The Dragoneer Trilogy

by Vickie Knestaut

  A tiny shiver passed through her.

  “But the people in The Wilds,” Trysten said as she looked back to Galelin, “they might speak whatever language it is that the prisoners speak.”

  Galelin sipped his tea, then made a sour face and glanced into the cup as if it had deeply insulted him.

  “It would be a fool’s errand to try to talk to them,” Galelin spat as he stretched out the scroll his cup had been anchoring. He sat the cup down with a thump. “The people of The Wilds are just that — wild. Thieves. Murderers.”

  “Surely, however, living on the border between two kingdoms, some of them must trade with both kingdoms. They’d have to speak the language of each to do so, right?” Trysten asked.

  “Trade?” Galelin snorted. “There is a reason we call The Wilds as we do. There is no trade. There are only clans that take what they want and war with their neighbors. They live a hard existence. I can’t imagine why anyone out there would speak both languages. In fact, I doubt that anyone out there speaks our language to start with.”

  Trysten stood and paced the short distance to the fireplace. Heat baked off the coals, but there was little sign of an actual fire.

  “We have to establish communication with these prisoners. We need to know what is going on.”

  Galelin nodded. “Communication is good. I won’t deny that. But can you risk going out there for the empty hope that you might—”

  “I wouldn’t leave,” Trysten said. “My place is here, in the weyr. I would send a courier and a hordesman on dragons.”

  “Dragons are useless in The Wilds. The canopy of trees is too thick for them to pass through. Dragons can’t land in the woods. Besides, if you send only a hordesman and a courier out there on the backs of dragons, they would be taken by the Wild Ones in no time at all. They’d see them coming from miles off, and they would suspect that anyone riding a dragon would be carrying something of value.”

  “We have to try. Those…” Trysten gestured out beyond the corner where the wall met the ceiling. “The Second Hordesmen. We have to know…” Trysten paced back to the other end of the cottage, past Galelin, and turned around. She crossed her arms over her chest again. “We have to establish some way to communicate. Whatever is going on here isn’t just another fighting season. This is unlike anything that has passed before.”

  She glanced at the sword again. Her blood ran cold as she thought of the hordesmen plunging the blades into their mounts. Her breath caught as she recalled the sudden wallop of pain from all of the dragons, the way their wings folded up as if something inside them had snapped, and like broken puppets, they all collapsed and fell from the sky.

  Trysten rubbed her hands over her upper arms, then looked away from the sword. “It’s worth the risk. We have to figure out what is going on.”

  Galelin’s gaze drifted to the floor, and then as if surprised that he didn’t find anything of interest there, he turned his attention to the book beside him. He reached out for his cup, took a sip, grimaced and peered into it, then placed it back on the corner of the scroll he had initially taken it from.

  “I suppose you’re right,” he said with a sigh. “In the meantime, I can continue my work here.” Galelin patted the open book once again. If it had a tail, Trysten would have expected the book to flick it side to side like a cat.

  “Have you learned any more about the dragonslayer sword?” Trysten asked. She nodded in the direction of the blade, but she wouldn’t look at it again.

  Galelin shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’ve kept an eye open for references to it in my studies, but I’m afraid I know no more about it now than when I told you about it last week.”

  Despite herself, she turned to the sword again. The thing was brutal. It had two functions, as far as she could tell. In addition to slaying dragons, it was designed to intimidate upon sight. It did both fantastically well.

  “If you would like, I could shift my focus to the swords. A different avenue might be the thing that is needed, perhaps. It might lead to something that will help us unravel the mystery of their language.”

  Trysten’s eyes lingered on the sword. Every curved blade she had ever seen before had been sharp on the convex side only. This sword had been sharpened on both the convex and concave sides. The curve, however, was a mystery. She suspected it was designed to allow the blade to slip past the shoulder and on into the heart of the dragon. It was the most brutal, ghastly thing she’d ever seen and it matched the description of the swords carried by the mythical guards of an Original. According to ancient lore, an Original was a being that had survived the efforts of the gods to split their creations into humans and dragons, severing their hold over the lands.

  If she traveled or even sent a courier to Seelia, could she find more information on these swords and the mythical Second Hordesmen who shouldn’t exist outside of a bard’s tale? No. It was an indulgence. Maybe later after the Prince was dealt with. Until then, she couldn’t afford to stretch her resources too thin. Even sending two people to The Wilds on such a slim hope was an indulgence, but she had to do something. The Prince would undoubtedly take the Western prisoners back to the mother city, and she would lose her opportunity to discover whatever it was the prisoners could tell her.

  Trysten turned back to Galelin, ready to tell him to continue his research into the prisoners’ language, but she stopped at the sight of the bags beneath his eyes. He stared at the book and absently ran his hand through his hair again.

  Since she had discovered that he was her uncle, brother to her mother’s own mother, her fondness for the man had grown. Despite how much she wanted the secret to the Western language, she knew it would be cruel to push the man much further.

  “Here are your orders,” she said.

  Galelin looked up from his book as if he wasn’t sure who she was speaking to.

  “Get some sleep,” she said and nodded to a straw mattress in the corner of the cottage. “That is on the order of the Dragoneer. After you have had a long nap, report to the weyr and check up on the battle wounds. I expect a report on the health of our dragons by sunset. Is that clear?”

  Galelin grinned. “You are your father’s daughter,” he said with a shake of his head. He stood and made a show of lifting his arms and stretching his back. “A wise order, indeed.”

  Trysten turned to the door, stopped, and then looked back at Galelin. “Thank you for all of the work you’ve done. All of it.”

  Galelin appeared surprised again, as if not quite sure what she meant, but confident that she wasn’t confused about anything. The grin deepened on his face, and so did the crow’s feet that framed his eyes. “You’re welcome. All I’ve wanted to do with my life is prove myself useful. Since…” And his gaze darted away to the mattress.

  Trysten left him with his haunted memories and stepped outside, closing the door gently behind her.

  She started for the weyr.

  Chapter 5

  The hordesman in the weyr looked up as Trysten entered.

  “Rast, I would see you a moment, please,” Trysten said as she approached Woolyn’s stall.

  “Sure,” Rast said, looking up from the saddle he’d been polishing.

  She pointed to the dining hall used by the hordesmen and weyrmen. It had been a calculated move, to speak to him back in the dining hall as opposed to her den. She wanted to suggest to those watching that she had a private matter to discuss with him, rather than a scolding. Still, she heard a few whispers among the stalls from the other hordesmen and weyrmen. Trysten had learned quickly that gossip among the men in the weyr was as prolific as that at any guildswomen’s meeting. She did her best to tamp it down but today it would have to run its course.

  Rast draped his gear over the half-wall of Woolyn’s stall, then cleaned his hands on a rag. He fell in beside Trysten as she passed, and to her relief, he said nothing and stared straight ahead until they entered the hall.

  “I have a mission for you,” Trysten said as they st
epped out of the weyr proper.

  Rast nodded. “I figured as much.”

  “Not scouting.” Trysten shook her head. “I can’t afford to send people out scouting. Not when we have…” She stopped herself from saying Dragon Lords about. “I have a more pressing need.”

  Rast’s head lowered in concern. “Oh?”

  “I want you and a courier to fly into the Wilds and seek out someone who can translate the language spoken by our prisoners.”

  Rast considered her a moment, then asked, “When would you like me to leave?”

  “As soon as possible. After the noonday meal. Take supplies to hold you for several days, a week even. Take extra for barter. Take a courier dragon. It’ll be easier to maneuver in the woods.”

  “And you need the battle dragons here,” Rast said.

  Trysten nodded. “I’m sending you because I think you are well-suited for this. Your reputation for hand-to-hand combat is well known.”

  “I understand. I won’t let you down.” Rast swallowed, then returned to the weyr with Trysten right behind him. As he went about preparing for his mission, the other hordesmen slowed their activities to watch.

  Trysten gazed out past the hordesmen to the dragons watching her. Two of the dragons that stared at her no longer had riders. Her breath tightened as she pondered how she could have done things differently, how she could have kept men and dragons alive in the battle last week.

  She shook her head. Now was not the time for it. Now she needed to focus on what was coming. Not only did she need hordesmen to replace the fallen riders, she needed hordesmen for each of the dragons out in the weyr yard, waiting for the western riders that would not come back.

  “Where’s Paege?” Trysten asked of the nearest hordesman.

  “Last I saw of him, he was walking with your father.”

  Trysten found Paege and her father, along with two craftsmen, on the other side of the village. Her father gestured and pointed at things that only they could see. He drew shapes in the air, tracing the outline of the new foundation with the tip of his finger. Behind him, one of the men took notes on a slate with a piece of chalk.

  Before she reached them, Paege waved and broke away from the group to meet her.

  “Thanks for that fancy bit of flying this morning,” Trysten called out as he approached. “And helping to capture those escaped prisoners.”

  Paege nodded to show that he heard. As he approached, he gestured back at the small group of men. “Your father is pretty excited by all of this. He will have the foundation staked out by nightfall, and men will begin digging and clearing stone at dawn tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Trysten rubbed her palms down the sides of her hips, took in a deep breath, and peered out to the east once again, to the empty, taunting horizon.

  She turned to look at her father who still held court with a stone cutter and a friend of his. His staff rested in the crook of his elbow as if it were more trouble to lay it down than it was to lean his weight upon it.

  It was the most robust and purposeful she’d seen her father since she watched him step up to ride Aeronwind the last time. The man before her looked more like the father she remembered, the one full of determination and indomitable drive.

  “How is the hunt for recruits going?” Trysten asked, turning back to Paege.

  “Paege!” Mardoc called and motioned with a sweep of his arm.

  Paege held up his index finger to Mardoc, who made no effort to hide his impatience before giving a single nod.

  He turned back to Trysten. “He’s been giving me things to do since we returned from training this morning. It’s hard to get away.”

  Trysten chuckled. “I understand. He can keep a person busy. Tell him you need to find recruits. Tell him I said it.”

  Paege’s face tightened a bit as he looked out at the gray-blue mountains again.

  “What?” Trysten asked.

  “What?” Paege asked as he turned back to her.

  “No, I asked you. What’s the matter? What was that look about?” Her stomach clenched as she sensed bad news coming. He wasn’t about to give up his position as Commander to be a carpenter on the new weyr was he?

  “What look?”

  “The look you gave the mountains just now. The look that said there is some other place you’d rather be, as opposed to standing right here, about to deliver some bad news, right?”

  Paege shook his head. “Well, it’s not bad news, it’s just that… It’s a thought, really. I mean, with your father putting together a team of craftsmen and Tuse putting together a party of cutters, and with six men now tied up with guard duty around the clock, it doesn’t really leave many men to be recruits.”

  Trysten crossed her arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow.

  “What about the women?”

  Paege drew in a sharp breath. Rather than peer back at the mountains, he simply looked over her shoulder without answering her.

  “Have you asked any of the women of the village to join the horde? To become hordesmen?” she asked again.

  “I…” Paege swallowed hard and nodded once. “It’s not that I think women can’t do the job, obviously,” he said and gestured at the length of Trysten, as if her body was evidence to support his coming claim. “But you are… one of a kind. And it’s not like the women in the village are any less busy than the men. They have responsibilities, too.”

  Trysten sighed and looked at the ground.

  “I’m not saying that women can’t,” Paege continued, “I’m just saying that I don’t think that it is a—”

  “Let’s make this easy,” Trysten said. “I’m ordering you to talk to the women. Encourage them to join the horde. We are not settling for female hordesmen, we are in desperate need riders. With a little training, anyone capable of sitting upright, holding a saddle, and staying alert can make a fine hordesman. Is that clear?”

  Paege swallowed and gave a nod. “Will there be anything else?”

  “No,” Trysten said with a shake of her head. “Just get to it soon. We have the second weyr underway. I want to start training new recruits on gestures tomorrow morning. We can’t afford to wait until we have a sizable group of recruits. We must start immediately.”

  Paege nodded, then began to turn away.

  “And if there aren’t any women interested in being hordesmen, see if you can get them to work in the weyr. There are a few weyrmen who can be coaxed into riding if we find someone to replace them. But I want women in the air on the backs of dragons. We need the largest horde we can get, and we are not going to get it with men alone. Everyone must pitch in. Everyone. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll go ask around as soon as I tell your father I’m leaving.” He turned and headed for Mardoc.

  Despite herself, Trysten glanced to the clear sky that ran all the way out to the eastern horizon. At times it felt like the Prince was nearly on them, with the sky hiding him in its thick blueness. She would hardly be surprised to see him appear before her without warning, the first words out of his mouth being orders for her to step aside.

  “Paege,” Trysten called out.

  He stopped and turned back to her.

  “This is for you as well. If anything should ever happen to me, you will lead a great horde. You need every saddle filled.”

  A look of concern folded Paege’s face. “Why? Nothing will happen to you. You…” Paege gestured in the direction of the spot where she had taken down the prisoner. He shook his head. “You are the most unstoppable thing I have ever seen.”

  Trysten grinned and folded her arms over her chest, but her grin quickly faded. “There are threats all around us. We cannot do what we do here without attracting attention. They will come for us.”

  “They?”

  Trysten resisted the urge to check the eastern horizon again. She shuffled her weight from one foot to the other instead. “The—Our enemies.”

  Paege’s back stiffened. “Let them come. And allow them their
regrets.”

  He stood a second longer, his gaze locked on hers, then with a nod, he turned away and started back toward her father, who was deep in discussion with the other two men as if he had forgotten ever signaling for Paege.

  Trysten took a deep breath as she watched Paege walk away. She turned to the east again. Let them come, indeed. She just wished they’d arrive and start the ball rolling. Waiting had become the enemy that rattled her the most.

  Chapter 6

  Kaylar stood next to the table, laughing at what was most likely an embellished story from one of the men. As she glanced up, the laughter dropped from her face as quickly as a tray slipped from the fingers. She grinned and rushed over to Trysten.

  “I’ve never seen you in here before!” Kaylar said as she stepped up to Trysten. “What can I get you?”

  Trysten looked around the gloomy room, its windows thick with dust. “I was in here with my father once, a long time ago.”

  “Well, I wasn’t waiting tables then. Can I get you something to drink?”

  Trysten shook her head. “No. I came to see you, actually.”

  “Me?” Kaylar pressed the tips of her fingers to the low-cut bodice of her dress.

  Trysten motioned to a nearby table, then sat in a chair. Kaylar slid into place with the ease and grace of a dancer.

  “You remember when you came to see me about joining the horde?”

  Kaylar sat up higher in her chair, leaned in closer to Trysten. “Of course. Yes, of course! I meant it, too. Every word of it.” All expression drained from her face as she visibly prepared to hang on every word Trysten was about to utter.

  “You know how many riderless dragons we have. I need hordesmen now. I need to get capable people in those saddles as quickly as possible—”

  “And there aren’t enough men to go around, are there?”

  Trysten shook her head. “I need good people in those saddles regardless of gender. I want you to start training to be a hordesman starting tomorrow.”