“No!” Yury banged the table with his fist and glared first at Magda and then at Master Volok.
Everyone looked at him in shock.
“Father,” Yury said hotly. “I’m a squire, a real squire as you’ve said. Should a squire be banned from adventure because of some nebulous danger? Neither you nor Petor truly wishes to make this journey. I do. Why should that be held against me?”
“As a squire,” Volok said, “your manners are lacking.”
“I ask your pardon. Yet my blood boils at this caution. You said I must earn my spurs and the wealth and vassals to become a knight. How can I do either if I’m forced to inactivity? No, rather I must search out interesting and adventuresome tasks if I’m ever to advance.”
“A squire’s task is to serve his knight,” Volok said.
Yury looked down, obviously struggling to hold his temper. The room was silent except for the sound of clattering forks and eating people.
“Perhaps,” Lady Belgorod said, “your youngest son is like a feisty stallion. Many times, I’ve heard you advise others to give a feisty stallion its head in order to drain off its wildness.”
“It was from his wildness he received the wolf-wound.”
“Yet from the action he gained his real squire-hood,” Lady Belgorod said.
“Master Volok?” Magda asked.
He indicated she should speak.
“If Yury is to enter the Old Forest with Petor, then I think it would be wise he take the woodcutter’s son with him. I’m sure Woodcutter Dimitri would give his permission.”
Lady Belgorod nodded approvingly.
“Why do you suggest this?” Volok asked Magda.
“Because it was the young woodcutter who came to Yury’s rescue.”
“It was Sir Karlo who stood over Yury,” Volok said.
Magda said, “It wasn’t until Feodor came that the wolves retreated.”
Volok knuckled his mustache. “I shall ask Dimitri if his son can join the party.”
Yury whipped up his head. “Then I can go?”
Volok eyed Petor. Petor nodded. “Yes,” Volok told Yury, “you and Petor will head the party. And in order that you find Sir Karlo’s camp, you will take the two best tracking hounds.” He turned to Ivan. “Which two would that be?”
“Flay and Vesna,” Ivan said. Although Flay still wore a splint, he’d been running around easily enough on three legs.
“There you have it,” Volok said. “In order to ensure the hounds do their best work, I’m sending Ivan along.”
“Could Ivan take Stribog?” Magda asked.
Master Volok frowned. “Stribog? What reason—”
Lady Belgorod put her hand on Volok’s arm and whispered in his ear.
Volok’s frown deepened. “Oh, very well, Stribog goes. The party will contain a knight, a squire, a woodcutter and a dog trainer with three charges. Does anyone else have anything to say?”
“I do,” Nadia said. “I should go.”
“No,” the escort said.
“Are you sure?” Volok asked the escort. “Nadia would be a valuable addition. I can attest to that myself.”
“I wish to go,” Nadia said.
Magda put her hand on Nadia’s arm and leaned near, whispering into her ear. In a moment, Nadia stood. “Excuse me, please.” She strode angrily from the hall.
“Very well,” Volok said as he watched Nadia leave. “It would have pleased me if Nadia was allowed to join, but I will bow to the Sisterhood’s wishes in this matter. The party, as it stands, will leave in a day.”
-24-
It didn’t surprise Ivan when Magda followed him out to the bathhouse. Nor did he lift his eyebrows or ask any questions when Magda took hold of his elbow and propelled him into the small shed. Of course, they hadn’t heated any rocks. Magda sat him down on the bench beside the tub and then sat beside him.
“We must talk.”
“In here?” he asked.
“What I say must be kept private. You must not even hint what I’m about to say to anyone. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
Magda looked worn. The aura of well being and confidence no longer exuded from her. Rather, she seemed like a poor peasant’s wife, one whose husband had lost his horse or oxen team. Under such conditions, crude peasants sometimes hitched their wives and older sons to the plow. Wives of such men aged quickly and moved with slumped shoulders and glassy expressions.
“Much has occurred since Karlo’s departure,” Magda said. “Yury’s rapid healing is only part of the puzzle.”
“You know about that?”
“Know? I am the Healer, am I not? That my art had no effect upon the wolf-wound told me much. When it healed with supernatural speed that told me more. The rest I can guess.”
“Good.”
“Since Karlo’s coming, we have all kept secrets. The arrival of a powerful servant of Darkness does such things.”
“You think Sir Karlo is such a one?”
“Now I do, yes.”
“What decided you?”
Magda shook her head. “Much has happened, my foster son. Sir Karlo’s seeding has begun to bring forth fruit. Yes, he sowed in secret. Now he plans to harvest his bitter crop.”
“If what you say is true, then why are you sending us into the Old Forest?”
Magda bowed her head. “Hosar help me,” she whispered. “All that I hold dear will be in danger, but to do otherwise… To draw Karlo out I am forced to this drastic measure.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Magda took hold of Ivan’s hands. “Whoever sent Sir Karlo is clever, for he is well-disguised. Even so, Folkwin knew that Belgorod Holding protected a hidden treasure—although not even Folkwin knows the nature of the prize. Therefore, he sent me here many years ago. My charge has been to protect the hidden treasure. The Axe People have helped me. They, however, play their own dangerous game.”
“Do…?”
She squeezed his hand. “Of course I know Dimitri spoke to you about the Axe People. It was a wise decision, although I wouldn’t have agreed to it if he’d told me ahead of time.”
“Why do the Axe People keep hidden from us?”
“They don’t, really. We just never travel to where they live. A few of us do, perhaps. The true servants of Hosar travel into the legendary places.”
“Who are the Old Ones?” Ivan asked.
“They’re our enemies who learned their trade at the feet of Old Father Night and the Moon Lady.”
“They must be ancient.”
“They remember the old days because they were there. By their arts, they prolong their bitter lives. Countless generations of men have lived and died since Old Father Night fell asleep. The last Old Ones…they have long remained hidden, plotting for power. Now Darkness stirs again and sends forth its champions. Now Light is weak, the old world and its alliances long vanished. It is the likes of you and me who must stand against Darkness, against the ancient spell-casters and their minions.”
“Why have the Old Ones waited so long?”
“Because they were sick,” said Magda. “Because with their twisted knowledge they knew that a time of ignorance would descend on the world. Men’s vigilance has withered. Only a few like Folkwin still see the larger scheme of things.”
“What makes him so special?”
“He is the last of the Order of the White Flame.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“The Sisterhood of Moiré and the Order of the White Flame, only they remain from a time of war and bloodshed. From a time of strongholds and armies, sorcerers and blood-drinkers, bold captains and sly deceivers. In those days, Darkness and Light waged open warfare. Now, Darkness strains to gain a march on a weary world.”
Ivan pulled his hands away. This was a lot to take in at once. He was just a dog trainer in an out-of-the-way holding. Sir Karlo, with his silver hair and sword, he appeared to be a champion. How were they supposed to out-think and out-do h
im?
“We play a dangerous game, and we play it against a deadly opponent,” Magda said. “Our one true advantage is that our opponent underestimates us.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because he didn’t kill you the night you witnessed the ancient ritual of the Moon Lady, and because he didn’t try to kidnap Nadia. She is potentially our most powerful spellcaster.”
“Maybe he loves Nadia,” Ivan heard himself say.
Magda examined his face. Finally, she nodded. “That is our other advantage. Because Karlo never radiated Darkness’ familiar taint, I think he retains a portion of his humanity. I think his Old One has seen to that. Thus we were tricked.”
“But not any longer?”
“The escort and I haven’t discovered all of Sir Karlo’s secrets. A few of them, maybe. Therefore, we have decided to play the game boldly. There is danger in that. Yury and Nadia have been sorely tempted. Both waver. Both are likely to make the wrong choice at the wrong moment. Only, I think, if they see evil up close and in time will they chose correctly.”
“What must I do?”
“Help Karlo believe that his fruit is ripe for the plucking. Otherwise…” Magda bowed her head. “Otherwise he will call in his reserves and take everything by force.”
“Why doesn’t he do that now?” Ivan asked.
“Nadia must tempt him because he wants her love. He must realize that if she knew his ambitions she’d reject him. Yet I could be wrong.” Magda’s voice grew softer. “Pray that I’ve guessed right. Otherwise I’m sending all of you to your doom.”
“What is my part in this?”
“You must be ready to stop Yury or Nadia at the critical moment.”
“To stop them from doing what?” asked Ivan.
“From whatever it is that Karlo has groomed them to do.”
Ivan gave a sour laugh. “Magda, I’ll be killed. We’ll all be killed.”
“In a day, I will go to Master Volok. He’ll muster the freeholders. With Dimitri and Danko as his captains, Master Volok will march into the Old Forest. The escort and I will join them. Once you thwart Karlo you must flee to us.”
Ivan studied her. Something wasn’t quite right. He said, “And what about Sir Karlo’s prize. Am I to thwart his gaining of that as well?”
Magda shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. If you can.”
“Do the Axe People know your plan?”
Magda smiled. “You’re a shrewd, lad. It gives me hope.”
He thought about what she’d said. “No. Your plan won’t work. The raven with the white beak will see Master Volok’s force and report to Sir Karlo.”
“The raven died soon after its appearance. We were lucky there.”
“How did it die?” he asked.
“By a piece of luck, I said. I think an eagle slew it.”
“Then you saw this raven?”
“No. Dimitri told me about it.”
Ivan recalled that he’d told Feodor about the raven. “Okay, Magda. But something else puzzles me. The escort didn’t allow Nadia to join our party. What makes you think she’ll be with us?”
Magda laughed as she rose. “I am her mother. Mothers know certain things about their daughters, even when their daughters are making bad decisions. Nadia will join you. However, it is important that she sneak away.”
“Why?”
“So her guilt will gnaw at her, hopefully enough to bring her back to her senses. Believe me, Ivan, sometimes a mother can tell her daughter only so much. At those times, the daughter must learn for herself.”
Ivan nodded. Magda hadn’t lost her guile. It made him fell better. “How much does Petor know?”
“Enough.” She touched his shoulder. “I pray that Hosar watches over you. Your next few days will be the most dangerous of your life. Take care.”
-25-
The hour of departure arrived. Ivan shouldered a heavy pack and wore a warm coat that almost reached to his feet. He also wore a woolen hat and thick leather mittens. He held Flay’s and Vesna’s leashes in his left fist, Stribog’s in his right. The Wends warspear was tied to his pack. Master Volok had insisted he take it.
Nearby on the porch, Feodor retied one of his bootlaces. He, too, shouldered a heavy pack, wore a long coat with leg slits, a big woolen hat with ear flaps and a wide leather belt with a loop for his axe.
Yury cantered toward them on his old red horse. He’d tied his sword to the right side of his saddle. A round shield hung on the other side. He wore a fur coat, while underneath it he wore a leather jerkin for armor. He held onto the reins of a mule loaded with supplies. Lashed among the supplies was Petor’s knightly banner.
Petor cantered up. His stallion, named Thunder, towered over Yury’s horse the way Stribog towered over the other hounds. The muscle-bound charger was fleet of hoof and trained for knightly combat. Hardened leather barding covered his chest and flanks. He snorted importantly at everyone around him.
Petor seemed like a new man. He wore a conical helmet with a nasal guard and a chain-mail harness over a padded coat. The heavy chainmail hung to his knees, with a slit up the middle to his groin so he could sit astride his charger. On the left side of his saddle hung a kite-shaped shield, on the right side rose a stout lance tipped with a wicked-looking head. The head was double-edged and over a foot long. It had been forged in the Rhineland and had been purchased by Master Volok over ten years ago. Armored and mounted as he was, Petor had become a fearsome warrior, a Moravian knight.
“Bid the farmers to come home,” Volok told Petor in way of last minute instructions. “Be sure to tell the farmers’ sons that their mothers are worried about them.”
“Yes sir,” Petor said.
“And don’t let Sir Karlo bluster you, either,” Volok said.
“I won’t.”
“But most importantly,” Lady Belgorod said from the porch, “I want all of you to take care of yourselves.”
Each of them nodded in turn.
“Yes,” Magda agreed. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Feodor and Yury nodded again. Ivan looked around for Nadia. No doubt, she’d join them later as Magda had said.
“Let’s go,” Yury said.
“Yes!” Volok said gruffly. “Off with you now.” He slapped Yury’s horse on the rump.
Sucking in his stomach and expanding his chest, Petor clucked his tongue. The war-horse cantered away. Yury followed suit. Both Ivan and Feodor hurried to catch up as they floundered through the snow.
“It will be better in the forest,” Feodor told Ivan. “The snow banks will be less deep there. The horsemen will have to dismount because of the thickets and low branches. Then they’ll be afoot like us.”
Ivan adjusted his pack so the straps felt more comfortable. He hurried to the east gate and opened it. Petor and Yury rode through. Feodor jogged past, and then Ivan himself stepped through, closed and secured the gate.
He stared back at the great house’s weathered timbers and peaked roof. He swallowed. Would he ever see Magda, Master Volok or Lady Belgorod again? He shook his head. This was madness. He scanned the skies for ravens. The sun shone weakly and threw its pitiful rays over the snow. Ahead Yury and Petor had already made gains up the hill. Feodor shouted and waved for him to hurry up.
Ivan plowed through the snow with the hounds in tow.
“What were you doing back there?” Feodor asked.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
“When I’d see the holding next.”
Feodor chewed that over as they followed the Belgorod knight and squire. “Are you already homesick?”
Ivan shrugged.
When they crested the low hill, the Old Forest became visible in the distance. The trees were wider and more twisted there than in the regular woods, and there wasn’t any end to them either. The Old Forest just went on and on, and as far as anyone at Belgorod knew, perhaps the Old Forest went to the very edge of the Scythian Steppes.
>
“My father has a bad feeling about this trip,” Feodor said.
Ivan grunted in agreement.
“It wasn’t what he said as how he acted last night. Father stared at the fire and poked at his food. Finally, he took to sharpening his special axe. He only does that when he’s worried. I asked him what the plan was. He kept right on sharpening the axe. I waited. In the end he set aside the axe and came to where I whittled by the fireplace. First putting his hand on my shoulder, he said, ‘Keep a close eye on Yury.’
“‘Why?’ I asked.
“‘Just do it.’
“He also told me to stay by your side no matter what happened.”
Ivan was glad for that, and said so.
Yury rode ahead and eagerly eyed the Old Forest. Several times, he shouted back or laughed joyfully.
Petor rode behind Yury. Once out of sight of Belgorod Holding, he took off the helmet. In its place, he put on a thick woolen hat. A heavy cloak came on next. Then he dropped his chain-mail gauntlets into his saddlebags and slipped on mittens. Petor rode slouched in the saddle.
At noon, they halted beside an icy stand of rocks. From a pot that hung at the edge of his backpack, Ivan took out several coals and set them among the twigs that Feodor gathered. He boiled a pot of broth and handed around full cups. They ate cold cheese and chicken legs, muttered some and set off again.
Step-by-step they drew closer to the Old Forest. Naked branches clawed skyward, although green, snow-laden pines rose up in various spots. From time to time Petor pulled out a leather map and examined it from his high-backed saddle. Around late afternoon, about an hour before dusk and a mile-and-a-half before they entered the Old Forest proper, Flay perked up. In the past few minutes, the wind had shifted several times.
“What is it, boy?”
Flay sniffed, looking around. Vesna caught Flay’s movements and immediately lifted her ears. She, too, began to sniff.
The Dragon Horn Page 17