The Royals

Chapter 55

'We must help,' Notti urged. 'It could be the Dragon Prince.'

Jedrek shook his head. 'You know it is not. Someone

precious, someone pure, but not the Dragon Prince.' Notti's face twisted in the anguish of those fated to

stand by while others suffer. Please.'

In his battle to overcome Alvaria, Jedrek had forgotten how it felt to care for the injured. It took a small boy to remind him why he had fought to begin with. 'Not

yet.' He swallowed hard. 'But soon, Notti. I promise, very soon.'

Together they bowed their heads. The elves added their petitions to the many offered all over the One Land, by exiles who could not fathom why they stopped in mid-flight to pray for another's miracle - but were compelled nonetheless to hope these new victims might withstand Alvaria.

Walther tried everything he could conjure up. Abadan would not be moved. His sorrow for Maarcus consumed him for hours.

It felt like days.

Finally, when the magician stepped back from the

corpse now hidden in a secret tomb beneath the castle,

Walther could stand it no more.

'Master Abadan, Sir Maarcus was a great man. He lived a full life and yet he died too soon.' He shook the magician's arm. But Master, there are greater men than he and they will surely die too young if we don't help.'

Abadan looked into Walther's eyes. 'Let them,' he

said. 'I'm too tired to care.'

Staring into the grieving man's eyes, the dwarf instantly understood Abadan's naming ceremony. This was the moment the seeress had predicted.

'Abadan, Harmon can watch over him now. We must go, Walther said. 'I know you are weakened by your distress, but lend me what strength you have left. There is no more time. She has them both. You know that she does.' The magician glared at the dwarf as if he had gone

mad. The minute stretched, and still the man did not

move.

Was he too remembering the prophecy of his down fall?

The magician raised his arms and spoke a word, summoning power from a place Walther hardly knew existed.

Abruptly they were sucked into a grey nothingness, cold and harsh and deadly. Just as suddenly, the greyness spat them onto a battlefield of c*****e.

Alvaria did not bother to hide Henry in a tent. He had shown himself capable of escaping such flimsy prisons before. She lashed him to the tree herself, and assigned enough archers to ring the entire trunk.

Henry ignored the elves. They were not his concern. For all he cared, they could put each other's eyes out with so many raised and notched bows. He would not be here to suffer the arrows.

He would be among the captives on the dais. Their wailing rose above the crowd's dirge. Henry did not let it distract him. He thought about the itch in his shoulders. He pictured himself flying above the mob as he had done at the m******e only a few days past.

He was the Dragon Prince.

He would become the dragon. Nothing happened.

But whose shadows were those flying high overhead, diving for the dais? What dragons travelled in packs? What single dragon willingly attacked an elf-mage? Did

Henry imagine himself among them? No, he was not looking down on the horror from a

great height. He still felt the rope which bound him to the tree, smelled the sap dripping from the bark which scratched against his bare skin, heard the cries of pain, saw the archers aiming as one at this new target.

'Now,' he begged silently. By the Sisters, let them waste all their arrows now.'

Wanton Tom would've bet he'd never risk his butt against the elfwitch once, never mind twice. This time, he could have flown away perfectly safe and left the battle to the younger and the stronger. Instead, this time, he led the onslaught to protect the younger and the stronger. Not simply his own who chose for herself, but for all those who couldn't.

Grosik took point and his family followed. It was not a fair fight.

Trolls don't have much hope against one dragon...

or four. Tom hacked his way past the elves to the dais. The elfwitch was not there.

Two creatures, half human, lay covered in blood, but

breathing still.

The mercenary raised his sword to end their misery, but Ginni stayed his hand. 'No, there is hope for them yet.'

Tom glanced at the hideous forms. 'But honey, they're in so much pain,' he said to his daughter. 'Father, to live is painful.'

He lowered his sword and used the edge to slice their ropes. The two huddled together, and it seemed they knew who and what they were. Ginni stepped closer to examine them.

Tom could not bear to stare into the eyes of such bald

faced pain. 'Where is she?" he asked his daughter. Ginni pointed without looking up from her task. Across the meadow, Alvaria led two struggling humans,

a man and a woman, brother and sister.

'She's got the royal twins! Grosik, stop her!"

The great beast shook off the desperate trolls climbing his back. He flapped his wings twice and was there in front of the witch. Alvaria had other plans.

A mist covered the meadow that not even Grosik could

penetrate. He snorted and the mist cleared. No one was there. No Alvaria. No Kate. No Henry.

Grosik looked this way and that and rose into the air. 'I'll find her, Tom. I swear by the Seven, I will.'

In the midst of battle, Ginni was afraid to use her magic. After examining the half-humans on the dais, she decided there was too much magic run amuck here. She couldn't be sure her own newly tamed talent wouldn't make matters worse.

Thank the Sisters Tom had insisted on old-fashioned sword lessons, if only to pass the long winter nights. He'd always claimed she'd need the know-how some day.

But what she really needed right then was an extra pair

of arms to help parry the attacking elf's manic thrusts. All at once, a loud boom sounded and the world shuddered as though something large crashed to the earth. The opposing elf's eyes went wide and the fight suddenly drained out of him. He stood with sword arm raised, but made no effort to use it.

Sure, I can appreciate a breather too, Ginni thought, but this is stranger than a dog in a cat-house. She held her own sword ready but closed in to investigate her opponent. Not surprisingly, he was breathing hard. The odd thing was that his attention was riveted across the meadow - as was that of most of the other combatants on the field.

Cautiously, Ginni circled around the elf so that she could get a better view.

Grosik lay on his side coughing such as she'd never heard him. Now that she noticed it, she couldn't believe she hadn't felt the ground trembling as the dragon heaved and hacked.

"Alvaria will pay!' Grosik swore in a voice so loud the trees shook. 'My heirs will visit yours in the underworld." He choked once more and lay still. The air hung thick with the smell of blood and the

sound of silence.

Ginni and Tom converged on the motionless dragon. 'What?' she asked, as she knelt down by the great beast's head.

'The elfwitch was escaping with the royal twins,' Tom explained. Check that. Did escape. Grosik vowed to find them and gave chase. The next instant he came crashing back down.'

She put her ear against his chest. 'He hasn't quite given up on breathing,' Ginni whispered. But what do we do?"

'Leave him to us,' said an unfamiliar voice.

'I'd sooner revisit the Tower of the Forty-nine,' Ginni hissed, without looking up. 'No one drags him away to be pecked over.' 'Gin, it's the other dragons, the ones who helped us,'

Tom said.

'Uncle, I don't care if it's the first dragon ever hatched. I won't send him back to those who revile him.' 'He will be tended,' the beast assured her. 'If Grosik

can be made well, I am the only one who can do it.'

Ginni thought about that for a long minute. 'She's right,' Tom said. "We don't know the first thing about this kind of injury.'

'Am I not a mage?' she asked with a hint of her mother's imperiousness.

"Am I not your father?" Tom snapped back. 'Is he not my best friend? Can you swear to me you have the know-how to get him back in the air? If so, get to it. If not, please give us a hand moving this behemoth

somewhere safer.' Ginni looked at the dragon hovering overhead. Two smaller ones fluttered not far away, hoping to stir up more action. She peered at her father, greying and wrinkling. He wouldn't be able to fight this way indefinitely.

He was letting her decide. She sighed. All right, Uncle. Let's get him out of here." 'We'll need a carrier,' the female dragon said. 'I can

take it from there.'

'Let's tear down one of the bigger tents,' Ginni

suggested. Tom, all right if I do that while you guard him?' Ginni dashed across the meadow, dodging half-hearted attempts to engage her sword and jumping over the now

Her father nodded. 'But hurry.'

routine sight of dead trolls collapsing in on themselves.

She ignored Alvaria's tent though it was the largest, and

headed for another one nearby.

'Anyone in here?' she asked. 'Come out now before it all tumbles down on your head.' No one answered.

'You were warned!' she called. She did not take the time to check inside before pulling up stakes.

The tent sagged to one side. A child shrieked.

'Hey,' an angry man shouted in an educated human accent. 'Haven't you people put this girl through enough? Ginni ran to find the tent-flap amidst the folds of embroidered fabric. 'Out,' she said frantically, holding

the entrance open. 'Quickly.'

A man and dwarf child emerged.

'Sorry,' she said, waving them out. "Need this. If you

can help, we're over there. She pointed to the fallen dragon and urgently finished dismantling the tent. Walther and Abadan arrived on the edge of the clearing.

Steaming bodies littered the battlefield in front of them.

Blood and refuse filled the air.

'It's all over but the funerals,' Abadan said, without his usual sense of irony. 'Even the great Grosik can't win against her.'

Walther followed the magician's gaze to where several people struggled to get the beast onto a giant canvas. "They could use our help,' the dwarf admonished, and hastened to the scene.

'Uncle Walther!' Ceeley exclaimed. 'Ceeley? Celia Sailclan? Is that really you.'