Free Flight Into Darkness by Sarah Ash Page B

Azh kendir,” said the Maistre. “Then, just as the snows began, Eugene of Tielen invaded Azhkendir. The new Drakhaon of Azhkendir, Gavril Nagarian, retaliated. It seems that he used his Drakhaoul to repel Eugene's army, defeating him in what was—by the few garbled accounts we've gleaned—a bitter battle.”
    ” Used his Drakhaoul?” echoed Jagu.
    “This Drakhaoul merges with his master to take on the form of a powerful dragon that breathes poisoned fire. Its breath is lethal. The secret dispatch our agents intercepted described how hundreds of men—and weapons—had been reduced to ashes.”
    “A dragon?” Kilian said, his voice dry with sarcasm. “Oh, come now, Maistre, are we really to believe the old legend? Weren't we taught at the seminary, Jagu, that the name ‘Drakhaoul’ is nothing but a metaphor for the forces of evil?”
    “It is our duty, as Saint Sergius's disciples, to take up our patron saint's fight against the Drakhaoul,” said the king earnestly, ignoring Kilian's cynical comment. Celestine saw that Enguerrand's eyes shone as he spoke. She was touched by his fervor although she wondered what they could possibly do against a daemon powerful enough to decimate a whole army.
    “With respect, sire,” said Jagu, “if even Sergius was not strong enough to defeat the Drakhaoul of Azhkendir, what can we do?”
    Ruaud undid the top buttons of his cloak and habit and drew out a crystal on a gilded chain.
    “The Angelstone?” said Jagu. The other members of the squad drew nearer to look. Celestine saw that its clear facets were marred by a trace of midnight shadow, deep within.
    “This crystal has been in the Commanderie's keeping since Saint Sergius's time,” said the Maistre.
    “Does it mean that the Drakhaoul is close by?” Celestine asked uneasily.
    “No,” said Jagu. “The stone goes dark when a daemon is near.”
    “We need to learn a great deal more about the daemon before wemake our move,” continued Ruaud, tucking the crystal out of sight beneath his robes, “and so we're planning to—” He broke off as footsteps could be heard on the spiral stair. Captain Friard appeared, breathless, his brown hair speckled with melting snow.
    “I beg your majesty's pardon,” he said, holding out a sealed dispatch, “but I was told to deliver this to you without delay.”
    “It's from Ambassador d'Abrissard in Mirom,” said Enguerrand in puzzled tones. He broke the seal and moved closer to one of the burning torches to read. Celestine watched his face as he read and saw a puzzled frown appear that changed all too soon to a look of bemused anger.
    “What is it, sire?” Ruaud asked. Enguerrand thrust the letter into his hands.
    “It seems that Eugene of Tielen is indestructible. In spite of his injuries, he has not only taken Azhkendir, but Muscobar as well—and annexed Smarna. He has seized the five rubies known as the Tears of Artamon and declared himself Emperor!”
    Celestine glanced at Jagu.
    “This doesn't bode well for Francia,” he said softly. “Will it be our turn next?”
    “You mean war?” Just saying the word aloud made Celestine feel disquieted. “Could it come to that?” For as long as she could remember, Francia had maintained an uneasy peace with Tielen, and she hated the thought of the bloodshed and heartbreak that war would inevitably bring.
    “We must call the council together at once, Ruaud,” said Enguerrand, hurrying toward the stair; Ruaud and Alain Friard followed.
    “So even a Drakhaoul can't stop Eugene's ambitions,” said Kilian wryly.
    “Which begs the question,” said Celestine, drawing her cloak closer to her as the snow-laden chill seeped into the crypt, “where is the Drakhaoul now? And what does the king intend us to do about it?”
    “I'm off for a glass of mulled wine at the Pomme de Pin,” Kilian called back, as he walked toward the spiral stair. “Anyone care to join me?”
    “Sorry—I'm late for guard duty at the Forteresse.”