Prisoner of Fate Read online

  Meg stood to assess the three young men who suddenly appeared, uneasy in their presence. All three carried peacemakers. ‘Who are these men?’

  The dragoneer rose and grinned as he introduced his companions. ‘We have Neal, Bryon with the bowl haircut—’ The men laughed at Bryon who scowled. ‘Adwyn,’ the young man continued, ‘and of course, me.’

  ‘And you are?’ she asked.

  ‘Dafyd,’ he replied, vaguely bowing his head. ‘Dafyd O’Dale. Dragoneer and entrepreneur at your service.’

  Meg appraised the men. They were not much older than boys, close to her daughter’s age. ‘Why aren’t you in the army?’ she asked, knowing that the Andrak military machine was gathering every able-bodied young man to throw at the Ranu.

  ‘We were,’ Adwyn replied, his dark eyes shining cheekily beneath his black fringe. ‘We just got sick of it.’

  Meg knew what deserters were. Three were arrested only a few months before in her hometown and Emma had been terrified that one might have been her missing husband. He wasn’t one of them, however, when they went to see who the deserters were. ‘Aren’t you afraid they’ll catch you?’ she asked, still uncertain as to whether or not she was in safe company.

  ‘They’re too busy,’ Neal said, his face serious, to the delight of his companions who were stifling laughter. ‘We have the Ranu to thank for providing us with an opportunity to have some fun. We got tired of marching and shooting and marching and lying down in mud and shooting again. Flying around with Dafyd is much more entertaining.’

  ‘So, do you want to go to Marella tomorrow morning?’ Dafyd asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Meg answered automatically.

  ‘Then you’re welcome to share our campfire this evening,’ he offered. ‘It’ll be warm enough and we have plenty of food.’

  ‘Which is more than the army provided us with,’ said Adwyn, and his companions murmured their agreement.

  In the fire glow, secreted in a narrow canyon above the valley overlooking the entry to Central Pass, Meg sipped at her thick vegetable broth, hands wrapped around a chipped ceramic mug for warmth, while she listened to the rushes of animated conversation between the four young men. They talked about drinking escapades and war bravado and close escapes, and lowered their voices when they bragged about encounters with girls, casting watchful glances in her direction as if they were trying not to embarrass or insult her. She remembered how men leered when she was a young woman in the Royal army and wondered what these young men thought of her now that she was a woman of forty-five. She’d almost forgotten what her natural hair had looked like when she was younger—long and red. She wore men’s clothing in Western Shess—shirts, trousers—to hide her beauty, but through the years of disguise in Marella she’d become accustomed to the Andrak women’s fashion of long dresses and shawls and she kept her hair dyed black and short. Oddly, by adopting a woman’s dress style and the lifestyle and dark hair, she had become less the object of men’s desire. Not that there hadn’t been men interested in her in Marella. There had been short relationships, brief desire, but she could not give herself to anyone and did not want a man to replace her memories of Button Tailor. She wanted only to be Emma’s mother. That was enough.

  ‘Husband?’ Dafyd asked, startling her from her thoughts.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you hoping to find your husband in Marella?’ He sat beside her, cupping his steaming mug.

  ‘My husband died a long time ago,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Dafyd. ‘The war?’

  Meg blinked, remembering where she was and who she was meant to be. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I lost my father and my older brother,’ the young man quietly announced. ‘My brother was serving on the front-line, near Ranutown. He was killed four years ago.’

  ‘And your father?’ Meg asked.

  ‘A long time ago. He was a dragoneer as well, an observer for the army, but he was caught on the ground by the Ranu. At least, that’s what my mother told me.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  Dafyd was quiet a moment, leaving Meg to ponder that she’d asked a sensitive question, until he said, ‘She’s living with another man in Amat.’

  ‘Do you visit her?’

  ‘Not often. She has her own life and I have mine.’ Dafyd sipped at his broth. ‘So why do you want to get to Marella?’ he asked.

  ‘My daughter is there,’ she replied.

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Twenty-three. She’s about to give me a grandchild.’

  ‘I can see why you want to get home then,’ he said, and emptiness fell between them, silence prevented only by the murmur of conversation between the other three young men. ‘We’ll be taking to the air before sunrise,’ Dafyd said as he stood. ‘I’ve got a spare blanket you can use. Stay by the hearth. The fire will be out, but there will be some heat from the coals that might help a little.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Meg replied. She watched Dafyd’s lithe figure walk towards a bundle of goods from where she expected he would retrieve a blanket. There was a time when generating warmth on a cold evening in the mountains was nothing more than a thought and energy from the amber crystal. She rubbed her chest unconsciously, as if the memory could be restored to reality, and sighed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The dull light spreading across the eastern sky and the fading stars confirmed that morning was sneaking towards Andrak when Meg followed the four young men down the dark shale slope to the dragon egg mooring. Dafyd threw her bag into the carriage under the canvas frame and climbed in, while Neal and Bryon began to loosen the knotted mooring ropes. Adwyn took guard, his peacemaker cradled in his arms, watching the pass and the hillsides as if he expected an attack from an unseen enemy. His vigilance unnerved Meg as she listened to the men organising the creaking dragon egg.

  A sheet of flame from the burner gilded Dafyd’s face as it heated the air in the fabric and the vision reminded Meg of the last time that she’d ridden in a dragon egg with Luca. Luca had brought her to Marella and her new life with Emma. The young dragoneer that A Ahmud Ki and she coaxed into adventure had risked his life to save her. She was saddened to have never seen him again after that trip. Luca vanished into the clouds over Marella and never returned. She’d been surprised and disappointed in the early years, as if she had expected him to return. Eventually, though, her thoughts of Luca faded and she had almost forgotten him, until the vision of Dafyd firing the burner.

  ‘Time to get aboard!’ Dafyd called.

  Bryon and Neal threw the ropes into the carriage and gestured for Meg to climb aboard with their assistance. Adwyn backed towards the dragon egg as it started to lift and was the last to scramble into the carriage, heaving his legs over the railing as the carriage gained altitude. The burner roared and as Meg settled onto a low bench against the walls of the carriage, she realised that Dafyd’s dragon egg was much larger than Luca’s, an improved version with comfortable space for several passengers and a burner with five flame holes for faster air heating. There were more windwheels around the carriage, each with gears attached to pulleys and belts that ran to a brass and iron contraption at the centre beneath the burner. ‘Ever flown before?’ Neal asked as he settled on the bench beside Meg.

  ‘A long time ago,’ she answered.

  ‘I want one of my own,’ he told her, grinning. ‘Been saving up for one.’

  ‘What do they cost?’ she asked.

  ‘Two years of soldiers’ wages,’ he replied. ‘Should’ve stayed in the army. Would’ve had one by now.’ The burner roared. ‘Here’s a blanket to keep out the cold,’ he offered, as he took one from Bryon’s outstretched hand.

  Meg thanked Neal and wrapped herself in the thick woollen green material, shivering from the chill of the higher morning air. The mountains of the Great Dylan Ranges sank as she turned east to gaze at the amber glow spreading along the distant, ragged horizon of the Ureykyeu Mountains. She’d forgotten the wonder of flying in the intervening year
s and smiled at a memory of A Ahmud Ki’s joy mirroring her own aboard Luca’s dragon egg.

  ‘I love that moment!’ Dafyd yelled, laughing as he looked to the east. The dragon egg was lifting above the rim of the rising sun above the Ureykyeu and rays were lighting the dragon egg’s red-and-yellow fabric from top to bottom. ‘No breeze,’ Dafyd continued, and he pulled a lever that released a hiss of steam from the brass contraption. ‘Windwheels it is then.’ Steam hissed again. The pulleys and cogs jerked into motion, as if startled by the steam, and the windwheels began spinning. Within moments, the dragon egg was drifting steadily west over the peaks of the Great Dylan Ranges.

  Even with the heavy blanket, the sun washing over the basket and the heat emanating from the burner, Meg felt the bitter mountain air nibbling at her nose and cheeks. When she crossed the mountains with Luca fifteen years before, she still had the amber crystal embedded in her chest and she could generate magical warmth. She wished she still had that ability as she shivered and pressed against Neal. ‘Move closer to the burner,’ he urged.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she replied.

  ‘We’ll be warmer soon,’ Dafyd assured her. ‘This won’t take too long.’

  She smiled ruefully and huddled a little closer to the burner’s heat, savouring each time the flames roared into the dragon egg’s heart, and sank into thinking about Emma’s safety in the middle of the Ranu invasion.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Three.’

  Meg blinked and lifted her head. Have I been asleep?

  ‘They’re heading for us.’

  ‘Then we’ll outrun them.’

  She straightened her back as Bryon leaned his peacemaker against the basket railing. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  ‘Ranu dragon eggs,’ Bryon replied, his face set severely.

  Meg stood and squinted against the glare of sunlight on the white clouds. ‘There,’ Bryon said, pointing. Following his finger, she saw three white shapes hovering at the face of a cloud bank.

  ‘They were heading east but they’ve spotted us,’ Dafyd said, before he wrenched back a lever. The basket shuddered as the windwheels pivoted to change direction. ‘Let’s see how they perform.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Meg asked, watching Dafyd crank a second lever below the burner. Metallic clanking was followed by a hiss, a rattle and then rhythmic, noisy thumping shook the basket as the pulleys and belts accelerated.

  ‘We’ll use the driver to go faster,’ Dafyd explained.

  ‘What’s a driver?’ she queried.

  ‘This,’ Dafyd said, pointing to the small brass contraption at the centre of the belts, pulleys and cogs. ‘It runs on steam created by the burner and drives the pulleys. That’s why it’s called a driver.’

  Fascinated, Meg squatted to study the little invention that thumped and wheezed like a metallic animal as it made wheels spin and belts move. She’d seen similar devices, much bigger versions, in factories and mills, but they were powered by bullocks or men or water or wind. The driver was like the piston engines in the horseless carriage she’d seen in Lightsword. It seemed that the Andrak inventors were creating new and surprising magic almost at their whim. When she tired of the invention, she returned to watching the pursuing Ranu dragon eggs, standing between Bryon and Adwyn. ‘Will they catch us?’ she asked.

  ‘Hard to tell yet,’ said Bryon.

  Adwyn shook his head. ‘They’re faster than us. If they want to, they’ll catch up.’

  ‘Then what?’ Meg asked.

  Adwyn hoisted his peacemaker onto the railing near Bryon’s weapon. ‘We show them who’re the masters of the air,’ he announced.

  Meg gazed at the dark smudges beneath the white dragon eggs, hoping that they would give up the chase, but to her dismay the Ranu dragon eggs grew larger as they shortened the distance. Below, the dragon egg’s shadow leaped across the mountain peaks and she saw that they were reaching the western slopes and the rolling plains of Western Andrak. She heard Dafyd adjusting his windwheels, searching for speed, and as she met his gaze he said, ‘What we need is a wind shift.’ Frustration edged his words. ‘And we need it to come to us before it reaches the Ranu.’

  ‘I think our friends prayed before you,’ Neal informed him. Meg turned to discover that the Ranu dragon eggs had suddenly accelerated and were rapidly bearing down on Dafyd’s vehicle.

  ‘The bastards have hitched a ride on a tailwind,’ Adwyn observed and he hoisted his peacemaker to his shoulder, sighting along the grey metal barrel. ‘Five more lengths and I can make them change their minds.’

  ‘But they haven’t attacked us,’ Meg argued. ‘Shouldn’t you wait to see what they want?’

  Neal turned to Adwyn. ‘She has a point.’

  Without shifting his attention from his target, Adwyn growled, ‘The last time I saw anyone try to talk to the Ranu they cut off his head.’

  ‘We’re at war,’ Bryon said in agreement as he clipped a fresh magazine of bullets to his peacemaker. ‘They aren’t coming over for a friendly visit.’

  ‘You can be sure of that,’ Adwyn muttered. ‘Four more lengths.’

  ‘Can’t we go any faster?’ Meg appealed to Dafyd.

  The young man with the sandy hair shrugged. ‘This is as fast as she’ll go,’ he replied. ‘The breeze they’ve caught will be—’ and he stopped as the wind ruffled his hair and made the red-and-yellow canvas overhead shake. ‘One more chance,’ he said and he pulled a lever, emphatically willing the dragon egg to pick up speed.

  ‘Three lengths,’ Adwyn called. ‘I can see the bastards.’

  Neal fell backwards onto the basket floor and Adwyn swore. Meg stared at Neal’s wide-eyed and open-mouthed face, a face with a bewildered expression, and she saw the ragged hole in his forehead, just above his right eye. Blood was pooling on the basket’s wooden planks beneath Neal’s head. ‘Get down!’ Bryon yelled. Something zipped past Meg’s shoulder. Bryon grabbed her waist and dragged her to the floor, snarling, ‘Down, damn you, woman!’ She vehemently fought off his grip and glared at him. ‘I just saved your life!’ he snapped before she could complain about his rough handling. ‘They’ve got long range peacemakers. Stand up and you’ll be dead like him,’ he warned as he nodded at Neal’s body.

  Wood shattered on the basket railing, showering Meg and Bryon with splinters, and Dafyd crouched beside his burner, firing a long burst of flame. ‘We’ll climb to make their shots harder,’ he explained.

  ‘One length,’ Adwyn called, still positioned to shoot. Bryon eased up to peer over the railing and set up his peacemaker. Meg heard more bullets zip overhead. Dafyd swore and looked up. ‘They’re puncturing the canvas to slow us down.’

  Adwyn’s peacemaker cracked. Bryon fired. A bullet punched through the basket wall an arm’s length from Meg and smashed into the steam driver with a metallic ring. Another bullet ricocheted off a lever beside Dafyd’s hand and he winced, pulling his hand away. ‘Are you hurt?’ Meg asked. He shook his head and grinned unconvincingly before he turned his attention to the damage to the driver. Steam hissed from a hole in a small pipe. ‘Can you fix it?’ she asked.

  ‘Easy,’ he assured her, and he set to tearing a strip of cloth from a rag beside the driver.

  Adwyn and Bryon fired again, and Bryon remarked, ‘Nice shot,’ before more bullets crashed into the basket, scattering splinters.

  ‘Get that burner going!’ Adwyn yelled. ‘Get us higher!’

  Dafyd finished wrapping the strip of cloth around the punctured pipe, winked at Meg and fired the burner. ‘Going up!’ he cried and kept a continuous stream of flame roaring into the heart of the dragon egg. Meg felt the basket rising as Adwyn and Bryon fired in rapid succession at their pursuers, but then she flinched and scrambled to her feet as two bullets punched holes through the basket floor, one narrowly missing her left leg. She grabbed Neal’s discarded weapon and leaned against the railing beside Bryon. ‘How do I use this thing?’ Bryon looked at her in surprise. ‘Show me!’ she dem
anded.

  He took the peacemaker from her, checked the magazine, pushed it back into her hands and said quickly, ‘Sight along the barrel. Squeeze the trigger—this bit. It’ll kick to the left, so aim a thumb span to the right.’ He turned away and took aim at a dragon egg below.

  Meg lifted the peacemaker to her shoulder, mimicking the stance of the young men, lowered the barrel until it was pointing towards the same dragon egg as Bryon was shooting at and aimed along the long barrel. The angle meant that she couldn’t see the basket or men on her target, only the broad expanse of white fabric highlighted against the backdrop of green and grey mountain terrain. She steadied her arm and squeezed the trigger. The peacemaker jerked violently and she nearly dropped it over the edge. She adjusted her grip, checked that the men hadn’t noticed and took aim again. Her second attempt was less of a shock, but she still had to fight the weapon’s kick-back and knew that her shot was ineffective.

  As she settled to fire again, she heard Dafyd launch into a tirade of invective and turned to see white steam streaming from the heart of the driver. ‘The bastards!’ Dafyd repeated and kicked the brass machinery. ‘Bastards!’

  ‘How bad?’ Adwyn asked, peering over his shoulder.

  ‘Bad,’ Dafyd answered morosely. ‘There’s nowhere but down for us.’ He fired a short burst of flame. ‘If we’re lucky, and I’m careful, we might have enough to land.’

  ‘And if not?’ Meg asked.

  ‘We land harder,’ Dafyd replied bluntly.

  Meg peered over the edge of the basket, her heart racing at the prospect of crashing. They were past the mountains, drifting above the lower hills and slopes, and not far to the north she could see a large town she guessed would be High Pass. To Meg’s dismay, a pall of smoke hung over the town. The Ranu were already there. Every annual trip from Marella to Lightsword she stopped overnight at the High Pass stay-house where the proprietor, a kindly, round-faced woman, was always delighted to see her because she was keen to hear news of her search for her son.