“It is true, Highness.” Jullagh-tse Seegg nodded solemnly. “I am far younger than Ryswin here, but I have heard the same tales told in Bokagul. It was an urZrethi goldsmith who journeyed far and wide. She measured all the fragments and created an imitation of it, down to the finest detail. It was clearly incomplete, so she then worked out what the other piece might have looked like. The simple fact of the matter, however, is that we do not know where that other piece is. It is conceivable that Chytrine has it, and that she even stole it from the Crown.”
Erlestoke sagged back against the log wall and winced. His chest hurt, and not just from the punch. “If all three of you know this information, why don’t I? Why didn’t the Draconis Baron?”
Jilandessa crouched beside him and rested her hands on one of his drawn-up knees. “It is because of the nature of men, Highness. Think of Fortress Draconis not as a place to stop Chytrine, but as a locus for power. All the nations of mankind, all nations of elves and urZrethi, pledged troops to and served at Fortress Draconis. But it was a man who created the plans, and men were forever the Draconis Barons. Men have a passion for power.
“When it was learned that there might be a seventh piece of the crown—one that would make it work—the elves and urZrethi were put in a curious position. All fragments save for one resided in human hands. It was thought possible that men might believe that we had lied about the number of fragments, and that we held one back because we did not trust humanity. That belief would quickly become malignant. Men would come to believe we held it back so we could gather all the other fragments and re-create the Drag-onCrown to summon dragons to destroy mankind.”
Erlestoke shook his head. “That makes no sense.”
The raven-haired elf smiled. “Highness, you have labored for the last five years at Fortress Draconis. You have worked with elves and urZrethi. You know us. You trust us. Ryswin is newly come to Fortress Draconis, yet you treat him as you do me because you have learned to trust elves.”
Jullagh-tse nodded as well. “And, were the truth to be told, the idea of putting the Crown together again has been advanced. I’ve heard it mentioned in the halls of Bokagul. I imagine the same has been said in groves throughout elven holdings. Humanity encroaches on us. No one calls for mankind’s destruction, but being able to drive men back…”
Erlestoke nodded. “I know the history. I know the men of Oriosa and the urZrethi of Bokagul have fought wars before, but we have fought side by side more recently. Still, your point is made. Those old wars still haunt the memory. Attributing evil to you would not be difficult.”
Jilandessa sighed. “It is fairly safe to assume Chytrine does not have the seventh fragment. If she did, she would be much more powerful.”
“Why can’t she just make a new central segment?”
The urZrethi frowned. “The stones in the Crown are very rare. Some tales refer to them as Truestones, but I have no idea what is meant by that.”
The elves shook their heads. “If their nature is known to my people,” Ryswin said solemnly, “it has not been shared with me. However, if she had the skills to create a central portion of the Crown, she could make herself a new one. Something has prevented that from happening.”
“Thank the gods for small favors.” The prince leaned his head back against the wall. “We’re still stuck with the same problem, when it comes down to it. Where do we go? If the elves are willing to hold another fragment, Harquellyn or Croquellyn are both likely places.“
Jilandessa pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Harquellyn should be a second choice. I am different from my people, for we prefer to remain far from conflict. We would be welcomed, but in exchange for a pact of peace, they might give the fragment up.”
“Ryswin, why did your people keep a fragment? Isn’t that risking a lot given Chytrine’s lust for the things?”
The warrior smiled. “My friend, it was the Loquelven ships that destroyed Kree’chuc’s fleet and ruined his invasion. Chytrine hates us regardless of what we possess. We just could not have allowed that fragment to get into her hands.”
“Croquellyn, then?”
The urZrethi nodded thoughtfully. “If we get that far south, we will be close to Tsagul. Depending upon where Chytrine is, we might even have to go further south.”
The prince frowned. “There’s not much more south there.”
“No, Highness, there isn’t.” Jullagh-tse Seegg sighed heavily. “Somehow we shall have to hope it is enough.”
39
General Markus Adrogans nodded as he studied the model of the Three Brothers Citadel that warded the road through the South Gorge. “You’ve done a brilliant job, Duke Mikhail.”
The dark-haired young man smiled, then bowed his head in thanks. “I like making models. It is to scale, of course, though the snow is just white paint and not mounded to the depth our scouts have reported.”
The model represented a stretch of the road paralleling the Svar River as it passed through the South Gorge. On its approach to Svarskya, the river made an oxbow to the west and the road ran along the eastern shore. At the apex of the curve sat the centermost and largest of the fortresses, built up like a cake with one squat cylindrical layer upon another, decreasing in diameter as they rose four high. A round wall surrounded it. Opposite, in the center of the river, stood a huge tower, with an arched stone bridge connecting the tower and the fortress. From the tower, and between the tower and fortress, thick chains ran shore to shore to prevent boat traffic—something effective in the summer, but useless in the dead of winter since the river was thoroughly iced over and buried under snow.
To the south—the direction from which they would approach—lay the first of the two gateway fortresses. Each consisted of two rectangular structures paralleling the road for twenty yards or so, with crenellated walls all around, and plenty of arrow slits in the interior walls. Gates front and rear blocked the road, and any force that was successful in breaching the forward gate would be trapped in the fortress interior before they could get the rear gate open. Getting to the gate-opening mechanisms would require a lot of fighting and murderous close-range shots by archers hidden behind stout walls.
The smaller fortresses also had their river towers with arched bridges and shore to shore chains. Any attempt to cross the frozen river would be doomed since archers in the towers or on the bridges would have the advantage. Moreover, siege engines from within the fortresses would be able to hurl stones that would shatter the ice. The frigid water would kill soldiers faster than arrows, and the frozen bodies would be washed into the Crescent Sea at Svarskya.
Neither the gate-keeping fortresses nor their river towers had a line of sight between them, so they relied on the larger fortress to relay messages via a system of flags. The central fortress served as the garrison for the whole complex, with only a quarter of a mile separating one fortress from the other. It would send out troops to defend either gateway fortress, and the garrison in the farthest fortress could be summoned to help if needed.
“It is stunning work, but it does not give me heart.” Adrogans slowly paced around the model, viewing it from every angle. Reaching out, he lifted the top layer from the central fortress. The interior walls had been painted in, and a black circle drawn to represent the central stairway. The details even extended down to indicating the privies with black dots, and notations about how many soldiers usually occupied each room.
“I wished to be able to complete the interior structure, General. Two of the Svoin refugees had served in Varalorsk, so were able to give me the details. They were helpful with the little brothers, Darovin and Krakoin.” Mikhail shrugged. “After the battle, I shall fix things.”