Outposts

by Vickie Knestaut

  Mardoc picked up one of the carrot slices and bit into it. “I’m kind of surprised to hear that myself. But it’s been a trying season. There has been much loss. And people are scared.”

  Trysten hung the kettle on a hook over the fire. She watched it sway slightly over the low flames. The heat wrapped around her knees and crept up the front of her. She thought of the feeling in her gut when her mother had first stepped forward to volunteer. The fear and dread. What would she do if she lost her mother? How would she go out into the world without her touchstone? How would she ever find her way back from anywhere?

  She swallowed the thought and took a deep breath. “I ask a lot.”

  “You give a lot,” Mardoc said. “You offer your life for the village every time you take the saddle.”

  Trysten nodded. “I do.”

  “And you never ask for anything in return. Except for help. The people you protect should expect to be involved in their protection.” Mardoc brushed his hands together as if that was that.

  Trysten nodded, then returned to the table. “The Originals don’t want me to see something. There’s something that they are trying to scare us away from, and it’s at the pass.”

  “That sounds reasonable, based on what you’ve told me of their warnings,” Mardoc said.

  “I was thinking of returning to the pass tomorrow with the whole horde. I want to slip through the pass. Just me and a few others. Go to the other side and look around quickly, then come back. See if I find anything worth hiding from us.”

  “Do you think you’ll find Prince Aymon?” her father asked.

  Trysten took another deep breath, and it came out in a sigh she hadn’t intended. Her heart thumped against her chest as if it were adrift. “No,” she said, then added, “But not because I think he’s dead, I just think that he’s not there. That he’s not right on the other side. I just wanted—”

  “To peek through the keyhole?” Mardoc asked.

  “I hadn’t thought of the pass as the keyhole. You could be right. For all the sky, I don’t have a better idea. But if there is something that the Originals are trying to hide from us, then I feel like I should find out what it is,” she said.

  “And then what?”

  “Then we have more information. If it wasn’t something bad, then why would they be trying to hide it from us?”

  “What makes you think they’re trying to hide anything from us?”

  “They are trying to keep us away from the pass. They sent those rogues after the outpost. And then there’s the army that really wanted to keep us away from the pass. And then there’s Hollin, completely destroyed. They don’t want us near the passes. I intend to find out why.”

  Mardoc rubbed his hands over his knees.

  “What?” Trysten asked.

  “It seems to me, or at least it was the case when the weyr was mine, that the Dragoneer’s place is the weyr.”

  “If we find out why they want us to stay away from the pass, then they can stop trying to scare us,” she said.

  Mardoc looked up at Trysten. “Or they have even more of a reason.”

  Trysten’s brow furrowed. “Surely you’re not suggesting that we just sit here, then, are you?”

  Mardoc shook his head. “No. And we’re not just sitting here. Your own mother, my wife, is out working to advance the outpost. If you want to know what is going on, then that will tell you. But we do not violate the borders of other kingdoms.”

  “Except Aymon.” Trysten sighed.

  Mardoc lifted an eyebrow, then nodded in agreement. He leaned forward and rested his elbows against the table as he folded hands in front of himself. “All I can really tell you is that you are the Dragoneer of Aerona weyr, and the place of the Dragoneer of Aerona weyr is here, in Aerona. Prince Aymon is not bound in the same way. He has the authority to enter another kingdom and speak for his father. You are a Dragoneer. You speak for Aerona when you are in Aerona.”

  Trysten shook her head. “I’m not talking about leading a swell of eighty dragons. I just want to slip over and take a look, then head back. If I run into any trouble, then the rest of the horde is on our side, waiting.”

  “And what would your response be if a Western hordesman did the same? If he slipped through the pass just for a look around?” Mardoc asked.

  “It’s different. They have a history of attacking us. We don’t attack them.”

  “Your Western friend says different.”

  Trysten scooped up the carrots, dropped them in the pot and covered them with water, adding a bit of butter. She took the pot to the hearth and hung it from the spit. She stayed a second longer and watched the low flames writhe and sway over the orange and black embers.

  “Trysten.”

  She looked at her father, then stood up.

  “Think about this, Little Heart. You have said yourself that the Original told you that you are welcome to enter. They have even tried to trick you into going with them to the end of the world. What has them uneasy is not you going through, but you trying to watch them. If you want to know what it is that they are hiding from you, then follow the King’s order and finish the outpost. But you should stay on this side of the pass. Your place is here. Not because it is some arcane rule, but for the good and safety of the horde. What would happen to Aerona if some harm befell you or Elevera on the other side of the pass?”

  “I just want—”

  “You don’t know what is on the other side of the mountains,” Mardoc said with a shake of his head. “That is the whole point of this. You don’t know what lies ahead, and it is none of your business because it is not your territory. It is not your king’s country. I am asking you, as your father, to leave it alone. And I am telling you, as Fallen Dragoneer of Aerona, leave it alone. Stay where you are needed. In these times, we cannot risk losing you or Elevera.”

  Trysten looked at the floor between herself and her father.

  Mardoc continued. “If what Rodden says is true and the West is being attacked by hordes coming through the pass from our side then it is likely that the Westerners have fortified their side of the pass. We saw their spear launchers. It is likely they were developed to stop enemy hordes when they came through the pass. For all we know, Prince Aymon’s entire swell fell under a barrage of spears.”

  Trysten looked up to her father and nodded. “You are right.”

  They ate in comfortable silence, exchanging few words, Caron’s absence loud in the cottage. Trysten’s mind chased ideas down numerous avenues as she tried to come up with a plan to bring everything into focus. But the plans always had pitfalls, and the ideas themselves became shadows evaporating under the light of scrutiny.

  A knock on the door startled them both, and Trysten perked up a little when she realized it was Paege’s distinctive knock.

  “Come in,” she called.

  The door cracked open just enough to allow Paege’s head to stick through. “You don’t want him in here, right?” he asked. His head bobbed, and Trysten imagined him using his foot to push the little dragon back and away from her door.

  She shook her head. “No, don’t let him in here. I’m afraid he’ll wreck the place.”

  Paege drew his head back out the door. “Sorry,” he said. “She gives the orders.” He slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

  Mardoc stood, pushing himself up with the help of his staff. Trysten shot him a quick look. The ritual wasn’t necessary, and no one would hold him to it. But still, he observed it. She suspected her father found comfort in ritual and tradition, as many people do. She envied him that. She had not yet found her own rituals what with the normal rules and expectations always changing.

  “Paege of Aerona, please have a seat at my table and eat, Commander,” Mardoc said.

  Page smiled and nodded, “I think I will. It smells wonderful. Thank you, Fallen.”

  Trysten’s brow tightened. It was hard to hear her father referred to as Fallen, even though it was his proper title and a sh
ow of respect. Despite wanting to be the Dragoneer all her life, she truly wished things had happened differently. Being a hordesman under her father’s command would have been a joyous gift for her.

  Paege sat in Caron’s chair. As he did, Trysten suddenly realized that she had set a place for her mother without even thinking about it. Paege picked up the plate and began to help himself to fish and bread and buttered carrots. He poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle.

  “I was just speaking with the hordesmen,” Paege said, then cast a glance at Trysten. “They’ve been trying to round up volunteers and tools and equipment to take back out to The Wilds. They’re having some issues with getting what we need.”

  “Oh?” Mardoc asked.

  Paege nodded, then stuffed a forkful of fish into his mouth. He held up a finger as he chewed quickly. Trysten drew her hand over her mouth until she could quell a giggle. When he had eaten with her family as a boy, he’d been so meek and quiet, picking at his food like a hen. Now he was shoveling it in and chewing with the same gusto she’d observed when she joined the hordesmen in their dining hall. It was a wonder that he wasn’t speaking with his mouth full.

  Paege swallowed, then washed it down with a gulp of tea. “We have some volunteers, the people you would expect, but that’s about it. People are worried and frightened, especially after seeing Maras brought back from the outpost in the dragon sling.”

  “How is Maras?” Mardoc asked.

  Paege looked to his plate for a second, and then to Mardoc. “He took an arrow to the small of the back. His color is bad. He is not expected to make it through the night.”

  Mardoc shook his head at his plate, then speared a piece of fish with his fork. “We have had a costly season.”

  “But that’s not all,” Paege said as he turned back to Trysten. “We’re running short on supplies as well. We lost a good bit of wood cutting equipment with the cutting party. And we sent most of what the village had left to the outpost site. There’s just nothing left to send.”

  “Have you spoken to the blacksmith?” Mardoc asked as Trysten opened her mouth to ask the same thing.

  Paege nodded. “Vanon did, actually. And he tells me that Dalkon told him that most of his iron was used up in forging parts for the catapults, swords, and arrow tips. There just isn’t much left to smelt.”

  “Then we’ll melt down whatever we need to,” Trysten said.

  Paege chewed a bite of bread, then swallowed. “Agreed. I have the hordesmen looking around for anything that can be spared. But Dalkon also says that his supply of coal is running thin as well. He bought up every piece from the last coal merchant to pass through, but that was several weeks ago, and one hasn’t been back since.”

  “There should be another one soon,” Mardoc said. “I’m surprised we haven’t seen him yet. We usually get another one shortly after the solstice.”

  “The caravan is coming,” Trysten said. “Aymon said they would bring us supplies.”

  “Coal and iron?” Paege asked before shoveling a forkful of carrots into his mouth.

  “Do they not feed you in the weyr?” Trysten asked. “I need to know if all of the hordesmen are starving.”

  “Not like this,” Paege said around his mouthful, gesturing at the plate with his fork.

  “Do you think it would be worth it to fly out along the eastern road and find the caravan?” Mardoc asked. “It would let us know where it’s at, and we might be able to ferry back some of the more badly needed supplies.”

  Trysten sat back in her chair. “That’s a good idea. But dragons make terrible pack mules, which is why the caravan is coming on foot.”

  “Yeah,” Paege said, “but they could easily bring back a day’s work for Dalkon. He could get a head start on forging what is needed at the outpost.”

  “Is he out of coal all together?” Trysten asked.

  Paege shook his head.

  “Then we’ll keep that option at hand. I need the dragons to ferry what supplies and volunteers we can get out to the outpost while leaving enough to defend the village and still fly a perimeter.”

  Paege nodded.

  “The caravan should be here any day as it is,” Mardoc said. “It takes a merchant a little over a week to travel here. Give a caravan a few more days to organize itself, and to account for the fact that large groups travel slower.”

  “Large groups?” Paege asked. “How big do you think it is?” He looked at Trysten.

  Trysten thought back to the day she met Aymon. And though the first thing he tried to do was strip her of her title, she recalled her surprise at his generosity when he ordered one of his hordesmen to see that the village was compensated for keeping prisoners for the King. She glanced at her bedroom door and thought of the gift of two hand-copied books Aymon had given her.

  “It will be big enough,” Trysten said to Paege. “Aymon doesn’t seem to do anything small.”

  Chapter 30

  Before the dawn light broke across the plains the following morning, the dragons were loaded with whatever tools and volunteers could be found. Teary goodbyes were kept to a minimum as worried and scared family members said their farewells to loved ones and hoped without saying as much to see them again.

  More than once, someone cast a pleading look to Trysten, begging her wordlessly to keep a son or uncle, a sister safe. Trysten nodded and promised with a look that she would do all that she could as she readied the horde to fly.

  As she opened the tack trunk at the back of Elevera’s stall, someone gently cleared his throat behind her. Trysten looked over her shoulder, then turned to face Paege, who studied the magnificent posture of Elevera.

  “Can I help you?” Trysten asked.

  Paege stepped into the stall. “I think you should take the day off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take the day off. Stay here. Be the one in charge of defending the village today.”

  Trysten shook her head and planted her hands on her hips. “I will not let the Originals, or rogues, or anyone scare me away from The Wilds. I’m going back.”

  Paege held up an open palm to still her objections. “No one’s saying anything different. I know you won’t be scared away. You don’t have to prove it.”

  Trysten glanced about the weyr, at the few families who would refuse to leave the sides of the loved ones who had volunteered to go to the outpost until the dragons lifted them away.

  “I should go,” Paege said. “Me and Vanon. And I should stay at the outpost until it’s done, coordinate its defense. That’s what we do, right?”

  “Jurdun—”

  “Jurdun has his hands full with building the fort. We can’t ask him to split his attention. Not if you want this done as fast as possible. He says he knows how to build one of these fortifications, so he should focus on that completely. I’ll direct defenses, and we’ll keep two dragons there. Sone and whoever else volunteers to join me. Vanon will bring the rest of the horde back. You should stay here.”

  Trysten flexed her hand, then wiped her palm down the thigh of her leggings. Her stomach tightened up at the thought of not seeing her mother.

  “I can bring the horde back. Vanon can stay behind,” she said.

  Page stepped closed. “Vanon has been the one staying back for a week now. He’s getting a bit antsy. Or at least Dassod is. She and a handful of other dragons haven’t had a chance to stretch their wings in a week, outside of dole herding.”

  Trysten looked down the aisle, at the dragons watching her. All of them were hopeful and waiting, wishing to go back to the sky. She could feel the particularly sharp longing of the pale gray Dassod.

  “You have to be willing to hand over the reins now and then, Trysten. Trust your people.”

  Trysten looked back at Paege. A squeal came from above, and she looked up in time to see a shower of gray feathers see-sawing down to the floor. Yallit sat in the rafters, tearing into a dove that hadn’t gone back to the cage after the last herding exercise.

/>   “What if I promise to take Yallit with me?” Paege asked, raising his eyebrows.

  Trysten snorted. “Like you could.”

  Paege grinned at her. “I can be very persuasive.”

  Trysten looked up to Elevera, who also longed for the sky. The alpha waited and wondered what was taking the humans so long, what was their silly attachment to the ground?

  “I suppose you’re right,” Trysten said, looking at Paege. She reached back and flipped down the lid of the tack trunk. It boomed and echoed louder than she had intended, and faces turned to her across the weyr. A sprinkle of gray feathers fell between her and Paege, swirling and spinning before they came to rest among the strands of straw.

  “Just do me one favor,” Trysten said. “Make sure my mother is all right. And tell her that I love her and that Father misses her, too.”

  Paege grinned and nodded. “I would have done that anyway, but you have my word. And I’ll make sure that nothing happens to her, or to anyone else, while I’m there.”

  Trysten inhaled deeply, tried to soothe the growing knot in her throat. “Thank you. And make sure nothing happens to you either. Do that for me.”

  “I will,” he said with a mock bow, then turned to leave the stall.

  “Paege, wait,” Trysten said, stepping closer to him. “Thank you for making me see this change was needed. You make me a better Dragoneer, and I appreciate it.”

  Paege studied her for a few moments then nodded once. “I am your commander. For life, remember?”

  She nodded, not sure what to say, and Paege turned and left Elevera’s stall. He clapped his hands together to get the hordesmen’s attention.

  “Listen up! Change of plans. I’ll be leading the horde to the outpost. Vanon, you will be leading the horde back,” he said.