Outposts

by Vickie Knestaut

  “Wildmen?”

  “A loose band of thieves and bandits that live in the mountains. It’s a lawless place, and I don’t think they are happy to see the King’s flag flying in their woods.”

  “The King’s woods,” Gerig corrected her.

  “They see it differently,” Trysten replied.

  “It doesn’t matter how they see it. It only matters what it truly is. The King’s land goes to the peaks of the mountains. They are on the King’s land whether they want to see it that way or not. But regardless, you were able to complete the outpost, you said?”

  “Yes,” Trysten said. “The finishing touches are being put on it now. But there has been someone watching the pass almost continuously since the work started.”

  “Almost?”

  Trysten explained how the wildmen had driven the workers from the site for the day. She kept the details about the Original to herself, however. Gerig didn’t strike her as the kind of man who wanted to hear anything outside of what he wanted to know right that moment.

  “And there still has been no sign of further incursions?” Gerig asked.

  Trysten took a deep breath. “Not really. No one has left the pass since the Western horde I mentioned in my letter.”

  “Good,” Gerig said with a firm nod. His posture straightened slightly. “Excellent. It appears that Prince Aymon was able to seriously curtail their ability to retaliate. I knew he would. Of all his brothers, he’s the one I’d least like to face in a battle. The Western kingdom was not so lucky. We shall have an easy go of it tomorrow morning.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Up to my den,” Trysten said as she pointed to the weyr.

  After she handed Elevera off to Iven, Gerig followed Trysten up to her den. Yallit perched on the rail around the landing in wait for her. Trysten didn’t even bother to try to keep him out. The wild dragon followed them, flew around the room once, then curled up next to the stove.

  “I’ve heard of hordes that kept wild dragons for luck, but I’ve never actually seen one,” Gerig said as he sat in an odd manner, crouching a bit in front of the chair, and then grabbing the edge of the seat before lowering himself. “Now, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

  Trysten took a deep breath. “With all due respect, attacking the Western kingdom is not a good idea. Not right now. We have managed to teach a captured Western hordesmen some of our language. We asked him why his people keep attacking us. He said it is because we attack his people.”

  Gerig shifted slightly in his chair and continued to stare at her as if waiting for her to make her point.

  Trysten placed her elbows upon the table. “If we keep sending hordes into their territory, then we are only proving them right.”

  Gerig blinked at her. His eyebrows lifted as if he wanted to know if she was finished, or if she still hoped to come to a point.

  “Someone is attacking the West, but it is not us. We have to figure out who it is before we attack them again. I have people watching the pass, looking to see who is entering the Western kingdom.”

  “And your sentries have seen nothing,” Gerig said.

  Trysten nodded.

  Gerig pulled his shoulders back. “Of course. There is nothing to see. We don’t attack them, and we don’t invade their territory. Until now. The army they have sent against us, and their continued presence on the King’s soil, is unacceptable. King Cadwaller is responding in the way that he should. Royal hordes are being sent to each pass for an incursion. An army is being sent to each weyr that guards a pass. Two armies are being sent to The Wilds outside of Hollin to find and rout the staging area you reported. Our response will be clear, swift, and unmistakable. King Cadwaller will not tolerate an escalation in hostilities.”

  Trysten nearly laughed at the absurdness of his statement. She cleared her throat and laced her fingers together. “An escalation of hostilities is exactly what I’m trying to prevent. Let me continue speaking with the Western prisoners we have. We learn—”

  “Prisoners? You have more than one?”

  Trysten sat back in her chair. “It’s complicated. But we are trying to learn to speak their language as we teach them ours. We’re starting to understand them and why this war is being fought.”

  Gerig snorted with derision. “I could have saved you a great deal of trouble. This war is being fought because the Western kingdom keeps attacking us. Every year. Every fighting season. But now, now it has gone too far. It must be brought to an end.”

  “So let me—”

  “No,” Gerig said with a shake of his head. “I have my orders. And my compatriots have their orders. This is part of a coordinated effort meant to break the will of the Western hordesmen and to break a few heads if we must avenge the fallen prince. I will not tell King Cadwaller that I disobeyed his orders on the grounds of lies spoken by our enemies.”

  Trysten unthreaded her fingers and placed her palms flat before her. She stared at the back of her hands for a second, then looked back to Gerig and nodded. “Although I disagree, I can understand why the King has chosen this path.”

  Gerig stood. He stepped behind his chair as if drawing himself to attention. “I thank you for sharing your intelligence with me. I will expect to confer with you before dawn tomorrow. We will lay out our plan of attack. How many hordesmen do you have at your disposal?”

  Trysten’s face tightened in agitation. “Altogether, I have thirty-one hordesmen ready to serve.”

  “Very well. The size of your horde is quite admirable. I must admit that I was quite shocked, shocked to the point of disbelief when I heard there was a female dragoneer out here, one with a horde greater than twenty dragons. Such is thought to be impossible. A horde of such size must surely be a testament to the skills of your men in battle. I look forward to fighting at their sides tomorrow.”

  After a nod, Gerig turned away. As he walked toward the exit of the den, Trysten stood and nearly called out to him, to ask him to wait, to hold off a few days, a week at most so that they might learn more from Rodden and the other prisoners.

  But it would do no good. Ask a dragon not to fly. Ask a fish not to swim.

  As Gerig stepped over Yallit, he flashed a handsome grin at the wild dragon who lifted his head and flicked his tongue at the Wing Master.

  Gerig shut the door behind himself and left Trysten alone with Yallit and the memory of how anxious and angry she had been that Aymon was going to the West without her. It seemed absurd now.

  After all that had happened since Aymon’s departure, sending an even larger swell into the pass felt like the most unwise, yet inevitable strategy the King could employ.

  Chapter 45

  After seeing to the duties of recording the arrival of the swell and the acceptance of the King’s orders, which included a quick, perfunctory glance at the scroll Gerig had handed over, Trysten called Kaylar and Rodden up to her den.

  Shortly after the two sat down, Yallit waddled across the room and curled up under the table. Rodden tried to bend down and pet the dragon, but it would require him crawling under the table to do so, and so he eventually left him alone.

  “I have a problem,” Trysten said as she laced her fingers together and placed her forearms on the table in front of her. She looked back and forth between Kaylar and Rodden. The latter sat up straight in his chair, the wild dragon temporarily forgotten.

  “Gerig has delivered orders from the King. We are to proceed through the Gul Pass with his swell and assist them in a search for Prince Aymon. In addition, we are to devastate Western weyrs in retaliation for the army’s attack on Cadwaller.”

  Kaylar sucked in a short breath. Rodden looked to Kaylar.

  “I’ve been ordered to attack your people,” Trysten said to Rodden.

  He looked back to Trysten and nodded solemnly as if he had been told a natural disaster was closing in on his home village. The look of utter, passive acceptance upon his face
nearly pinned her to the back of her seat.

  “I don’t want to do that,” Trysten said quietly to Rodden.

  “Mandana attacks,” Rodden said, his voice flat. “Since first Opplenot.” He shook his head.

  “Have you...” Kaylar started, and then her voice dropped away.

  “I’m trying to find a way to stop this,” Trysten said in response, but her words were aimed at Rodden. “I want to stop the attacks on Opplenot.” Trysten leaned back in her chair. “Rodden, do you believe me?”

  Rodden lifted his eyebrows some, his eyes growing slightly wider as if waiting for her to clarify.

  “I tell you that we are not attacking you.” Trysten shook her head. “Cadwaller does not attack the Western kingdom. It does not attack Opplenot. Do you understand that? Do you believe it?”

  Rodden sat back in his chair as well. His hair looked slightly mussed, long. A lock of it stuck up out of the back, and it made him look twenty years younger, especially since he’d begun shaving his face.

  “You say it is truth,” Rodden said. “It is truth.”

  Trysten leaned forward. She gripped the edge of the table. “But do you believe it?”

  Rodden looked down at Yallit, and Trysten expected him to start squirming, to writhe beneath the pressure of her gaze.

  Finally, he looked up. He regarded Trysten a moment and then nodded. “All my life, Mandana attack Opplenot. I fight. My father fight. His father fight. Since first Opplenot. Passes are become open, and dragons are come through. Dragons come from Mandana. Three brothers fell. Fight.” Rodden made a fist and crashed it into his open palm. He did it twice more in rapid succession, and the uncharacteristic move made Trysten sit back some. Even Kaylar shifted in her seat, putting a slight bit more space between herself and Rodden.

  “I am believe you.” His eyes softened with wetness. “You are Sa Yalla. You are heart of Adalina. You are...” Rodden looked up and about as if the word he wanted might be floating above them. “Yallum,” he said, and then touched his open palm to his brow before gesturing at Trysten as if presenting something.

  “Wisdom?”

  “Wisdom?” Rodden nodded. “Dragon wisdom. You are heart of horde. Maejel... Maejel esch sa taip.”

  Trysten’s breath stopped short. She blinked hard, and from the look on Rodden’s face, she knew what he had said. Maejel was his heart.

  “I am believing you. I am believing Maejel. I am believing my heart.”

  Rodden took a deep breath, then looked to the window behind Trysten. “But Mandana attack Opplenot. Mandana not is stopping.”

  “It’s not us,” Kaylar said. She leaned over and gripped Rodden’s knee briefly, gave it a squeeze that nearly broke Trysten’s heart before Kaylar sat back up. She shook her head. “We’re not the ones attacking.”

  Rodden nodded as he stared at his knee, his face contorted with a twist of emotions that Trysten couldn’t even begin to untangle.

  “What will happen?” Trysten asked. “Gerig is taking one hundred and sixty dragons through the Gul Pass. What will happen to them? Will they be attacked by the Originals?”

  Rodden looked up at Trysten. The knot of twisted emotions fell apart, collapsed into confusion. He shook his head. “Opplenot return attack.”

  “But what about the Originals? Why did they attack Elevera when we went through the pass?”

  Rodden’s lips parted, almost quivered with words like a drop on a leaf’s tip preparing to fall. He shrugged. “You are heart of Adalina.”

  Trysten sat back in her chair with an exasperated sigh. “What does that mean?”

  Rodden looked at Trysten a bit. “You are heart of Adalina.” He looked to Kaylar expectantly, then ran his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the charts on the wall. “Originals...”

  Rodden brought one his hands forward as if about to make a gesture, and then his hand dropped to his lap. “Originals attack Adalina.” He then shook his head. “Mandana Originals and Opplenot Originals. Mandana Originals attack Adalina. Adalina flight to Opplenot. Mandana Originals attack Opplenot. Attack, attack.”

  Rodden smacked his fist into his palm several more times. “Adalina flight away. Leave Opplenot. Mandana Originals not are attacking.” He held his open palm out to Trysten and raised his brows in expectation as if waiting to see if she would accept his story.

  “So the Originals were after Adalina,” Trysten said. “She fled to Opplenot—”

  “Fled, that is yes,” Rodden said with an emphatic nod.

  “And then the Originals attacked Opplenot.”

  Rodden nodded again.

  “And so Adalina left, and the attacks stopped.”

  Rodden nodded again. He grinned and checked himself before clapping his hands together.

  Trysten looked to Kaylar. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “So then why would the Originals be in Opplenot now?” Kaylar asked as if reading Trysten’s mind.

  “Are the Originals there now?” Trysten asked. “In Opplenot?”

  Rodden’s face scrunched up slightly as if considering her question. “Mandana Originals not are being there.”

  “Not there,” Kaylar said. “The Mandana Originals are not there.”

  “Not there,” Rodden said. “That is yes. The Mandana Originals are not there.”

  “But the Opplenot Originals are?” Trysten asked.

  “That is yes.”

  “Wait,” Kaylar said with a shake of her head. She held her open palm up as if to halt the conversation. “Hold on. Just a minute. We were attacked by Opplenot Originals? You mean to tell me that there are Original... factions?”

  “Factions?” Rodden asked in confusion.

  “Then why don’t the Opplenot Originals attack the hordes invading Oppelnot?” Trysten asked.

  “Yeah!” Kaylar said. “That’s a good question. Why don’t they?”

  Once again, Rodden looked confused, as if he wasn’t sure how he could explain it simple enough for them to understand. “She is ordering attack.” He then pointed at his chest. “Hordesmen attack.”

  “Wait,” Trysten said with a shake of her head. “She?”

  “She. Ojantis. She is ordering attacks on Mandana.” He waved at the wall behind Trysten. “She will order attack on Mandana horde. She will order attack on Mandana. She will order pass is being kept clear of dragons Mandana.”

  “She,” Trysten repeated. “How many Originals are there in Opplenot? Right now. How many?”

  “How many?” Rodden looked at Trysten as if she’d asked how many heads she had. “One. Ojantis.”

  “Ojantis is the name of the Original?” Trysten asked.

  Rodden nodded.

  “But there were two that attacked us,” Kaylar said.

  Rodden glanced at her with increasing frustration.

  “And they were male,” Trysten said. “Both of them.”

  Rodden looked back to her, his frustration replaced with confusion.

  “How many male Originals are in Opplenot?” Trysten asked.

  Rodden shook his head. “None. Mandana Originals flight—they fled after Adalina. No male are being in Opplenot now. Only Ojantis.”

  “Why didn’t Ojantis leave?” Kaylar asked.

  Rodden looked at Kaylar as if it was one of the more distasteful and unbelievable questions he had ever heard. “Ojantis stay. Keep Opplenot for Adalina.”

  He nodded sideways to indicate Trysten.

  “What?” Kaylar asked.

  Rodden took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He peered up at the ceiling for a second. “Ojantis stay. Ojantis not is... is not fleding—”

  “Flee. She’s not fleeing,” Kaylar said.

  Rodden let out an exasperated sigh, then shook his head. “Your tongue... Ojantis is not fleeing. She sits in Opplenot. She waits for Adalina.” Again, he nodded at Trysten.

  Trysten looked to Kaylar. “What if he doesn’t know that the Originals are in Opplenot? What if... I mean, it seems reasonable that they wo
uld pit our two kingdoms against each other.”

  “Why? For what reason?” Kaylar asked.

  Trysten sat back in her chair. She steepled her fingers together and stared over the top of them at Rodden. “Why did the Originals attack Adalina?”

  “She is being daughter of...” He rolled his hand to indicate that the others should offer some suggestions.

  “Originals?” Kaylar offered.

  Rodden’s face scrunched up in distaste. He shook his head, rolled his hand again.

  “A queen?” Trysten offered. “A king?”

  Rodden shook his head again. Rolled his hand.

  Trysten sighed, sat forward, and plunked her elbows down upon the table. Her hands grasped her braids and gave each a slight tug before she let her palms fall flat against the wood. “All right. Look. This isn’t really getting us anywhere. Let’s cut right down to the heart of the matter. We need to stop Gerig’s swell. We have to keep him from entering the pass. Rodden, is there anything you can tell us that would help? Anything that would help us stop Gerig?”

  “Adalina is being daughter of...” Rodden opened his palms toward the ceiling, then looked up with awe. His face scanned the ceiling as if it were the wide open sky.

  “The gods,” Trysten said.

  Rodden looked down at her, his expression questioning her, challenging her to define that foreign word.

  “The eyes,” Trysten said and pointed at the ceiling. “At night. The eyes that watch us. The gods.”

  “That is yes!” Rodden said and pointed at her. “Adalina is being daughter of gods. Bring kingdoms together.” He clasped his hands together and shook them. “Mandana Originals are not wanting...” He shook his hands again, then tore them apart violently, his arms spreading wide enough that Kaylar flinched, ready to duck. “Not wanting together.”

  “All right,” Trysten said as she brought her hand up, held it out slightly toward Rodden as if to calm him, to encourage him to settle down. “I understand. But right now, there is a swell of eight hordes ready to attack your kingdom in the morning. I want to stop them. But...”