Chapter 30
Laughter from the hordesmen stopped as Trysten stepped into the dining hall. The hall had been designed to accommodate about thirty people—a horde plus some guests. With the addition of the new hordesmen, chairs had been collected from around the weyr and placed against the walls along with a couple of the tables kept for the burial banquets.
One of the new hordesmen stood from the bench he had been sitting on. His posture was impeccable, shoulders back, his gray beard neatly trimmed. He was a perfect example of military discipline.
A cold dread filled Trysten. It didn’t bode well for her. The last thing she needed was another Muzad, this time in her own horde.
The man turned his head to the other men sitting near him, and without a word all of the former royal hordesmen stood as well, but not as quickly or as smartly as the first one.
“Karno of the mother city,” the first man said. “Commander—Former Commander of the royal horde, eighth wing.” He inclined his head in a bow of respect that mimicked the one she’d seen her father give Prince Aymon when they were introduced.
“Trysten of Aerona. I am the Dragoneer of Aerona weyr.”
“I imagined as much. You are quite the topic of conversation this evening,” he gave another slight nod and a grin that appeared almost fatherly.
“Please,” Karno continued, “allow me to introduce the other riders of the former eighth wing.”
Trysten’s jaw tightened at the mention of former, and the tension was mirrored in the faces of the men who stood around Karno.
After the introductions, Trysten explained that they would do their best to accommodate the new hordesmen and their dragons. After a short update about the impending battle, she welcomed them and assured them she was proud to have royal hordesmen join the Aerona horde. Every effort would be made to integrate them as quickly and painlessly as possible.
She turned to Karno. “May I speak with you?”
“Certainly.” Karno gave a curt nod to his former hordesmen. They appeared to relax slightly but did not turn their attention from Trysten.
“What can I do for you?” Karno asked as he approached. He held his hands out slightly at his side, palms open.
“Join me in my den, please,” Trysten said, then turned away from the other hordesmen.
As they passed back into weyr proper, Rodden chattered something as he continued to stand beside Maejel and stroke her head.
“You have one of the devils as a pet, I see,” Karno observed.
“He’s a prisoner,” Trysten said and stiffened with the anger and frustration that was usually elicited by Muzad. “We’re trying to learn his language so that we can better defend ourselves and maybe learn why they keep invading our land."
Karno looked forward, saying nothing. He clasped his hands behind his back and kept his spine straight and shoulders rigid. Trysten straightened her own posture as well, feeling slightly sloppy next to the man.
“Forgive me,” Karno finally said. “It’s been a trying day. A trying day at the hands of his kinsmen. I lost my Dragoneer and a number of friends today.”
“What happened?” Trysten asked, turning for the stairs to the den.
“We were summoned by the King and told to fly to Aerona in search of Prince Aymon. We left the mother city right away and flew straight here. As we came across a lush valley, Pherrim, our Dragoneer, signaled for us to descend. He led us to a clearing along the shore of the river. The devils erupted out of a clearing on the other side of the valley. Two hordes against our one. We thought they were skymen, thieves and rogues, except for their numbers.”
“Their dragons weren’t hooded,” Trysten said, a statement more than a question.
Karno nodded. “Aye. They weren’t hooded. Didn’t look like Western hordesmen at all. Even after we landed in your weyr yard, I still thought we were dealing with skymen until I heard them speak. But, the speed at which they overpowered us did give me pause. It was unlike a band of rogues to fight so well against trained, royal hordesmen. When it was obvious that they had the advantage over us, Pherrim ordered us to fall back to Aerona, where we might encounter the local horde and even up the odds.”
“Prince Aymon said that none of his couriers made it from here to the mother city. That is correct?” Trysten asked.
“It is. If it weren’t for the courier he dispatched from Hollin letting his father know where he was going, we wouldn’t have even known where to start looking for him.”
They mounted the stairs. As they climbed to Trysten’s den, a knot formed in her belly.
“Is that the sword taken from The Second Hordesmen?” Karno asked from behind Trysten.
She straightened some, felt the slight slap of the scabbard across her hip with each step. “It is. You've heard of them?”
“Your men—our men, that is, have been telling us stories ever since we sat down in the dining hall. They’ve been very welcoming to us. We are indebted to your hospitality.”
At the top of the stairs, Trysten paused on the landing for a second, then pushed the door open.
It creaked as it swung wide. The receiving room was empty, the fire cold due to the day’s heat. In the den, her table sat vacant in the late evening light. Trysten stepped inside the receiving room, then paused. She listened for a noise, any sound, the creak of weight shifting across floorboards.
“Is everything all right?” Karno asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Trysten said. “I think so. Did they tell you about my run-in with the Original?”
Karno didn’t respond right away. “Well, they did, but to be honest, I had a hard time believing it. I kind of thought they were pulling a joke on us.”
Trysten moved across the receiving room and paused at the doorway to the inner den. Her hand moved to the hilt of her sword. She held her breath, listened a moment more, then stepped through the doorway and turned quickly around.
Nothing but shadows waited for her.
Karno reached up and rested a hand on either side of the doorway. “You are enough to make an old man wary of shadows.”
Trysten turned around again. She resisted the urge to crouch and look under the table.
“Please,” she said as she motioned to the chair before the table. “Sit."
Karno sat and looked around at the charts and books in the room. He watched as Trysten took her seat at the head of the table. A smile spread across his face.
“What is it?” Trysten asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “I was just appreciating how different your den is than Pherrim’s is, or was, I guess is the case now.”
“About that,” Trysten said. She leaned forward and laced her fingers together and rested her elbows on the table as she’d seen her father do hundreds of times before. “You understand what has happened here. Your horde has absconded and been adopted by our own alpha, Elevera.”
Karno nodded. His beard, halfway down his chest, made a scratching sound across the front of his tunic as he did so. "A fine dragon she is, at that."
“And you understand that as the bonded rider of Elevera, I am the Dragoneer of this weyr.”
Karno nodded again. He parted his lips to speak but then appeared to think better of it.
“Please,” Trysten said. “If you have any concerns, I’d like to hear about them sooner rather than later.”
The steps outside creaked. Trysten’s back went stiff. Then one of the weyrboys appeared in the doorway with a pitcher and cups clutched in his hands. Trysten nodded to him, and he brought it to her.
“Thank you,” Trysten said.
The boy nodded once, then hurried off.
“Fine boys you have out here,” Karno said. “I dare say that the ones in the city have a bit of attitude about them. Think that they should work for a copper or two, rather than for the security of the kingdom and their homes.”
“Do you have any concerns about my being the Dragoneer of this weyr?” Trysten
asked. She didn't want to stray from the topic she needed to address.
Karno gripped his knees, then rubbed his palms over them. He finally shook his head. “I do not, ma’am. I have lived my life by the wisdom of dragons, and if they see fit to bond with you, then I will follow their will into battle. My life and my loyalty are gifts from the kingdom, and I give them freely to the kingdom’s dragoneers.”
Trysten’s shoulders relaxed a bit. She nearly smiled in gratitude to not have to deal with a second Muzad.
“But,” Karno continued, “I have to admit that I know my men, and a few of them are less than keen on the direction of their recent fortune. When we left the mother city a few days ago, we were royal hordesmen, direct servants of the Dragon Master of the King’s court. We lived in the greatest city in the land. And now, here we are, hordesmen in a village garrison on the edge of the kingdom, far away from our families and friends.”
Karno’s gaze faltered. He looked to the top of the table as if thinking of someone who would miss him terribly now that his duty to the King and loyalty to the dragons had stranded him far from home.
A wave of remorse passed over Trysten. She felt bad that she had taken these men from those they loved and knew. There was nothing to be done about it though. It could as easily have happened to her and her horde. She stopped. No, it couldn’t. She had no idea what it must be like for the former royal hordesmen, and she needed to remember that and temper her impatience. She nodded to assure Karno that he had been heard.
“But,” Karno said as he raised his eyes back to Trysten, “that is the wisdom of dragons. Ours have chosen to follow your Elevera, and now she is ours as we are hers. And the men are wise enough to know that the alternative would have been an honorable death that no one ever would have heard of. But now...” his eyes went to the window behind Trysten. He lifted his brow slightly. “Now we will be hordesmen in a battle that will be spoken of for all of time, if I understand things correctly.”
Trysten resisted the urge to turn and look out the window, as if the man were referring to some other battle that might be looming behind her.
“We are up against some stark odds,” Trysten said.
“Stark? My word, ma’am. You must have a gift for understatement as well as dragons’ hearts and minds. From what we’ve been told, there is an army that numbers in the thousands approaching from the mountains. They have contraptions that launch spears at incredible heights and speeds, enough to keep dragons at bay. And it is all put together by the Originals, who want the first and only female dragoneer—a Dragon Lord—since the days of Adalina.”
Trysten sat back in her chair and raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve been filled in on the current state of things, then?”
“By the dragon's breath," Karno chuckled, running a hand over the skin of his bald head. "I thought for sure that you were going to tell me that your men like to tell fancy tales. But you’re telling me that everything they’ve said is true?”
“The hordesmen of Aerona do not lie,” Trysten said with a smile.
Karno let out a long breath, then slapped the tops of his thighs. He shook his head. “I’ll be a rotten egg, then.” He smiled at Trysten. “I have had more than my share of luck. Do you know how old I am?”
Trysten shook her head.
“Care to guess?”
Trysten shook her head again.
“Fifty-three.”
Trysten nodded. The man was a good number of years older than her father even. “You wear it well,” she said.
“I’ve lived a charmed life,” Karno said. “As far as I know, I’m the oldest hordesman still on a dragon. I keep flying Ollym into battle, and we keep managing to survive. And just when I think it’s over for me, that Ollym will have to find a new rider, here we end up with a shoulder-top seat for the greatest battle fought since the founding of the kingdom. It is one wild way to go!”
Trysten lifted her eyebrow again. “I’m hoping that it isn’t anyone’s way to go.”
Karno chuckled. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather die in my bed after a long period spent boring young hordesmen with my old tales. But the truth of the matter is that a man’s luck will only carry him so far, and I can’t imagine what on this good land will ever top the battle I now find myself facing. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Trysten of Aerona. I am a man who will have the good fortune of either a meaningful death or a bewildering victory. Either way, I will be satisfied. I just ask that I don’t end up fallen, crippled and lame.”
Trysten’s face went tight, expressionless. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her hands.
“Oh,” Karno said with a flush. “That’s right. That’s how you got this position. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Just that I hope to...” Karno stood. “I hope to serve King and kingdom.”
All of his joviality was gone, and the man was once again the rigid and stiff hordesmen she’d seen in the dining hall. What must his relationship with Pherrim have been like? He seemed an honorable man, not afraid to laugh at himself. She looked forward to flying with him.
Trysten placed her hands upon the table top and stood as well. “No offense taken, Karno. The kingdom is fortunate that my father survived his accident so that he might continue to pass his wisdom and experience on to me and others.”
“Indeed. Yes, we are, ma’am.”
She expected him to salute, and his arm nearly twitched to bring his hand to his head. Had he inquired of the other hordesmen whether or not the salute was practiced out here?
“It may take some time to get used to the way we do things in Aerona as I'm sure we are different from the city hordes,” Trysten said. “If you have any questions, please see Paege, who I assume you've met.”
“Yes, ma’am. He introduced himself to us. He’s been very helpful in this transition.”
She smiled. “I appreciate your support. Welcome to Aerona.”
Karno’s face softened into a look of mild bewilderment. “Support? Of course. You are the Dragoneer. I am the King’s hordesman.”
“All the same,” Trysten said with a nod.
Karno stared for a second longer, then turned and left the den.
Chapter 31
The following morning, Trysten stepped into the weyr before the sun had risen over the horizon. Dim light fell through the high windows along the walls, but most of the light came from a lantern atop a table near the middle of the weyr. There, one of the weyrmen looked up with bleary eyes from the saddle before him. At the end of the weyr, one of the hordesmen rested on a stool, his back against the wall, chin on his chest. His snores drifted through the weyr in a rhythm that was very much out of step with the rhythm of the dragons, all breathing in unison with Elevera now that Trysten had entered the hall.
Though the guard slept, Trysten knew that Rodden was still in his stall. Likely asleep at the feet of Maejel.
"Can I get you something?" the weyrman asked Trysten.
"Wake Paege. Tell him to meet me in the secondary yard. It's not an emergency, but I want to see him as soon as possible."
The weyrman dropped the straps of the Western saddle he had been inspecting, then hurried off toward the back of the aisle. As he passed the sleeping guard, he let out a muffled, yet pointed cough. The guard stirred, opened his eyes, and suddenly snapped to attention, then peered over the half-wall. Apparently satisfied that Rodden was indeed still in the stall, he turned back to Trysten and nodded once as he rubbed his hands across the tops of his thighs.
Trysten turned away from the guard, looked up to her den above the weyr. Would there be an Original in there now, waiting for her? Ready to make her a new offer now that she knew the reinforcements weren't coming?
Her jaw tightened just thinking the Original might be there, in her chair, waiting for her. Her hand strayed to the pendant beneath her tunic, her fingertips tracing the edge of the tooth. She pressed slightly and felt the tooth push against her breastbone.
She swallowed, then started for t
he side door. If they wanted to make her an offer, then let them come to her. She had things to do.
As soon as Trysten stepped beyond the edge of the village, the dragons staked to the ground in the secondary weyr yard began to rise up from where they had bedded down. Trysten grinned to see the ropes running from their harnesses to stakes in the yard even after the Western dragons had shown how ineffective the stakes were at holding them. When a dragon wanted to leave, she left.
Still, if it made the villagers feel safer, it appeared not to harm anything. The dragons didn't understand the purpose or the ritual behind it, but it didn't bother them either. They stood and lowered their heads, reaching out to her as she walked by. Trysten smiled and extended her arms to either side. Her touch traced along the edges of jaws, muzzles, over the tops of scaled noses as she walked into the rough, crude circle of dragons arranged around three troughs.
"Did you sleep well?" Trysten asked as she entered the triangle formed by the troughs. She turned and looked at the dragons, and they all looked back, curious and waiting, filled with yearning. The light was returning to the sky. All but a few stars had disappeared, and those that remained were the wandering gods, the ones that moved across the sky night after night and refused to stay in their fixed places like the others. They were like messengers working up the nerve to approach.
With the stars all but gone, it was time to rise to the sky. The gods were almost retired, and the sky was soon to be the domain of dragons again. The dragons longed for their riders to return, to take them up and order them to swoop and dive, making light of those things on the ground that refused to learn how to fly.
The grin on Trysten's face widened as the anticipation filled her and the longing of the dragons coursed over her. Their eagerness buoyed her up like the silkweed seeds that floated across the plains near the end of the fighting season.
"You didn't have enough yesterday?" she asked the dragons. "Well, we'll see about getting in some more flight today. How about it?"
The Dragoneer Trilogy Page 70