Sixteen

In Which Daystar strikes a bargain

The dark crept in around them as they descended into the cave until Daystar could see nothing. He put his feet forward cautiously, feeling ahead before taking the next step onto the smooth, dry stone. The air was open around them in vast edgelessness and the deeply ringing quiet of a massive chamber. Emberlace walked behind him, holding tightly to his hand and the back of his cloak.

A movement startled them, and Daystar halted, feeling a breath of air on his face as something rustled loudly. Low rumbling purred through the room, and he felt briefly as if were on the transmitting floor again, though the taste of the energy here was wilder. Lights pierced the darkness, glowing in pairs, and Daystar drew back a step as he realized they were eyes.

Seven pairs of eyes glowed high above him in a semicircle, some further up than others, blazing green and blue, golden, purple. The eyes swayed to the scraping of scales and claws as the dragons shifted in the darkness, and Daystar and Emberlace drew close to each other.

The eyes shut off abruptly, and Daystar held his breath, his fingers unconsciously weaving through Emberlace’s. Great orange eyes opened in front of them, burning like embers, lifted high off the floor so that Daystar had to tilt his head back to see them. The other eyes opened again, now fixed on the two humans, and Daystar’s voice wilted in his throat.

Nothing he thought to say seemed to want to come out. The vibration of the dragon’s breathing and low growling rippled through the floor and into his gut until his stomach turned over and his heart fluttered uncomfortably. He knew nothing of dragon etiquette, but he did not doubt that this was a less than friendly reception. Daystar slowly detached himself from Emberlace and took step forward, trying to gather himself.

“Upper Vale has counted the dragons of the Cinderstrand as allies for nearly as long as our kingdom has existed.” There. Daystar could begin with something he knew, at least.

“It is to our disgrace that we have broken such a long-standing friendship between our two dominions. We never had any intention of doing so.” He shifted his feet, uncomfortable in the silence under the dragon’s glowing stares.

“That is not said to justify anything we have done to insult you, only to assure you of the truth of what I say when I tell you that we do not wish for war with the Cinderstrand. Which is why we have come.

“I am Daystar, Crown Prince of Upper Vale, and this is my wife, Princess Emberlace. We are here to speak with you in regard to the attacks on the Barony of Deepnight.”

The dragons shifted this time, the eyes looming closer and more intently.

“From my study of the laws which govern the relations between two dominions, the responsibility for alliances made by a kingdom falls upon the shoulders of its rulers.

“Therefore, the burden of guilt for the breaking of the compact between us does not lie with my people, since they are under the command of the barons. Yet you have driven them from their homes, burned their fields and livelihoods, and visited death and sorrow upon them even though they are helpless to make recompense to you for any misdeeds, real or perceived.

“Neither does the burden of guilt lie with my barons. They are answerable to me and may not act on their own to treat with a foreign power. Yet you have attacked them as well, destroying their strongholds and putting them to flight, though they, like my people, can do nothing to make amends and end this destruction.”

Daystar gathered his courage and took another step forward. “I can make only one demand of you. That you place the burden of guilt where it belongs: not with my people or the nobles, but upon me, and only me.”

He was shaking now, whether with fear or desperation he couldn’t tell. The listening silence pressed in around him as the eyes continued to pulse and glow, unblinking, emotionless. Daystar continued, his voice taking a pleading edge in spite of himself. “It was the responsibility of the royal family of Upper Vale to remember our alliances and keep them, and we have not done so. If someone must suffer or die to appease your anger, then let that fall upon the shoulders of those with whom the blame rests, but I beg of you - leave my people in peace.”

“Your desire for our energy is so desperate?” The scornful, amused voice came from somewhere close to the green eyes.

“The energy has nothing to do with my request.” Daystar replied, and the eyes finally blinked. “I do not ask for a reinstatement of the contract, or even a renewal of friendship between our two peoples. I only offer myself to do with as you wish in exchange for a cessation of hostilities.”

“And your wife?” a rumbling voice boomed from near the great orange eyes.

“Speaks for herself.”

Daystar felt Emberlace’s shoulder brush his and knew she had joined him. He groped for her hand, and she grabbed it strongly, her voice clear.

“I offer myself as well.”

The dragons snorted, and columns of smoke drifted up before the glowing eyes.

“It is a more fitting bargain than you know,” Orange-eyes hummed. “For that, we will accept it.”

Daystar breathed a huge sigh of relief and closed his eyes, feeling waves of tension draining out of him.

“We will send word to your king. And when we are finished with you, Upper Vale’s rulers may open a renegotiation of our former contract.”

Such conditions were more than they could have hoped for, and Daystar’s fear warred with his elation. A small globe of light flickered into existence close to his head, and a parchment and quill hovered beneath it. The parchment was blank, and Daystar realized it was left to him to inscribe the final wording of the agreement. He picked up the quill and began writing slowly, laying out the terms with exacting precision. Himself and Emberlace in exchange for a total cessation of hostilities between Upper Vale and the Cinderstrand. The dragons would inform the king of the outcome of Daystar’s mission. If either party continued to attack the other, the contract would be void. If the contract was honored by both parties, Upper Vale would be free to send emissaries to renegotiate the energy contract with the dragons.

Daystar stopped writing and glanced upward at Orange-eyes as the paper and light soared upwards, briefly illuminating the dragon’s snout. The dragon skimmed the paper, and the quill quivered across it before it sunk back down to Daystar. The prince saw an added stipulation: the contract would be considered honored only after he and Emberlace had fulfilled their promise completely. Daystar added his own stipulation: that a messenger must be dispatched to the king as soon as the contract was signed.

Orange-eyes nodded when he saw this, and the parchment sizzled faintly. It fluttered back down to Daystar again, and he saw the peculiar, twisting mark of the dragon smoking faintly below the wording. Gripping the quill harder than necessary, he signed his own name beside the mark and passed the quill to Emberlace, who lightly scrawled her name beneath his. The parchment shivered, then duplicated. Daystar had just enough time to determine the duplicate was indeed an exact copy before it rolled up and vanished as a loud rush of wind fluttered his clothing.

“The messenger, as required,” Orange-eyes explained, “to bear a copy of the contract to your king.”

The original rolled itself up as the light went out. Daystar’s heart pounded in his ears, and he could feel sweat on his palms. A faint voice in the back of his head that sounded vaguely like Dawncaster shrieked, What have you done?

With his negotiation, the kingdom would have energy again, he reassured the voice. Yes, there was an invasion coming, but they would be able to defend themselves, and their forces would no longer be split between two fronts.

Emberlace’s hand slipped into his, and his heart stopped pounding frantically, restoring itself to a more stable beat. The cavern was suddenly lit by eight flame-filled maws burning like mad jack ‘o lanterns below the glowing eyes. Daystar looked down into his wife’s face, her hair like red fire, her eyes without fear, and let go of her hand to cup her face and kiss her. She put her arms around his neck, and he tucked her head into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her as the room crackled with heat.

Ravenglen is still on the throne.

Dawncaster will not leave him there.

You’re at the mercy of the dragons.

And my people are not.

Daystar drank in the moment, Emberlace radiating peace, the sweet breath of air in his lungs, the satisfaction that he had done what he had set out to do. The dragons reared back, growling lowly, and Daystar breathed out.

He felt neither pain nor fear as the flames engulfed him, only Emberlace, and then, nothing.

The fire was abruptly gone, and only ash remained. Orange-eyes turned away, rumbling deep in his chest with satisfaction, and carefully stored the solemnized contract in a locked box.