“-movement until the preparations are complete,” Linsha finished for him. “It is one of his favorite quotes. It’s from an old military manual in the Solamnic Castle at Uth Wistan. It’s a load of manure coming from him. He couldn’t have that citadel more prepared.”
“Maybe he is the one who is not prepared.”
Linsha’s eyebrows rose. She had not considered this view. Could it be possible that the man who organized, trained, and supplied a superb circle could not decisively lead it into battle? She thought back over the bits of information she knew about him and the few records she had seen, and she realized she had never heard him associated with a war, a battle, or a skirmish of any kind. He was trained to fight, but perhaps he never had. That explained some things about him. Solamnic leaders led by reputation, rank, and skill-of which Sir Remmik certainly had plenty-but they were also chosen by the Knights in the circle. How much longer, Linsha wondered, would the Knights of the Mirage circle put up with Sir Remmik’s inflexible inactivity? It would hardly do their reputations any good to be known as the circle who hid in their shiny new castle while the town around them fought to defend itself. She grinned. If she hadn’t already been put in the penal cells for murder, she’d probably be in there now for insubordination and disobeying a superior officer.
“So what is going on now?” asked another Legionnaire.
“Falaius and General Dockett are reorganizing their forces,” he said with a yawn. He added to Linsha, “Falaius sends his regrets. He hopes you are comfortable for now.”
She nodded to the other Legionnaires so as not to hurt their feelings. “For the moment. But I will not hide here if the city is attacked.”
“I know. You would be a formidable ally if you were in command of the Citadel,” said Lanther. He rose to go and gave Linsha a mock salute. “Tomorrow, Lady Knight, if you choose, I will bring you weapons and armor and make a Legionnaire out of you.”
She returned his salute. “I don’t suppose you have seen my horse.”
He checked and said with a snap of his fingers, “No, but I have seen your owl. She was the one who told me about your trial and how you were imprisoned in the fortress.”
The others looked at him astonished.
“She told you?” Linsha exclaimed. “She never talks to anyone else.”
“You have an owl that talks?” said one of the three.
“She must have believed it was important to tell someone who could help you,” Lanther said, ignoring the question.
“Where is she now?” Linsha asked.
He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I don’t know. She left me, and I have not seen her since.”
Linsha swallowed her disappointment as she said goodbye to Lanther. Varia did know about the trial and was worried enough to risk her safety to talk to Lanther. After that, she must have left, as she was no longer at the Citadel, the lair, or any of her other favorite perching spots. Perhaps she had finally decided to leave her companion. Linsha was still not certain why Varia chose to stay with her, so it should be no surprise if the owl grew tired of her and left to seek quieter or less dangerous surroundings. But her absence saddened Linsha more than she expected. With her heart heavy and her head aching with too many unshed tears, Linsha bid goodnight to the caretakers and sought solace in sleep.
Five hours after midnight, just before the rising of the sun, Linsha awoke to a crack of thunder. It was so loud it boomed over the city, shaking people awake and echoing among the towers. Linsha bolted upright in her bed. She could hear the other people in the house calling to one another in consternation. Surely this was just a common thunderstorm, not another storm like the one six nights ago. To be sure, Linsha pulled her tunic on over her shirt and padded barefoot outside to look at the sky.
The three Legionnaires joined her, and together they looked upward. Linsha felt a chill crept down her skin. There were no clouds. The sky was clear and filled with stars. Only a pale apricot glow on the eastern horizon heralded the coming of day.
Another peal of thunder cracked across the city.
A hand grabbed Linsha’s arm, and its owner pointed wordlessly down toward the center of the city.
Thunder had come.
Dawn of Fire and Thunder
16
The great blue dragon hung over the city like a monstrous bird of prey, his wings outstretched to catch the rising heat from the fires that burned beneath. Lightning cracked from his jaws and struck a warehouse in the Port District, adding another fire to the growing inferno. The sound of thunder rolled over the streets and buildings. The dawn was calm with no wind yet from the sea, so the smoke from the fires rose in columns and slowly spread out in an ever-increasing canopy, blotting out the stars and casting a pall over the light of the coming sun.
“He’s going to bum the entire city!” one of the caretakers cried.
“I don’t think so,” Linsha said, staring spellbound at the city below. “What good is a scorched ruin? Look! He’s started fires in each district. I think he’s trying to distract the city’s defenders.”
They watched, appalled, while Thunder circled over the Missing City. Light from the fires glowed on his belly and under his wings, illuminating his shape in golden hues. He seemed satisfied with his handiwork, for he contented himself with spreading the paralyzing dragonfear among the people below and using his lightning breath weapon only to destroy the few brave attempts the militia made to stand up to him.
Linsha shook herself free of her dread and shock. She bolted into the house and grabbed her boots and the dagger. She would have to get a sword somewhere and some armor or a shield. Running outside again, she shouted, “Do you have horses here?”
The Legionnaires barely looked at her, so mortified were they by the burning fires in the city. “Lanther said to keep you here until he called for you.”
Linsha drew herself up to her full height and snarled, “Listen. You are members of his Order. I am not. I am a Knight of the Rose, and my place is down there.”
One of the Legionnaires silently pointed to a small barn beyond the garden.
Linsha followed his gesture to the stone outbuilding and found a small desert-bred horse within. The gelding tossed his head nervously when Linsha entered and would not hold still to be bridled. Linsha knew he sensed the dragon, but she did not have time to cajole him. She clamped his upper lip in a vise-like grip and shoved the bit between his teeth. She decided not to bother with a saddle. Springing bareback onto the horse, she kicked it out of the barn and down the road toward the city.
In the dimness the road was unfamiliar and treacherous. People were out in the streets, in front of their homes, or standing on the flat rooftops to see what was happening. Others already knew and frantically grabbed for any transportation they could find to flee the dragon and the fires. Someone ran in front of Linsha’s horse and tried to snatch at the bridle. Linsha rammed her heels into the terrified horse’s sides and forced the animal past the man and his flailing arms.
Shouts and screams filled the night, dogs barked, and a few fire bells rang frantically in the distance for help that could not come.
When she passed the city wall and entered the Garden Gate, she saw the guards trying desperately to push the people back from the gates. Someone had managed to get it unbolted, and a mob of panicked citizens pushed frantically to get out. Linsha worked her way to a small messenger’s gate where a militia soldier recognized her and let her in. She kicked her horse into a canter again and pressed on toward the center of the city.