Lady Dragon, Tela Du Page 6

  She cast her eyes downward, as though lost in thought. At length, she looked back up and scanned the crowd, making sure to meet as many eyes as she could. “I see that many of you wonder who I am, to speak so. I see suspicion in some eyes. Perhaps I should have introduced myself already, but in my grief, I didn’t think to say. I am Amber.”

  Again, the gasps. Again, Amber waited for them to dispel.

  “Yes, Amber, whom you call the Lady Dragon, a title I suppose I’ve earned, for I can take the form of a dragon. And, I suppose, you have reason to fear me, for my actions while in that form have not always been ones I’m proud of. The Dragon is wild and difficult for me to control at times. But I assure you! I carry naught but good will towards you, people of Rizkaland. It is with great sorrow that I stand here to speak of your fallen queen. And yet, when I remember those words they spoke to me…”

  She paused and shook her head.

  “I’ve been to many a funeral in my life, for many a king or queen, yet none have filled me with the same sorrow that fills me now – save, perhaps, for that of my parents, Queen Jade and King Jasper, in whose deaths I had also played a part.” Her fingers flexed, as though remembering the amber knife she had plunged into her mother’s heart, her last action under the dictate of time. “I also call to mind all the deaths of those kings and queens whose reigns had started pure and upright, but the power swelled their pride until they forgot to consider the people under them.

  “You may think me bold to say such things, to imply that your kings and queens bear you less love than you deserve, and yet, if you had heard the words they said to me!”

  The bait was set. They were ready to hear it.

  “I went to them, hoping that they would listen as I pleaded for them to notice their people in their plight, that they would use their gifts to help their people, rather than for their own entertainment,” Amber continued. “I reminded them of Alphego’s prophecy, but they would not listen. They were proud, stiff-necked, and would heed nothing but their own ideas.

  “It was a moment of anger.” Amber shook her head. “I had a vial that I carried near my heart, containing – well, I wouldn’t quite call it a poison, but its effect was similar. It brought death. Not at once, or in an obvious way, but whatever death was already appointed for a person, it would come within the year, if not sooner. It was called the Ilysta potion, and my mother had paid dearly for it many years ago. It was this vial that I took in my hand, as my blood boiled. It was this potion that I threw at the feet of your beloved kings and queens. My regret was immediate, for not only had I caused their deaths, but as far as I know, that is the only Ilysta potion in existence, and I used it all in a moment. I could have used it for a real foe of Rizkaland…

  “Or … perhaps I did?” Amber tilted her head to the side as she regarded the remaining Kings and Queens, each barely containing their anger, but saying nothing as the Bookholder shook his head. “They have done nothing to ease your plight during the droughts and winters. They refused to listen to Alphego’s prophecy. They – and I quote their own words – they declared plainly that, ‘they would rather die,’ before they saw the prophecy come about. I only gave them what they asked for.”

  Amber spread her arms wide that she might seem open, exposed. “Judge me as you will, Rizkaland. You know my reputation, and you have reason to fear me. But guilt is not something to be shoved onto one person while those around her are all declared innocent. My hands are not clean, but whose are? I assure you, however, that I wish only the best for Rizkaland, and it pains me to see you in such sorrow.”

  With that, she twisted Elina and left the platform.

  Chapter 8

  The scent of paper filled Amber’s nostrils as she entered the shop, and her fingers itched for the pen. So much had happened over these last months, she couldn’t waste another moment without writing things down. Unfortunately, the trees on the Isle of Banishment made lousy paper, and Amber had long since run out of the limited supply she had acquired during her last occupation of Klarand.

  The shopkeeper was friendly, though a bit too eager to please. It wasn’t long before Amber had a stack of paper as thick as her hand and he had a promise that she was sure to come again. She clutched the paper tight to her chest as she left the shop, her destination now the nearby RiIn, a stream of indigo water that supplied the Bookholders with ink to write the legends.

  Amber always found the habit of delegating record taking to some other person to be highly inefficient. If she had a pen and knew how to use it, why shouldn’t she? It allowed her to make sure things were always presented with complete accuracy and to prevent some other person from letting their head swell with importance, such as the Bookholders’ clearly were.

  A woman was kneeling by the Ri when Amber reached it, an elf by the point of her ears. Amber intended to pay her no mind. Today’s mission was not one of persuading people to her cause, but merely gathering supplies for her much-needed writing.

  The woman, however, glanced up and stared Amber straight in the eye. For a moment, the woman’s eyes betrayed confusion, then a grin spread across her face. “Petra! What are you doing here? Did Laura…” The woman’s expression of enthusiasm drained as she realized that Amber didn’t return it.

  Amber tilted her head to the side, forcing her heart to slow. “Who is Petra?”

  The woman took a step backward and glanced away, a small grin pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Someone from my childhood. I realize now that it’s impossible for you to be her, as we were the same age, and it’s been years since I last saw her. Besides, you’re wearing red, and she would never wear any color but purple.”

  “Purple?” Amber repeated.

  “Her favorite color,” said the woman. “Petra had issues and refused to wear any other color. So, who might you be?”

  Amber brushed over the question. If this woman didn’t already know who she was, it was better that she didn’t learn yet. “You mentioned Laura. You are acquainted with the Doorkeeper?”

  “More or less,” said the woman, her lips pursing for a moment.

  “And you assumed that she would have to be involved for this ‘Petra’ you knew to be here? Your friend must be from another world.”

  “Indeed. Which is why I haven’t seen her in so long.” The woman was silent for several long moments, but then she corked the ink bottle she held in her hand and tucked it into a pocket in her dress. “Now, I must say that I enjoyed meeting you. Thank you for bringing up memories that I had long buried. Perhaps we shall meet again, but for now, I must take this back to my husband. He ran out of ink this morning, and he’s in the middle of a very important…”

  “I am not done with this conversation!” Amber cried, a bit more forcefully than she planned.

  The woman took a step back, eyeing Amber with obvious confusion. “Pardon?”

  “I wish to know more of this Petra,” Amber continued, stepping forward, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion. “It cannot be mere coincidence that she resembles me. Tell me, what skills does she have? What powers does she possess?”

  “I’m frankly not sure how to answer that question,” said the woman, “though I’ll admit that it is rather strange to meet someone who resembles Petra so closely. I – what did you say you were?”

  “Is she…” Amber hesitated with the dreadful word on the tip of her tongue, yet too bitter for her to say. “Is she the one that you Rizkans say will rise against me? If you knew her, do you think her a match for a Dragon?”

  The woman drew back. Horror and panic spread across her face as she realized Amber’s identity. “You’re the Dragon?”

  “Yes,” said Amber.

  “So that’s what Laura meant.” The initial panic washed over, and the woman had become annoyingly calm. “That’s why she wanted our meeting to come at a chance.”

  “Answer me about this Petra, or you shall taste a Dragon’s anger!” Amber placed a hand against her heart, where the dragon scale burned
in response to her ire.

  The woman tilted her head as she stared at Amber. “So, Petra shall be the Tela Du. I find that to be strangely fitting.”

  At the sound of that name, Amber’s anger flared, and without thinking she shifted into her dragon form and snatched up the woman in her claw. Then she flew home to her castle and resumed her human form in the courtyard.

  Now fear did shine in the woman’s eyes, but she still didn’t cower. Amber twisted one of her bracelets off of her wrist and threw it at the woman. The woman dodged, but still breathed of the sedative gas the bracelet released as it struck the ground. She fainted. Amber picked the bracelet back up, put it back on her wrist, drew the star Lotit out of her pocket and twisted it, giving herself strength. Then she picked the woman up and carried her out of the courtyard.

  The woman was already stirring by the time Amber reached her study. Amber had barely enough time to secure her to a chair and place the Azit necklace around the woman’s neck before she awoke.

  The woman was immediately alert, fighting against her bonds.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t try that,” said Amber, setting the stack of paper, which she somehow still had, onto her desk. “That chair has been built to constrain men of several times your strength, and is magically enabled to mold itself to your build so that you won’t easily escape.”

  “And you just happen to have one of these chairs on hand?” asked the woman, a sneer entering her voice as she wisely stopped flailing.

  “Alas, yes,” said Amber, approaching the woman again. “I lived on an island of dangerous, desperate criminals. I had to take necessary precautions when dealing with them.”

  “You are no longer on that island.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Amber. “But as you can tell, I have still found a use for it even here. Now,” and with a deft motion, she reached over and pulled the jar of ink from the woman’s pocket, “I know you said this was for your husband, but I’m afraid that it may be a while before you return to your home, so it would be far more efficient if he went and gathered some more himself. I’m sure you would rather not have this go to waste, and thus you won’t mind if I make use of it. Besides, I had gone to RiIn in quest of the ink myself, and you distracted me.”

  “You are little more than a base-born thief.”

  “I come from a long line of powerful queens,” Amber pointed out.

  “That may be the case, but you clearly never learned that taking things that don’t belong to you is wrong.”

  Amber stared at the woman. “You clearly never learned that it is dangerous to insult your captor.” And as the woman shifted, Amber added, “Don’t trust your gift to get you out of this position. The Azit renders your box useless.”

  The woman took a breath and settled back, meeting Amber’s eye with a hard glare. “What do you want from me?”

  Amber hesitated as the woman’s glare caught her off guard. Her eyes had been a rich earthy brown when they’d met at RiIn, but was it just the light, or did they now have a softer, redder hue? Amber turned away, folding her arms behind her back. It was clearly just the light, and she had to retain control of the situation.

  “I wish to know more about your friend, this Petra. If we are to meet in battle, I intend to have the advantage.”

  “I’m not in the business of aiding Rizkaland’s greatest enemy.”

  “You throw accusations far too freely for someone in your position,” said Amber, tightly. “Besides, by working with me, you can gain much in this coming new age. Or … do you know how many poisons I have in this room? Not all of them are lethal.”

  The woman remained silent. Amber had to shift her attack.

  “Tell me, my friend, have you any family?”

  The woman stared, though she blinked once.

  “You mentioned a husband,” Amber continued. “Have you any children?”

  “I have a daughter.”

  “Oh, a girl, such fun. I always wanted a daughter, but I’m unfortunately barren.” Amber shook her head, drawing up a chair to sit next to the woman. “Tell me, is your knowledge more valuable to you than her life?”

  “Don’t you dare threaten her!” The woman fought against the bonds of the chair again, but, of course, they held firm.

  “I dare a lot of things, my friend,” said Amber, calmly. “It’s how I’ve gotten where I am.”

  “There is little to say about Petra that you would understand, and it’s been years since I last saw her.”

  “Surely you have some information to give me?”

  “She wears purple, she looks like you, what else is there to say?” said the woman.

  “What powers does she possess?” Amber prompted. “What skills does she have? What are her weaknesses?”

  “If she is to have powers, I don’t think she will gain them until she comes here,” said the woman. “Her world is different than this one.”

  “Intriguing,” said Amber. “So she shall be new to her powers if she is to have any at all.”

  “So were most that came against you and won.”

  “That is true, but they weren’t trying to kill me.” Amber stood and retrieved one of the volumes from her shelf. “You are familiar with the story of Water Princess, Fire Prince, yes?”

  “It’s my daughter’s favorite legend,” said the woman, dryly.

  “I won’t say that the Bookholder’s version of the story is inaccurate,” Amber continued. “They are remarkably attentive to detail. This is my version. I … have always enjoyed the scratch of a pen against paper; it’s wonderfully relaxing. As such, I have always filled the role of my own chronicler.”

  “You would record your own defeat?”

  “Distrust it as you will, but I’m not one to paint things grander than they were,” said Amber. “My retreat then was not a defeat, though I allowed it to appear as such.”

  “So, your banishments weren’t true victories for Klarand and Rizkaland?”

  “Oh, I made the people fight for them,” said Amber. “And if they threw a party or two when I was gone, well, I can hardly blame them. But you can trust me when I say that it will be much harder to actually kill me.”

  “I thank you for the warning.”

  “So have you anything else to say about this friend of yours?” Amber prompted, drumming her fingers against the stack of papers she held. “Because you’ve not satisfied my curiosity yet.”

  “She loves chocolate and watches entirely too much BBC television.”

  “Pardon?”

  “As I said, there’s not much that I can say about her that you would understand.”

  “You really don’t value your daughter’s life, do you?” Amber pulled a needle off of another shelf. “Would you like me to give you a taste of what I’ll do to her?”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, even when Amber plunged that needle into her shoulder. She gasped slightly but otherwise betrayed no pain, even though Amber knew that the needle’s poison burned like her dragon’s fire.

  “There’s no antidote for that poison,” said Amber, putting the needle back away. “Unless, of course, I was to destroy the star that manufactured it. Ah, but what would be the point of that? Now, it’s a slow-acting poison – there should be a day or two before you die. You have time to spare your daughter’s life, though.”

  “You make poison out of stars?”

  “I do a lot of things with stars,” said Amber. “They’re the chief supply of my power. Lintooalintae was a world very different from this one, sitting, as it were, within the sphere of a ball, rather than on the surface of the cylinder. Its sky was lit, not by a circling sun and moon, but by a cluster of stars that brightened and dimmed as the day wore. But the stars fell, one by one, as stars are wont to do, and so I collected them and now put them to greater use.”

  “I have been in a world with stars,” the woman admitted. “But they were giant balls of flaming gas many thousands of miles from the planet.”

  “And so they
were in Luna,” Amber admitted. “But great balls of fire would not have fit within Lintooalintae’s globe, so they were made travel size instead.” She drew Elina from her pocket. “This one, for instance, grants me invisibility.” She drew out Winsot. “This one turns flesh into ice.”

  “So that’s how you do that.”

  “Yes. Now, how highly do you value your daughter’s life? I want more information about this Petra.”

  The woman stared at Amber longer and harder. “She’s the daughter of King Ralph and Queen Jane.”

  Amber drew back. “Indeed?”

  “Yes, she’s quite ignorant of her heritage, as far as I know, though I’m willing to say that that will change before she meets you in the final war.”

  “Jane’s daughter?” Amber repeated. “You know, I find that strangely fitting, though it does pain me. Of all of those children, Jane was the sweetest. To think that I shall have to slay her daughter, I do not relish that.”

  “Now you’re just morbid.”

  Amber ignored the woman and instead paced up and down the length of the study. “Jane and Ralph had the fire, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “I call to mind that, during my second occupancy of Klarand, Laura had a bag of fire that they had given her.”

  “So the legend states.”

  “If they would give the Doorkeeper such an advantage, would they not do the same for their own daughter?” Amber continued. “That shall never do.”

  “I’m not sure that there is anything you can do about it,” said the woman.

  “Oh, there is something I can do about it,” said Amber. “It is only her advantage during winter when the statues reform. I shall merely banish winter in its entirety.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Rizkaland’s seasons are remarkably easy to manipulate.” Amber shrugged. “In fact, I’ve been doing it for years. Why do you think your summers were so dry? Your winters, so severe? Why do you think things turned for the better so quickly after my arrival?”

  “That was you? You made our lives miserable just so you can walk in and play the hero at the end of it? How can you possibly justify that?”