Outposts

by Vickie Knestaut

  “What in the wilds?” Trysten asked, her face flushed in surprise and more than a bit of embarrassment.

  Vanon bowed with a flourish, one arm across his chest, and said, “That is from your mother.” Then turning to Mardoc, he continued, “And this is for you —”

  “Don’t even think about it, Hordesman,” Mardoc replied, poking his walking stick into Vanon’s chest. Vanon’s hearty laugh sounded clear of worry, and Trysten was glad Paege had insisted she let the hordesman out of the village for the day.

  Laughter rang out from the weyr behind them. Trysten joined in, and even Mardoc chuckled before asking Vanon, “How goes the work at the outpost?”

  “All is well, Fallen,” Vanon replied, then turned to Trysten. “Everyone is safe. They’ve seen no sign of intruders in the woods or the pass, and they even managed to get some measurable work done with only one ax and a few knives and their bare hands. You would be pleased to see it.”

  Trysten let out a breath of relief and smiled at Vanon. He was one of her first supporters in the weyr, and his example had led other hordesmen to accept her as Dragoneer. Paege was right — it was time she started trusting her hordesmen and allowing them to take on more responsibility. She needed the help more than ever these days.

  “After you’ve had a chance to get a bite to eat and a bit of rest from your trip, I’d like you to make up a schedule for daily trips to the outpost. Rotate the men and the dragons so that everyone gets to leave the weyr every few days while keeping enough of the horde here to protect the village if needed. I’ll go at the end of the rotation, so the others get their chance first.”

  “Will do. And I think it’s a great idea. Everyone needs a chance to stretch their wings these days.” Vanon smiled and turned toward the dining hall. “I hope they left me some scraps,” he said as he trotted away.

  Trysten turned to Mardoc, grinning and shaking her head. Her father’s face was solemn, and she was worried he disapproved of Vanon’s behavior.

  “He’s just excited to finally get out of the weyr,” she explained.

  Mardoc nodded, then looked at her for a few moments. She could tell he had something to say and knew enough by now to let him get it worked out. She waited, knowing it was going to be something serious if it was taking this long.

  “I will go make sure Vanon doesn’t need any help,” he finally said. He nodded once, stamped his walking stick into the ground and started for the dining hall.

  Trysten watched him go. She tried to imagine a hordesman hugging her father but couldn’t. Of course, Vanon may have done so had Mardoc’s mother been gone on the King’s mission and sent a hug home for him.

  She shook her head and started for her den. She needed to get her logs up to date, and this seemed as good a time as any.

  Fish and birds, but these were strange times. Strange, but not all bad. Above her, Yallit slept on a beam, snoring softly as if to prove her point.

  Chapter 33

  For the next few days, a group of dragons flew to the outpost to drop off new tools fresh from the blacksmith’s anvil, as well as food and requested supplies. The horde would then fly the western perimeter of Aerona’s territory before returning to tell Trysten of their uneventful flight, and the progress being made at the outpost.

  On the morning that Prince Aymon was a week overdue, Trysten elected to fly out to the outpost along with Karno and his patrol. Elevera was loaded up with a few shovels, a couple of picks, and a saw. It wasn’t an impressive haul, but supplies were low, and the blacksmith had been reduced to using whatever scraps of iron he could get. He was on his last hopper of coal, and there would be no more of it until a merchant or the caravan arrived.

  After Elevera was ready to go, Trysten climbed into the saddle. She watched while Verillium’s saddlebags were packed with food, a few items of requested clothing, and a new tent. As Kaylar fastened herself in Verillium’s saddle, Trysten gave the signal to take off, and they flew to the outpost.

  As they neared the outpost, Trysten ordered the horde to circle. After receiving the signal that all was well, Trysten ordered Karno and his patrol on. Karno waved off, then called the horde to follow him to the south.

  Elevera fluttered down into the pool with a disgusted grunt, and Verillium settled into the clearing beside Sone and Deslan’s dragon Keeruk, a startling dragon of red with gold tips on her scales. Trysten glanced off to her right, to the cairn that crowded the other end of the pool. Ambeoda. May she be the last to fall at this outpost.

  Trysten waded ashore with an armful of shovels and picks. Caron drew her into a quick embrace and squeezed. “How I’ve missed you, Little Heart! You and your father.”

  Trysten grinned as she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. Deslan stepped forward and took the tools from her and carried them away. Caron drew her daughter into another embrace.

  “Vanon delivered your hug,” Trysten said. “You should have seen Father! He asks about you daily. Though he really asks about how the outpost is coming along, what he means is that he wants to know how much longer before you come home.”

  Caron released her daughter but kept a hand upon her shoulder as the other arm swept back to the outpost. “A few more days at least, but the new tools will help.”

  Trysten regarded the construction. A fence of pointed logs extended perpendicular from the cliff face, then turned at a right angle and ran parallel to the cliff for fifty feet before ending at a ditch still being dug. Deslan carried the shovels and picks to the ditch and began to help with the digging.

  “There will be scaffolding on the inside,” Caron said as she waved at the fortification. “We’ll be able to stand on it and launch arrows from between the points. It will be difficult for the wildmen to get to us once this is finished.”

  “Have you had any more trouble?” Trysten asked.

  Caron shook her head. “We’ve seen one or two people off in the woods, but always by themselves. And they run away as soon as we notice them.”

  “Are you—”

  “We’re taking care of it, Little Heart,” Caron said as she patted her daughter’s shoulder. “We have regular patrols. We have guards stationed above.” Caron pointed to the top of the cliff face. Two people sat on stones above, one with a bow across his lap. The bow of the other rested beside her. They surveyed the woods below and looked upward toward the pass.

  “Paege has adopted a regular patrol schedule, and we take turns standing watch. It gives us a break from all of the digging and lifting.” Caron stretched, pushing her hands into the small of her back.

  “Some of us aren’t as young as the others, and we appreciate the chance to rest,” she continued. “I’m impressed with Paege, Trysten. He is a thoughtful and focused leader. He encourages us to contribute ideas as well as muscle and has managed to turn this ragtag group into an organized horde. He is an excellent commander. So different from the little boy who didn’t move until you told him to.”

  Trysten looked up at the end of the fortified wall. Paege was in the ditch, helping the workers lengthen the trench. His face was lit with a smile as he chatted with the man next to him, laughing at something the man said.

  “No signs of activity in the pass, either?” Trysten asked Caron, looking up to the peaks.

  “None. No one has gone in. No one has come out,” Caron said. “We even keep a watch at night. Paege has us sleeping in shifts.”

  Trysten rubbed the back of her neck. Aymon’s absence was like a weight she carried on her shoulders, and it was growing heavier as the days passed. Quietly, without fanfare or public declaration, it had come to be commonly believed in the village that Aymon would not return. But the silence from the West puzzled Trysten. She had expected them to strike back in response to Aymon’s attack. Hopefully, it was a sign that Aymon had done a great deal of damage to their forces before he was taken down.

  She turned back to her mother. “I know you can’t visit because there is too much to do around here, but can you use a littl
e help? Kaylar and I could stand to stretch our limbs a bit before heading back to the village.”

  One of the new shovels was passed to Trysten, and she was put to work, digging the ditch in which the sharpened logs of pine would be set up to form a fence. She worked alongside her mother, who swung a pick to loosen the rocky dirt, while Trysten lifted it away with the blade of the shovel. It was hard work, but being next to Caron helped the time move quickly.

  After several hours, Trysten clasped her hands in the small of her back and pushed. Her shoulders ached and her arms and fingers cramped. Blisters had begun to rise on her hands, and they throbbed as she surveyed the trench. It seemed like slow going, but the work had actually been quite enjoyable. It emptied her head of all of her worries and left her feeling pleasantly tired, and more than that, it left her feeling like she was accomplishing something while spending time with her mother.

  “Doing all right there?” Paege called from several feet away, where he had been helping to place a log into the trench.

  Trysten nodded. “Just catching my breath,” she said. But it was more than that. She looked up to the trees. Something was off. Different. Like a distant noise.

  “Dragons!” she blurted.

  Work around the site ceased. All eyes turned to Trysten as she took several steps backward, away from the trench. She scanned the sky. Yallit leaped off the edge of the cliff where he had been perched and flew a tight, undulating figure-eight across the sky.

  “Dragons are approaching,” Trysten said, and then after reaching out to Elevera, she added, “And they’re not ours.”

  “Quick!” Trysten shouted as she pointed to Sone, Verillium, and Keeruk. “Get them into the woods! Now!”

  As she hurried past the dragons and into the pool, she cursed herself for not bringing dragons that would blend into the woods. The deep red of Sone and the magenta of Verillum weren’t terrible, but the gold-tipped red of Keeruk and the brilliant gold of Elevera would both be problems, not to mention Elevera’s sheer size.

  Workers dropped their tools and rushed forward to take up reins and lead the dragons forward, squeezing them into any space between the trees that could take them.

  As Trysten splashed into the pool, Elevera regarded her with a look of disdain. She knew exactly what Trysten was thinking as the idea formed in her head.

  “I’m sorry, Lady,” Trysten cooed as she waded out to the dragon. “Unless you have a better idea...”

  Elevera let out a groan that was nearly a grunt and stomped her feet in the water. Gushes of mud and silt swirled up around her and clouded the water. She lowered herself into the murk until nothing but the topmost part of her head remained above the surface near the face of the cliff.

  Trysten glanced over her shoulder to the sky in the south. Nothing, yet. The southern sky was empty. That had been the direction that Karno had led the patrol. Had he encountered the horde? She did not sense any distress in the horde except for Elevera’s displeasure, but they may be too far away.

  Trysten waded around Elevera. The cool water felt delicious on her hot and sweaty skin, but there wasn’t time to luxuriate. She stepped over Elevera’s tail, then lowered herself into the water, down to her chin, and waded forward until she was near the saddle.

  Right before the dragons came into view, Trysten looked out across the clearing. Keeruk had been tucked into a space next to the cliff face. Sone and Verillium each crouched under the canopy, their tails curled up around them, their heads and necks held low along the forest floor.

  Trysten took a deep breath, then dipped her head back into the water, submerging as much of herself as she could while leaving her eyes and nose exposed. She had to see who it was.

  Dragons flew overhead. They bore hoods in the style of Western hordes. But were they Western?

  Nineteen of them passed overhead, then banked up toward the pass. As the last flew over, Trysten grabbed the lip of her saddle, found the stirrup with the foot, and wished Elevera onto her feet.

  Water rushed off the rising dragon and crashed in waves against the edges of the pool. Trysten swung her leg over the saddle and called to the others. With a swoop of her arm and a jab of her finger, she ordered the others to pursue. She didn’t quite have a plan, yet, but she wanted them to see her. If it was a Western horde, then she wanted them to know their trespass was noted and not appreciated. If it was the horde attacking the Western kingdom as Rodden claimed, then she wanted them to know they had been seen and their cover blown.

  Paege, Kaylar, and Deslan made short work of getting their dragons out of the woods and into the clearing. As they mounted their dragons, Elevera spread her wings wide and lifted herself from the pool. Water streamed from her wings and showered those along the shore as they shouted and shielded themselves in vain with their hands. Soon, the great, gold dragon rose above the cliff and climbed toward the pass. Trysten urged her on with all speed, not wanting to let the intruders get away. She had to know for sure if they were Western or someone else.

  As she reached the opening of the pass, Trysten looked back to see the other three Aerona dragons coming up behind her. Four dragons weren’t much of a threat to a horde of nineteen, but to the wilds with this cat-and-mouse stuff.

  Little Yallit raced up from the edge of the cliff, trailing Keeruk.

  “Dang it!” Trysten spat. “No! Go home! Argh!”

  She turned around in her saddle and focused on the horde ahead as it flew single-file through the pass. There was nothing that could be done about the wild dragon. If he managed to get himself maimed or worse, then he would at least serve as an example as to why the weyr shouldn’t have mascots.

  As Elevera entered the Cadwaller side of the pass, the other horde ahead exited. The dragons fanned out into a V formation and continued to fly westward. They were met with no resistance, no sign of trouble. Not a single spear, as her father had hypothesized. If there was a defense force waiting on the western side of the pass, then they were allowing this horde to go on unchallenged.

  Any moment, one of them would look back, surely, and he would see her. What then?

  She hoped they would. Her hand went to the hilt of her sword and closed around it. She hoped they saw her. She hoped that she was following hordesmen pretending to be from Cadwaller, imposters attacking the West in the name of her home.

  Except why the hoods, then?

  It was likely a Western horde. But if that was the case, why were they in Cadwaller, anyway? And where had they been that she had not sensed them sooner? No matter what the reason for the invasion, it was still an invasion and it must be repulsed.

  Trysten glanced over her shoulder, even though she could feel Sone and the others in the pass behind her, entering just as she was about to cross between the two kingdoms.

  Adrenaline pumped through Trysten. She crouched behind Elevera’s neck and gripped the lip of the saddle tighter.

  Just a peek. Just a quick look around to assess the situation.

  Then the horde ahead disappeared. Vanished. It was there one second, gone the next. Simply gone.

  Trysten sat up in the saddle. Elevera ceased flapping her wings and settled for leaving them spread still and wide, gliding through the rest of the pass, as though she was as confounded as Trysten.

  Trysten glanced around, up and to either side, as if the horde had simply flown back past her unnoticed. But that was impossible. Although she had no idea how. It had simply vanished.

  She wrenched around in her saddle and stared over the hump of Elevera’s back. Paege sat upright upon Sone’s shoulders. She couldn’t quite make out the details of his face in the shadows cast by the peak, but it seemed evident that he was astonished as well.

  Trysten faced forward again. She closed her eyes for a second and searched for any sensations of dragons. Any dragons.

  Nothing. The nineteen dragons they had been following were completely gone, wiped away from existence. There were no dragons anywhere within Trysten’s senses, except for the thr
ee behind her, and the little twitch in her awareness that she had learned to associate with Yallit.

  The peaks of the Cadwaller mountains passed behind Trysten and Elevera. A staggering steep slope of stone dropped away, far too treacherous to allow the passage of an army. It seemed impossible to think that even a single person could climb the sheer slope beneath her that plummeted down to the treeline. Sharp hillsides of pine trees swept down to the bottoms of valleys before rising back up to another range of peaks and mountains. The undulating landscape stretched as far as she could see until the mountains met a small patch of flat, gray land far off in the distance, hardly discernible.

  She was in the Western kingdom now.

  Chapter 34

  As she flew over the valley that stretched out beneath her, Trysten peered at the rocks and scraggly pines far below, searching for signs of danger, spear launchers, or the horde she had pursued through the pass.

  But there was nothing beneath her.

  She scanned left to right, recalling the scene from Maejel’s memory during the dragon bridge. There had been a weyr, a long flat building sitting among pine trees and peaks. The Western weyr Maejel had come from had been right here in the mountains.

  But there was no sign of anything below. No buildings, no roads, and no dragons.

  Elevera held her wings out steady and fixed, allowing herself to coast down through the thin air. She was tired from climbing up to the pass. The altitude was nearly too high to allow dragons through. It took work, especially for a dragon as large as Elevera.

  In the stillness surrounding her, Trysten closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the cold, thin air. It didn’t feel like it filled her lungs enough as if she couldn’t quite get all that she needed. She expanded her awareness as wide and far as she could in hopes of sensing the presence of dragons. Any kind of dragon, be it Western or Aymon’s own.