at the farmland drifting along beneath them. She heard Jordhan’s footsteps on the deck behind her and her grip tightened on the rail.