Defenders of the Sacred Land: Expanded and Re-Issued (The Sacred Land Legacy Book 1)

by Mark E. Tyson

  Ianthill smirked and patted the broodlord on the shoulder. “Well done, Bren. The speed of the dragon knight is legendary.” He motioned to Gondrial. “Come with me, Gondrial, the captain has some explaining to do.”

  Chapter 32: The Cave

  Trendan watched as soldiers marched uniformly right up to the door of the Tiger’s Head Inn, just arriving from Seabrey to the north. With reports of the Scarovian army amassing just over the mountains, Trendan felt it was a good time to serve the army as a freelance scout. Brookhaven had been teaming with legions of soldiers for a week now, and the villagers were anxious to be rid of them. Lourn and Dellah still worried endlessly about Dorenn. In fact, ever since Trendan had returned with the news of the Dramyd attack, Lourn and Dellah constantly watched the west for signs of their son’s return. Fresh supply wagons sent from the Vale by Seancey were all but spent now, and the inn was sparse in goods and supplies. Lourn’s only supply line, despite the dangers, was a new peddler named Grentley that had taken up where Fadral had left off. Grentley put forth a grand effort, but he was always late, and his wares were second rate at best.

  Trendan sat on the porch of the inn and lit a pipe as he watched the commanders line their men up for an impending inspection by General Andrathin Rellagorn, commander of the armies of the North and West. The general had arrived sometime during the night, and the soldiers had been maneuvering back and forth through the streets since daybreak.

  After about half an hour with still no sign of the general, Trendan decided to go to the inn to see Dellah and Lourn. He had tried to make a point of visiting the couple every day to help reassure them Dorenn was well. When Trendan entered the inn, an overwhelming feeling of loss came over him. He could remember when the Tiger’s Head Inn’s afternoon patrons gathered to enjoy ale and merriment. Families from the village and surrounding farms would fill the inn to capacity, singing and talking. Now, if it wasn’t filled with soldiers, it was mostly empty with only a few, usually drunken, patrons.

  Dellah saw him enter, and she hurried to him to give him a big hug. “Any news yet of Dorenn?”

  “None that I have heard,” Trendan said, saddened at seeing Dellah’s hopes fade.

  She straightened Trendan’s tunic. “I was certain he would return at the news of Brookhaven being in such danger.”

  Trendan swallowed hard. “I have come to tell you I will be scouting the mountains for the next week. I strongly suggest you and Lourn move along with the villagers heading west. It is not safe in Brookhaven any longer.”

  Dellah smoothed out her apron anxiously. “Nonsense, this is my home. Lourn and I built it from the ground up, and I will not be forced out. What if Dorenn returns and he cannot find us?”

  “Mistress Dellah,” Trendan pleaded, “if the army I have seen in the mountains comes this way, there may be no inn for Dorenn to come home to. He will know you moved west.”

  “I will take my chances.”

  “Your stubbornness could get you killed, mistress. What if Dorenn comes home to that?”

  Dellah arched up. “Look who speaks to me so, Trendan Faylor. I have seen you knee high to a grasshopper, and I will not abide by that tone from you!”

  “Forgive me, Mistress Dellah, I was merely concerned with your wellbeing. And I was an adult when I came to Brookhaven.”

  “It’s an expression, besides, to the elves you were still very young.” Dellah patted Trendan’s chest. “Now go and serve Symboria and make us all proud.”

  Trendan kissed her forehead. “I will, mistress, I promise I will.”

  Trendan reluctantly turned for the door.

  “Trendan dear,” Dellah stopped him.

  “Yes, mistress?” he answered.

  “Who will be going along with you on your scouting trip?”

  “Ganas Nashe, why?”

  “Good, he is a strong lad; give him my best wishes as well.”

  “I will, mistress,” Trendan said, and then he stepped out onto the porch.

  Trendan checked his bow, adjusted his quiver, checked his sword, and headed to the outpost headquarters located in the oldest and largest house in Brookhaven.

  Traditionally, the house was the home of Brookhaven’s highest town elder, but the village had built another house nearer to the town square for the elder to live in a few seasons ago. The old house consisted of one floor with four rooms of equal size. The outside of the house was a bit overgrown with brush and snake vines, and the thatched roof was virtually undistinguishable from the vines growing into it. The soldiers had cleared away the vines covering the front windows to allow the general to have a better view of the main cobblestone street.

  Trendan entered the old house and met with General Rellagorn. The general was a tall man with a long greying beard. His steel blue eyes were cold and penetrating. His skin looked windblown. He had been exposed to the sun for far too long. His silver armor overlaid with a blue and red tabard was impeccable.

  “Lad.” The general addressed Trendan and looked him over from top to bottom. “A scout?”

  “Aye, sir. Trendan Faylor at your service, my lord.” He bowed to the general.

  “Good, you must be local, yet I see a hint of elf in your features.”

  “I am half-elven, my lord, but Brookhaven is the only place I have ever called home.”

  The general put on his remaining white glove. “I have great respect for what you are doing, lad. The armies of the West could use a few more such as you; brave yet dangerous thing scouting.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Well, carry on then,” he said.

  “Aye, sir.”

  Trendan watched the general leave. Several attendants rushed to the general’s side as he strolled away toward his men. Trendan found Ganas making final adjustments to his equipment. Ganas was dressed similarly to Trendan in a green tunic and breeches with a brown vest and jacket. Over his shoulder was his bow and quiver, and at his side was his sword. Two backpacks hung on either shoulder. Although he was much younger than Trendan, Ganas looked older. He had the face and build of a stout Brookhaven mountain man. He stood a head taller than Trendan, and he sported a brown and red beard on his pleasant round face.

  “There you are, Trendan, I was beginning to worry.”

  “I had to stop by the inn and talk with Mistress Dellah.”

  “Ah, is she still insisting on staying in Brookhaven?”

  “Of course she is, in spite of my insistence that she and Lourn leave.”

  “She hopes Dorenn will return.”

  “I have told her the story of the Dramyd attack many times, and Morgoran made it very clear to me that Dorenn would not be able to come home for some time.”

  “Did he say if Dorenn would ever be returning?” Ganas asked.

  “I am not certain. I asked him that question, and he mumbled something about the kings of old, and then he called me betrayer. He mumbled some more and told me Dorenn had to fulfill some purpose before he could return to Brookhaven.”

  “What purpose?”

  “He would not say, or at least I could not understand him.”

  Ganas hefted another backpack over his shoulder. “Well, I am ready; I have the horses tied in back. Captain Argore has his troops posted above the Southern Pass. We are to report to him there.”

  “We had better get moving then if we want to reach the pass by nightfall,” Trendan said. Ganas glanced back at the valley where Brookhaven glistened in the afternoon sun. Trendan noticed the expression on Ganas’s face. “What is it?”

  Ganas sat upright and adjusted his weight in the saddle. “I just got this terrible feeling that I will never see Brookhaven again.”

  “My brother said the same thing before he went to fight in the Ishrak wars, but he came back and Brookhaven was still there to greet him.”

  “Brookhaven was not in danger of being overrun in the Ishrak wars, Trendan.”

  “True, but every soldier going off to war worries about not seeing their home again. It’s natur
al.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Ganas said.

  They rode east a few hours with the sun at their backs. The trail smelled of wildflowers, and the Jagged Mountains loomed in all their majesty before them. With the beauty of the mountains and the greenery of the trees and underbrush, Trendan found it difficult to believe he was riding into danger. After a brief stop at a spring for water, Trendan saw something out of place far down the trail ahead. He strained to see what it was. Something was off in a clump of trees on the northern trail up the side of the mountain. “What is that?”

  Ganas squinted to see what Trendan had spotted. “What? I see nothing.”

  “On the northern trail, it looks like a wagon lodged in those trees halfway up the mountain.”

  Ganas sat back in his saddle. “You forget about those half-elven eyes of yours. I cannot see near that far away.”

  “Sorry, Ganas, I did forget. Do you think we should investigate? It may be someone in trouble.”

  Ganas looked to the sky and then at the eastern trail. “I think we have time to scout it out.”

  As the two scouts approached the wagon, it became obvious it was missing a wheel and there were no horses. Trendan dismounted and shouted his presence, but no one answered. Ganas stayed on his horse with his bow drawn as Trendan opened the rear door and peered inside. “The wagon has not been here long. It looks as if a few provisions were gathered. I would presume by the wagon’s size that it was pulled by one horse and had one, perhaps two, occupants. Whomever it belonged to rode the horse back toward the mountains; I can still see the hoof tracks.”

  “Should we follow the tracks?” Ganas asked.

  “I think so. I’m curious now. I don’t see any signs of injury or struggle, but they still may need help.”

  “Is there anything in the wagon to arouse suspicion?”

  “Not that I can see. In fact, I think the owner may be a woman.”

  “A woman? What makes you think that?”

  Trendan climbed up into the wagon and pulled out a dress with the tip of his sword.

  Ganas un-nocked his arrow. “This is no place for a woman in distress; the outpost will have to wait.” He peered at the darkening sky. “We need to find her before nightfall. These mountains will be freezing before morning.”

  “I wonder why she went back up into the mountains. Brookhaven is only a few hours’ ride,” Trendan said. He mounted his horse. “This way,” he said, and the two scouts began following the trail. An hour later, Trendan saw what he thought must have been the woman’s destination, a cave partially hidden by a copse of trees.

  “If she isn’t hurt, we’ll take her back to Brookhaven. I’m sure the general will understand,” Ganas said.

  “Agreed,” Trendan said.

  Just outside the cave, Trendan stopped and dismounted. “Hail, you in the cave, are you well?” he shouted. There was no reply. “We are citizens of Brookhaven; may we assist you? Our village is not far, and we can escort you there if you wish.” The two scouts waited a few more minutes. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nay, I am not hurt,” said a woman’s voice. “I will come out, but know that I carry a sword and know how to use it.”

  “You are safe with us, my lady, we will not harm you,” Ganas assured her.

  “Very well, I am coming out with my mount.”

  Trendan and Ganas waited as the form of a woman appeared in the fading light, followed by a magnificent black mare with a white patch on its nose. The woman wore all dark leather and carried a wicked-looking sword of a design Trendan had not seen before. She had long, flowing raven hair and appeared to be a daughter of man, but with sharp features. Trendan was immediately smitten with her. When she stood but a few feet from Trendan, he could see her eyes were a striking emerald green.

  “Are you going to tell me your names or will you just stand there staring at me?”

  Trendan regained his senses. “I am Trendan Faylor and this is Ganas Nashe, and we are scouts of Symboria. May I ask your name, fair lady?”

  “You may,” she said. She smiled but said nothing.

  Ganas and Trendan just stared at her dumbfounded.

  She sighed. “I am called Fayne.”

  “Fayne? What kind of name is that?” Trendan blurted out.

  “It is the name my mother gave me. What kind of name is Trendan?”

  “Forgive me, my lady, I misspoke,” Trendan said, feeling silly for his sudden outburst. “Why have you come back into the mountains? Brookhaven is only a few hours away.”

  “I got lost and remembered this cave. I could see it from the trail, and I thought I could stay here for the night. I had not realized that Brookhaven was so close.”

  “We could take you there if you wish,” Ganas offered.

  “That is thoughtful of you, but I think I will be fine here in this cave for the night.”

  “These mountains can get cold overnight. Are you certain you want to stay?” Trendan asked.

  Fayne at first looked confused and then nervous. “I cannot go to Brookhaven. I would be found there.”

  “Oh, by whom?” Trendan asked, his eyes narrowing.

  “Enforcers. They are riding across the mountains if you must know.”

  Ganas gasped. “Are you a…”

  “Wielder,” she finished. “Not in the sense you know.” She paused for thought. “I am not sure I should tell you my business, and I don’t know whether or not you can protect me.”

  “We will not protect you from Enforcers if that is what you mean,” Trendan clarified.

  “I can evade the Enforcers well enough,” she said, “but the army traveling over the mountains from Scarovia is a different matter.”

  “You have seen Naneden’s army?” Ganas asked.

  “I have; they are still several days behind me.”

  Trendan scratched his head. “It is not safe for you to stay here if what you say is true. We will escort you back to Brookhaven. The army of the West is there; besides, the Enforcers would not find you in one night.”

  “They move faster than you know, good Trendan,” she said.

  “We just left a few hours ago and there was no sign of any Enforcers. In fact, many of the villagers have already left Brookhaven for Symbor; the Enforcers will probably have their hands full if they’re trying to check all the travelers on the road.”

  Fayne looked back at the cave. “I appreciate what you are trying to do for me, but I prefer this cave to Brookhaven at the moment. The Enforcers will go there eventually, and I do not intend to make it easy for them to capture me.”

  “Suit yourself. You will probably be captured by an invading army if you stay out here, but I will not debate the issue further.” Trendan led his horse. “Come on, Ganas, leave her be.”

  “Wait, Trendan, nightfall is coming, why not share the cave? We can talk about returning with her in the morrow,” Ganas said.

  “I would welcome your company,” Fayne added.

  Trendan nodded. “It is logical for us to stay in the cave.”

  Something told him Ganas had ulterior motives, but after surveying the sky and feeling the first hints of the cold air of night, he dismounted.

  The interior of the cave was much the same as any other cave: dark, damp and ominous. This particular cave had been used in one form or another by travelers for ages. Trendan could make out black smudge marks where the smoke from fires and lanterns had stained the ceilings. Fayne had already gathered up wood for a fire, and she had cleared a spot for her horse to stable that was easily large enough for all three horses.

  “Ganas and I will unsaddle our horses. We brought some provisions of cheese, dried beef, and beans from the inn.”

  “I brought some wild berry wine as well,” Ganas said as he pulled a bottle from his saddlebags.

  Fayne’s chuckled at the mention of wine, but she quickly regained her composure and began to work on starting the fire. She had made a pit out of several stones. The foundation had already been there from tr
avelers before. She lit the fire by striking flint and steel, and it picked up quickly.

  Trendan reheated the beans on the fire, and Ganas sliced the bread and cheese. Trendan cut some dried beef for each of them, and they washed down the meal with the wine Ganas had brought.

  After they had eaten, Trendan produced his long clay pipe and stuffed it with tabac. Ganas followed with his pipe. Trendan lit his pipe with a long stick from the fire and handed it to Ganas.

  “That pipe smells divine. What are you smoking?” Fayne asked Trendan.

  “It’s tabac grown in Adracoria with ground in cherry blossoms. I have another pipe here somewhere if you care to try it.”

  “I would indeed, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Trendan said, rummaging through his pack for his spare smoking pipe.

  Older women in Brookhaven often smoked pipes. They claimed it cured their aching bones. Trendan had always been suspect of the tabac they used. He found the pipe and packed it with tabac from his pouch. He handed it to Fayne with a smile. “I do not mean to be presumptuous, but do you know how to light a pipe?”

  Fayne stared at him as if he were joking. “My greatfather, my father’s father I mean, smoked a pipe, and I have smoked one on occasion. Back in my village we often smoked pipes in the cold to warm ourselves.”

  “What village is that?” Ganas asked.

  Fayne looked down at her pipe thoughtfully and then began to light it. “It no longer exists, I’m afraid. It was more a mountain camp than a village really. Dramyds raided it when I was in my fourteenth season.”

  “Dramyds? I have not heard of a full Dramyd raid since I was a small boy, and even then the story was meant to scare me and keep me from wandering off too far into the woods,” Ganas said.

  Trendan removed his pipe and let out a puff of smoke. “I was not so fortunate; I have fought Dramyds only this last spring.”

  “You never told me of this,” Ganas said.

  “I try to forget. Pray you don’t run into them anytime soon, Ganas. They are not pleasant.”