it is merely a plant, a common leaf, a happy chance of nature that renders our dragons dull. What is the secret? It is a thing I will hold in my heart like a lover and never let go. The secret is blood.’
Outwatch
Isentine watched the four dragons circle his little oasis. The fact that three of them were hunters only made the fourth, the war-dragon B’thannan, seem even more immense than usual. They’d come from the south, over the hundred miles of empty burning dunes from Sand to the last outpost of the north. To his eyrie, built around the ancient tower of Outwatch and the fertile strip of land around it. The oasis he understood. A river ran underground, all the way from the Worldspine, right under his feet. It touched the surface here. Somehow, because of that water, Outwatch had grown to be the largest eyrie in the realms.
The tower was another matter. Someone had built it long ago. They’d never quite finished, and they hadn’t been quite human, that much was clear to anyone who lived here.
The ground shuddered as the weight of the dragons hit the earth; he could feel the impacts through his feet, all the way up to the aches in his knees. He cast a nervous glance behind him at the tower. In his dreams things kept falling apart.
A tiny distant figure slid down from B’thannan’s back and strode across the hard blasted earth of the eyrie. Lord Hyrkallan, hero of Evenspire, prince of the north and King of Sand in all but name. A big man, but out here he looked small and insignificant. Against the immensity of the sky and the vast empty sands and the dragons sprawled basking in the desert sun, most things did. Kings, queens, riders, alchemists, they were all little more than oversized ants. At the head of his soldiers, standing stiffly erect, Isentine clenched his teeth. The pains in his knees and his back troubled him more every day. Age.
Hyrkallan ignored the soldiers. He walked straight to the eyrie-master and on, snapping his fingers at Isentine to follow him. Which was not something his rank entitled him to do, not until he was crowned. Isentine held his ground.
‘Your victories are sweet, but you’re not married to her yet, Your Highness,’ he said loudly.
Hyrkallan stopped dead. For a second he didn’t move. He didn’t turn. ‘Where is she?’
‘Where she always is.’ Isentine hung his head. ‘Underground. With the abomination.’
‘It must stop, Isentine.’
‘Yes, but she is our queen. I can’t force her. I need you to get her away from here.’ Now, finally, Isentine turned and walked side by side with Hyrkallan. ‘Or are you inclined to wonder, as I have heard others wonder, does it do such harm? The dragon is only a hatchling, after all.’ But no. An abomination was an abomination. Hyrkallan had the right of it.
Hyrkallan growled. ‘No, Eyrie-Master, I am not inclined to wonder. It must stop. She is a queen. She must behave as one.’
‘Shezira used to joke that you must have come out of your mother with that glare of disapproval on your face.’ Isentine tried to smile, but what came out was more of a wince. His hip this time.
‘I disapprove of many things, Eyrie-Master. The last thing of which I disapproved was Speaker Zafir. Now that she’s dead, I most strongly disapprove of her villainous lover Jehal sitting on her throne. I promised the Night Watchman that my dragons would not cross the Purple Spur and so they will not, but I will not watch from afar while the Viper triumphs. I have gone to war in the name of my queen and now I mean to marry her, just as she promised. I do not demand pomp and ceremony, old man, but I do demand that all do their duty. I have brought witnesses, from this realm and from King Sirion. You have priests here. We must strike while the ancestors favour us. Two weeks have passed since the rout at Evenspire and we have done nothing. Jaslyn must go to the Adamantine Palace. She must go in strength but in peace and she must do it soon. Unless I
Outwatch
Isentine watched the four dragons circle his little oasis. The fact that three of them were hunters only made the fourth, the war-dragon B’thannan, seem even more immense than usual. They’d come from the south, over the hundred miles of empty burning dunes from Sand to the last outpost of the north. To his eyrie, built around the ancient tower of Outwatch and the fertile strip of land around it. The oasis he understood. A river ran underground, all the way from the Worldspine, right under his feet. It touched the surface here. Somehow, because of that water, Outwatch had grown to be the largest eyrie in the realms.
The tower was another matter. Someone had built it long ago. They’d never quite finished, and they hadn’t been quite human, that much was clear to anyone who lived here.
The ground shuddered as the weight of the dragons hit the earth; he could feel the impacts through his feet, all the way up to the aches in his knees. He cast a nervous glance behind him at the tower. In his dreams things kept falling apart.
A tiny distant figure slid down from B’thannan’s back and strode across the hard blasted earth of the eyrie. Lord Hyrkallan, hero of Evenspire, prince of the north and King of Sand in all but name. A big man, but out here he looked small and insignificant. Against the immensity of the sky and the vast empty sands and the dragons sprawled basking in the desert sun, most things did. Kings, queens, riders, alchemists, they were all little more than oversized ants. At the head of his soldiers, standing stiffly erect, Isentine clenched his teeth. The pains in his knees and his back troubled him more every day. Age.
Hyrkallan ignored the soldiers. He walked straight to the eyrie-master and on, snapping his fingers at Isentine to follow him. Which was not something his rank entitled him to do, not until he was crowned. Isentine held his ground.
‘Your victories are sweet, but you’re not married to her yet, Your Highness,’ he said loudly.
Hyrkallan stopped dead. For a second he didn’t move. He didn’t turn. ‘Where is she?’
‘Where she always is.’ Isentine hung his head. ‘Underground. With the abomination.’
‘It must stop, Isentine.’
‘Yes, but she is our queen. I can’t force her. I need you to get her away from here.’ Now, finally, Isentine turned and walked side by side with Hyrkallan. ‘Or are you inclined to wonder, as I have heard others wonder, does it do such harm? The dragon is only a hatchling, after all.’ But no. An abomination was an abomination. Hyrkallan had the right of it.
Hyrkallan growled. ‘No, Eyrie-Master, I am not inclined to wonder. It must stop. She is a queen. She must behave as one.’
‘Shezira used to joke that you must have come out of your mother with that glare of disapproval on your face.’ Isentine tried to smile, but what came out was more of a wince. His hip this time.
‘I disapprove of many things, Eyrie-Master. The last thing of which I disapproved was Speaker Zafir. Now that she’s dead, I most strongly disapprove of her villainous lover Jehal sitting on her throne. I promised the Night Watchman that my dragons would not cross the Purple Spur and so they will not, but I will not watch from afar while the Viper triumphs. I have gone to war in the name of my queen and now I mean to marry her, just as she promised. I do not demand pomp and ceremony, old man, but I do demand that all do their duty. I have brought witnesses, from this realm and from King Sirion. You have priests here. We must strike while the ancestors favour us. Two weeks have passed since the rout at Evenspire and we have done nothing. Jaslyn must go to the Adamantine Palace. She must go in strength but in peace and she must do it soon. Unless I
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