Legacy of Steel Read online

  "Sure she would," Argathon said with a cheerful smirk. "Treb plans to be a lord knight someday. She'd do anything to accomplish her goal."

  Sara shook her head, her eyes thoughtfully on the afternoon sun. "I need to talk to all of you. Is there somewhere to meet… while Treb is busy?"

  Marika and Kelena thought a moment, then Marika shoved a strand of brown hair out of her face and replied, "Treb has guard duty at the main gate tonight at sunset. The rest of us have a break then before we start our shifts. How about then?"

  "Good. Tell Kazar and Saunder for me."

  From Cobalt's back, Sara waved to the three knights and watched them dwindle to small figures as the dragon flew up over the city.

  "Now what?" grumbled Cobalt.

  "There's no help for it. I'll have to report to Lord Cadrel," Sara said. She did not want to. The less involved she became in this routine of the knighthood, the easier it would be for her to escape again. On the other hand, Cadrel was probably expecting her by now and would grow suspicious if she did not obey the general's orders.

  Sara's head began to ache from the tension. She was growing nervous and edgy about all of this. It seemed to her that every eye that beheld her could see through her flimsy facade. She made up her mind that if she could not convince any of the talon members to join her, she would leave tonight.

  Cobalt angled over to the gates and came to earth near the buildings where the lord knight of recruitment had his office.

  Sara was surprised to see another large blue dragon crouched outside the buildings. The dragon looked vaguely familiar, yet one she had not seen in Neraka before. He was slightly larger than Cobalt, darker in color, and he wore an air of sullen disinterest. He was obviously an old veteran, for his body bore the scars of numerous battles, and the tip of his wing sail was tattered.

  He paid no attention to Cobalt, but simply stared morosely into the distance.

  Sara slid off her dragon on the opposite side so the old blue wouldn't see her. Something about that dragon bothered her deeply.

  She strode forward into the building, stepped through the door, and came face-to-face with another knight. This one she recognized instantly, and her heart nearly failed. It took every fiber of muscle control in her face to keep her expression bland and her eyes blank.

  He started in surprise and stared at her features, a question of recognition in his lowered brow. He had been one of Ariakan's staff officers, a mediocre warrior but a better administrator. From the look of his tattered clothes and worn face, he had been struggling to survive the past few years.

  For just a heartbeat, Sara thought he was going to accost her. She forced her head down in a civil nod and kept her hand close to her sword.

  The knight hesitated, shook his head slightly. Ridiculous, he seemed to say to himself. He barely nodded in return and pushed past her out to the old, surly blue dragon.

  Sara tightened her hands around her belt to hide their shaking. She inhaled long and deeply and released it in a relieved breath. Great Paladine, that was close. The sooner she left Neraka, the better!

  Still trembling, she entered Lord Cadrel's office. The afflicted knight sat at his table as usual, working on lists and scrolls and piles of records. He wore light leather gloves that day to protect his diseased hands from the cold.

  "You're back," he said without looking up. "There's a new talon of recruits in the Black Quarter. They're yours for training as squires. I have one more to add this afternoon, then you take them tomorrow."

  "Yes, sir," Sara responded as expected. "Lord Knight," she added, "who was the knight who came in before me?"

  He replied without a pause, "Knight Officer Chekon. He just reported in from the east. Seems that cursed Malystryx is expanding her domain again. Blasted dragon." He continued to work, his pen scratching across a piece of parchment.

  When he did not bother to speak to her again, Sara saluted and hurried outside to Cobalt.

  "I know that dragon that just left," Cobalt informed her.

  "And I know his rider," replied Sara worriedly.

  "Does that mean we're leaving now?"

  "No. He didn't seem to remember me. Maybe he won't. I want to keep my meeting with the talon. Then we'll leave."

  "Promise?"

  "On my word."

  Cobalt grumbled something unintelligible and lifted himself and his stubborn rider into the air. For the rest of the afternoon, he and his rider made themselves as unobtrusive as possible. They went out to the hills to hunt a meal for Cobalt and stayed out of sight as much as they dared. Sara knew the dragon patrols realized where they were, but as long as Cobalt fed and slept the others would not disturb him and she would not be available for unnecessary tasks or unwanted reunions.

  Dusk was gathering in thick blue shadows when Sara had Cobalt fly her back to the Red Quarter. Campfires twinkled below them like stars.

  "Stay close," she advised Cobalt. "But if I am betrayed or captured, keep your wits. A fight among the tents could only hurt you or one of the talon. Keep out of sight and bide your time."

  The dragon reluctantly agreed and landed in the open quadrangle near the Sixth Talon's tents.

  Saunder came out to greet her. The grave young man saluted her, then gave her his quirky smile that crinkled the skin around his pale eyes and shone with honest pleasure. He took her to his tent, where Kelena, Marika, Argathon, and Kazar waited.

  Kazar's face was dark and impassive in the dim light of Saunder's brazier, but the others sensed something was different about their leader, and they watched her curiously, waiting for her to speak.

  Sara sat on the edge of the cot. The young knights squatted or stood on the floor around her.

  Sara took a deep breath as she looked around at their intent faces, then she plunged into her tale, beginning this time eight years before, with her journey to save Steel's soul. She explained her reasons for returning to Neraka and finally told them of her vision in the tomb.

  It was a credit to Sara that out of their respect for her they did not interrupt her once. They listened, fascinated from beginning to end. When she finished, she pulled out the star jewel for them to see. Kazar said nothing, but the others burst into a flood of comments and questions.

  "Derrick is still alive and he agrees to this?" Saunder asked carefully.

  Argathon exclaimed, "I can't believe you came back here after all of that."

  "You were Steel Brightblade's mother? And you're not a real knight?" Marika asked, incredulous.

  Kelena suddenly held up her hand. "Quiet! I hear something outside."

  The others abruptly fell silent. Although they strained to listen for several minutes, they heard nothing more than the usual sounds of the camp at night—a few distant voices, a barking dog, the creak of tent ropes. They visibly relaxed.

  "Knight Officer Treb will be back any minute," Kelena reminded them, scorn heavy in her voice.

  Sara looked at them all one by one and said softly, "I know this is a great deal to ask you to think about, but I wanted you to know what has happened and how I feel about all of you. I want you with me in this new order. I think your talents and strengths will be wasted in the Knights of Takhisis. Please think about it."

  She rose to her feet and put a hand on Saunder's shoulder in thanks. "I cannot stay. A knight whom I recognized arrived today. It's only a matter of time before he remembers me. If any of you decide to come with me now or twenty years from now, you will be welcome."

  No one moved to go with her. They watched her with eyes full of confusion and hearts too uncertain to decide. She knew how they felt.

  Bidding farewell to them, she stepped through the tent flap and walked past the fire ring toward the quadrangle where Cobalt waited.

  "Knight Officer Conby," called a guard. Immediately three heavily armed knights strode out of the shadows and surrounded her.

  "Your sword, please," said the officer in charge. "You are under arrest."

  Fear, dismay, dread, crowded
into Sara's thoughts. The bitterness of defeat was sharp in her mouth, but she kept her face impassive. Slowly she unbuckled the belt with the sword and its sheath and handed it to the officer. She turned once and saw the young knights crowded into the tent's entrance, staring at her in dismay, their faces pale and grim.

  "Tell Cobalt to be patient," she called to them.

  "This way," the officer directed. "Governor-General Abrena wants to see you."

  Sara set her jaw. If Mirielle ascribed to Lord Ariakan's policy that "discipline must be swift to be maintained," then she would try Sara tonight and probably convict her.

  The guards marched her immediately to the governor's palace and into the dining hall, the room that served so many purposes. The long blackwood table sat before the fireplace as usual, but it was not set for a convivial dinner that night. Governor-General Abrena and Lord Knights Cadrel and Gamarin sat at the table facing the doorway. A crowd of officers, aides, and knights waited at one end of the room.

  The guards escorted Sara to a place in front of Mirielle and the two lord knights.

  "Knight Officer Karn, reporting as ordered with the prisoner, my lords." The officer of the guard laid Sara's sword on the table in front of them.

  Governor-General Abrena turned her predator's eyes on Sara. Mirielle was known to be a cold but fair judge under normal circumstances. This, however, was not normal or acceptable to the general. She had been duped, and there was no mercy, no compassion in her gold eyes. "The accused, Knight Officer Conby, stands before us. Stand forth, accusers," she ordered in a voice harder than steel.

  The old knight Sara recognized from that afternoon walked out of the crowd, closely followed by a second knight, who came around from behind him and assumed an aggressive stance in front of the table. She crossed her arms and threw a contemptuous glance at Sara. It was Treb.

  "We are the accusers, my lords," the older knight stated.

  "Knight Officers Chekon and Treb, state your charges against this knight."

  Chekon jerked his grizzled chin toward Sara. "She was no knight, my lords. I knew her as Sara Dunstan, the adoptive mother of Steel Brightblade. She served Lord Ariakan for years until he discarded her. I heard she was exiled."

  Sara stood motionless, her back erect, her hands at her sides. She kept her eyes straight ahead.

  Mirielle lifted an elegant eyebrow. "Lord Ariakan's mistress," she growled, much like a cat about to pounce. "I heard you were dead."

  Sara said nothing.

  "Do you deny the charges?" the general demanded, Her fingers curled into claws.

  Treb curled her lip and spoke up. "She cannot, my lords," she stated, her voice full of triumph. "I heard her tell the others in the Sixth Talon the same thing. She came to Neraka to spy on the order. She's not only a renegade, but she's also a traitor!"

  Sara felt a deep chill. Obviously Treb had been listening outside the tent. Just how much had she overheard? Did she know Derrick was still alive or that Sara had asked the others to leave the order? Sara guessed not, or Treb would have already brought out such news in the hope of further advancing her ambitions. Sara leaned on that hope and ignored Treb's derisive sneer.

  The crowd of watchers by the wall exclaimed among themselves in a disapproving mutter.

  Mirielle's angry frown deepened. Her disappointment in Sara's perfidy was a bitter gall. But worse, the general did not like to be made a fool of, especially in front of her army. She had liked this woman knight, her courage and sense of honor, her ability to train and engender loyalty in her underlings. She had trusted her, too—as much as Mirielle trusted anyone. After all, the woman had saved her life. The fact that Sara deceived her and was in reality a traitor and a spy filled the general with unremitting rage.

  "What do you have to say for yourself?" Mirielle insisted.

  Sara kept her face expressionless. What could she say? They knew the truth. If she tried to deny it or bluff her way out of it, they would never believe her. They could even drag Kelena or Marika or one of the young men into the trial and force one of them to reveal her whole story. She had to do something quickly to distract the knights and buy herself some time.

  Wrenching free of her guards, she marched to the table, put both hands on the edge, leaned over to match Mirielle glare for glare, and said flatly, "It doesn't matter what I say. Let my deeds speak for me. I demand the right to trial by battle."

  Lord Knight Cadrel looked startled by such a suggestion. There was rarely any point in a trial by such means when the accused was so obviously guilty. They should just take the woman out and behead her on the spot.

  Mirielle did not see it that way. A trial by battle suited her perfectly, allowing her to redeem the respect she had lost through Sara's deceit. She would personally see to it herself. "Very well, Sara Dunstan—or whoever you are—you may have your trial by battle. I will stand as champion for the accusers. If you are defeated and are not yet dead, you will be executed immediately."

  "And if you are defeated, I will be exonerated and allowed to go free," Sara said loudly, so everyone could hear her.

  A feral gleam lit in Mirielle's narrowed gaze. Since there was no possibility that an older, untrained rider like Sara could defeat her, she was willing to agree to that condition. "Of course." She rose to her feet and announced to the watching knights, "The battle will take place tomorrow at noon. We will fight on dragonback. Until that time, Sara Dunstan, you will remain a prisoner and will be held under guard in the prison cells until an hour before the battle. You will be released then to give you time to prepare." Mirielle gestured toward the door, "Take her downstairs," she ordered.

  The guards bowed and took Sara out of the room. The surge of noisy comments and opinions died behind them as they entered a stone stairway that wound down into the subterranean floors beneath the palace. Down they went, past the storage levels, to a dank, cold, stonewalled dungeon where the prison cells were carved into the bedrock under the city. Torches sat in brackets on the walls and cast a dim, guttering light on the damp floor.

  The guards unlocked one door in a row of doors and pulled open the stout wooden hatch.

  Sara peered into the intense darkness, and when she hesitated a moment too long, the guards shoved her inside.

  She stumbled forward, tripped, and fell sprawling across the slimy stone floor. The door slammed behind her, and darkness, black and impenetrable, closed around her.

  Memories of her journey through the temple ruin reared up on wings of terror, and for several interminable minutes, she fought off a fear that threatened to suck her down into mindless panic.

  She kept repeating over and over, "I know where I am. This is a small room. I know where I am." Her words sounded feeble in the darkness, but the litany gave her strength.

  Trembling, she reached out a cautious hand, and suddenly she realized she could see it. A tiny light, soft and white, gleamed from somewhere close in front of her. Her eyes traveled down to the front of her tunic, and there, glowing under the fabric of her shirt, was the star jewel. She tugged it out. Freed of the material, its light glowed brighter, like a tiny star cupped in her hand.

  Sara's fear evaporated. The star jewel drove away the darkness and illuminated her in the power of Steel's love. As it had for Steel and his father before him, it reminded her that she was not alone, that she still had something to believe in.

  In the light of the jewel, she found her way to the single stone shelf that served as a bed and sat back against the wall. Her hand closed around the star jewel and pressed its light to her heart. Now she only had to wait for day and for the battle that would either kill her or free her.

  26

  The guards came an hour before noon, as promised, and escorted Sara outside. They expected her to be weakened from exhaustion, cold, and hunger, but they were disappointed. She walked out of the palace with a strong, determined stride and paid no attention to their crude remarks and insults. Nor could they find any sign of fear in her calm expression. Shaki
ng their heads, they returned her sword to her.

  "Be at the Arena of Death in one hour," one guard told her. "You are on your honor not to escape."

  "Of course," she said coolly. Escape was the last thing on her mind.

  A more pressing desire was the need for food and drink. She had not had anything to eat or drink for nearly a full day, and the need for liquid was growing crucial. She turned her back on the guards and walked through the walled gate into the main streets of the city. The streets were as busy as ever, and as noisy, filthy, and dim. Ogres and draconians crowded past her, and goblins scurried by underfoot. Sara had to push her way through in some places, and once or twice she had to throw herself against the wall of a building to keep from being trampled by a passing team of horses or a patrol of guards who paid little heed to the people around them.

  Sara was so intent on working her way out of the city, she never would have noticed the small gully dwarf by her side if he hadn't touched her sleeve.

  She looked down into a grungy, bewhiskered, familiar face. "Fewmet?" she asked, astonished. "What are you doing here?"

  He gestured around with a hand even dirtier than his clothes. "Me live here," he said, astonished that she would ask such an obvious question.

  "I know," Sara said patiently. "I was just surprised to see you."

  "Are you hungry?" he asked, a hopeful light in his eyes.

  Sara sighed. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. I don't have much time, but I would like to eat."

  They went to the inn where Sara had bought him a meal the last time, and Sara purchased two bowls of soup, bread, and an apple tart. The innkeeper told her in no uncertain terms that gully dwarves were not allowed to eat indoors because their eating habits tended to drive out the other patrons, so once again Sara obligingly took the food outdoors and sat under a tree with Fewmet.

  Sara ate her own food and tried to ignore Fewmet's loud slurping and belching. She wasn't sure why she was spending her last hour in the company of a gully dwarf, but it seemed better than eating alone.

  At last he wiped his mouth on his greasy vest, which did nothing to clean his face, and tucked the dishes in his bag. "You nice for human," he told her. "Come. I know where your dragon is."