The Dragon Token Read online

  “I DON’T WANT TO BE GOOD AT KILLING. WHAT SCARES ME IS THAT I THINK IT’S WHAT I MIGHT BE BEST AT.”

  Rohan had said the same thing, jeering at him. “Perhaps you’re the right man for the work after all. Perhaps only a barbarian can defeat barbarians. Take heart, Pol. If I die somewhere along the way, you’ll be High Prince and get your chance to play the warrior. You ought to do very well. You seem to have all the right instincts.”

  And yet who had been his pattern for what he had done? None other than his elegant, educated, civilized father. In 704, Rohan had ordered the right hand of every Merida prisoner cut off—and hadn’t even had compassion enough to cauterize the wounds. . . .

  Riyan’s voice, deliberately harsh, interrupted Pol’s thoughts. “Stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself! If all this wounds your tender sensibilities, so much the better.”

  “What do you care? All you have to do is what I tell you. I’m the one who has to decide.”

  “So the lowly athri can’t possibly understand the mighty High Prince. Didn’t you learn anything from Rohan? It’s when war starts to feel good that you’ve got something to worry about!”

  “Then start worrying,” Pol snarled. “I loved it and I can’t wait to do it again!”

  DAW Books Presents

  the Finest in Fantasy by

  MELANIE RAWN

  Exiles

  THE RUINS OF AMBRAI (Volume One)

  THE MAGEBORN TRAITOR (Volume Two)

  Dragon Prince

  DRAGON PRINCE (Book One)

  THE STAR SCROLL (Book Two)

  SUNRUNNER’S FIRE (Book Three)

  Dragon Star

  STRONGHOLD (Book One)

  THE DRAGON TOKEN (Book Two)

  SKYBOWL (Book Three)

  THE GOLDEN KEY

  (with Jennifer Roberson and Kate Elliot)

  Copyright © 1992 by Melanie Rawn.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Michael Whelan.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-66629-6

  Map by Marty Siegrist.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 872.

  Published by DAW Books, Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

  First Paperback Printing. February 1993

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  Version_1

  For my sister,

  Laurie Kay Rawn

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  Author’s Note

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PART THREE

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  PART FOUR

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Index of Characters

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  A review of the events of Stronghold might be helpful before beginning this volume.

  • • •

  On 32 Autumn in the Dragon Year 737, the princedoms were attacked by unknown invaders who within days gained control of the major southern rivers; destroyed Faolain Riverport, Gilad Seahold, and Graypearl; seized but did not raze Radzyn Keep and Whitecliff Manor; and laid siege to Faolain Lowland.

  Rohan and Pol, who had hurried to Radzyn when Tobin became ill earlier in the Autumn, led refugees across the Long Sand to Remagev. When that castle too was attacked, it was abandoned replete with deadfalls. Pol’s dragon, Azhdeen, appeared the night of the escape to Stronghold, and the invaders astonished everyone by bowing down to the great beast in terrified reverence.

  The survivors of Graypearl took ship to Tiglath and then journeyed overland to Skybowl under the leadership of Chadric and Audrite. Their son, Ludhil, stayed behind to rally what forces he could with the help of his wife, Iliena. Chadric’s Court Sunrunner, Sioned’s old friend Meath, continued on to Stronghold.

  On Kierst-Isel, Volog succumbed to his years and his grief over the deaths of his son Latham and daughter-by-marriage Hevatia, killed by the enemy. Their elder son Arlis is now sole ruler of the united princedoms of Kierst and Isel; their younger, Saumer, is in Syr. It was left to Volog’s squire Rohannon, Maarken and Hollis’ son, to command New Raetia until Arlis arrived with his fleet. Trapped in port by bad weather, they are waiting for favorable winds to take them into battle against the enemy ships in Brochwell Bay.

  Patwin of Catha Heights, ambitious for himself and his daughters (who are grandchildren of High Prince Roelstra), allied with the enemy. He came to Faolain Lowland with an offer to spare the keep if Mirsath joined him in his betrayal. Mirsath killed him. (The siege finally ended when Sioned conjured a Fire Dragon and the enemy fled in panic.)

  Catha Heights was retaken by Kostas, who executed one of Patwin’s daughters and disinherited another (the third was at Swalekeep with her aunt Chiana). But Kostas was himself killed by a Merida. His squires—Tilal’s son Rihani, who killed the assassin, and Saumer of Kierst-Isel—took their lord’s body to his birthplace of River Run for ritual Burning.

  Miyon of Cunaxa departed Castle Pine for Dragon’s Rest when it became obvious that his not-so-secretly Merida son, Birioc, was in the ascendancy. Birioc and his army destroyed Tuath Castle; Jahnavi, Walvis and Feylin’s son, was killed. Princess Meiglan fled Dragon’s Rest with her daughters, Jihan and Rislyn, soon after her father’s arrival.

  When the invaders attacked Goddess Keep, Andry demonstrated the ros’salath—a protective wall of sorcery—only after Tilal’s army had engaged the enemy in battle. Furious at the unnecessary loss of life, Tilal left Andry to his own defenses and marched for Meadowlord. Along the way he discovered Andrev, Andry’s elder son, among his soldiers. Eager to prove himself a warrior like his forebears, Andrev offered his services as both squire and Sunrunner. Tilal accepted, partly because he knew how enraged Andry would be.

  Later, Andry was briefly captured. Two of his devr’im, Oclel and Rusina, were killed. Andry escaped, more certain than ever that his dreams and visions were prophetic and that only he can act to prevent the horror of that future.

  • • •

  The origins and purposes of the invaders remain obscure. They call themselves Vellant’im, which combines words meaning sword, mountain, and possibly born. They weave gold beads into their beards as tokens of prowess in battle; are frightened of dragons and either flee or prostrate themselves in the dirt when one appears; speak a version of the language that was nearly obliterated
in the princedoms by order of Lady Merisel (but which, oddly enough, she herself used to write the Star Scroll and her histories); and sail in dragon-headed ships whose sails and hulls do not burn. Some scorn to do battle with female warriors (to their cost at Kierst-Isel). Their army seems to be made up of many clans, each with its own distinct flag. They ritually burn their dead, if possible on ships sent out to sea with living sacrifices on board. They leave no wounded and do not take prisoners.

  Most curious of all, they shout “Diarmadh’im!” as their battle cry and, on encountering Birioc, one of them greeted him as a “Brother of the Sacred Glass,” a reference to the poison-filled glass knives the Merida used for their kills. The Merida have no better idea than anyone else who these people are, but the alliance is eagerly accepted. It is believed that the Vellant’im are the diarmadhi army, just as the Merida were their trained assassins. But they have used no sorcery in any battle, and no diarmadhi has come forth to assume leadership or to claim kinship with the Vellant’im.

  • • •

  Of the other princedoms, little was sent by way of help. Pirro of Fessenden claimed that no treaty compelled him to defend his fellows in this situation; such aid must be forthcoming only if one prince attacks another. Invasion by an outside force is not provided for. Cabar of Gilad and Velden of Grib seized on this convenient excuse to stay out of the war, and like Pirro have locked themselves in their castles. Their sons, however, are beginning to have other ideas.

  In Firon, more sinister events are unfolding. Laric and his wife Lisiel lingered past the Rialla at Dragon’s Rest to await the birth of their second son. In their absence, Yarin of Snowcoves (brother of Lisiel and of Iliena, Ludhil’s wife) has taken over the princedom and holds captive Laric’s young son, Tirel. Having learned of this treachery, the prince is on his way from Dragon’s Rest with a small army. But it is winter, the snow is deep, and there are two princedoms to cross before he can reach Balarat and rescue his son.

  Meadowlord, ravaged in many wars, has escaped its usual fate thus far. Rohan ordered Rialt of Waes to abandon the port city in an attempt to lure the Vellant’im there. The ploy failed because they were warned by Chiana—who, with her son Rinhoel, is secretly aiding the enemy. Her husband Halian is innocent of their schemes, and, indeed, innocent of all but trying to keep his lands from destruction by contending armies. But Tilal of Ossetia and Ostvel of Castle Crag are on their way to Swalekeep with their troops, and the Vellant’im are marching up from the south.

  In the Desert, the worst has happened. During a massive battle at Stronghold, a Star Scroll spell was used with limited success and dire consequences for some of those caught in the working. The arrival of the Vellanti High Warlord with more troops made victory impossible. Stronghold was evacuated. And High Prince Rohan is dead.

  • • •

  It is now late at night of 23 Winter in the Dragon Year 737, the day of the Battle of Stronghold. The castle still burns as Rohan’s funeral pyre. Pol has become High Prince—though he doesn’t yet know it.

  Chapter One

  The rush of wings startled Pol. It was not the sound of dragon wings, strong and sure in the dusk, but the swift feathery strokes of a dozen hawks. Independent like all predators, the hawks clung together now like timid waterfowl fleeing winter. Tiny golden bells on their jesses flashed with the last sunlight as they sought to climb higher and higher into the sky.

  Escaped, was Pol’s first thought. His second: Released—and panicked. They don’t know where to fly when they’re not flown at prey.

  Maarken watched, too, absently picking at the crusted blood on his tunic. A mere pinprick in his shoulder, it might have taken him; he had been Sunrunning when the arrow struck his flesh. Only its quick removal had saved his life. “They’ll find it hungry living in the Desert. I wonder how they got out of the mews.”

  Pol steadied his horse as the tired animal stumbled. “Their hoods are gone. Someone freed them.” Turning in his saddle, he watched the remnants of an army trudge past. “Maarken. . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “It hurts.”

  • • •

  Faradh’im usually possessed an excellent sense of direction. The scent of Water, the sighing of Air, the sun’s Fire, the feel of Earth—all these things combined to tell a Sunrunner precisely where was where without having to think about it, even in unfamiliar territory.

  No one had ever taught Hollis how to discern direction underground.

  Elemental presences there were, but she could make little of them. Moisture oozed at intervals from cool, smoothly hewn walls, and a breeze from somewhere bent the candle flames and torches. But it was the profound silence of rock that seemed to change her perceptions of all else, a quiet extending for measures all around her. In the world above, sky made of wind and light arched overhead, and the ground was divided by rivers. Here, Earth had complete dominion. Water slid stealthily from stone, and Air crept past, and even Fire seemed to hunker warily. Hollis did not know where she was, with the familiar balance of forces gone and only one Element surrounding her: brooding, silent, massive Earth.

  She had called a halt to their journey through the passage, knowing that while there must be others as unnerved by this place as she, they must also all catch up with each other. They had been walking—sometimes up gentle slopes and occasionally a series of four or five steps, but mostly down—for what seemed like years. Hollis’ only indication of the time was the fat candle Betheyn had taken from a storeroom, one of those marked with dark lines and made to burn in precise time to the levels of a water clock. It had descended five lines of the night—or at least what was night up above. Here there was always darkness.

  The idea made her shiver slightly. She refused to think about it, just as she refused to think about Rohan and Sioned and Chay and Pol and most especially Maarken. And about the weight of the Earth pressing all around her, stifling Air and Fire and Water.

  “Hollis?” Beth’s soft voice was welcome distraction. “Take this, please?”

  She was given the wide, round candle. It was down to nearly the sixth line; past midnight, she thought, although she couldn’t be sure.

  “You should try to sleep, Beth. I can help, if you—”

  “No, but thank you. I’m going to go back and make sure all the stragglers have caught up.” Betheyn’s thick plaits had come undone, and she scraped the dark hair from her face with a bruised hand. “Maybe you’d better use some of your Sunrunner magic on Chayla, though. She’s up front making her third round of the wounded. She looks ready to drop.”

  Hollis nodded, and the younger woman threaded her way amid the people crowding the passage—slumped with their backs to the stone, curled up in sleep, holding injured limbs at awkward angles, lying flat on stretchers with spouses or children or friends watching over them. Hollis went farther up the narrow tunnel, searching in the gloomy golden glow of torchlight for her daughter’s fair head.

  Chayla was bent over a litter, applying a fresh dressing to a sword-slashed leg. A fingerflame of Sunrunner’s Fire hovered at her shoulder. Hollis wondered when she had learned to do that. Then she realized that it wasn’t Chayla’s Fire at all; it belonged to Camigwen, who knelt beside Chayla with the coffer of medicine.

  “Jeni, if you can spare a moment?” Hollis said quietly, and Alasen’s daughter looked up. As another little flame appeared, Jeni relaxed and allowed her own to fade. Rising as if she were seventy instead of seventeen, she shook long brown hair from her face and waited for orders like a good soldier.

  Chayla hadn’t even glanced up from her work.

  Hollis drew Jeni aside. “I’d like you to watch Jihan and Rislyn so their mother can get some sleep.”

  “Of course. I think I saw them somewhere up front.”

  “How did they get there? They were almost the last through.”

  Jeni’s smile, for all its weariness, held her father Ostvel’s quick humor. “With Jihan wanting to lead the way into the magical maze, can you won
der?”

  Hollis shook her head, momentarily amused. “That child! I didn’t even notice them get past me. Doubtless she’s giving her mother no peace at all, for wanting to continue on. See what you can do—and try to get some rest yourself, my dear.”

  The girl nodded, turned, then turned back. “Hollis . . . I know it’s not the right time to ask, but when we’re safe somewhere, will you tell me what happened to me in the courtyard?”

  She kicked herself mentally. Jeni—along with Jihan, Rislyn, and Tobren—had been caught in Sioned’s weaving. For children completely untrained as Sunrunners, the shock must have been terrible. “I ought to have asked before how you were feeling.”

  “Tired, and I’ve got a bit of a headache—but I’m all right. Mainly it’s. . . .” She trailed off and shrugged. “I just don’t understand, that’s all.”

  “Sioned will be better able to explain it than I.”

  “Hollis—” Her voice was hushed now. “They died, didn’t they? Morwenna and Lord Walvis’ Sunrunner.”

  “Yes.” Hollis pushed away the memory of Meath’s knife, ending heartbeats in bodies whose minds had already fled.

  “And we could have, too. If not for Sioned.”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder Lord Andry doesn’t like her much.” Then, abruptly recalling that she spoke to the wife of Lord Andry’s brother, her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, my lady, I—”

  “It’s not important, Jeni. But as it happens, you’re right. Go find Princess Meiglan and the girls.”

  When Chayla had finished her work, Hollis placed a hand on her shoulder. The girl glanced up, startled, squinting by the light of the fingerflame.

  “I don’t have time to lie down and sleep, Mother,” she said before Hollis could draw breath. “There’s a head wound I should check again.”

  Hollis drew her to her feet, alarmed when Chayla swayed a little to catch her balance. “Later. Come with me.”

  “I can’t. I’m needed.”