by Dave Skinner
“And return my crystals. Never forget that the crystals are the reason for this war. You should go directly to them as soon as their defenses are destroyed. They must be returned to me.” Transgarin assumed his classic thinking pose, hunched forward on his throne, the elbow of one arm supported by a knee, while his chin rested in the palm of one hand. After a time he continued. “Have you considered that the KaAnians may attempt to use the crystals to escape?”
“It is possible, Lord. The consensus of my three wizards is that no one is strong enough to hold the defense shield and open a portal at the same time. They are confident of success, Lord.”
“Let us hope they are right, as well as confident. I am sending three more wizards to you. The other searchers were also successful. They have located the whiteness that plagues me. I am sending one group to destroy it, so the other group is back under your command. Make good use of them.”
“Three more wizards will speed up the transfer of troops and the dragon. I will launch the attack four days from now.”
“Good. You are dismissed. If my beast master, Sarinson is without, send him in.”
The throne room doors had not closed on Rapterron’s tail before Sarinson slipped in. “At your service, Lord.”
“Make yourself ready for a short trip, Master of Beasts. You will accompany three wizards to identify the whiteness I see through my glass.”
“As you command, Lord, but I am not a wizard. The only spell I know is one to hide me from beasts I track. I will be of little help to them.”
“You are my Beast Master. Your expertise will be required if my suspicions hold true. I believe the whiteness hides a white dragon.”
Sarinson’s red complexion paled to a weak pink. “Are we to attempt to control the beast, Lord?”
“No. You are to destroy it.”
“Are you sure it is a white dragon, Lord?”
“I am sure of nothing. I have tried to penetrate the veil that obscures the truth from me for many years now. The shape within has become clearer, but the vision remains obscured. I only know that it must be destroyed. Assume we know it is a dragon and take the appropriate weapon.”
“A dragon slayer bow requires ten ogres to transport it and ready it for firing.”
“Then we will have to trust the wizard’s spells,” Transgarin growled. He could feel sparks of frustration crackling at the tips of his horns. “Be gone from me. The wizards await you.”
Sarinson bowed and backed away. When he was gone, Transgarin bellowed for Fufflorcain. The crippled chamberlain hobbled in before the echo of the Demon Lord’s call had finished.
“My Lord?”
“Look around for someone to replace Sarinson for a short time. He is going on a trip. Evaluate the new one carefully. We may be looking for a permanent replacement soon. The current master is raising my ire.”
Chapter 42
Verity entered the fish shop. The stench that assailed him rankled his nose, but he stepped forward despite the distaste he felt. The fish-monger, Hender was busy beheading and slicing fish. “I have a fine catfish or better still fresh octopus if you are interested.” The man did not raise his eyes from his work.
“I wish to speak with you in your other capacity,” Verity responded, “as leader of the local Bentmen.”
Hender finished deboning the catfish he was working on and tossed it into a barrel by his side. He looked at someone behind Verity’s back and nodded. Verity heard the doors to the shop close. Hender wiped his hands on his apron. “And who are you to be naming me as a Bentman?”
“Verity, Master of the Wizard’s Council. I am looking for my man, Sim.”
“Sim was here, but he left days ago.”
“He was supposed to leave a few days ago, but the proprietor of the inn he was staying at found him dead that very day.” The Bentman did not show surprise at that information. “Something is missing from his possessions, something that is important to me,” Now Verity could read the surprise written across Hender’s face.
“The necklace he contracted to steal?”
“Yes.”
“I know nothing about its theft.”
“Then tell me who paid to kill my man.”
“Now what kind of a business man would I be if I told tales about my clientele?” the man responded. A smile crept across his oily face.
“A live one,” Verity informed him.
Hender snatched up the boning knife he had been using. Verity raised the fingers of his left hand slightly and the man froze. Hearing something behind him Verity gave a casual flip with his other hand. The sound of a body... no, two bodies crashing back against something solid followed, then silence.
Verity raised his left hand and formed it into an open claw. Slowly the hand closed. Hender grabbed his chest. His knees buckled and he fell to them. “I do not have time for games. I have a ship to catch. Tell me.”
“It... was... the... waif.”
Verity released the claw shape of his hand slightly. “Who is this waif and from where does he hail?”
Hender was sucking in large gasps of air. “She comes from Point. She is an assassin like Sim was.”
“Why did she kill Sim?”
“It was a contract. Sim killed one of their men while carrying out an assassination. He did not have permission. This was payback, ordered by Petra’s brother. It was Petra who Sim killed.”
“What will this waif person do with my necklace?”
“I cannot say for sure. She skipped paying the tariff for the theft, so I think she may want it for herself.”
“Thank you for your assistance,” Verity said as he backed towards the door. His right hand swept up with the fingers contorted. “Now forget,” he ordered, as he turned, slipped a door open, and left.
Verity headed for the docks. He was disappointed by the loss of the necklace, but retrieving it could wait. He had learned from a barmaid at Wet Foot Wanda’s that Andoo Toran was travelling on the Red Witch towards the grassland above The Point with two scaled creatures they had called Dragon People. He had to find them and stop this madness. The Dragon People must not be allowed to enter this world. They bring destruction with them.
Chapter 43
Using both Bray’s and Waycan’s boats, they sailed from Marshtown to Barterville on a good wind that saw them into the Bananza River before nightfall overtook them. Lee travelled with Bray and Aramas. The courtier spoke of the Nadian court as if anxious to return. Bray answered when spoken to, but the brother she remembered was not there, although there were brief glimpses of him—a rare smile or two. Lee struggled with an internal conflict, trying to reconcile how she could be happy that Adel was not with them when it was causing Bray so much pain?
The Bananza is a wide lethargic river. By tacking from shore to shore they were able to reach Greenmore two days later. While camping for the night, discussion turned to their plans.
“We could leave the river at Esterfolk,” Lee said, “but we can make better time by staying with it to Greenbridge, the most northerly town on the Bananza, and then travelling the West Road to meet the Trade River below Riverrun North.”
“I think that is a good plan, Lee,” Waycan told her. “A wagon caravan along the West Road would be the most comfortable mode of travel, but it would also be the slowest. I think we should consider trading the boats for horses at Greenbridge.”
“Are we in that much of a rush?” Bray asked.
“Three days have passed since we left Marshtown. If Manda kept to her schedule, they should reach their destination tomorrow. I expect Mearisdeana will open the porthole as soon as she is able. Andoo Toran never discussed how soon things would happen after the Dragon People come through, but I think it would be better to gain control of Nadia and her sister cities quickly.”
“I have no idea how to proceed with that task,” Bray admitted.
“Then let us lay out a plan we can all agree on. We know our route, we know our destination, and we know our objective. How c
an five people steal the throne of Nadia from your uncle?” Waycan ended.
“Without getting killed or captured,” Aramas added.
The discussion went on late into the night, but when they finished, they had a plan. A dangerous plan to say the least, and one whose success depended on Bray climbing above his self-pity. Lee wondered if he could do it.
They left the next morning a little later than usual. Travelling with her mother and watching her interact with Waycan, in a loving manner, had made Lee feel awkward. They had all been extra polite to each other for the first days of the journey. As they were leaving this day, her mother commandeered a place on Bray’s boat, relegating Aramas to travel with Waycan. Even with Bray’s continuing reserve it felt like other times, growing up times. Lee let her awkwardness fade away.
That night she was practicing dance steps as she tried to do every night. At home, Bray had often joined her in this, but for the first nights of their journey he hardly noticed. Tonight was different; his eyes were on her although no expression showed on his face. The next night he joined her at the beginning of her routine, stretching and loosening first, and then matching her move for move in the dances Ta’Chen had taught them both years before. It was a good workout, but Bray was breathing heavily when they finished.
“Thank you, Lee. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed our dances,” he told her, punctuating his comment with the first full smile she had seen.
“Welcome back, brother.”
It was a small step towards the old Bray, but the rhythm of the road can be felt even when travelling on water. It helped him to recover further. On the road one rises with the sun and settles around the campfire before dark. On land, one walks as much as rides. Tailgating is expected. Tasks are shared. Hunting, cooking and cleanup are constant tasks which Travellers share. Wagons stop at inns and farms they encounter to offer services, stories are shared, news is gathered and passed on. Birds fly with urgent messages. Travelling on water was different. Tasks were still shared, but the people they encountered were few.
Normally Tawshe Travellers preferred land to water because it offers more opportunity for news, but even using the boats the companions were able to gain some insight into conditions before they reached Esterfolk.
“Opinion sits on the edge of a blade,” Waycan told them. “Equally for and against allowing the KaAnians to come, although by now I image the deed is done. We will stop in Esterfolk tomorrow and troll for news.”
***
They arrived in Esterfolk in the late afternoon. Leaving the boats beside the dock they made their way into town and stopped at the first inn they encountered.
“Welcome, Travellers, did I miss your caravan rolling through town?” the innkeeper asked when they were seated.
“No, we travel by boat to Greenbridge before we take to the road again,” Waycan told him. “We have been out of touch for the last few days. Is there any news from the Wizard’s Council?”
“It is best not to discuss that now,” the innkeeper replied in a low voice. He glanced at a table full of rough looking men. “Some are too scared to think reasonably. I will get you ale while you decide on food. We have pot pies today, made from leftover pork and chicken. Both choices are tasty.”
After he left, Kat leaned her head in above the table. “We are being watched by those soldiers he was worried about.”
Lee had her back to their table, but she turned her chair sideways and stretched out her legs. “I prefer wagons to boats. At least you can get out of a wagon and walk to stretch your legs.”
“Have you ridden horses much, Lee?” Aramas asked.
“A small bit when I was younger. Horses for riding are not common among my people.”
“I admit to some trepidation,” Aramas continued. “I have never been on a horse. They are not something a courtier of Nadia has access to.”
“You guiding the Travellers to Nadia?” one of the soldiers asked.
“I am, sir. Why do you ask?”
“Not a good idea. Travellers are not welcome in the northern cities these days.”
“Nadia always welcomed Travellers while I called it home. What has changed?”
“One of the sneaking thieves killed the Crown Prince, stuck him in the back when he was eating.”
“That, my good man, is completely false. The Crown Prince challenged the man to a duel because he had the last bowl of a stew that the prince wanted. The fight was fair.”
“Ha! Who told you that lie?”
“No one, I saw it with my own eyes. I was a member of the Crown Prince’s retinue.”
The man paused while he tried to reconcile Aramas’s story with his own beliefs. “Well, you certainly have fallen far to be keeping company with this lot.”
“Hardly, I still serve the rightful king.”
“What you mean?” one of the other soldiers asked. “The King of Nadia is the son of the old king.”
“The second son,” Bray said as he stood. “Who arranged the assassination of his brother, Argon, the rightful Crown Prince.”
“I’ve heard that tale, but it’s another lie.”
“No, Yucan Vee, the pirate who killed my father, admitted it before I killed him. I am Argon’s son, Bray, the rightful king of Nadia, and I am returning home to claim my throne. Now, if you insist on calling me a liar, we should take this outside. No point in getting blood on the inn’s floor.”
The soldiers were on their feet now, but still uncertain. Lee heard one at the back whisper something. She thought she heard the word reward.
“You’re a liar, boy, and our swords will prove it.”
“So be it,” Bray said. “Lead the way.”
The soldiers crowded through the inn’s doors. Bray and his companions followed with other occupants of the inn, including the innkeeper, streaming out behind them. The eight soldiers had a whispered discussion before the leader stepped forward with the rest arrayed at his back. Aramas, Kat, Lee, and Waycan followed Bray into the roadway and took positions behind him. The leader drew his sword. Bray’s hand slipped behind his back and reappeared holding one of his knives.
“You fighting me with a knife, boy?”
Bray held the blade up. “Nadian steel, given to me by my father to celebrate my fifth birthday.”
The soldier hesitated, but a push from behind moved him a step closer. Then he charged forward on his own, sword raised above his head ready to crash down and overpower Bray’s knife. Bray danced aside. Lee recognized the move he used. She gave his form a score of eight. The soldier’s sword point was buried in the earth. He tugged it free, took a renewed grip on his sword and pulled his knife. Bray pulled his second knife.
“We do not have to continue,” he told the soldier. “You have proved your bravery. Why not live?”
“You scared, boy?”
“No, I prefer not to kill you, there is a battle coming that will require brave soldiers like you and your friends. The other soldiers were goading him on, otherwise Bray’s words may have worked. Lee saw the doubt written on the man’s face, but another comment from his friends moved him forward again. He rushed straight at Bray this time, with sword and knife extended straight out. Bray deflected the sword with one knife and the knife with his other, leaving the man open to a kick between the legs. It took his resolve away, leaving him moaning on the ground.
Bray looked at the other soldiers and raised the level of his voice so that the crowd could hear his words. “I will not kill this soldier. He is brave and we will need brave warriors to face the trials that are ahead. Hopefully you have all heard the warning from the Wizard’s Council. I am Bray, son of Argon, the rightful king of Nadia. My uncle had my father assassinated. I killed his son when he challenged me to a duel. I do not want a throne, but the Destroyer is coming and we must all stand together, north and south as one. It is the only way we will survive. If you know my uncle, you know that he will never commit to helping the cities of South Lake or the river cities, so I am returning to
Nadia to claim my throne in order to save our world. I let this soldier live, but know that anyone else who stands against me will die.” He looked at the soldiers. “Live or die. The choice is yours.”
The men looked at each other. Lee thought Bray had succeeded, but two men pulled their swords and charged forward. Bray seemed to float around their blades as they slashed, then the soldiers lay dead on the ground.
“You can tell my uncle I am coming.” He bent forward and wiped his knives on a dead soldier’s shirt before returning to the inn.
Step one started, Lee thought as she followed him in.
Chapter 44
King Artan swirled the wine in his goblet, checked the aroma, and sipped. He swished the wine around in his mouth, swallowed a little, then sucked air across the remainder before swallowing it. With a frown he lifted the bottle to the light streaming in through the open balcony doors. The bottom was full of sediment. His scream accompanied the vessel as it flew across the room and shattered against the wall.
“It is swill,” he bellowed. “Not fit for the kitchen.” Turning on his cowering wine master he continued, “You assured me you were as talented as your predecessor.”
“It’s the old wine master’s son, Your Majesty. He undermines my efforts. He spoils the barrels.”
“That is what you told me last season, and yet you kept him working. Why?”
“The workers like him, Your Majesty.”
“That may be true, but I had someone look into this. It seems he also knows much more than you, and you threatened his family if he refused to help. Is that not correct, Barimus?”
The spymaster, Barimus, stepped in through the door to the hallway and walked up behind the trembling wine master. “That is what people say, my King.”
Artan walked around the wine master who stood now with his head bowed. “Your sword, Barimus.”
The spy master pulled the Nadian blade at his hip and passed it to the king. At one time a blade had been a normal extension of the king’s arm. He was considered to be an excellent swordsman; almost as good as his brother in some eyes, better in his own. Now, years of sampling the wares from his vineyards, added to a lack of exercise, had seen the muscles of the arms, shoulders, back, and legs lose their strength and resilience, but he could still hold a blade. Drinking kept the wrist supple even when other muscles had atrophied. Artan raised the sword point and placed it in the centre of the wine master’s back and gave a little push. The man moved forward. The king followed, until they moved out to the balcony.