Torus shook his head. “I don't know. Or rather, I hope I don’t know. I have a theory that I’m betting you can confirm.”
“That doesn't sound good, Torus.”
Torus stopped and turned to look at his former mentor. He was worried, Royce realized. Really worried. He was struck forcibly by a memory from years gone by. Torus had been a teenager, and involved in the typical tomfoolery that boys his age were bound to get into. Someone had gotten hurt and that injury, as accidental as it was, had weighed heavily on the young man. Royce thought that he looked as worried and apprehensive now as he had on that day so many years ago.
“It’s not, Captain. Not at all.” and Torus's voice dropped to a rough whisper. “If all this means what I think it does, it’s bad. Really bad. For the entire Imperium.”
Royce whistled through his teeth. A village attacked was bad enough. Something bad enough that Torus thought the entire Imperium might be in danger? He quickened his steps and Torus and the girl trotted to keep up.
Crossing over what had once been the threshold into the village, Royce had to press the back of his hand to his mouth. He had experienced every form of carnage known to man, but the stench of a burning body still got him right in the back of the throat. This wasn't just one burning body either, it was what was left of an entire village of corpses thrown into a haphazard pile and set to blaze.
The fire obviously hadn't been tended, as more than a few of the bodies hadn't been consumed by the flames. Royce heard the girl retch behind him and he glanced back to see her doubled over, heaving the dregs of last night's meal onto the charred ground between her feet. He felt for her, but it would do her well to learn this lesson now and harden herself against it. She would face much worse and she would have to be ready. She'd have to develop a stronger stomach for the atrocities of monsters and men.
“This is everyone?” Royce circled the pile of bodies, taking note of which were completely destroyed and which were only partially eaten. If there was a pattern there, he couldn't see it.
“Everyone we know of,” Torus replied slowly. “We didn't bring the youngster back into the...well, the ruins. We didn't want to scar her even more.”
“Wise.”
Silence fell again and Royce continued his careful plodding walk around the perimeter of the bodies. He was pleased when he noticed that the girl had fallen into step behind him, following the same path, walking, literally, in his footsteps. He saw her straighten as her mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise. He turned to her, and she pointed, dropping to one knee.
“This one, Sir. It looks,” she swallowed hard. “It looks as if this one has marks.”
Royce walked over and knelt down beside her. The stench was much more powerful this close to the center of the pile. He could feel the heat coming off the bodies and he was thankful that the girl had steeled herself for the task that must be performed. He looked where she pointed, to the thigh bone of a young man whose upper half was all but unrecognizable.
“You're right, little one,” he said, lightly touching the bite marks on the leg. He grasped the foot, turning the leg gently from side to side. The flesh had been torn from the bone and there were long grooves etched in the red-tinged ivory. “So what eats humans and piles them up to burn the bodies?”
“Wolves?” she asked tentatively.
Torus snorted and Royce shot him a quelling look.
“Wolves don't burn down buildings, little one.” Royce looked at her, willing her to make the connection that he had made.
Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, slowly at first, then with increasing fervor. “No. No, Sir. That's impossible.”
Royce's smile was humorless.
“Few things are impossible, little one. Most are merely improbable.”
“But,” she blanched as she looked at him. “But the Xarundi are a myth. They're a ghost story that mothers tell their children to make sure they are home before dusk. This isn't possible.”
“Have you ever considered, little one, that maybe every myth has a grain of truth?”
“But,” she said again. Her mouth worked silently for a moment before she finally gave up and pressed her lips together in a thin white line.
Royce sympathized with her. It wasn't an easy thing to learn that the nightmares you had as a child were suddenly coming true. If this was a Xarundi attack, and he couldn't see how it could be the result of anything else, it was the first since his childhood. Since his father had been the Captain and he just a little boy tagging along to learn what it meant to be the most powerful fighter in the Imperium.
He remembered the first day that he learned monsters were real and he felt a strong sense of remorse that he was the cause of the end of innocence in the girl. Still, better that she learn now, while he could protect her, then later when he couldn't.
Torus sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with a massive calloused hand.
“I was really hoping you'd have better news for me, Captain.”
Brushing his fingers in the dirt to scour off the thin film of blood, Royce stood and brushed his hands together, as if the gesture could not only remove the dirt but also the memory of what they had seen.
“I don't like it either, Torus. There are troubling questions here.” He ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke. “First, why this village? What was its importance? Second, why now? Why come out of hiding after thirty years? Finally, what do they want? And more importantly, how do we stop them?”
Torus shook his head, his face a grave mask of anxiety.
“I don't know. I do know that the King needs to know about this right away. I'll ride for Dragonfell immediately.”
“We'll go with you.”
Torus shook his head slowly.
“I'd welcome your company, Captain. I would. But the girl...”
“The girl,” Royce said firmly, “is under my care and protection. Where I go, she goes.”
For a moment, Royce was certain that Torus would decide that he didn't need the company after all. He hadn't trained a fool though. He knew that Torus would want his input when they briefed the King. Although slaves weren't well tolerated in the capital city, Royce was confident in his ability to diffuse any unpleasantness that might arise.
“Alright,” Torus said finally. “But you might want to warn her first. She's not apt to receive a warm welcome.”
Royce motioned for Tiadaria to follow him and stepped downwind, away from the bodies.
“Torus is blunt, but he’s right. If we go to Dragonfell, it’s not going to be easy on you. Slaves aren't welcome in the King's backyard. There are likely to be those who loudly call for your removal from the city. Some of them might even try to do it themselves. Even so, I would be there to protect you. I offer you the choice, we go or we stay...but either one, we do together.”
The girl regarded him for a moment and Royce returned her gaze evenly. He could almost see the thoughts tumbling about in her head and he urged her in his thoughts to stand up to the challenge. He thought she would. She didn't back down from a fight easily.
“We go. I've heard stories about Dragonfell. If the stories about the Xarundi are true, the tales of the grandeur and opulence of the King’s palace might be as well. I want to see that! Besides, how many slaves can boast of an audience with the King?”
Royce snorted. “Not many at that, little one. It’s not going to be fun and games. It’s going to be a long journey and a rough landing at the end. You're up for that?”
She paused only a moment before she replied and Royce respected her calm dignified answer. “As long as you're with me, Sir, I'm up for anything.”
“Then we ride for Dragonfell.”
* * *
Tiadaria had no idea what had possessed her to agree to such madness. It was well after dark when they finally called a halt to their first day's travel. Her bottom and legs were sore from the hard ride. They had pushed the horses as far as they thought they safely could. All she wanted to do now was
curl up in a ball and go to sleep, but the horses needed to be rubbed down and a meal needed to be cooked. These duties, obviously, fell to her.
As she stirred a thin travel stew in a pot that Torus had provided from his saddlebags, she pondered exactly what had come over her to agree to such a foolhardy journey. In a few weeks, the fire of her resistance had died down to embers. Every now and again those embers would flare up and she would remember her indignation at being bought and sold, but for the most part, she served the Captain because it was comfortable and pleased her to do so, not because it was expected of her.
He treated her well and kindly. The only times he was harsh with her were the times, during training, when she wasn't paying attention or was being intentionally obstinate. He had taught her many things about fighting with swords and staves. He claimed that she was helping keep his reflexes sharp and he seemed to genuinely enjoy the practice. However, she had noticed him taking a swig off the flask he kept tucked in his belt all too often.
She had tried to ignore that, but she had found, much to her growing chagrin, that she would miss him if something were to happen to him. He wasn't just the man who had purchased her anymore. He was the man who had saved her from execution, because he thought she could be more. That kernel of knowledge, which she had denied so vehemently at the outset of their relationship, had grown into a strong, sinewy vine of grudging trust.
She finished with the stew and served both men first, then herself. She sat down on a log to eat, and then settled into the grass when she found that the log was far too hard and unyielding to sit on with her sores. They ate in silence, every one of them too tired to do more than gulp down the soup and spread out a bedroll.
As she spread out the thin blanket she kept under her saddle, the Captain approached her from around the fire. Torus was already rolled on his side, his back to the banked warmth of the embers, snoring softly. The Captain hunkered down beside her and motioned to her blanket.
“Lay down, little one. On your stomach.”
Tiadaria's stomach dropped suddenly. Was he really going to take her here? In the open, under the stars, with another man a rock's throw away? Tia knew that it was his right, but in the weeks that she had been his, he had never taken a single action that led her to believe that he thought about her in that way.
Her mouth suddenly dry and empty of words to say, Tia silently did what he commanded. She lowered herself to the blanket and pillowed her head on her arms. She was his property, she reminded herself bitterly. She should be happy that he had waited this long. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she was proud that they were as silent as her mouth, slipping out of the corners unnoticed by the Captain.
His deft fingers undid her belt and he laid it slowly aside. His careful, plodding movements almost enraged her. She wanted to scream at him to finish, to do what he needed to do and stop tormenting her, but she couldn't bring herself to make a sound. She couldn't help but tense, however, when his thick fingers slipped into the waistband of her breeches and pulled them down, exposing her bottom to the cool night air.
The Captain reached across her back, snapping a long leaf off a bush there. Tiadaria watched him out of the corner of one watering eye. He took the leaf and squeezed a thick, clear sap from the broken end, coating his fingers with it. Then he gently spread the sap on the worst of her sores. Instantly, Tiadaria sighed with relief. The pain of the broken skin subsided rapidly and before she knew it, the Captain had pulled her breeches back up and covered her with the nape of the blanket.
He knelt down by her head, showing her the bruised end of the leaf that he had used to ease her suffering.
“Remember this plant, little one. You rode long, hard, and well today. You earned those sores you have. Don't think I don't know how much they hurt. I've had them myself from time to time. But the sap of this plant will set you right.”
He paused then, a thick finger reaching out to trace the track of a tear, still glistening in the firelight.
“I'm sorry, Sir,” she whispered, a new tear rolling out of the corner of her eye. “I thought--”
Tiadaria saw the pained look flicker across his face and in that moment, she hated herself for being the cause of his pain. The tears came in earnest now, her sobs threatening to wake Torus.
“I know what you thought, little one.” He laid his hand on her head and the shock of their mutual connection coursed through her.
Over weeks of training, she had come to be able to ignore the sensation for the most part, only noticing it when it was particularly sudden or unexpected. The bond-shock made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her spine tingle with anticipation. This wasn't the pain she was used to, but rather a pain-pleasure that made her ache all over.
“You are lovely in every way, little one, but I can't do that. If that ever changes, I promise you that I'll tell you first.”
“I am yours, Sir.” She looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red from her tears. Their eyes locked and in that moment, Tiadaria realized that she really was his.
The collar was incidental. She was his property, true, but her desire to leave had been replaced by an equally strong desire to serve him and to learn everything that he could teach her. To be with him for as long as he had, and to comfort him when his time was drawing to a close.
“I know,” the Captain said softly. “And I will ever be yours, but not that way. I think I told you that once before.”
Tiadaria smiled then, remembering their first encounter on the road to the cottage, how he had knocked the feet out from under her and sent her sprawling in the dirt. If only she had known then what she knew now.
“Yes, Sir,” she sighed. “I believe you did.”
“Get some sleep, little one. Our days are going to be long and difficult for a while and you're going to need it.”
With that, he turned from her and went to his own blanket, rolling away from her and sharing the warmth of the fire with Torus. Tiadaria listened to their discordant snoring for a long time before she, too, finally slept.
~~~~
CHAPTER TEN
Royce reined his stallion in and brought it into step with Tiadaria’s gelding. The journey had been long and tedious, but she had acquitted herself of it without complaint. Every evening she would care for the horses and make whatever meal was to be prepared for that day.
Then she would serve them before she served herself. In the morning she would scrub the small pot and on more than one occasion, she had gathered fresh berries to help break their fast. If there had been any question in Royce’s mind about her suitability as his successor, no doubt remained. She conducted herself with the poise and grace of a highborn lady, though the collar would forever deny her those privileges.
“We’re nearly there, little one.” Royce smiled at her sigh of relief. She quickly composed her features into an impassive mask, but he understood how she felt. The trip had been longer than he would have liked as well. “Trust me, the descent into Dragonfell will be worth everything you’ve gone through.”
She snorted and he shook his head. The gentle gait of the horse’s walk required no thought or effort on his part and he easily slipped into the past. He could still remember, vividly, the first time his father had brought him to Dragonfell. He wondered if the girl would feel the same sense of awe and wonder as he had. He had been younger and his journey had been much shorter. He hoped that their time on the road wouldn’t diminish her enjoyment of the experience.
The rough road pitched upward and they began the steep climb to the top of the last ridge they would encounter before they reached the city. Once they crested the ridge, they would be able to look down into the valley and see the grandeur of Dragonfell laid out before them.
It was said that the Imperium of Man was founded on the backs of the last dragons. The legend went that three brothers, each declaring themselves to be King, would have a contest of sport. Each brother would attempt to find and slay a fierce dragon. Whoever killed the fierc
est beast and lived to tell the tale would be the One True King of the Imperium and all of mankind.
The first brother went south to the elven forests, where he found and did battle with a cruel green dragon. The beast was huge and cunning, and the brother was certain that his triumph over the creature would place him in the throne as the One True King. For three days and nights, they battled each other, slipping in and out of the trees and around the wooden city of Aldstock where the elves held their High Court.
The elves turned on the human intruder, for killing any creature of the wood, even a vile and vicious dragon, was forbidden. Beset on two sides, the brother fought with all his skill and cunning to defeat the dragon and the elven King. After a time, he managed to put them both down and brought not only the dragon’s head, but the elven King’s bow back to the village.
The second brother went west, to the lands of the dwarves in their high mountain holds. He had heard stories of a terrible red dragon that terrorized the mountain folk and demanded sacrifices to prevent his unholy wrath. The brother wandered the mountains for days without seeing the dragon. The dwarves were unwilling to help. They knew it would be their hide that would be flayed if the brother failed and the dragon learned who had betrayed him.
Finally, weary and ready to turn back and admit his failure, the second brother quite literally stumbled into a crevasse and found the giant red beast. His search above had been in vain, for he found the creature guarding a single crimson egg, its shell gleaming brightly in the semi-darkness of the fissure. A fierce battle ensued, for the dragon was fighting not only for its own life, but for the life of its offspring as well.
No amount of battle could save the dragon, and the second brother emerged victorious, striking a killing blow through the heart of the great beast. Rather than take its head, he took the malevolently shining egg back to the village where he met with the first brother. They each boasted of their accomplishments, showing off their treasures as signs of their prowess and worthiness to be king.
The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 Page 9