“Then you order the dragon to attack,” Flick speculated. “You’ll all die in a flurry of arrows and steel long before it can get here.” Flick’s voice was smug and impatient. Hyden could tell he was nervous. “By the time it arrives, I will be wearing the collar.”
“Who do ye think you are?” Oarly barked angrily. “Some sort of imitation of that madman Pael?”
The jibe struck a nerve in Flick. He had apprenticed under Shaella’s father and had idolized the ambitious wizard.
“Kill the dwarf!” he shouted up to the zard on the ridge.
“Wait!” Hyden yelled before they could loose. He unbuckled the collar from his neck and threw it at the wizard’s feet. “You gave your word you’d let the boy go. If you break it, I’ll track you far beyond death.”
“Your brother told me once how much respect you commanded,” Flick said, unable to suppress his victory grin. “I will keep my word, even though Shaella won’t like it. Hopefully the surprise of gaining a new dragon will help her forget my insubordination.”
“Hopefully the dragon will turn on you both,” Hyden spat. Then to Phen he said, “When they let you go, stay where you are. My eyes will be on you the whole way.”
Phen’s gaze locked on Hyden’s then. He was trying to will his thoughts into his friend’s mind. “Finish Loak’s translation, Hyden. Try to see what’s been invisible to us.”
“Enough,” yelled Flick. “Get the skull,” he ordered one of his breed giants. The big brutish man-beast picked the artifact up with one hand as if it were a piece of fruit. Then Flick turned and led his group into the jungle.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It didn’t take Captain Konrath long to realize that the small group he had taken aboard was no ordinary mercenary crew. It was also clear that they had no intention of sailing on to O’Dakahn with him. The decidedly western accent of the two men who carried jewel-hilted swords spoke of nobility. The one they called Grommen had the look of a Valleyan horse hand, and the quiet, dutiful man was obviously from Highwander. Maxrell Tyne, though, he was all Dakaneese, from his fast talking hard-edged negotiating skills, to his crafty purchasable loyalty.
Konrath sensed that he could buy Tyne and use him to strip this strange lot down to their skin, but he also sensed that he couldn’t afford Tyne’s price. What he would get out of the fancy swords wouldn’t satisfy two greedy bastards, and he guessed that there wasn’t much else of value that they carried. He knew that he didn’t need Tyne to rid his ship of trouble, though. Dakaneese or not, the bastard Tyne could swim with the fools if he got in the way.
***
The Shark’s Tooth was an able craft. Its crew was well seasoned and the Captain had a firm grasp of control over them. Thirty-six slaves on a lower deck manned the twenty-four oars in shifts. They were well fed and bore few scars from the oar master’s whip. Their presence still sickened Mikahl, but as Lord Gregory reminded him, they were at sea. If something were to be done to help them, it had to be done at port in Salazar. Not here, not now.
Mikahl accepted Lord Gregory’s wisdom as if it were set in stone, even if he didn’t like it. The two Westlanders caught up on most everything they could think of, but Mikahl did the majority of the talking. Lord Gregory had been unconscious for the duration of the war that Pael waged on humanity. Most of the details Mikahl revealed were new to the Lion Lord’s ears and he listened raptly.
It was their third evening on the Shark’s Tooth. They were standing at the rail looking out over the sea. The sun was about to set and the slow rolling waves were tipped in molten gold. They were speaking quietly to each other about the political situation in Valleya when Captain Konrath decided to make his move.
“Turn around now,” Konrath ordered in his grisly pirate voice. “Nice and slow or my men will get you where you stand.”
Mikahl turned to see three of the pirates standing before them with their wicked curved blades held only inches from him and Lord Gregory. Atop a lidded bin, behind the three men, the half-masked Captain grinned smugly down. A shuffle of movement down the deck revealed that Grommen, and the Highwander soldier were in a similar predicament.
Mikahl searched the ship for Maxrell Tyne, but didn’t see him. He was surprised that his first thought was that the mercenary betrayed them. His instincts told him that Tyne was either being held at sword point somewhere, or had brokered a deal where he might play both sides of the fence. After all, both he and the Captain were Dakaneese.
“Crossbows in the timbers,” Lord Gregory said under his breath.
“Waves,” was Mikahl’s reply. “Give him your knee now.”
When Lord Gregory dutifully dropped to his left knee and ducked his head, Captain Konrath’s laugh was cut short. Mikahl used the step the Lion Lord’s leg created to propel himself up into a somersault over the startled seamen. Ironspike came out with a ringing sing and a bright purple glare threw shadows across the evening. The thumping of half a dozen crossbow bolts into the deck and the cry of one of the seamen who’d been struck by his own man’s bolt filled the dusk. Mikahl’s world was consumed with a different sound, a symphony of powerful magic.
After Mikahl launched himself, Lord Gregory simply fell over and rolled. While Mikahl’s radiant acrobatics drew the seamen’s attention, the Lion Lord drew his blade, and as quick as lightning, put its tip through the bellies of two of them. The third pirate was cursing and reeling away, holding the bolt jutting out of his neck.
A sizzling dart of red streaked from Ironspike’s tip toward the men in front of Grommen and the Highwanderman. They used the moment of shock it caused the seamen to get clear and draw their own weapons. It wasn’t necessary, though. The next sound that echoed through the evening was so blood-curdling that even the ocean stood still for a moment.
Konrath’s yell was gut-wrenching. With pain-filled eyes, the Captain of the Shark’s Tooth lay on the deck fumbling at where his lower leg used to be. A glance at the foot lying nearby in a growing pool of blood made him gulp and begin to sob.
“I told you not to challenge these men,” said Maxrell Tyne from the top of the wheelhouse overlooking them. Then the mercenary turned to the first mate. “I suggest you tie that stump off before your captain bleeds to death. My friend won’t want to kill him just yet.”
“I won’t?” Mikahl asked, keeping his eyes on the agonized Captain.
“If you did, he would be dead, no? This is a pirate ship, King Mikahl,” Tyne said matter-of-factly. “We cannot just sail it into the trade port of Salazar. The Captain here knows where we will be able to land unmolested. I don’t think his men know the lantern shutter codes. That’s one of the bits of knowledge that a good pirate captain hoards.”
Lord Gregory kicked Captain Konrath’s booted foot over the side of the ship into the sea. The first mate edged nervously over and put a belt around the Captain’s stump then cinched it tight. The scream that everyone expected to hear never came. Konrath passed out from the pain. Then, as if nothing had ever happened, Lord Gregory put his elbows back on the ship’s rail and resumed his conversation with Mikahl.
“So, King Broderick will be in Xwarda now under the witch’s guard?” he asked.
“She’s not a witch, I tell you,” replied Mikahl. “She is a fine and noble queen. She’s not afraid to get her hands bloody either. When Hyden, Vaegon, and I were bringing Ironspike to its cradle, she met us in the Evermore with a group of her rangers. She had dreamed of our coming and was dressed for battle. I think she thought we were King Broderick and Queen Rachel’s spies or something. That’s when the Choska and the horn-helmed rider attacked.”
“The thing that killed Vaegon?”
“Aye, but it didn’t kill him then.” Mikahl pinched the bridge of his nose as it was an unpleasant memory. “That day in the Evermore, Grrr, the pack leader of the Giant King’s great wolves, died to save me. Queen Willa carried me back to Xwarda and her healers kept me alive. When I came around, Pael was knee deep in Xwarda.”
“A
nd now Hyden is off chasing a silver skull?” Lord Gregory looked mystified at this. He would have expected Hyden to be aiding Mikahl or King Jarrek directly.
Mikahl shrugged a “what-can-you-do” shrug. “He speaks to a goddess sometimes,” Mikahl explained. “The goddess of his people. She told him he needed to use this skull to retrieve a ring that his brother took into the land of demons. The ring is supposed to balance some great scale of power. I don’t understand any of it.” Mikahl sighed. “I envy him. He is freer than the rest of us somehow. I cannot explain it.”
“Everyone has a duty, Mik,” Lord Gregory said solemnly. “Don’t think for a moment that Hyden doesn’t have his. Traipsing into the land of the demons sounds unfathomable. I doubt he would do this if the goddess hadn’t given him the task.”
“Aye,” Mikahl conceded.
“This General Spyra, who you stood with at Valleya, he’s capable?”
“He can fight both as a leader and as a warrior. He fought bravely against Pael’s dead men, but that doesn’t make him a good candidate to run a kingdom. He was the most stable figurehead that was available to me.” Mikahl shrugged again. “That, and I trust him.”
Lord Gregory nodded. “We need to find out who is King Broderick’s true heir,” Gregory said after a long bit of thought. “That is the starting point to fixing the Valleyan problems. As for Seaward and Queen Rachel, I think that there is only one solution.”
“What’s that?” Mikahl asked hopefully.
“You will have to sneak back into Westland and free Princess Rosa. You’ll have to get her to safety, and then marry her.”
“That’s a lot harder than it sounds.”
Gregory laughed at the look on Mikahl’s face. “It sounds impossible. What’s harder than impossible?” As he had done hundreds of times when Mikahl was a fumbling page growing into a capable squire, Lord Gregory ruffled his hair. “You have the Prince of Salaya to spy for you, and his trade ships will help you in and out of Westland. You know the inside of Lakeside Castle as well as any man alive, probably better, since you caused so much mischief there in your youth. You have Ironspike, and all the power that comes with it. It won’t be easy, Mik, but unless you want Princess Rosa to wither away in some dungeon cell, it’s the only option.” Gregory smiled a sad, yet reassuring smile. “We will spend a day or two on Salazar searching for Trella and Zasha. Then, either way, we will go to the Isle of Salaya and find out what knowledge Prince Raspaar has gathered for you. We can make a plan then. From what I’ve seen, Queen Shaella has only a loose hold over our kingdom. There was no resistance when the skeeks invaded. They’re not battle tested.”
The fact that Lord Gregory was already thinking about such things filled Mikahl’s mind with some comfort, but the idea that he might have to go back into Westland alone to rescue Princess Rosa was daunting at best. He began stealing his resolve to do what Lord Gregory felt must be done. He wasn’t sure what he felt emotionally for the Princess, but he was certain that he didn’t want her to come to harm. The semi-private carriage ride they had taken the day after the introductory feast in Xwarda had revealed a lot about her that he liked. Once they were alone, her pretext of formality had fallen away and they had spoken as Rosa and Mikahl, not the High King and the Princess of Seaward. Deep in his heart he’d known as soon as he’d found out that she’d been taken that he would go after her. At least now he wouldn’t be doing it blindly.
He trained with Ironspike each morning they were at sea. The symphony of the sword was a soothing and welcome distraction from the uneasy worries that clouded his mind. Not only did the sound comfort him, it revealed aspects of its own power that he hadn’t yet perceived. Each session gave him a little more understanding of Ironspike’s nature, and revealed ways that he might use it better. By the time they reached the Isle of Salazar he had done more than resign himself to the fact that he had to go into the Dragon Queen’s castle alone to save the Princess. He found he was looking forward to it. If he could find out exactly where Rosa was being held, then Mikahl thought he could actually save her.
Ironspike was far more than just a magical weapon, Mikahl figured out. It was a tool, and the skills he was learning presented endless possibilities and filled him with confidence. Tricking, or even killing Queen Shaella while he was in Westland was a possibility as well. After all, it’s not like she still had a dragon to defend her.
When the ship docked in a fishing village called Rydia, only King Mikahl, Maxwell Tyne, and Lord Gregory left the ship. They learned that the Westland settlement was a bit further south down the coast, and forced the feverish, yet recovering Captain to land them there. The refugee settlement was called Balton, named after the last king that had ruled Westland honorably.
Just stepping onto the shore filled Mikahl with pride. Though he hadn’t known King Balton as his father, he had loved him as a king. Mikahl noticed that Lord Gregory was trembling. If Lady Trella wasn’t here, then he didn’t know where else to look for her.
“Come on, M’ lord,” Mikahl put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go find your lady.”
An inn called the Lost Lion seemed the place to start their search. The two Westlanders made their way there, both noticing the stares and awed glances they were getting as they passed through the growing town. The place reminded Mikahl of Portsmouth, one of Westland’s greatest cities, as it might have been a few hundred years ago. Proud, sturdy, and clean, the settlement of Balton was small, but every bit of it spoke of determination, pride, and persistence.
Lord Gregory sat on the stoop of the inn, too nervous to go inside. Mikahl strode into the common room not knowing what to expect and was caught off guard by the sharp voiced woman standing at the bar.
“About time you came around,” Lady Zasha said with a bit of heat in her tone. “Has the mighty High King returned to his people?”
Mikahl was speechless. Lady Zasha was extremely pregnant and looking as beautiful as ever, but he couldn’t tell if she was really angry with him or not until she scowled his way. He was saved by a most welcome sound.
“Oh Mikahl,” Lady Trella burst out as she charged from the kitchen doors over to him. She hugged him fiercely with tears running down her face. “Oh, if my Lord might have lived to see you come into your own.”
Mikahl realized then that she didn’t know her husband had survived. “Come, m’lady,” he smiled down to her, and took her by the hand.
He was almost as surprised as she was at what awaited them outside the inn. A few hundred people had gathered in the street, and as Lady Trella and Lord Gregory embraced in a joyous torrent of tears, the crowd bowed to their true king.
“All hail King Mikahl,” one of them said.
“Hail King Mikahl,” the others shouted back.
From the doorway behind him, Mikahl heard Lady Zasha say, “I suppose that since you brought Lord Gregory back from the dead you’re off the hook.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“If anyone can get Rosa out of Westland it’s the High King,” Queen Willa said in a vain attempt to comfort Queen Rachel. Princess Rosa was Rachel’s only child and had been the sole subject of conversation since she’d arrived in Xwarda.
“Am I a prisoner here too?” Queen Rachel asked through tear-filled eyes. “Oh, how the gods punish us for our folly,” she blurted. Then she began sobbing again.
“No, Rachel,” Willa gave an exasperated huff. “Your cousin is being held for a more recent treachery than last autumn’s attack on my people. As I told you, Broderick recently consorted with the Dakaneese and the Westlanders to betray the High King. These are the very same Westlanders that kidnapped your daughter, I might add. Nevertheless, Dreg was killed, and quite a few of Jarrek’s people were freed. I sent them as many men as I could spare, and King Mikahl has requested that you do the same. I think that, since he has gone off into Westland to find your daughter, you should comply.”
Queen Willa wasn’t sure that Rosa was the reason why Mikahl had snuck in
to Westland, but she made it sound that way. Queen Rachel came from Seaward as soon as she heard Broderick was a prisoner. She’d come seeking information, a terrified mother whose daughter had been taken for motives beyond her reckoning. Queen Willa gave her a shoulder to cry on, and for the last two days had come to realize that the treachery of last year was more of Broderick’s design than Rachel’s.
General Spyra hadn’t known Mikahl’s motives either. The General’s message made it sound like he wasn’t sure where Mikahl had actually disappeared to. Mikahl’s message to Willa, though, had made his destination, if not his motives, clearer.
“How many men?” Rachel sobbed. “Would five thousand be enough?”
Now we’re getting somewhere, thought Willa. “I think five thousand well armed, and well provisioned men would show the High King that his efforts to save your daughter are greatly appreciated.”
“Where should I send them? Under whose command?”
“To King Jarrek in Wildermont,” Willa answered as she thought of something that made the corners of her mouth turn up into a devilish smile. “Have them march right through northern Dakahn to Seareach. That’s where they will be needed the most.”
“Through Dakahn?” Rachel’s sobbing ceased. “But that’s... that’s...”
“This is what Ra’Gren needs to see. He needs to see firsthand our support for Wildermont. The sell-sword army he is putting together to defend the mines won’t dare attack five thousand me—”
A sharp knock at the door of the sitting chamber interrupted Willa’s words. She excused herself, wondering what was so urgent that someone would disturb her private meeting. Her advisors all knew the importance of this discussion.
As her hand moved toward the polished brass handle of the heavy wooden door, the knock sounded again. As she thought, it was Dugak. Only a dwarf’s knock came from that low.
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