The D'Karon Apprentice

by Joseph R. Lallo

  Myranda handed the open pad to Deacon, her message scrawled upon the page, and finally raised her voice. “What if you do it without us?”

  “I do not understand.”

  “See to the facility without bringing us along.”

  “That would require you to be left unattended while I was doing so, an even greater abandonment of my duties.”

  “Then what if you contacted anyone else? Send someone in your stead. What we know is that someone with D’Karon teachings was in that place, whatever that place might be, and that one or more of them left that place for our own kingdom. We have sent word to all of the keepers of these pads, warning them of the consequences, and that includes your superiors and mine. At any moment, this pad could provide us with fresh orders—”

  “Orders that I have no way of knowing are genuine,” Grustim said.

  “Granted, but our people will be sending anyone they can spare to contain the threat that may have arisen within our borders. Please do not let something as simple as lingering distrust rob your own people of help they might badly need. I give you my word, we will do anything in our power, follow any order, grant any request if it will make you comfortable enough to see to your people now.”

  “Our people can see to ourselves. We have fought D’Karon for the duration of this war.”

  “Not like these,” Deacon said. “You have fought nearmen, cloaks, and dragoyles. Even the spell casters they deploy do not approach the level of prowess that fueled the spells we have detected. I have only known the generals to cast spells such as these. The generals created and fueled the D’Karon you faced. They manufactured the army that held you at bay for all of these years. And they did it all while keeping control of the entire Northern Alliance.”

  “The generals manipulated my people,” Myranda said. “They robbed me of my home. Every drop of blood is on their hands, and I would rather see myself shackled and locked away in your land than see another life taken by them if I could stop it.”

  Grustim measured Deacon and Myranda, each looking back with sincerity and urgency. In Deacon’s hand, the message was still visible on the page of the pad. D’Karon portal opened to the south. Exits in Castle Verril and coastal Demont fortress. Take immediate action.

  As he held it, the stylus pulled itself from his hand and rattled the bell tied to its tether, then scrawled in a sweeping and elegant hand: I am close to Demont’s fort. I’ll go there right away. - IV

  A moment later a more precise and formal lettering read: Acknowledged. Capital watch is on high alert. - CL

  And after that, this time in the careful hand of a non-native writer, simply one word: Investigate.

  When Deacon was through reading, he looked up to find Myranda still looking him in the eye.

  “Everyone else knows the danger, Grustim. I leave it in your hands because I must. I implore you. Do what is right for your people.”

  The Dragon Rider again measured the others. Just as had been the case during the landing, and during the flight, and during every step along the way, Grustim’s connection to his dragon was more than evident. A dragon was a remarkable beast. In one glance it looked upon others with the eye of a predator, puzzling out weakness and intention with instinctive precision honed by the simple fact that it was too often the difference between life and death. In the next glance, there was the wisdom and clarity that would be the envy of the finest thinkers in the kingdom. In this moment, Grustim seemed to have the same qualities to his gaze.

  His eyes flitted to the map, still hanging crisply in the air.

  “You would have me believe that some calamity has happened here,” he said, pointing to the red mark. “And I was intended to deliver you here.” He pointed to a location farther south and west. “It will take us a day to reach the prison, and doing so will take us half a day off course. We’ve gained more than that much back through young Myn’s dedication. We shall pass over the place. If I see evidence of what you say, we shall act. But not before.”

  “Then let us not waste a single moment,” Myranda said, climbing to Myn’s back.

  Deacon dispelled the map and joined her. Garr took two strong strides and leaped into the air. Half a heartbeat later Myn was beside him.

  #

  At the same moment, in a carriage far to the north, Ivy carefully closed the pad and stowed it.

  “I’m really very sorry about this,” she said, her motions suddenly stiff and her eyes darting. “I… there’s something happening. There’s something… I can’t…” She took a steadying breath. “I have to leave you at the nearest town. I’m sure Ambassador Celeste will do a far better job of continuing the tour…”

  “What is happening?” asked Krettis.

  “There’s a… the D’Karon have this way of moving from here to there. Only they know how to do it. They can go from anywhere to one of their strongholds like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. “And Myranda says it just happened, and not so far from here. I need to find out what’s happening and what I can do about it.”

  “So you will be visiting a D’Karon stronghold?”

  “I must, I really must. I’m sorry, but as I said—”

  “I shall join you,” Krettis said.

  “Join? No. No, no, no.”

  “I must strongly advise against it, Madam Ambassador,” Greydon said.

  “I said I shall join you, and so I intend to,” Krettis affirmed.

  “You can’t. You don’t understand, the D’Karon—” Ivy stammered.

  “Oh, I understand perfectly. As charming as you’ve made yourself, as harmless as you’ve made pains to illustrate yourself to be, you’ve clearly done everything you can to keep me from seeing any hint of the legacy of war that we both know has stained your land and mine. And, in a moment when you have not only the opportunity but the obligation to visit a piece of this legacy, you are scrambling to leave me behind. You want to ensure that this mask you’ve crafted for yourselves as a nation remains firmly in place, even if it means abandoning the very act of diplomacy devised to maintain it.”

  Ivy tightened her fists for a moment before she noticed and eased them loose again. “It isn’t that. It is the danger. You could be badly hurt or killed if this is one of the D’Karon. Have you been listening to me as I described their atrocities?”

  “I have. I’ve also been listening as you insisted that all that could be done to wipe them away had been done. So there should be no danger at all.”

  “Clearly we missed some! Who knows what we’ll find up there!”

  “You have your guards, I have mine, and I have been told you are a warrior of historic renown, something that must be so or you would not be risking yourself. Surely if there is a D’Karon or a similar threat, you will be capable of defending me and my guard until we are able to withdraw. And if there is no D’Karon, we shall finally have an opportunity to look into the workings of the machine of war you insist they have created without your will or desire. Or will I be sent home to my people with the sorry news that the Northern Alliance still has too much to hide to truly open their doors to the Tresson people?”

  One of Ivy’s eyelids twitched, then both of her eyes narrowed. “Fine,” she said. The ear nearest to Celeste twisted toward him as he muttered instructions, but the malthrope ignored them. “I’ll be taking Mr. Celeste, the carriage man, and three of our guards. Select an equal number of representatives, either on their own horses or to ride in this carriage, and we’ll go. But we’re going in just a few minutes, so act fast.”

  “Excellent,” Krettis said.

  Ivy thumped at the roof of the carriage. “Stop here, Lennis. We’ve got an emergency!”

  The carriage lurched to a stop. As soon as it was stationary, Marraata, the attendant and record keeper, looked nervously to the ambassador. She braced herself for the stiff wind outside as Krettis opened her door and the pair stepped out. Ivy and Celeste slipped out the other side.

  Their journey had taken them quite near the coas
t. They were riding along a carefully maintained road that traced along the spine of a strip of elevated land. It gave them a remarkable view of the local region. To one side, barely visible on the horizon and gleaming with the amber glow of the approaching sunset, was the Western Sea. To the other was a handful of sprawling icy fields, some frost-dusted clumps of gray-green trees, and the hint of mountains beginning to rise in the distance. Not far ahead and below was the huddled little nook of a town that would have hosted them for the evening.

  “Okay, listen up!” Ivy bellowed, climbing up the wheel of the carriage until she was nearly level with the driver. “There has been a change of plans. Most of the delegation will be continuing on to the next stop and staying there for a few days. I’ve never been there, but I’m told it is really a lovely place. I’m sure the Tressons will learn plenty. The rest of us need to take a side trip.” She turned to the mounted soldiers who had been leading the carriage. “I’ll be taking you three, along with this carriage and a small group of Ambassador Krettis’s choosing. With any luck we’ll all be back safe and sound in about two days.”

  She hopped down and came face to disapproving face with Celeste.

  “This is not wise,” he said.

  “You saw what Myranda wrote. And you heard what Krettis said,” Ivy said. “Besides, maybe if she sees what sort of monsters they were, she’ll finally understand that we’ve been telling the truth.”

  “And if she is hurt or killed, we will have in the eyes of Tressor assaulted a diplomat sent in the pursuit of peace.”

  “Mr. Celeste, I won’t let what the D’Karon did once happen again. We’re pretty far from the front up here. Some of these towns are as peaceful as any place in Kenvard has ever been. I don’t want one of those horrid things bringing violence here. What’s the point of preserving peace with the Tressons if we let the real villains run free?”

  “You aren’t properly outfitted for battle, Ivy,” he said. “Leave this to the army.”

  “I’m doing it, Mr. Celeste. I’m Chosen. This is why I exist. I wasn’t ready for battle when this all started and I still did what I had to do, and I’ve learned a lot since then.”

  He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “And what if you lose control?”

  “I won’t,” she said sternly.

  “As I understand it, that isn’t necessarily something you can guarantee. It is one thing for the D’Karon to potentially hurt or kill the visiting Tressons. It is another if you do it yourself.”

  “This needs to be done. Nothing else matters,” she hissed. “Now are you coming, or should I leave you to conduct the rest of the delegation?”

  “I was to be your adviser. I cannot do that if I am not by your side,” he said.

  Ivy looked at Krettis, who had assembled the best of her personal guards and was climbing back into the carriage. “Then we are going. It is my job to fight the D’Karon. Your job is to lead and help the other guards, and you are going to protect the Tressons. If anything endangers them, do what you need to do, keep them safe from danger.” She took a breath and lowered her voice. “And I mean any danger.” She put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Good.” She opened her door to the carriage again. “Now let’s go.”

  #

  Ether’s diplomatic journey had not begun under the best of circumstances, but she’d at least made a cursory effort to fulfill her role at first. She was quite poor at it, and though she asked the questions of Ambassador Maka that she’d been instructed were proper in such a circumstance, she made no effort or claim to be interested in his responses. Likewise she would answer any question he asked, but her near ignorance of the people of the north and the things that mattered most to them led to dry, flavorless answers. Since their discussion of family and purpose, her engagement with the diplomatic proceedings had steadily declined. She withdrew and introspected, sometimes allowing hours to pass without even glancing at her guest. Maka took the unusual behavior with almost saintly patience, taking the opportunity to fill the carriage with stories of his land.

  She turned her eyes to him as the words of his latest observation and musing began to wash over her. It was truly astounding to the shapeshifter how a creature with less than a century of life could have gathered so many tales, and further astounding that he seemed so eager to share them with a person he knew to be disinterested.

  “Ah! A sleigh. You know that my granddaughter Maandaa does not believe such things exist?” Maka said, pulling aside the curtain on the carriage window to admire the rough but sturdy vehicle in the fields beside the road. “She is the daughter of my youngest, Talla. They live quite near the edge of the desert, if you remember. The little girl has never seen snow. I tell you, if there was a way that I could bring her a handful as a gift, it would be truly something to see her eyes when she touched it. Ah! Perhaps someday she may come to this place and see it for herself.” His wizened face creased with a wide smile. “Reason enough to do our best to preserve the peace, yes?”

  “I suppose,” Ether said distantly. “We have arrived. I understand the intention of this visit is to hear a performance of a lengthy musical piece composed by one of my fellow Chosen.”

  “Splendid! It will be wonderful to take in some of the art of your kingdom. And this piece was written by a friend of yours?”

  “An ally.”

  “Ah,” Maka said, nodding. “But one who would call you friend.”

  “The composer is a creature named Ivy, and I feel quite certain she would not openly refer to me as a friend. Our relationship is one of mutual animosity.”

  He laughed as Ether opened the door and stepped down. When it was clear he was having trouble, she offered her hand to help him.

  “The friend who does not like us, and who we do not like,” Maka said, still chuckling. “We have a word for such a friend in my tribe. Duuwuldeya. Friendly enemy. They say every circle of friends has one that no one likes, and if you don’t know the name of that friend, then it is you.”

  Gregol hurried over to the pair with the desperation of a parent trying to take a sharp knife from a child. If Ether had any particular pride in the assignment she’d been given, she would have been quite displeased with the blatant distrust Gregol had in her ability to avoid creating some sort of incident. As it was she was grateful at times to have the older ambassador take Maka’s attention. With each passing moment Ether found herself craving solitude all the more. The petty matters of state were proving a frustrating interruption to a line of thinking that she couldn’t seem to reach the end of.

  Around her, the small cluster of servants and helpers that poured from within each town to both serve the delegation and separate it from the rest of the populace went to work. Ether knew this town in the same way she knew most others. It was a somewhat unremarkable feature of the landscape, no more notable or interesting to her than the mountains rising up beside it or the forests scattered around it. The streets were wider here than in other northern cities, and though most of the homes were squat cottages with sloped roofs and crackling fires within, one was notably different. It was taller than the others, and much larger. It could comfortably fit every last resident of the town within its almost circular walls, and no less than four chimneys were sending out streamers of smoke into the afternoon breeze. The roof sloped sharply up toward each chimney, giving an almost crown-like appearance to the structure that seemed overly artful even by mortal standards.

  “Have you been told of the festivities this evening?” Gregol asked, while a pair of Northern servants collected bags from the carriage.

  “Ambassador Ether says it will be a musical performance of—” Maka began happily.

  The crash of a bag striking the ground interrupted him.

  All heads turned to the source of the sound, and a few hasty swords were drawn. It was a woman, not much more than fifty years old but with the beaten, worn features of someone with a life tha
t had taken far more from her than it had any right to. She was one of the local servants, a worker at the inn that would play host to the delegation that evening. The soldiers didn’t descend upon her, suspecting it was simply the work of twisted fingers growing too old for the job of a porter, but something in her expression kept them on guard. Her face was utterly transfixed with an agonized look of disbelief and joy. She covered her mouth, and tears began to flow down her face.

  The rest of the surrounding crowd was just beginning to return to their prior activities, the other porters closing in to gather the bags she had dropped, when she cried out.

  “Emilia!”

  She had only been a few steps away from the group, so when she rushed forward there was no one who could stop her before she reached Ether. The woman threw her arms around Ether’s waist, practically sobbing the name over and over again.

  Ether stiffened, her face twisted in something between disgust and irritation. She might have reacted the same if a host’s pet had jumped onto her lap without permission.

  Around her the guards weren’t certain what to do. Each of the servants had been vigorously cleared prior to the arrival of the envoy. There was no explanation for this.

  “Remove yourself…” Ether fumed.

  Guards assigned to the envoy backed Maka away, then began to bark orders to the woman, but she paid them no heed.

  “Emilia, it has been so many years!” she wept, her face buried in Ether’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you write to me? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Will you be staying in our inn?”