Outposts

by Vickie Knestaut

  It was too late now. What was done, was done. She would have to prepare for the next attack. It was inevitable.

  “All right,” Kaylar said, her voice hardly above a whisper. “If I understand him, he is claiming that we’ve been attacking his kingdom for a long time. That the whole point of the fighting season is retaliation for attacks we’re making against his people.”

  Trysten nodded. “That’s what I’m understanding.”

  “That can’t be,” Kaylar said. “We’re not understanding him right, or he’s got some of our words wrong yet.”

  Trysten looked toward the mountains. She laid her forearm against the top of the half-wall and gripped it in her hand. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter. It’ll be a simple matter to clear up. We found a site for the outpost, one that will let us keep an eye on the pass. Once we start working on it, we can watch to see if anyone is entering the pass as well as exiting. If Rodden is right, in addition to seeing anyone slipping out of the pass into Cadwaller, we should see whoever is attacking Opplenot flying in.”

  “And if he’s wrong?” Kaylar asked.

  Trysten shrugged. “We haven’t lost anything. The outpost still needs to be built, and hopefully, we’ll learn enough about each other to clear up the misunderstanding soon.”

  Chapter 10

  After changing out of her wet clothes, it didn’t take long for Trysten to find her father on the other side of the village, directing the work of several villagers who labored under the hot sun, moving stones and digging a new foundation for the second weyr.

  “I’m sure he’ll return victorious,” Mardoc said as Trysten approached.

  “Aymon?”

  Mardoc nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised to see him back here in two days.”

  Trysten planted her hands in the small of her back and watched the men at work. Her eyes drifted off to the blank of the eastern horizon. “I wouldn’t mind that. I have some questions for him.”

  “Oh?”

  Trysten took a deep breath. “Kaylar has made some progress teaching Rodden our language. Today he told us that the reason the Western kingdom attacks us is that we attack them.”

  Mardoc turned and stared at Trysten for a second, his face blank and expressionless. Finally, he asked. “Are you sure that Kaylar has made some progress? There is something wrong with that answer.”

  Trysten nodded as her gaze dropped to the ground beyond Mardoc’s knees. She then looked back up at him. “What if we do understand him correctly? I’ve been thinking. What if The Second Horde has been attacking the Western kingdom, and the Westerners think it’s us?”

  Mardoc’s face screwed into a look of disbelief. “Hardly. Why would The Second Horde attack them? It is more reasonable to believe that he is lying, or that Kaylar hasn’t made much progress and we’ve misunderstood him.”

  “It didn’t seem reasonable to believe that the fallen Second Hordesmen rose from their graves as Originals, yet that appears to be the case.” Her fingers went to the pendant beneath the fabric of her tunic.

  Mardoc looked back to the workers. “I see your point.”

  “I’m sure that he believes we are attacking him. I don’t think we’ve misunderstood him at all. And it makes a certain amount of sense. Why else would they be attacking us? More likely, I think he is wrong about who is attacking his kingdom.”

  “They are a strange people. They could have strange motives.”

  “Rodden’s not that strange. He’s not that much different from any of us, really.”

  “Sa yalla?” Mardoc asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “All right, it’s a little weird the way he treats me, but...“ She gripped the hilt of the dragonslayer sword and gave it a slight shake. “He sees me wearing this around everywhere. What if he thinks I’m one of them? What if he thinks I’m a Second Hordesmen?”

  “But none of the other hordesmen carry the same sword.”

  “True,” Trysten said. “But... I don’t know. Something about all of this is really bothering me. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Mardoc ran his hand through his beard. “That’s for certain.”

  “You’re sure that we’ve never attacked the Western kingdom?” she asked.

  “Never,” Mardoc said with a degree of certainty that surprised Trysten.

  “You’ve never led a horde through the pass?” she pressed.

  “Never. I’ve flown up to it, peered through it a time or two, but I’ve never passed through it. It’s difficult to hold your enemy at fault for the same acts that you commit yourself.”

  Trysten cringed slightly at his statement. “Did you happen to tell Aymon that?”

  Mardoc didn’t respond right away. “Prince Aymon is responsible for the defense of the entire kingdom. It is not my place to tell him how to conduct his father’s defenses. My place has always been Aerona, not in the Western kingdom leading attacks.”

  “What about our ancestors? Do you know if any of them, or if anyone at all from Cadwaller has ever flown into the Western kingdom?”

  Mardoc turned his face to the slate blue sky as if to search for answers. Finally, as if finishing a recounting, he looked back to his daughter and shook his head. “Never in my life have I heard of anyone from the Cadwaller kingdom crossing into the Western kingdom until Prince Aymon did as much just now.”

  Trysten took a deep breath and let it back out. “Well, how fortunate then that Prince Aymon left the orders that he did. The King is requiring every village near a mountain pass to build an outpost and staff it to watch for intruders into our kingdom. We will also be able to watch for riders slipping into the Western kingdom.”

  “Riders slipping into the West?” Mardoc asked. “That’s quite far-fetched. Where would these riders come from?” His grip tightened on his staff as his other hand gestured at the sky. “It’s not like we see unidentified dragons flying through here.”

  Trysten shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. We may have misunderstood Rodden. Maybe he will learn enough of the Cadwaller language to tell us that we are wrong. But I think he’s telling the truth. So much of this fighting season has been strange beyond imagination. It won’t surprise me if we discover that someone else is attacking the Western kingdom in our name.”

  “The Originals?” Mardoc asked.

  Trysten folded her arms over her chest as she watched the workmen spread pails of dirt along one edge of the weyr site, building it up slightly to make the floor of the new weyr level. Dust billowed around their feet.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Whatever it is they want from Elevera or me, they seem to be content to try to get it through trickery. I think they enjoy sneaking around. Invading another kingdom in our name seems bold for them.”

  “Invading one kingdom in the name of another certainly sounds like trickery to me,” Mardoc snorted.

  Trysten’s shoulders slumped. “I guess you’re right. Rodden also told us that the Western army intended to stay here, to make Aerona their home base. When I asked him why he said to stop our attacks on his land. The army wants to be on this side of the mountains when winter closes the pass. Since we’ve found no signs of retreating soldiers, I asked him where they went. He drew a map and showed us that they went deep into The Wilds. He said the army has a home base there. What do you think? Could he be right?”

  Mardoc watched the workmen for a few moments then turned to his daughter. “I think that is a lot of detailed information for a man who doesn’t speak our language to be able to share,” he said. “Fight the battle before you, Little Heart. The simplest answer is usually the right one.”

  Trysten studied her father, then sighed. “You are right. The thing that bothers me, Father, is that I can’t see the simplest answer. None of this is simple at all.”

  Mardoc gazed at the sky, and Trysten knew he missed flying, missed Aeronwind. He was a man who understood that solutions were seldom simple. She waited patiently for his response, finding that she enjoyed moments like this with h
im, especially since they had become rarer of late.

  “I suppose not,” Mardoc finally said. “But what is before you—before all of us—is the sudden escalation of this war.” Mardoc shook his head and lowered his gaze to the ground before him.

  “When I was a boy,” he continued, “we referred to the fighting season as a war. But in hindsight, I don’t think that was a good idea. It wasn’t a war, so much as it was exactly what it was—a season. It was nearly a sport. A bloody one at that, but we played by rules. We knew what to expect. We knew what it would entail, when it would start and when it would end. And I suppose since it didn’t change, neither did we. But what is going on now, with the sudden change in tactics and aggression—”

  “The involvement of the Originals,” Trysten added.

  Mardoc nodded. “All of it has escalated this to what can quite properly be called a war. Our kingdom has been invaded. An enemy army marched on Cadwaller soil for the first time since the Seelian War. Something has changed, certainly.”

  Mardoc turned back to his daughter. “That change may very well be what is needed to bring all of this to an end. Change begets change. I cannot say what is different, what has changed from last season to this, but I can say that this is an opportunity to do what no one has done before—search for real peace. Peace that lasts for more than a season. Figure out what has changed, and you may very well find a way to end the fighting seasons once and for all.”

  Trysten looked out to the second weyr construction site. She frowned. “It’s not the fighting season that needs to end. It’s the peaceful season that needs to be extended.”

  Mardoc didn’t speak right away. “Would you destroy the pass?” he finally asked.

  Trysten shook her head. “It can’t be done.”

  “I have found that my daughter can do anything when she decides it needs to be done.”

  Trysten grinned at him. “It’s a good thing then that I’m not putting my mind to that task. I’d surely have to disappoint you.”

  “I believe you can close the pass before you can disappoint me,” Mardoc said, his gaze holding hers.

  Trysten’s grin widened and then fell away. The workers finished spreading the soil. A light breeze carried the last of the dust off to the northeast, to the verdant strip of green river grass that crowded out the heather and grew lush and thick on the banks of the Gul River.

  The men set aside their pails and hoisted shovels and picks.

  “What I need to do is prepare the village for another attack,” she said.

  “Wise,” Mardoc agreed.

  Trysten looked at her father. “If we understand Rodden correctly, then all Aymon is doing is validating something the Western kingdom already believes. If we misunderstood, then this is going to be seen as a provocation, and the Western kingdom might respond in kind. If they do, we must be prepared.”

  “Have you anything in mind?” Mardoc asked.

  Trysten shook her head slightly. “The catapults and bunkers are where we left them. The burial mound will make it hard for another army to march on the village. And they can’t get another army through the pass now, not with us watching.”

  “So a dragon attack it shall be, then.”

  Trysten nodded. “I suppose so.” She looked to the sky. The sun felt warm and pleasant on her back.

  “Perhaps we should consider building some spear launchers of our own,” Mardoc said.

  The suggestion wrenched Trysten’s gut. Her throat clamped shut, and her eyes squinted against the bursts of pain that pierced her every time a spear found a target among the dragons. The pain had rolled through her, explosion after explosion as she clung to Elevera’s saddle, following the wall of heat and fire that brought down the advancing army.

  She began to shake her head, then stopped as she imagined a swell of eighty dragons sweeping down out of the mountains. She had managed to destroy three attacking hordes in a three-pronged attack on the village, but only because she had about eighty dragons of her own. The three hordes had been overwhelmed by the size of the Aerona horde and the abilities of Paege, Karno, and Muzad to fight without her directing their response.

  They were victorious that day because of the remarkable people who filled her weyr and village, not because of her abilities as a Dragon Lord. Without the support of her hordesmen and the villagers, the army would have been stopped, but Aerona would have been destroyed by dragon fire.

  A battery of spear launchers would help protect the village. And it would be especially useful if she and a number of the others were out elsewhere, perhaps chasing down an enemy horde that had been sent to draw them away.

  “We don’t have the lumber,” Trysten said.

  “We will,” Mardoc replied. “I heard that Prince Aymon has sent a caravan of supplies.”

  “Small village,” Trysten muttered.

  “Not for long. Which is why we need to plan our defenses now.”

  Trysten took a deep breath. She looked to the blue sky filled with sleeping gods. May they forgive her for what she had done to their dragons.

  “Let’s do it,” Trysten said. She looked at her father. “Do you have time to oversee the project? Karno will be able to help. He spent enough time above the army that he probably got a better look at those cursed things than anyone else.”

  Trysten looked out to the uninterrupted plains. “Anyone else alive, that is.”

  Chapter 11

  The following morning, Trysten and several hordesmen ferried volunteers and equipment to the site of the outpost. Much to Elevera’s chagrin, Trysten once again ordered her to land in the pool. After Trysten unloaded her passenger and his equipment, Elevera lifted up again and allowed the next dragon to take her place. As each dragon took turns unloading, Trysten and Elevera made slow, lazy circles around the site, catching and riding the weak thermals that rose from the sun-warmed stones.

  Trysten ordered Elevera up in a wide spiral pattern until she could peer into the pass. Trysten was relieved to see no signs of a battle, no royal dragons or hordesmen fallen as they tried to escape the wrath of the Westerners. There was no evidence at all that anyone had crossed the pass. If it weren’t for her memory of escorting them, there’d be no reason to think the swell had flown into the West.

  Or that an army had used the pass to invade Cadwaller.

  As the thought struck her, Trysten studied the stones along the bottom of the pass. Something wasn’t right. The hairs on the back of her neck began to tingle.

  She looked below and saw that Kaylar and Brand had unloaded Verillium and Belara and were waiting for their orders to return to the village. Trysten signaled for both of them to follow her, and for the others still offloading their passengers and cargo to continue as planned.

  Verillium and Belara fell in behind Elevera. From there, Trysten led them up to the mouth of the pass. They landed in a spot where the rocky slope evened out into a slight hill at the base of the pass.

  Elevera made no secret of her relief to have a dry place to stand for a change. Beside her, a chuckling stream of snowmelt slipped past before plunging down the rocks to the waterfall that formed the pool at the outpost.

  “What’s up?” Kaylar called as Verillium landed just behind Elevera.

  Trysten motioned to the ground ahead of her. “Look. What do you see?”

  “Look where?” Kaylar asked.

  “The floor of the pass,” Trysten said as she undid her restraints and slid to the ground. Rocks crunched beneath her wet boots. She really ought to start bringing a change of clothes with her until they got enough of the woods cleared to set the dragons down on dry land.

  “What about it?” Brand called.

  “If the army came through this pass, then we should see some signs of them, right?” Trysten asked.

  She looked up both sides of the pass to the peaks still topped in snow despite the early summer heat down in the village. It looked strange to see them so near after a lifetime of staring at them from afar. They didn�
��t appear to be the same mountains.

  Kaylar and then Brand stepped up to Trysten.

  “What if they didn’t come through here?” Brand asked.

  “Come on,” Trysten said. She stepped carefully across the tumbled stone along the side of the stream.

  “What are we looking for?” Brand called after her.

  “Signs that anyone has ever been through here. Ashes. Discarded water skins. Bones. Anything.”

  They moved along the rocks, observing the ground. Trysten’s gaze swung back and forth, looking for any sign of human activity. Soon, she stopped, doubled over, and rested her hands upon her knees. A stitch of pain cinched her side.

  “You all right?” Kaylar asked as she stepped up beside Trysten, a bit out of breath herself.

  “Fine. It’s just the elevation. The air is so thin.”

  Brand stepped around them and made a show of inhaling deeply. “It doesn’t get much cleaner than this, does it?” he asked, moving on.

  Trysten turned her back to him and straightened up. Their dragons peered at them over the edge of the slope. They were curious as to what the humans were doing. Why walk when they could fly?

  “Hello,” Brand said. “What do we have here?”

  Trysten and Kaylar turned to watch him climb one of the slopes. Rocks scattered down, bouncing and clacking before settling into the crotch of the pass in a spray of dust.

  “What do you see?” Trysten asked.

  “Hold on.” Brand climbed a few more feet, then peered down at something on the ground.

  “Well?” Kaylar asked.

  “A ram,” Brand said. He looked back at the women and appeared to be proud of himself.

  “A ram?”

  He crouched. “Or what’s left of one.” He reached down behind a rock, then pulled the skull of the ram up by a horn. Dried fur clung to the skull in patches.

  “Does it look like it was butchered?” Trysten asked.

  Brand peered up the slope, searching for something, and then looked back. “I don’t think so. The skin’s here, but it’s all dried out. And flattened. It looks like it was crushed.