The D'Karon Apprentice

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “A good, strong fortified city near the Tresson border wouldn’t hurt either,” Caya said.

  “Peace takes work, and it takes trust,” Myranda said. “The Tressons don’t want to lose another generation to war any more than we do.”

  “I’ll concede that, but the facts of the matter are that the Tressons won’t need to lose a generation if they decide to go to war with us again. As wonderful from them as it is to be free of the D’Karon, they were rather effective at keeping the Tresson troops at bay. We wouldn’t last long in another offensive without their help.”

  “Another offensive?” Deacon said. “Have things truly degraded so far so quickly that there might be another war? The Battle of Verril was barely half a year ago.”

  The Battle of Verril was the name given to the crescendo of the Perpetual War, an assault on the Northern Alliance’s capital and northernmost city. Myranda, Myn, and the rest of the Chosen had joined with Caya and her band of rebels to take the capital from the D’Karon generals. With them defeated, their troops quickly fell and the control of the kingdom returned to its people.

  “A long war makes for a short armistice,” Caya muttered.

  “Things were going so well at the discussions just a few weeks ago,” Myranda said.

  “Much can happen in a few weeks,” Caya said, filling her tankard again. She took a sip and sighed. “Much did happen, or so they say. Listen carefully; what I am about to say is not for common knowledge. There are concerns, concerns from quite high in the Tresson government, that this peace is a ruse. They have accused us of at least not being in control of our units, and at worst outright assaulting them in defiance of the truce.”

  “That’s absurd,” Myranda said. “The troops on both sides have been ordered to stand down. The borders are open again, at least near the larger cities. Outside of a few skirmishes between excitable soldiers, there hasn’t been a blade wielded in anger since we reclaimed Verril.”

  Caya gestured for something from Tus. “Soldiers aren’t the problem.” Tus handed her a bundle of parchments. “These come directly from the Tresson contingent, assembled by them from a few scattered reports in the deep southern portions of their kingdom.”

  Myranda took the parchments and began to read through them, Deacon doing the same with a second set. “‘It was a creature, like a dragon, but not. A mockery of one. It breathed stinking black mist that burned all it touched.’”

  “‘It looked to be a cape or robe, but no one wore it. It drifted about, slashing at things with bony claws…’” Deacon said.

  “Sound familiar?” Caya said, topping off her tankard and leaning back in her chair.

  “Dragoyles, cloaks,” Myranda said, “D’Karon creations.”

  “And more of the same,” said Deacon, leafing through the pages.

  “Mmm. As I said, these come from the deep south. Far from the front. None of these people have seen dragoyles and cloaks. They’ve heard stories, rumors, but they can’t be certain that it wasn’t some other creature, or perhaps something imagined. But the Tresson military is not pleased and doesn’t intend to take any risks. Tell me. Is it possible some of the D’Karon creatures survived the last few months?”

  “It is possible, certainly. Ether spent months exterminating them, but she could have missed some. But the D’Karon creatures have only ever been found in the Northern Alliance. Why would they be in Tressor but not here?”

  “Such was my question to the Tresson army. If these demons were ours to command, and we could sneak them past the border and strike at the flanks of their kingdom, why wouldn’t we have done so a century ago? Why now, when the war has ended? Unfortunately the simple answer is difficult to argue. As you’ve said, the borders are open. Debate aside, there remains the more troubling question. Is it possible that the D’Karon themselves might have survived. Might they still be here? It had been in their interest to start the war. It would certainly be in their interest to start it anew.”

  “It is possible…” Myranda said. “There’s only one way to be sure. We need to go to Tressor. We need to learn for ourselves the nature of these attacks and the creatures responsible.”

  Caya nodded. “Agreed. That is why I called you here.” She took back the pages and placed them on a plate, then touched the flame of an oil lamp to them and watched them burn. “For the moment the Tressons are as interested in foregoing war as we are. They have their doubts about our stories of the D’Karon. Most still believe the nearmen, dragoyles, and other monstrosities that held our front and ravaged their soldiers were the work of powerful Northern sorcerers. As a result, they believe if the war were to begin again, they would be once again faced with an endless horde of the things. They don’t realize we are effectively helpless right now. A rare instance where distrust is the only thing keeping us from ruin. To keep the swords in their sheaths, the Tressons are keeping these attacks as quiet as they can. I’ve arranged for a diplomatic tour of Tressor for you, Deacon, and Myn. You’ll be escorted, naturally, and very closely watched. While you are there, you must do everything in your power to preserve peace and to find the source of these attacks. For the next few weeks at the very least, I will be at the temporary hall down at Five Point discussing the details of the relations between our kingdoms. If anything goes wrong, I will do my best to keep the world from catching flame. But unlike you, I do not work miracles.”

  “Caya, I cannot work miracles either,” Myranda said.

  “Bah! Save the humility for behind the podium and in front of the crowd. With drink on the table and friends at your side, that’s the time to be boastful,” Caya said. “I need to see you confident, Myranda. Like so many other things you’ve been tasked with, we can’t afford failure.”

  “I’ll do everything I can,” Myranda said.

  “As ever, we can only hope that will be enough. I’ll be heading to the front tomorrow… or rather, the border. I’d best avoid more slips like that if I’ll be speaking in the interest of peace. If the weather is with me, I’ll reach Five Point in a week. Do you believe you can be ready and to the border at that time?”

  “It depends, the border is still in flux a bit near Kenvard. Would we be crossing at that new settlement, Crestview? That’s just a few hours south of Kenvard.”

  Queen Caya scowled slightly. “I know… but no, you’ll be heading for the Loom River. Farther east, where the border dips down.”

  “Ah. I believe so. We’ll need to stop back at New Kenvard to gather some things and ready our affairs to be handled in our absence, and there are some matters farther north that will need to be seen to, but with Myn, if we leave today, it shouldn’t take long. Pardon me for asking, but if it is your intention to present this as a diplomatic tour, why have you arranged for Myn to join us?”

  “Officially because she is a Heroine of the Battle of Verril and a Guardian of the Realm. As such she is a symbol of our people and a representative of the throne just as the two of you are. The Tressons are going to have to accept that.”

  “And unofficially?” Myranda asked.

  Caya took a sip of wine. “Unofficially, it never hurts to remind a former foe that you’ve got a dragon and you’re willing to use it.”

  “Well, I can’t argue the fact that having her along will help enormously if we need to travel or fight, but don’t you think she’ll cause a bit of a stir in Tressor?”

  “She causes a bit of a stir here. Tressor’s got their own dragons. I understand to keep things even they’ll actually be assigning one of their famed Dragon Riders to your escort. The matter has been settled. However… there is one more complicating factor.”

  “If the matter of Myn has been settled, I can’t imagine what remains can be too troublesome.”

  “Then you underestimate just how confounding the nuances of diplomacy can be. Naturally they will not simply allow us to come traipsing through their kingdom without an envoy of their own coming to the Northern Alliance. It is something of an exchange.”

 
; “That’s a fine idea,” Deacon said. “The more we understand each other, the better our relations will be in the future.”

  Caya grinned. “I’m sure that’s their thinking as well. There will be three of them, and as we have three kingdoms that make up our alliance, they intend to send one representative to each.”

  “Excellent,” Myranda said.

  “And they have requested the honor of being escorted in their journey by our most honored subjects, the Guardians of the Realm and Heroes of the Battle of Verril.”

  Myranda tried to suppress a smirk. “I see.”

  “Yes… With you, Deacon, and Myn in Tressor, I’ll personally be hosting the envoy to what was Vulcrest, as it won’t require us to venture far from the site of the talks. That leaves only two Guardians of the Realm to go around.”

  “Ivy and Ether…” Deacon said. “I’m not entirely certain Ether has the proper skills to be a diplomat.”

  “And while Ivy will no doubt be a wonderful host, she…” Myranda began.

  “Is a malthrope, and they don’t like them any better in Tressor than we like them up here. They are quite aware, and insist it will not be an issue.” She took another drink. “It’ll be interesting, and it won’t be without incident. But if this world could survive one hundred and fifty years of war, we’ll have to hope it can survive at least a year of peace.” She set her cup down and clapped her hands. “Well then. With business settled, let’s get a proper meal on the table and a proper brandy in our cups.”

  Caya turned to call for service, but Deacon hesitantly raised his hand. “If I may?”

  The queen turned to him flatly. “You ransacked a horde of abominations to protect the city that I now call my home. You needn’t ask for permission to raise a subject. Speak up!”

  “How will communication be handled during this journey?” Deacon asked.

  Myranda smiled and leaned back. “I’d nearly forgotten!”

  “I imagine the same way we always do. Each envoy will have runners, and messages will be relayed. I understand they use messenger falcons in Tressor.”

  “Might I suggest an alternative?” he asked, digging through his bag.

  He produced a small, unassuming notebook. The covers were made from thin leather without any noticeable markings. The binding was at the top, and it was barely the size of Caya’s open hand. Affixed to the binding was a length of string. Midway along the string was a tiny silver bell, and at the end was a smooth gray stylus. Caya flipped through the pages to find it empty.

  “I’ve prepared seven of these. One each for myself, Myranda, Ivy, Ether, and you, plus some spares to be left in central locations. I sent another via messenger to the capital a few weeks ago, which should have arrived by now,” he said. There was pride in his voice.

  “I don’t imagine you are merely suggesting we pass these pads between us with the messengers.”

  “No, of course not. There would be no need! These are much more convenient. Watch.” He arrayed the remaining six on the table. “Write the word ‘all’ and underline it twice.”

  Caya looked at Myranda with a raised eyebrow and received an encouraging look in return. With a few crisp swipes of the stylus, she scrawled the word. Despite the lack of ink, a clear black line followed the tool. When she’d drawn the final line, the covers of the other books flipped open and the styli rose, ringing their bells as they did.

  “Now write something,” he said.

  Caya scribbled her name. The other styli quickly duplicated it exactly.

  “It is the same enchantment I’ve used to transcribe my notes, modified somewhat. You can address a message to anyone or everyone that has one of these books. Simply write their name, underline it twice, and write the message.”

  The queen nodded in appreciation, though her attitude was more like that of a parent humoring a child. “Clever. I see there are only eight pages.”

  “The book will never fill. There will always be at least four blank pages, and the note you are searching for will always be on the second page.”

  She nodded again, this time a bit more genuine in her interest. “We’ll certainly put it to the test with this mission. Enough business. Let us dine!”

  #

  Not long after their meeting with Caya, Myn soared through the icy skies nearing New Kenvard. Myranda’s mind was heavy with the task ahead, but even so she couldn’t help but marvel at the view. The magic of flight, of traveling so far, and seeing so much all at once, had never truly worn off. From above, things were simple, beautiful. Patches of white snow striped with gray roads and mottled frosty green forest painted the landscape. Cities were mosaics, intricate and unique. Even her own home, the devastated ruins of a place once known as the city of Kenvard, seemed almost elegant from the skies.

  The illusion faded as she circled lower and more details became clear. The palace was little more than rubble. Whole streets and quarters lay abandoned and decaying. The walls were hastily patched in some places and wholly missing in others. What few buildings still stood were cold, lifeless structures constructed by the forces that had occupied the city after its collapse. New Kenvard, the capital of the region of the same name, was a broken city. The fact was made all the more tragic for those who remembered what it had been.

  Kenvard was once a grand place, at its peak rivaling even Verril in size and importance. That was long ago, before the Kenvard Massacre. There was some question of who was responsible for the deeds of that day. Most believed it was the Tressons, though in her battles Myranda had learned it was—as was the case with so many tragedies in recent history—the work of the D’Karon. Regardless of how it happened, the massacre had cost Myranda her home and her family and claimed the lives of nearly everyone she cared about. She was among the few residents of the city who escaped. Now it was her task to put the pieces back together, a process that had so far produced a neat and orderly fringe on an otherwise decrepit ruin.

  Myranda looked down at her city, smiling at the activity and life that was returning, even if it was coming slowly. At the southern edge, the city crews of workers bustled clearing streets and rebuilding shops and homes. Myranda and Deacon were Duchess and Duke of the region—a revival of the old title granted as a reward for their role in shaking off the yoke of the D’Karon. As such they were obliged to live in the capital, something Myranda eagerly agreed to. The first building completed was a cozy little home not so different than the one she had grown up in. It was just past the southern gate, the first gate to fall on the day of the massacre. It seemed only right that the healing should begin there.

  Myn touched down, her graceful glide turning into a trot. Before she’d taken three strides toward the city, a figure was sprinting gleefully through the gate to greet them. It was a malthrope, though at this point it might be fair to say that she was the malthrope. Her face was like that of a fox, covered in snow-white fur, her lips twisted into a happy grin. Peering out from that face were the warmest, most expressive eyes one could ever hope to see, their irises pink and lively. She was dressed in a slate-blue tunic and shawl with tan trousers, a magnificent white tail swishing behind her. Even if she wasn’t already the most visually distinctive resident of the entire Northern Alliance, the prancing rhythm to her step and undeniable joy in her every motion would have dispelled any doubt as to who she was.

  “You’re home!” Ivy shouted, bounding up to Myn and throwing her arms around the dragon’s neck. Myn rumbled happily in response. If she’d been a cat, it would have been a purr.

  “Ivy, we were only gone for a few days.” Myranda laughed as she climbed to the ground.

  Ivy quickly wrapped her in a tight hug. “I know, but I missed you. There’s a lot to do, and my head is spinning. Also, it hasn’t been easy making friends with the workers. They’re all so busy and… well, they don’t know me like you do. They’re still stumbling over what I am and not giving who I am a try.”

  “Give them time, Ivy,” Deacon said.

  “I kno
w,” she said, giving Deacon his hug. “The man setting up the tavern seems nice. He says he may let me play the violin for the patrons, once he’s ready to open the doors.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Myranda said.

  Servants rushed out to meet them now. It was telling that unlike those of Frosnell, the people of New Kenvard did not seem at all bothered or impressed by the arrival of a dragon. Indeed, like all other things in the recovering city, it had quickly been boiled down to a simple procedure so that it could be dealt with easily and efficiently.

  Two stout men wheeled out a sturdy barrow of potatoes, stopping when Myn spotted them and quickly retreating. As commonplace as Myn had become in New Kenvard, a dragon advancing hungrily is the sort of sight that tends to convince one to err on the side of caution. When they were clear of the food cart, Myn opened her jaws and gently bit down on it just enough to clutch it in her teeth. She then curled her neck up, tipping the tool back and dumping its contents onto her waiting tongue, which curled around them as she carefully replaced the barrow. She crunched away happily at the treat while the servants took back the barrow.

  Myranda waved off a man attempting to take her bag, and Deacon did the same. They set off toward the gate to New Kenvard. Though much of the wall still showed scars of the massacre, the gateway had been restored, carved stone forming a sturdy arch. All that remained was to replace the iron gate itself and the workings to raise it.

  “Have you seen my father?” Myranda asked.

  “The last I saw he was talking to the crew trying to clear the main road to the castle. I think they sent people to fetch him when we spotted you coming,” Ivy said, pacing along beside them. “How was the trip? What did Caya have to say?”

  “Big news. We’ll be heading out again, possibly as early as tomorrow,” Myranda said.

  Ivy stopped and slouched. “Already! But you just got back!”

  “It’s important. Once we get warmed up and father is here, I’ll tell you all at once. Have you seen Ether? But there’s good news. You won’t be lonely. Did Ether show up at all while we were gone?”