Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [72]
“Aren’t they beautiful? I had them prepared and polished just for you. They’re yours now, Sarkhan. Today you’re getting a lesson in dragon control and summoning.” Bolas licked his teeth. “Strange, isn’t it? Do you think Serra ever taught her disciples to bind an angel?”
“What?”
“I doubt it. The principle would be the same, anyway. It’s all about the mind, you see. It’s the key to everything. A dragon’s mind is all cloaked in fire—a nasty place to try to maneuver. You don’t get anywhere trying to reason with one, and you can’t hope to best it in some sort of contest of wills. You’ll just be burned. Sometimes literally, of course. So, you extinguish that fire, and their minds are surprisingly empty vessels. Fill them with whatever you want. I’ve chosen to fill them with devotion to me. And to you.”
Sarkhan’s hands clenched into fists; one of his knuckles popped. He didn’t know whether to be thrilled or nauseous, standing before the awe-inspiring specimens of dragon-kind whose minds were shackled by the magic of Bolas. The thought of the dragons at his beck and call made him want to laugh long, loud, and cruel into the face of the sun—but the thought of their fiery souls hollowed out by Bolas’s cunning made him consider simply putting them out of their misery.
“So?” said Bolas. “What do you think?”
The largest of the enslaved dragons was a huge male, its scales as ruddy as molten rock. Sarkhan realized that he’d seen it before.
“Karrthus,” he said.
“What’s that?” said Bolas.
“It’s Karrthus, a dragon I’ve … met before on Jund. A mighty hellkite, a tyrant even among dragons.”
“Well, now he’s your mighty hellkite.”
Sarkhan considered for a moment, then bowed his head solemnly. “Thank you, Master.”
“Enjoy destroying Naya. I’ll meet you at the Maelstrom.”
BANT
Elspeth rubbed her eyelids, and the slight movements of her head set up waves of pain and nausea rebounding between her ears.
“What happened?” she asked.
“You were attacked—by a knight of Bant, I’m afraid.”
She managed to see through her damp lashes. Rafiq, the Knight-General himself, stood over her, and behind him was a woman in cleric’s robes. She was in a bed. It was dark and quiet.
“The betrayal. Was it … a spell?”
“It seems so,” said Rafiq. “Some powerful corruption spell from an Esper mage. It seized the soul of my friend Mubin, who attacked you. I’m very sorry.”
“I should go and see him,” she said, and tried to get up.
“No. You need to lie still,” said the cleric.
The instant return of the headache was a good motivator. Elspeth lay back down.
“Your injury was very serious,” said the cleric. “The healing spells need time to take hold.”
Rafiq’s concern was fatherly, gentle with a note of scolding. “Mubin is a powerful warrior. When he sets his mind to something, he does it “ Rafiq’s voice trailed off as he wrestled with some thought.
Elspeth finished it for him. “Even when someone else is setting his mind to it.”
Rafiq nodded. “Yes. Even then. You are lucky to be alive, young knight.”
“But I’m of no use here, in this bed. My world … This world needs me.”
“It will still need you after you are better,” said Rafiq.
“No, you don’t understand. Bant is under attack by … forces it can’t understand. I didn’t see before, but now I know—it can’t win this way. We’ll fall unless I—”
“Quiet now, young knight,” said Rafiq. “The rest of us will take care of things at the front lines. We have legions of devoted souls fighting this war, and prison to hold the not-so-devoted, those who would harm Bant from within. But Bant will fall to nothing. I’ll see to that personally.”
“From within? What forces would harm Bant from within?”
“Oh, a renegade merchant called Hazid. He was the coward responsible for the destruction of Giltspire. Mubin and I brought him to justice, at the court at Valeron.”
The traitor, Hazid—he might represent an even greater threat than the forces of Esper, Elspeth thought. “I see,” she said. “So, where is Knight Mubin now?”
“He’s …” Rafiq trailed off. He smiled at her, but his eyes went somewhere far away. When