49. The troll king
49
THE TROLL KING
Jaemeh stared in shock. Gwydinion even sympathized a little: he’d have been in shock too if he hadn’t already known Sicaryon’s true identity. As it was, Gwydinion felt elation and no small amount of glee.
“You?” Jaemeh spat. “Cary? You’re Sicaryon? The troll king?”
“Let me guess,” Sicaryon said as he stood. “You expected me to be green.”
Jaemeh grabbed for Gwydinion, intent on retaking his hostage.
This time, Gwydinion was ready. He’d slowly inched away from the dragonrider. By the time Sicaryon revealed himself, Gwydinion was outside Jaemeh’s reach.
Gwydinion dove under the legs of the nearby courtiers.
Those same courtiers stepped forward, hands raised at Jaemeh. Magical energies surged around their fingers. Jaemeh halted, eyeing the sorcerers warily. He held his sword in one hand while crackling electricity encased the other.
“It’s a pity you couldn’t have shown more loyalty.” Sicaryon stepped off the dais.
“Don’t talk to me about loyalty,” Jaemeh snapped. “I saw what’s on that damn stone. Ris was going to let Tiendremos and me burn.”
“No,” Sicaryon corrected. “Just Tiendremos.”
Jaemeh squinted. “What did you say?”
“Her revenge was against Tiendremos, not you,” Sicaryon explained in much the same way one would to a child. “You weren’t Tiendremos’s rider when he murdered her family. She wanted him dead, yes, but you? You would’ve been free and rich. If only you’d trusted us.”
Jaemeh hesitated. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care.” Sicaryon drew his sword. “Here’s how this will go. You have two choices: fall to your knees and receive a quick death. Or fight me, knowing that if you win, I’ll let you walk away, as is the custom of my people. If you use any magic, though, you’re in a room full of sorcerers. The Assembly will not grant you a quick death.”
Sicaryon smiled. “So, which shall it be?”
The sunken area wasn’t a firepit, but a fighting pit.
Gwydinion felt anxious about the outcome. For all that Sicaryon had crowned himself king, that didn’t mean he was an unbeatable duelist, whereas Jaemeh had accepted the fight offer with an unsettling confidence.
A man stepped forward and presented Sicaryon his sword.
This was no Skylander style, and certainly nothing like the swords used to unlock Neveranimas’s vault. The sword was single-edged, three feet long, and thin at the hilt, but it widened until it ended with a sharp, ragged angle akin to a saw blade. Like Anahrod’s sword, the metal mimicked flowing water with a pattern of rippling light and dark metals. Unlike hers, though, this had a wooden hilt shaped like an open-mouthed dragon’s head, with a tuft of blood crow feathers erupting from the lower jaw. It was a giant blade—heavy and capable of felling trees as easily as people.
Sicaryon used it one-handed.
Jaemeh used the kind of sword that used to be popular in Seven Crests, and still was among dragonriders: a long, straight, two-sided blade with an ornate metal basket to guard his hand. It was a fast sword designed for slicing.
Gwydinion’s mouth dropped open in shock as Jaemeh said, “Keep an eye on this, would you?” and tossed him the Rampant Stone.
Although, who else could Jaemeh ask to hold it? Jaemeh risked the chance Gwydinion might give the stone to the Scarsea, but it was less risk than if he handed it over directly.
The two men circled each other. Jaemeh eyed the large blade. “You might be overcompensating for something.” He lunged.
Sicaryon batted the broadsword aside. “We’ll see, won’t we?” Suddenly his sword didn’t move lazily at all, as he flicked the sword upward, sliced toward Jaemeh’s hand.
He missed as Jaemeh leaped backward; Sicaryon smiled and returned to his idle circling.
Jaemeh repeated the maneuver.
He was testing Sicaryon, trying to determine how quickly his opponent could move that sword. Sicaryon allowed this with the amused tolerance of a training instructor.
The second time, Sicaryon’s response changed. He sliced an upward arc that transformed into a powerful horizontal swing. Had Jaemeh been slower, he wouldn’t have blocked in time.
Jaemeh wasn’t slower, though. Sicaryon frowned at the man and set his other hand on the dragon hilt’s lower jaw, transforming it into a two-handed weapon.
Sicaryon lunged forward, brought his blade straight down from overhead—a fast, intimidating maneuver.
Again, Jaemeh jumped backward, sneering.
Gwydinion studied the fight. Jaemeh wouldn’t block if he could dodge; it wasn’t prudence, but fear.
Sicaryon continued moving, using Jaemeh’s backward leap to give himself the room he needed to raise the sword again. This time, he stepped in and reversed his swing. If Sicaryon had connected, the fight would’ve been over; Jaemeh would’ve lost either his life or his hand.
Jaemeh counterattacked poorly, allowing Sicaryon to knock the Skylander’s blade out of alignment. Only Jaemeh’s speed allowed him to dodge in time.
Jaemeh was too fast, faster than he should’ve been. He was still cheating, still using magic, just doing so in a more subtle manner than lightning bolts.
The Scarsea king pressed forward, moving his sword in an elaborate figure eight. He had no more trouble wielding the sword than Gwydinion would’ve had with a stick.
Jaemeh lunged forward, stabbed his blade into Sicaryon’s arm. The feathered jacket made it impossible to judge the severity of the wound but couldn’t conceal the blood splattering across the floor.
Jaemeh might’ve said something then, might have made a witty comment, but Sicaryon didn’t give him the chance. Instead of giving any visible acknowledgment of the injury, Sicaryon tried to smash his sword down on Jaemeh’s. The former dragonrider leaped out of the way. The two circled each other once more.
The smart thing for Jaemeh to do was drag it out, let loss of blood weaken his opponent. Sicaryon was already slowing, making foolish mistakes. He switched feet, bringing his left foot forward instead of his right. With his two-handed grip, he’d just shackled himself.
Jaemeh noticed and smirked. Sicaryon brought his sword up for another one of those high overhand passes, this time tilted to the left. Jaemeh easily avoided the blow as he stepped to the side. As he did, he swept out with his sword and sliced a line of red across Sicaryon’s leg. The wound looked shallow, but Sicaryon hissed and pulled his leg back, while Jaemeh pressed forward.
Sicaryon had yet to pull up his blade from the failed overhand swipe. He did so then, knocking Jaemeh’s sword away, while his own continued in a smooth, tight arc to come down on Jaemeh’s outstretched sword arm…
Jaemeh pulled his blade up in time, his movement a blur, but the ragged, saw-like teeth of Sicaryon’s sword still ripped their way across Jaemeh’s arm. Jaemeh cursed, but instead of pushing the other man away, he pulled a dagger from his belt and tried to stab Sicaryon’s arm. At first it seemed like he’d succeed—Sicaryon’s sword wasn’t aligned to block—but the Scarsea parried with his hilt instead.
Both men backed away from each other.
“You’ve never played true your whole life, have you?” Sicaryon said as they circled each other.
“I’ve survived.” Jaemeh now held a broadsword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
Sicaryon’s expression turned contemptuous as he shifted the grip on his sword. “Not for much longer.”
Jaemeh attacked first, feinting with the dagger while he aimed at Sicaryon’s undefended legs. Sicaryon brought his blade down. He feinted and used the time to release a catch on his hilt. He pulled apart the hilt’s dragon jaws, leaving him with a sword in one hand and a knife in the other.
But he didn’t stop moving his sword. Sicaryon brought the blade down hard on Jaemeh’s sword, slamming it down into the wood floor, which he followed by stomping his leg down on the flat of the blade, snapping it.
Sicaryon embedded the knife in Jaemeh’s throat.
Jaemeh looked surprised as he dropped to the ground. A few seconds later, he was dead.
Sicaryon stared at the body as he panted for air. He motioned for someone to take and presumably clean his weapons.
“What a fucking waste,” the man muttered. “Never found out what he did with the diamonds.”
The crowd was still cheering when drums began to sound. Sicaryon tensed while his expression turned terrifyingly grim. People ran—not fleeing as much as finding their posts. The king yelled out commands in Sumulye.
Then he marched over to Gwydinion. “It’s good to see you.” Sicaryon’s tone was jarringly amiable. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, he—”
“Your sister’s alive,” Sicaryon said.
Gwydinion gaped. “What? But I thought he locked her inside—”
“She’s never been that easy to kill. She went to Crystalspire to warn your parents.” The Scarsea king didn’t have blood dripping down his jacket anymore, but Gwydinion still thought he should have someone look at his arm soon.
“This way.” Sicaryon started rushing him through the palace corridors. “Dragons have been spotted approaching the city. Honestly, you have my apology. I shouldn’t have indulged myself with Jaemeh.”
“It’s fine. The whole reason I tricked him into coming here was so you could kill him.”
“Considerate of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Gwydinion was less sure how he should feel now that he knew Anahrod lived, but Jaemeh had tried to kill her, so…
Never mind. Gwydinion felt no guilt at all.
Sicaryon pulled Gwydinion into a wide, treeless courtyard. A broad wooden platform encircled the space, although a thick railing and fine gauze net still blocked access to the open sky.
“How did you get back so quickly from Yagra’hai?” Gwydinion asked.
“A fast flyer,” Sicaryon answered. “Although just between us, the only reason I beat you here was because my people shot your flyer from the sky with thunder lances and forced you to travel here the slow way. I only made it back a few hours ago.”
“Wow.” Gwydinion wanted to know what a thunder lance was, but also didn’t want Sicaryon to become so annoyed at all the questions he refused to answer the important ones. Such as: “Where are we going?”
“ We aren’t going anywhere. Anahrod would raise me from the dead and then kill me again if I let anything happen to you, so you’ll be evacuating to safety, and I shall be defending my people.”
“But—Sicaryon, wait!” Gwydinion called as the man continued to march him across the walkway. Animals made noises nearby. “ Why are the dragons attacking here?”
Sicaryon glanced at the knapsack in Gwydinion’s hands. “I imagine because Her Scaliness wants her paperweight back. Anahrod says that Neveranimas can track its location. For a while we thought Neveranimas could track all of it—the diamonds, too—but she’s shown no interest in chasing me.” He scowled as he stopped at a large, thick metal box, and flipped open the lid. He pulled out a fat satchel. “The dragons arrived faster than I expected. They’ll get around to Crystalspire eventually, but you have a little time.”
“But what about you?”
For just a second, hopelessness lurked in Sicaryon’s eyes. “We would’ve been ready to fight off a full dragon attack in five years. Had it all figured out.” He paused and stared out at nothing. “Pity we don’t have five years.”
Gwydinion grimaced, his tongue thick and dry and trying to choke off all the air.
“Hurry.” Sicaryon grabbed the knapsack from Gwydinion’s hands and traded it for the satchel. “That’s a scout kit. It has a week’s food if you’re careful. The kennels are on the ground level. The rock wyrms will take you, but if you think you can manage it, Anahrod’s titan drake is there—”
“Overbite! Overbite’s here? She lived?”
Sicaryon made a face. “She named it Overbite? Gods, your whole family sucks at naming things. Yes, she’s harnessed and ready, but don’t take her unless you’re certain you can manage it. Whichever mount you choose, head west until you hit the coastline. That’ll be the Bay of Bones. Keep it on your left as you travel and head north. Keep going. Viridhaven is at the bay’s apex. That’s Ris and Peralon’s city. Throw their names around the same way you did with Anahrod’s here and you’ll be fine.”
“Do you—” Gwydinion bit his lip. “Is there anything you want me to tell my sister?”
Sicaryon’s face froze—not a lack of emotions but an attempt to keep overwhelming feelings at bay. His mouth twisted and he seemed unable to speak. “Tell her—” He pulled off the gold helmet and set it on the box lid. His hair was a mess. “Tell my sword-sister that I love her,” he said. “I love her and I really… I would’ve given it all up for her.” Then he laughed. “I guess I am, aren’t I?”
A tear slid down Gwydinion’s cheek; he wiped it aside.
In a small voice, he asked, “Could I… get a hug, maybe?”
Sicaryon huffed out a laugh. He looked around; people hurried about, but they were all focused on their tasks. Only rarely did anyone do a double take as if to say, Hey, is that the king over there?
“Just this once.” Sicaryon laughed darkly.
Gwydinion put his arms around the king, giving him a good, long hug. Lingering was important, because Legless needed enough time to move into position.
“Ow! Lihi!” Sicaryon swore and leaped from Gwydinion, dropping the knapsack containing the Rampant Stone. He gave a horrified stare to where Legless had just bitten his arm. “What—? You bit me! You little brat! Why?”
Gwydinion let Legless curl around his neck. He’d been a good boy.
“Technically Legless bit you? But I know what you meant. I apologize, because I’m sure this won’t help your ability to trust others.” Gwydinion picked up the knapsack. “You said you have an antidote for this venom, so I hope you weren’t just trying to impress Anahrod. Anyway, you should be fine if you hurry.” He threw the knapsack strap over his chest cross-body and turned to climb down the ladder.
“Gwydinion, what do you think you’re doing?” The man grimaced in pain as he held his arm.
Gwydinion glanced up. “If the dragons are tracking this stupid rock, it makes no sense to keep it where all the innocent people are, does it? I’m leading the dragons away.”
“You little fool, they’ll find you and kill you!” Sicaryon lunged at him—or tried to—and half collapsed against the railing.
Gwydinion sucked in his breath. “You should find a healer right away. Anahrod will be so mad if I accidentally kill you.”
Sicaryon grimaced. “I cannot believe I let a boy… Hey, brat?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck,” he said. “Now get out before someone notices you poisoned the king.”
Gwydinion climbed down quickly.