Gold Dragon Codex Page 3

  Putting his chin on his fist, elbow on the table, Sandon stared at Kine. What was it like to be a real Knight of Solamnia fighting a brave war against evil enemies? He tried to imagine Kine riding on the back of a tremendous silver dragon, lance in hand, plume flowing from a shining helm.

  Kine slurped the last of his gravy, holding up the plate and scraping food into his mouth.

  Ew.

  Gallia ladled another helping of potatoes onto Sandon’s plate, deliberately ignoring the soldier’s greedy noises behind her. “You eat all of these, Sandon. You’re a growing—”

  She never got to finish the sentence. At the far end of the hall, the heavy oak doors flung open, letting in a gust of cold wind and rain. The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to the far archway as two guards struggled to push the doors closed. One of them stopped, staring at something out in the darkness, his hand snapping toward the spear he’d left at his post. He gripped the hilt, prodding the end of the spear forward in a military stance.

  The guard let out a shout of warning, but even as the words left his mouth, a bolt of sharply lit electricity crackled in through the doorway, catching him in the chest. His plate armor sizzled with energy and he was lifted off the ground to skitter backward across the stone floor. On the other side, the second guard managed to get his spear into place and snapped the visor of his helmet down.

  “Intruder!” the second guard cried out. He had the opportunity to swing only once before a second bolt struck like a serpent through the door. It roared over him, tossing the heavily armored guard like a rag doll across the room. He crashed into the stone wall and slumped forward, spear falling from his limp hand.

  A lone figure wrapped in a long brown cloak that swung and shivered in the storm stepped into the doorway. “Your Excsssellency,” it hissed, the s sound oddly emphasized. “I bring … greetingsss.”

  The baron was already standing, Captain Vilfrand beside him with sword ready. Yattak’s bushy gray eyebrows shot up, and his beady black eyes fixed sharply on their visitor. The merchant dinner guests looked shocked and horrified, pale beneath the torchlight. The glassblower guildmaster, Torentine, clutched his napkin to his chest as though it might save him from some horrific fate. Kine stared at the intruder from the end of the table, munching thoughtfully on a forkload of potatoes.

  “You were told never to come to my home.” The baron’s voice was as hard as iron.

  “Timesss are changing.” The figure strode inside. It was tall, a bit more than eight feet, and lanky enough to slither rather than tromp through the door. Its step was light and smooth like a woman’s, but the clawed hands that reached to uncoil its brown hood and wrap were anything but human. The elegant, long fingers were clawed and covered in scales that formed a horrible silvery blue pattern. The cloth slid from the creature’s head to reveal the long muzzle of a draconian.

  One of the serving girls screamed and ran into the kitchens, dropping her platter of bread. Gallia clenched her white-knuckled fingers around the serving ladle, barking a short order to the other two girls to follow the first. Sandon sat frozen in his seat, sickly hoping to be allowed to remain—but staring at the men gasping for breath, still crackling with electrical energy on the floor. Sandon was suddenly uncertain if staying was such a good idea. He’d heard of this creature before. It visited his father on occasion, carrying messages for the dragon Lazuli, but it’d never before arrived so publicly, or so violently. Sandon had never been allowed in its presence. Now, he could see why.

  “What do you want, Malaise?” Baron Camiel gritted his teeth. “You aren’t welcome here.”

  “Flight Marshal Malaise, of the Blue Dragonarmy. I served at the Blue Watch in Neraka, I fought at the Battle at Fangoth Field, and welcome or not”—the draconian sidled forward—“here I am.” She—Sandon wasn’t sure if draconians had different sexes, but this one’s mincing step and shifting hips certainly seemed feminine—smiled, revealing two long rows of teeth. The baron did nothing but clench his jaw even further as Malaise walked right up to the center of the room, a few feet from their dining table. “It is so very cold in here, good Baron. You know how my people hate the cold. Allow me to make the room a bit warmer so that we can chat in comfort.”

  With a gesture, fire erupted from the draconian’s clawed hand, shooting forth from her palm to land with massive impact in the left fireplace. She twisted, battle ready, and did the same to the right, launching a tremendous ball of flame that crashed and detonated within the hearth. The fires lit the room in bold, stark contrast, casting great shadows to either side and illuminating the draconian. Yattak let out a small yelp and fell sideways out of his chair, his massive bulk landing with a thump on the stone floor. Guildmaster Torentine shoved his plate back, shocked. Sandon saw him palm a knife, sliding the sharp implement into his lap when he thought no one was looking. He sat calmly, holding it by the hilt beneath the table.

  Snarling, Malaise turned to point at the baron, and Sandon’s heart leaped into his throat. Was she going to set him on fire too? “My massster, the proud and ancient blue dragon, Lazuli of the Iron Wing, requires further tribute,” Malaise demanded, eyes glinting in the light of her magical flames.

  “Further tribute? We agreed to offer it only once a month. It’s been but a week since your last visit!” Captain Vilfrand burst out, face reddening. “By Paladine, we won’t offer more!”

  The baron cut him off with a hand on the captain’s wrist. He faced Malaise stiffly. “Your master has already asked for his tribute this month. We have nothing more to give him. We are already scratching at dirt to have more for the next moon. If you take what we have now, this valley will starve.”

  “Yet you have enough to entertain guests?” Malaise’s eyes raked over the table, taking in the soldier at the end of the table. “Such a feast. Well fit for a noble table. I see you are not starving by any means.” Sandon saw Gallia’s eyes bulge in anger and then close sharply. That wasn’t fair! Sandon thought. Gallia was just trying not to embarrass the baron in front of a visitor!

  “Your barony has such bounty. It has been such a good hossst. As a visitor to this land, Lazuli expects to be treated with as much respect as any other guessst. Therefore, you will bring the standard offering of steel and food to the village square, exactly as you have done before. You will do the same again the next time the silver moon is full. Need I remind you that it is only Lazuli’s protection of these landsss that keeps them from being overrun by bandits?” Malaise deliberately stressed the last word, her gaze lingering on Kine. “If the mighty Lazuli is not sated, he will not have the strength to keep these lands at peace.”

  “If it weren’t for the dragon, we’d be fine!” The words flew out before Sandon could control himself. He stood shakily, trying to imitate his father’s solid stance. “We don’t need a dragon to protect us!”

  “Sandon!” The baron’s voice was as sharp as a sword. He glared at Sandon fiercely, making his son wilt back into his chair with the sheer force of his gaze. “The dragon is our protector. He keeps the valley safe. We will give him whatever he needs in order to earn his protection. Be still, or I’ll lock you in your room!”

  Sandon fumed, his hands clenching, his face heating up from more than the fires in the hearth. How dare his father talk to him that way—and in front of Kine!

  “So he does, my dear Baron,” Malaise hummed lightly in approval. “And you are wise to remember that.”

  The magical fires in the massive hearths were too hot, and sweat trickled under Sandon’s collar. The baron’s hand finally weighed down Vilfrand’s sword. Obviously still angry, the captain put it away, snapping it into the sheath with a final-sounding click. Malaise didn’t seem discomfited by any of it, standing at ease in the center of the room, clearly enjoying the tremendous heat. She fixed her gaze on Sandon, relishing the boy’s discomfort. Her forked tongue flickered out past her thin muzzle, slicing the air like a snake testing for scent.

  “We are willing to discuss fu
rther tribute for the month.” Baron Camiel took his hand off his brother’s arm and faced the draconian once more. Sandon cursed under his breath. Why was his father such a coward? Why wasn’t he willing to fight for the barony?

  He glanced at Kine, still seated at the far end of the table, and took in the soldier’s thoughtful face. Kine didn’t seem frightened at all. That was how a real knight responded to danger. That, or by fighting it, like Vilfrand was prepared to do. Not by giving in.

  Malaise smiled, showing those sharp teeth again. “A very good decision, Your Excellency. After so many years of working with dragons,”—she lingered over the words, relishing them—“it would be a shame to change your mind at this late date. You’ve been such a good … barony.” The last word was an afterthought to replace whatever the draconian had been intending, but the alteration only made Sandon feel worse.

  “As always, it is our pleasure to be fairly treated by such a strong and noble lord as Lazuli.” The baron bowed slightly, sweat blistering on his forehead as well.

  “I’ll return in the morning to finish our discussions and make arrangements for the tribute.” Malaise reached to pull her woolen wrap close about her head and shoulders. “Have a pleasant evening with your guesssts, Your Excellency.” With that, Malaise turned and strode across the length of the room, past the two soldiers who were only now beginning to come to their senses. She paused at the door to pull her hood up over her lizardlike head with a smile. “Perhaps the horn would make things simpler …”

  “No, Malaise,” the baron replied, a weary tone to his voice. He lowered himself into his seat once more. Vilfrand didn’t move, standing like stone by his baron’s side. Umar helped Yattak up onto his stumpy legs. The wizard jerked his robes around his shoulders and reached for his spilled mug. He whimpered hopelessly into the dregs.

  Stupid wizard, Sandon thought. Some help you are.

  Malaise let out a mock sigh. “A pity.” She marched out the doors as confidently as she’d come in. Despite the foggy rain outside, Sandon thought he saw wings unfold from the sivak draconian’s back. Within a breath, Malaise was gone, vanished into the mist and storm.

  The two guards she had attacked struggled to their feet, pushing the big oak doors closed to keep out the storm. The stone around the doorway was wet and slick, touched with frost, but the doors slid closed with a sturdy bang. Having them closed made Sandon feel a little better … but not a lot.

  “Can we pay the tribute?” Guildmaster Torentine folded his fingers together, steepling them against his lips. “Do we even have enough resources to try? The barony’s larders are nearly empty as it is, and this winter will be long and hard. These last few harvests may make the difference between survival and starvation.”

  Yattak crawled back onto his seat, gripping his mug of wine like a child with its bottle. “We’ll die! The barony’s broke! The dragon’s going to kill us all!” Umar swept down to refill the mug, not bothering to wrench it from the wizard’s fingers or caring if wine spilled on the fat man’s red robes. “We have nothing … nothing!”

  “Shut up, Yattak,” Torentine said offhandedly. “I’m sure Baron Camiel can think of something.” His beady eyes fixed on the baron from behind his folded hands. Long seconds passed, and the heat of the fire blistered Sandon’s face.

  “You people really don’t know much about dragons.” The voice came from the far end of the table. Kine popped another of Gallia’s small potatoes into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Lazuli’s never wanted steel, or food, or a place to sleep in your mountains. That’s second fiddle to his real desires. He can get those things anywhere, without half as much fuss. What he plans is to ask for such things until he’s drained your little barony dry—and when it has nothing else to give, he’ll get what he really wants.”

  “And what is that?” Baron Camiel asked acidly.

  Kine’s eyes remained firmly on his plate. “Blood.”

  “Treason.” Vilfrand’s voice was cold. “You’re talking treason. The baron would never offer citizens of the barony to the dragon—no matter what it asks for!” His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. Sandon could see that Kine’s weapon was unsnapped, the hilt hanging free—though whether he’d done that earlier when Malaise was in the room or in response to Vilfrand’s open threat, Sandon wasn’t sure. “Your appearance on our doorstep is awfully coincidental, soldier. Who’s to say you weren’t sent here by Lazuli to see how much Hartfall had left to give?”

  “Uncle!” Sandon stood up, pushing his chair back so violently that it clattered to the floor. “Kine’s here because I invited him. I told him to claim succor. Are you suggesting that I’m working with Lazuli?”

  “Of course not.” Vilfrand brushed him off with a scowl.

  “Then leave Kine alone.”

  The baron stared into the blazing hearth, his face somber. “Sandon, take our guest back to his chambers.” His voice was flat, free even of its usual firmness.

  “Dad … please, there has to be some other way.”

  “You can be assured that I will consider every possible alternative.” The baron’s voice regained some of its formality. He turned away from the fire and faced his son with his broad shoulders bowed. “Now take Kine and leave us to discuss it.”

  “You can’t! You can’t give more tribute to Lazuli!”

  “Sandon!” The baron’s knuckles whitened on the arms of his chair and his voice grew sharp. “Don’t argue with me, boy! Just do as I say!” he yelled.

  Sandon gritted his teeth. He tossed his napkin on the table and strode to the end of the table. “Yes, Your Excellency.” He put as much sneer into the words as possible and relished his father’s flinch.

  “Anyone mind if I take a couple of these rolls with me?” the soldier asked nonchalantly, talking with his mouth full of the last of the potatoes. He snapped up four rolls and stuffed them into his pockets, then pushed back his chair. Noting the black looks coming from the baron and his captain, the soldier grabbed his mug too, refilling it before he followed Sandon from the table.

  “Let’s go, Kine,” Sandon muttered. “We’re obviously not wanted here.”

  andon kicked a table leg as he paced down the hall toward the grand stairway that led up the front of the tower toward the guest chambers. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet his father was sending him away as if he were still an eight-year-old. He was fourteen, had his own war steed, and could even fit into his father’s armor, but the minute things with Lazuli came up, he was booted out of the room like a child.

  “I thought you said you’d only ever seen one dragon,” Kine said out of the side of his mouth as he followed the boy with a heavy, booted step.

  “What?” Sandon snapped out of his brooding and looked back at the soldier.

  “That draconian.”

  “I’ve never seen her before, and anyway, she doesn’t count. Malaise isn’t a dragon, she’s a draconian—you know, creatures made from using foul magic on captured good dragon eggs. I thought you fought in the War of the Lance? You ought to know that.”

  Kine scowled blackly. “I know what a draconian is. That one’s a sivak. Bursts into flames when she dies. They’re made of silver dragons’ eggs, and are full of lies and foulness. I was talking about when she said, ‘After so many years working with dragons,’ “ Kine stressed the s. “What dragons?”

  “Oh. That.” Sandon pushed open the door to Kine’s bedroom and flopped down on the guest bed in a huff. “I never met the other dragon. It was the one that the statue in the middle of the square was made for—some big gold dragon. When I was a kid, it used to protect the valley. But that was a long time ago, after all the soldiers went to fight in the war. It was supposed to protect us while you fighters were gone, but some good that did. It gave up a few years ago, and now it never leaves its cave.”

  “Gave up? Huh. Sounds about right.” Kine snorted. “Still, pretty wise of your father to find another dragon to worship … or did he call it �
�tribute’? Whatever. To protect the barony.”

  Sandon rolled over, pushing himself up on the bed. “The only thing protecting this valley is my father!” He glared at Kine. “If it weren’t for him, that blue dragon would have flown right in and eaten everyone! Or enslaved us … or whatever blue dragons do.”

  “Eaten is usually right,” Kine agreed, settling down on the bench seat in the bay window. He set down his ale on the sill and tore into another piece of bread. “Blue dragons never stop eating.”

  “Kind of like you.” Sandon sniffed, eyeing the soldier’s ever-full mouth. “If it weren’t for my father, this valley would be completely destroyed. The dragon would be living in the keep, I’ll bet, eating people off the top of the towers.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  Sandon rolled back over and punched a pillow. “There’s a spell on the valley that keeps dragons away. Not evil things, only dragons, so the bandits—and Malaise—can get in just fine. But because of that spell, Father can keep Lazuli out of the valley. That’s why the blue dragon sends Malaise to get his tribute instead of coming into Hartfall himself.”

  “Oh, so now your dad is a wizard? He magicked up the valley to keep the bad old dragon out? He’s even more of a coward, then, because he sure didn’t seem willing to take on that draconian when she was tossing around spells.”