Dragon Dawn

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Well then?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  The first flickers of real anger touched Keverin’s voice. “Don’t test me, Captain. I might be a one-armed cripple, but I can still take you, even on your best day.”

  Surprise flashed upon Brian’s face. “I didn’t mean… I don’t…”

  “Why are we riding east and not west to Julia?”

  Brian hesitated. His lips moved silently as if he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words. “I… I don’t mean to treat you like a cripple, m’lord. It’s just… you see I…” he sighed and tried again. “I have heard report of other survivors being held east of here.”

  “A report? Survivors?” Keverin frowned, but then he realised who it must be. “Burke! Is it Burke and his squad?”

  “I believe by the description it must be him, m’lord. I don’t know who is with him.”

  “How many altogether?”

  “A dozen men, m’lord, including Burke that is.”

  Only a dozen?

  The leather glove he wore creaked as he made a fist, gripping the reins hard. He had led two hundred of his men north in search of Julia, and only a dozen had survived it. By the God, he had nearly emptied his fortress of men these last few years. He sighed; what choice had he but to fight when attacked? Men died in war, and guardsman trained all their lives to fight wars, but oh, how it hurt to see those he knew fall. He glanced back at Travus. The boy was one of the new intake and had joined Athione’s guardsman after so many veterans fell to the last Hasian attack through the pass. Would he fall too? The other three guardsmen were older men—too old really. They should be passing their remaining years with family, not riding to war. Like Moriz and Halbert, who both died at Devarr protecting Julia, these three had chosen to stay on at the fortress. Their families lived in East Town; not far to visit. Marcus routinely gave such men light duties. Gerard for instance, had been Athione’s east gatekeeper for years. It had been at least five since his last patrol.

  “A dozen men. And we happen to have a dozen spare mounts with us,” Keverin said.

  “And supplies for them, yes m’lord.”

  “Tell me, Brian, how you happened to be at Athione and not with Julia when the report came in. Tell me that.”

  Brian grimaced. “I knew this would happen. I told him…” he sighed. “You won’t believe me, m’lord.”

  “Try me anyway.”

  “Did Lorcan tell you what happened when you fell?”

  Keverin nodded. “Some.”

  “Did he tell you that I also fell that day?”

  Lorcan coughed. “I forgot.”

  Brian nodded. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not important to my tale. A fireball blasted a crater half a man deep in the earth, and my horse died beneath me. I don’t remember anything of it except that, and the wash of intense heat over me. I know now that Lady Julia found and healed me, but when I failed to wake, she carried me back to camp hoping I would recover there.”

  “And so you did.”

  “Yes, m’lord.”

  “Not for days and days though,” Lorcan added. “Julia tried lots of times between battles to wake him, m’lord. She even had the shamans try.”

  Brian nodded. “I lay as one dead for tendays, but I was not dead. I dreamed, knowing nothing of what happened around me. I dreamed of you, m’lord. I dreamed you were alive. I dreamed Lorcan killing a sorcerer and rescuing you.”

  “Demophon,” Keverin whispered, his eyebrows climbing. “That happened. They were not dreams, Brian. They were visions like clan shamen speak of.”

  “I know.”

  “What else did you see? Did you see Julia?”

  Brian nodded warily.

  “Will she be all right? Will we win the war?”

  “M’lord—”

  “What of Jihan?”

  “M’lord I—” Brian protested.

  “How does he fare? Tell me everything!”

  “M’lord stop, I can’t tell you!”

  Keverin reined in, raising his good hand to halt the men. “Hold here. You need privacy, Brian? You need secrecy? I understand. You shall have it. Follow me a short distance up the road.”

  “M’lord…” Brian called as Keverin rode on. “It’s not that!” He kicked his horse into brief canter to catch up. “Please stop. You have to understand. I can’t tell you what you want to hear!”

  Keverin stopped, wondering at the pain he saw on Brian’s face. “Lower your voice, Captain. We have your privacy, but not if you shout.”

  “You’re not listening,” Brian said sadly. “I knew this would happen.”

  “Oh, I heard you, Brian. I hear all you say, and all you don’t say too. Believe me. Are you still my man?”

  Brian straightened in his saddle. “Of course I am!”

  “Because if you’re not, you should tell me now and remove that sash and armour.”

  “M’lord please—”

  “No recriminations. I don’t want anyone with me, who isn’t with me. Do you follow what I’m saying?”

  Brian nodded miserably.

  Keverin hardened his heart. “You owe fealty to me. Your oath… you remember that little thing?”

  Brian flushed.

  “Your oath is to me, Athione, and the kingdom in that order. I call on you now to honour it.”

  “By the God, don’t you see how much I want to?!” Brian cried in frustration. “Don’t you see how much I wish I could share all I know and be shut of the entire mess? Don’t you think I know how unsuited I am to this task? He should have chosen the King or you, not me! But he didn’t, m’lord. He chose me. He chose me and I swore to do what is needful. I can’t… I cannot tell you or anyone about the things I’ve seen, or I risk changing what must be.”

  “Who are you to decide what must be?”

  “There isn’t anyone else! I’ve seen the future, m’lord—don’t ask me to tell you. I can’t. I’ve seen terrible things, but worse, I’ve seen what happens if I stop them from occurring. What would you do if you knew a child would die moments from now?”

  That was easy, and obvious. “I would save him, or die trying.”

  Brian nodded. “What if you had seen the boy killing thousands in the future? Would you still save him then?”

  “I…” Keverin hesitated. “I don’t know. Have you seen something like that?”

  “What if he were your own son?”

  Keverin blinked. “What are you saying? Will Julia and I have a son?”

  “I’m saying there are no easy answers, m’lord. Anything I tell you is a risk. Anything at all. If I say you will win a coming battle, you become overconfident and lose it instead. If I tell you Julia will die, you rush in to save her, and die in her place! And because you die, we lose the war.”

  “Have you seen these things?”

  Brian shook his head tiredly. “I’ll not tell you if I have or haven’t, m’lord. I’m trying to show you why I dare not tell you anything of what I’ve seen. Shamen go through this every day of their lives. It’s not surprising everyone treats them differently. Knowing things, whether they be good or bad, is tiring beyond belief. Do I save a man or let him die? If I save him, do I tell him not to do the bad thing I see in his future? If he does it anyway, am I not to blame? The weight of his foul deed now rests on my shoulders, and the God will surely judge me for it. I can’t tell you, and I won’t, m’lord. There it is.”

  Keverin watched as Brian removed the sash declaring his rank and began unbuckling his armour. Keverin reached across the gap separating them and stopped him. He didn’t know what terrible things Brian had seen, nor did he know if Brian’s reluctance to share his visions was justified. He did know, however, that there was no more loyal a man.

  “Don’t, Brian. I trust you with my life. More, I trust you with Julia’s life.”

  Brian winced as if stabbed.

  “You don’t have to tell me what you saw, unless you want to. Tell me one thing though. Just one.”
/>
  “If I can, m’lord, I will.”

  Keverin had to be content with that. “Who is he?”

  “M’lord?”

  “You said he chose you. You don’t mean the God?”

  Brian smiled. “No, m’lord. Renard was my guide in that place. He called them realms.”

  “Renard,” Keverin said, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Julia spoke of him appearing to her in dreams. How did he look?”

  “M’lord?”

  “Did he seem himself?”

  “I… his eyes were strange, but yes m’lord. He seemed as normal as a mage ever gets.”

  Keverin grinned. “Yes, they’re a strange lot. You’re out of uniform, Captain. Get dressed and report what you can.”

  Brian quickly settled his sash over his shoulder and buckled his armour. “I’ll tell you what I can, only that.”

  “As we go, Brian, Burke needs us.”

  Brian nodded and signalled his men to rejoin them, and began to tell his tale as they cantered east along the road to Elvissa. Keverin tried not to notice the inconstancies and blanks in the story.

  * * *

  16 ~ Betrayal

  Talitha chose to receive Teirnon’s messenger in her chambers. Her girls had dressed her in flowing red silk robes that helped to bolster her confidence and hide her growing belly. Not that it could grow much more. Her daughter, Armina, would be born with the new moon.

  Three tendays to wait; only three.

  “Let him enter,” Talitha commanded.

  Tymek opened the door, and a force commander wearing the black and gold armour of Tindebrai marched in carrying a wooden box. His stern features gave nothing away of his thoughts. He stopped the correct distance from Talitha and inclined his head in a brief bow. Very brief.

  Talitha’s lips thinned at the implied lack of respect.

  “High Lord Teirnon sends his regards. He bids me give you this gift and say: It is done as promised.”

  Talitha did not rise from her chair. She nodded to Tymek to take the box and open it. He hesitated when the contents were revealed, then tipped the box so that Talitha could see inside. It contained the inexpertly preserved head of a man. Talitha recoiled, and quickly tried to hide her disgust, but she couldn’t prevent a cough escaping at the pungent odour of rot emanating from the box.

  The messenger smiled.

  “Methrym I assume?” Talitha asked, covering her nose and mouth with a hand, and coughing again.

  A brisk nod.

  Tymek quickly sealed the box, and put it on the balcony outside before closing the doors. The stench lingered, but it was less than before.

  “You have proof it is he?”

  Another crisp nod. “One of his men confirmed it.”

  Talitha hadn’t seriously expected Teirnon to try to fool her, but the question had to be asked. So, the Butcher of Talayan was dead; a great moment, a turning point in the war even. Why then didn’t she feel happy, or at least, relieved?

  “What else have you to report?”

  “The High Lord gave me no other message.”

  Talitha frowned. “None? Where is he now, and doing what?”

  “The last news I have is old, but puts him in Tanjung advancing on the capital.”

  “What of prisoners?”

  The soldier cocked his head in question.

  “Surely Methrym was not the only man captured.”

  “Oh, those prisoners,” he said carelessly. “They are outside awaiting your pleasure.”

  Was the man a fool? What if they rebelled, or tried to escape? “You brought them into my city?”

  “To the palace,” he smiled as Talitha gasped. “They are guarded. They’ll not go anywhere, if that’s what concerns you.”

  Talitha’s anger built at the contempt she imagined she heard in his voice. Hers remained steady, but inside she shook with fury. “I see.”

  A little more than a year ago, she would have had him executed in the most painful way imaginable, and for much less reason than he had just given her. Now, she had to endure the indignity of his presence and pretend all was well.

  Talitha stood with difficulty, waving Tymek away when he would have aided her. “Show me these oh so cooperative prisoners of yours. At once!”

  The soldier’s eyes narrowed at the snap in her voice, but his supercilious smile quickly returned. He inclined his head, then about-faced and marched back the way he came.

  Talitha’s eyes narrowed. She would not demean herself further by trying to keep up with him. In her condition, she would never do it. She allowed him his tiny victory, knowing that one word from her would be his death. And she would give that word, she suddenly decided, but later. Perhaps he would meet a stranger in an alleyway tonight. Even in Pura, such places could be dangerous. She glanced at Tymek keeping pace beside her, and recognised the anger in the bulging muscles of his jaw. Yes, very dangerous. It was time to let Tymek unleash some of the fury building in him.

  Talitha left the palace, stepping into the dazzling sunshine of the courtyard and retched at the stench. She didn’t have time to be angry at the messenger’s quiet laughter, for she went quickly to her knees and vomited over the steps. There were at least a score of deep and wide-bodied wagons guarded by Tamorshin soldiers. All of the wagons were heaped high with the rotting heads of Methrym’s army. There must have been thousands of them. The buzzing of flies around the wagons nearly blotted out Nekane’s angry words.

  “You dare! You dare do this to her! I will have you and your men executed! I’ll have your gizzards ripped out and fed to the dogs!”

  Talitha pushed herself up to her knees, but sudden pain in her abdomen drove her to all fours again. She grunted with the force of it, and suddenly a hot flood between her legs splashed over the steps. Her waters had broken. Here of all places, surrounded by putrid horror and enemies, her labour had begun.

  “Little man,” the messenger said coldly. “Speak to me so again, and it will be your gizzard feeding the dogs. See to your mistress. She has made another mess on the steps.”

  “Matriarch!” Nekane and Tymek cried together, rushing to her aid. “I’ll send for Wanikiya.”

  Talitha clutched Tymek’s hand as a contraction forced another strangled groan from her. She wanted to push, she wanted to push right now, but she fought the compulsion. She would not give birth to Armina like this. Not like this, on the steps like a common slave.

  “Tymek... take me inside... to… Wanikyaaaaa!” she screamed finally, as the next contraction had its way. “Armina...” she panted as another contraction built, “she comes early. Please don’t let me lose my baby!”

  * * *

  The God made the Matriarch perfect, she rules us by his will—a catechism that all Japuran children learned, whether high born or low, at an early age. Any called to serve her did so gladly, knowing beyond question that the God had willed it. Ishani and her sister were slaves born of slaves, but that didn’t mean they were different in this. They weren’t. They served the Matriarch and felt vastly honoured to do so.

  Ishani awoke in Verner’s bed and quickly glanced at her sister to assure herself that Saffi was all right. The master, as Verner insisted they call him, had already left for the day, and Saffi still slept. It was strange how calling Verner the master rankled now. Strange, because it wasn’t an unusual requirement for a slave to call her owner, master.

  At their last meeting, the Matriarch had chastised her for calling Verner her master. Since that day, she had ceased thinking of Verner that way. In her head, he was Verner, or the merchant, or more often the Rutting Pig. She had no master. Her mistress was none other than the Matriarch herself. She wanted to shout it from the highest rooftop and dance, but the Matriarch needed the secret kept. Remembering that, brought last night’s events crashing back into her awareness.

  “Saffi,” Ishani whispered urgently. “Wake up!”

  Saffi groaned, kicking the silk sheets off the bed and rolling onto her front. She shivered a little as
the draft coming through the open windows caressed her nakedness. Early morning sunlight lit the room in golden hews, and the sounds of Pura waking drifted to them from the street outside.

  “Why, is the master coming back for more?”

  Ishani grimaced. That was one reason for the rutting part of her name for Verner. He was insatiable, and often bedded them both and then again the following morning.

  “I hope not. We have to go to the palace.”

  Saffi opened one eye. “You go, I’m tired.”

  “We should both go. Something is going to happen. Something bad.”

  That had an effect. Saffi sat up, kneeling upon the bed to face her. “What’s wrong? Did he do something to you before he called for me?”

  “Nothing like that, he waited for you this time. It’s what I heard last night. Oh Saffi, I’m scared for the Matriarch. Verner means harm to her and the babe.”

  Saffi squeezed Ishani’s hand. “Tell me everything.”

  “He made me strip for his friends again.” She shrugged. That was nothing, and if the truth were told, she liked it that men desired her so much. It made them easier to control. “I brought food and wine for them. The strongest wine we have, like always. It didn’t take them long to forget I was there. They spoke about the war, how the High Lord duped the Matriarch into allowing his men to garrison the cities.”

  “He said that? Those exact words, duped?”

  Ishani nodded. “It can’t be true, can it?”

  “Of course it can’t, the Matriarch is no fool.”

  “Verner said she is. He said his men ambushed Strike Leader Wakiza on the road and made it look like Tanjung’s doing—”

  Saffi hissed in surprise.

  “He said Chamberlain Jarek is not ill, but poisoned! They all laughed about it. Verner is keeping Jarek barely alive on purpose. He said it hurts the Matriarch more that he lingers. He said she couldn’t think beyond her grief for Prince Ranen and Jarek, and while she pined away for lost love, Teirnon had taken Japura out of her hands without a fight. First the cities and ports, and then the smaller towns.”

  “The God be with us,” Saffi whispered in horror. “It might be true. I heard that Orrisa has an army again. All Tamorin men they say.”