Dragon Prince 03 - Sunrunner's Fire Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Part One

  Chapter One - 719: Stronghold

  Chapter Two - 721: Castle Crag

  Chapter Three - 722: Skybowl

  Chapter Four - 723: Stronghold

  Chapter Five - 725: Dragon’s Rest

  Chapter Six - 726: Swalekeep

  Chapter Seven - 727: Goddess Keep

  Part Two - Year 728

  Chapter Eight - Near Elktrap Manor: 3 Spring

  Chapter Nine - Dragon’s Rest: 4 Spring

  Chapter Ten - Elktrap Manor: 5 Spring

  Chapter Eleven - Castle Pine: 7 Spring

  Chapter Twelve - Feruche: 9-10 Spring

  Chapter Thirteen - Tiglath: 20 Spring

  Chapter Fourteen - Stronghold: 26 Spring

  Chapter Fifteen - Swalekeep: 26 Spring

  Chapter Sixteen - Stronghold: 35 Spring

  Chapter Seventeen - Castle Crag: 30 Spring

  Chapter Eighteen - Stronghold: 32 Spring

  Chapter Nineteen - Stronghold: 33 Spring

  Chapter Twenty - Stronghold: 33 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-one - Dragon’s Rest: 33 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-two - Stronghold: 34 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-three - Stronghold: 34 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-four - Stronghold: 34 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-five - Stronghold: 34 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-six - Stronghold: 35 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-seven - Rivenrock Canyon: 35 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-eight - Stronghold: 35 Spring

  Chapter Twenty-nine - Rivenrock Canyon: 35 Spring

  Chapter Thirty - Princemarch: Autumn, 728

  Genealogy (as of 719)

  Genetics

  DAW Books Presents

  the Finest in Fantasy by

  MELANIE RAWN

  EXILES

  THE RUINS OF AMBRAI

  THE MAGEBORN TRAITOR

  DRAGON PRINCE

  DRAGON PRINCE

  THE STAR SCROLL

  SUNRUNNER’S FIRE

  DRAGON STAR

  STRONGHOLD

  THE DRAGON TOKEN

  SKYBOWL

  THE GOLDEN KEY

  (with Jennifer Roberson and Kate Elliott)

  Copyright ©1990 by Melanie Rawn.

  All rights reserved.

  DAW Books Collectors No. 806.

  DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

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  First Trade Printing, August 2005

  eISBN : 978-1-101-16557-7

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  In memory of my uncle

  Gordon Alderson Fisk

  January 8, 1920-May 16, 2000

  Part One

  Chapter One

  719: Stronghold

  The immense emerald caught and concentrated the fire of the setting sun into a fierce glow alive with green-gold light. Sunrunner though High Princess Sioned was, and skilled in the arts of the faradh’im, the other rings that would signify her rank among them were missing from her hands. For many years she had worn only her husband’s ring, the emerald he had given her half their lifetimes ago. But tonight she could feel the rest still on her hands, as she’d told Lady Andrade: like scars.

  There were others with her in the evening hush who wore faradhi rings. The three circling the fingers of her sister-by-marriage, Princess Tobin, were honorary; nonetheless they betokened considerable if informally trained power. Tobin’s eldest son Maarken and his wife Hollis each wore six rings; Riyan, only son of Sioned’s old friend Ostvel, had four. Had Sioned still worn hers, they would have numbered seven—but she knew quite honestly that her talents and her powers would have merited eighth and ninth rings by now. That she chose not to claim them was indication enough of where her loyalties lay.

  She lifted her head and met her husband’s solemn expression. He knelt directly across from her on a broad blue carpet flung over dry grass. A golden brazier rested in the center of the rug. Its wide, empty dish, supported by four carved dragon claws, was polished to a mirror’s gleam. Before Sioned was a golden pitcher and a small matching wine cup. She did not look at the latter very long; she gazed into Rohan’s face and, as always, drew strength from what she saw there.

  Rohan was flanked by Maarken and Riyan; Hollis and Ostvel sat on Sioned’s right, Tobin and her husband Chaynal to her left. She thought of the absent others, and the reasons why they were not here. Her son, Pol, was back at Graypearl, safe on Prince Lleyn’s island under the watchful guardianship of another Sunrunner and old friend, Meath. Alasen, Sioned’s kinswoman and Ostvel’s young wife, was at Stronghold, but she would have nothing to do with faradhi ways. Although she possessed gifts in generous measure, Sunrunner workings terrified her. Sorin, Chay and Tobin’s third son, was far away, the only family witness to ceremonies that would tonight create his twin brother Lord of Goddess Keep in Andrade’s place.

  The gardens of Stronghold were silent. Princess Milar’s fountain ran dry in autumn. Servants and retainers were within the great keep or the courtyards, making ready for departures on the morrow. Tobin and Chay were going home to Radzyn, Maarken and Hollis to their manor at Whitecliff. Ostvel and Alasen would stay the winter with Riyan at Skybowl to the north before traveling to Castle Crag, where Ostvel would assume his duties as new regent of Princemarch. By tomorrow evening Rohan and Sioned would again be alone at Stronghold, linked to family and friends only by her weavings of light.

  A glance at the shadows told her it was time. She rested her open hands on her knees, staring down at the emerald. “According to ritual, Andry will call Fire in front of the senior Sunrunners, and Urival will give him the first ring. Then Air, and the second ring. They’ll pause while Water and Earth are honored, and then he’ll have to prove that he can conjure in Fire. At that point he’ll receive the third ring. Just before dusk he’ll weave sunlight to summon the faradh’im resident at Goddess Keep who wear fewer than seven rings. Once he’s done that, the fourth and fifth will be given. With moonrise he’ll demonstrate his ability to weave moonlight, and that will be the sixth ring. Up until that time, the ritual will be as it has always been.”

  Chay shifted and frowned, knowing what she was about to say and unable to hide his disapproval of his son’s plans. Sioned gave him a sympathetic look. They had gotten over the initial shock of Andry’s departure from tradition, but acceptance was something else again. It had been several days since Urival had spoken with Sioned on sunlight, his colors flaring with outrage at Andry’s presumption. Certain other important Sunrunners, who would also be watching tonight from great distances, had been similarly informed so their startlement would not disrupt the proceedings. But Sioned wondered what the reaction would be at Goddess Keep itself when the resident faradh’im actually participated in the new ceremony.

  “It won’t be sunset there for a little while,” Rohan said. “Chay, you’ve obviously got something on your mind. Say it.”

  The Lord of Rad
zyn shrugged, an attempt at casualness. “Maybe I’m just getting conservative in my old age. Change isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And he seems to have his reasons.”

  “But why couldn’t he have waited?” Tobin burst out. “He’s moving too fast. The tradition of hundreds of years can’t be wiped out in a single night!”

  Rohan looked pensive. “You’re both right, of course. But consider Andry’s motives. He needs to do something to indicate how different his rule will be from Andrade’s.”

  “She’s been dead forty days,” Sioned murmured. “Why does it seem so much longer?”

  Ostvel used one finger to smooth a ripple in the carpet. “You’ve told me she was uneasy about Andry. But Urival is there, and knows him well. Urival will guide him.”

  “But not control him,” Sioned replied.

  “And did Andrade ever really control you?” Ostvel smiled faintly. “Andry’s not a fool, Sioned, nor is he venal or grasping. He’s a very young man thrust into a position of great power before being prepared for it. I think there are those among us who can understand his feelings and his needs.”

  Rohan nodded. “Oh, yes. I understand him very well. I’ve been the architect of a few departures from tradition myself, many of them in my first year as a ruling prince. And this is Andry we’re talking about here—a boy you and I played dragons with, Ostvel. Nephew, son, and brother.” His gaze moved around the circle.

  Sioned cleared her throat and looked down at the wine cup. Slowly she filled it from the golden pitcher. Then she reached into a pocket and took out a small cloth pouch.

  “Sioned—is that truly needed?” Tobin asked worriedly.

  “I don’t like the idea any more than you do. But Urival was quite specific. And it will only be a little bit. Not enough to do me any harm.” Loosening the drawstrings, she took out a pinch of powdery gray-green substance. “Enough to fit inside a thumb ring,” she murmured, quoting Urival. “The Star Scroll advises caution, but this amount is safe enough.”

  “According to a half-translated book hundreds of years old!” Maarken shook his head and glanced at his wife. Hollis did not shrink back from the sight of the dranath in Sioned’s fingers, but her eyes were haunted. She had spent the journey from Waes to Stronghold freeing herself of addiction to the drug; even though she no longer craved it, the anguish of withdrawal was still evident in her pale lips and bruised eyelids.

  “The conjure I’m working tonight is difficult enough to sustain under ordinary circumstances,” Sioned reminded them. “This one will take all night. Urival says dranath can increase powers. And he sanctioned its use.”

  Before anyone could say anything else, she sifted dranath into the wine and swirled the cup to mix it in before drinking off half the contents.

  “I remember how it felt,” she murmured into the silence. “Dizziness for a moment, then warmth. . . .” Her cheeks flushed. There was another effect of dranath: sexual desire. Or perhaps, she thought suddenly as she sensed her gifts expand within her, perhaps the power was all-inclusive, and every aspect of body and mind was touched by the drug. She began to sway gently back and forth in response to the humming sensuality compounded of physical and faradhi power. There was a hunger in her, not only for the touch of her husband’s flesh but for the unleashing of her talents. She understood the seduction of the drug. She had always been too afraid of it to analyze its effect, but this time she was going to work with the dranath, not against it—glorious and terrifying and impossible to resist. The demands of her body slowly faded, subsumed into an urge to ride the last sunlight and dare the shadows, to summon a torrent of Air, to call down Fire and in it conjure fateful visions.

  Sioned told herself she chose to succumb.

  Her disciplined Sunrunner mind brought forth a gout of Fire into the empty brazier. The polished bowl seemed to ignite. And in cool flames half the height of a man there formed clear, detailed pictures.

  Andry, too, had just called Fire. He stood in the courtyard of Goddess Keep, hands bare of rings. All the senior Sunrunners in residence stood in a circle around the bonfire he had just lit. Urival came forward and gave him the first ring. An instant later a whirlwind circled the courtyard, plucking at clothes and hair, blowing Andry’s white cloak taut against his slim body. Urival bestowed the second ring.

  Sioned’s view of her old friend and teacher’s face cleared as he faced the Fire. She frowned. Urival’s stern features were set in flinty impassivity, all light gone from his golden-brown eyes. Duty and position compelled him to preside over this ritual; obedience to Andrade forced him to adhere to her choice for Lord of Goddess Keep. He was not happy with Andry’s departure from that ritual. Sioned wished she could reassure him as those around her tonight had reassured themselves. But of them all—including Andry who stood apart—Urival was the most alone.

  Sioned heard Hollis catch her breath as Andry made his first change in the proceedings, one that no one had been warned about. As Air continued to spin around him, he upended a pouch of loose, dry soil onto the stones. From his belt he took a glass flask full of Water. He unstoppered it and tossed it high into the air. A few glistening droplets escaped on its upward flight; as it fell it revolved and a stream of liquid raced the glass toward the ground.

  Andry spread his arms wide. The spilled Earth was caught by a new whirlwind and rose in tightening spirals. Not a drop of Water reached the stones; the Air seized it, too. Shards of shattered glass glittered like small knives within the vortex as it narrowed. The bonfire swirled in wild patterns, and Earth, Air, and Water were consumed into its red-gold heart.

  Andry had brought all Elements into play in a demonstration of power meant to dazzle. Or, Sioned thought, to warn.

  He gestured at the flames and within them a conjuring appeared, a vision of Goddess Keep itself, sheathed in light. But it was not the golden glow of sunshine that danced over the walls and towers, nor the cool silvery gleam of the three moons. Icy white starfire frosted the conjured stones in sharp shadows and angles, making of the great castle a citadel of silent power.

  Urival stepped forward, his face still expressionless, and slid the third ring onto Andry’s ringer. The young man allowed the conjuring to fade, and in his fine blue eyes was a sudden flare of anticipation.

  Sunset light gilded the courtyard. Andry used it to weave a summons to the less-senior faradh’im waiting for his call. Dozens of them filed into the courtyard, bowing to Andry and nodding confirmation when Urival asked if they had felt his colors on the sunlight. The fourth ring was given.

  At Stronghold, Sioned lifted her face from her Fire-conjuring to the last rays seeping over the western walls. As the fragile, rosy warmth touched her brow, she abruptly knew what Andry would do next, who he would speak to in proving his ability to ride the sunlight at great distances.

  So. You’re watching.

  How could I not? Sioned replied, not allowing Andry’s colors to drench hers in brilliant light. Goddess greeting to you, my lord.

  And to you, my lady. I see Mother there, and Hollis, and Riyan.

  It was a very odd thing to be seeing Andry’s face in the brazier Fire while hearing his voice at the same time in her thoughts. Yes. And Rohan, Ostvel, and your father. All very proud of you, Andry.

  And very worried. Just look at Maarken’s face! Don’t be afraid of this, Sioned. I know what I’m doing. Andry hesitated. Is—is Alasen—

  No. I’m sorry, Andry. She saw his face change slightly.

  I should have expected it. Sioned, please help her to not be so afraid of what she is. She’ll never find any peace otherwise.

  She chose her life, Sioned reminded him gently, and you chose yours.

  Yes. Of course. A brief pause. A line furrowed his smooth forehead and something close to suspicion vibrated through his colors. Sioned—what is it about your colors tonight? I sense something, I can feel—

  The sunlight fades here, my Lord, she replied. You’d best return.

  You—dranath! Sioned, are you i
nsane?

  With a mannered fillip she disengaged from the contact and nudged him back down the weakening rays of light. She sensed his anger at her use of the drug, and a deeper resentment that she could rid herself of him so effortlessly. She caught a glimpse of Pol in his thoughts and the unguarded hope that the son would not be as powerful as the mother. With the drug singing in her blood she could have followed him while maintaining the Fire-conjure simultaneously. It was an intriguing thought, not the least bit frightening. But she had the distinct impression that she ought to be frightened.

  Andry had moved closer to the bonfire. No voices or other sounds carried through Sioned’s Fire, but she knew Urival had asked him to tell what he had done, who he had spoken with. As the sun went down and they waited for the moons to rise—early tonight, which was the reason for holding the ritual now—Andry replied, then went round the circle of faradh’im and touched hands with each.

  Sioned remembered the day she had done the same. With Camigwen at her side, joined in this achievement as they had been in almost all other aspects of their training, she had stood before each Sunrunner to receive greetings and smiles as she became one of them.

  “Sioned. . . .” Ostvel’s half-strangled voice brought her back to Stronghold.

  She looked in bewilderment at his pain-clouded gray eyes, then at the Fire in the brazier. Within, called forth from her memory by her dranath-enhanced senses, stood not the present circle of faradh’im at Goddess Keep but a group of people in full sunlight, herself and Camigwen clasping hands with each. Amazed and fascinated, she let the conjured memory last a while longer, feeling not a bit of strain at maintaining it. She looked for the first time in eighteen winters at her beloved friend’s face, the exquisite dark eyes and the delicate features, watched Camigwen complete the circle and stand waiting with her, practically dancing with excitement as Andrade came forward to give them their fifth rings.