by D. H. Aire
He blinked. “Uh,” he tried to remember the phrase, “yes, dear.”
Chapter 44 – Thorns
“Bek’ka, over here!”
She and the other scouts hurried up the hill in the forest and looked down. “Well, that’s apparently one of the goblins we’ve been tracking.”
The Cathartan knelt by his body, “Neck broken, and based on what he’s got in these pouches, I think he must be a mage.”
“With a broken neck…”
Bek’ka said, “How was it broken?”
“I’d say it was not from someone sneaking up behind him.”
“Well, we must be close, at least,” Bek’ka said.
An arrow impacted in the tree right behind her. “Come no closer!” a young woman shouted.
Young women archers stepped out from behind the trees facing them, arrows knocked and bows at the ready.
A boy in a blue robe walked out of the brush, “Cathartan Sisters, come no further in peril of your lives.”
Bek’ka frowned, “You know we’re from Cathart?”
Nodding, the boy said, “My Mistress is the Seeress. She bids me warn you of what you face, if you temp fate.”
“Then she knows why we’ve come,” Bek’ka said as the other Sisters frowned.
“She bids me tell you that should you follow your trail further into the Thorns you will either die, or foreswear every finding the girls you seek to rescue.”
“What?”
With a sigh, the boy said, “Go back and seek out your Shattered Sisterhood, your fate will come of no harm of it.”
“If I were you, Ladies, I’d pay attention to what Kusins has told you,” the archer beside him attested. “We’ve a hungry dragon hereabouts and we’ve come to terms with him… but you may not want to do the same.”
“Why?” Bek’ka said.
“Because you will have to take Oath to the Blood of the Dragon.”
“You don’t seem to mind,” Bek’ka replied.
“Based on the Seeress’s Prophecy, you’ll not find those girls, if you do.”
“You’ve seen them?”
“Aye, I met the Goblinslayers.”
“Goblinslayers?” one of her Sisters muttered.
Agwin nodded, “Lady Nessa and Lady Yel’ane have slain such with their bows.”
“Yel’ane and bow?” a Sister whispered. “Lords help us.”
“They live… and the girls?”
“They live.”
“And they’ve sworn to this Blood of the Dragon as you have?”
Shaking her head, Agwin replied, “No, they are Sworn to the Trolls.”
“The trolls?” echoed behind the frowning Bek’ka.
“Sworn to trolls, now that’s the kind of mess our Yel’ane would get herself into.”
“But… Nessa? Never saw a more level-headed girl.”
Bek’ka cleared her throat, “Boy, your Seeress must know that we would not believe you, entirely.”
He nodded.
“Then, she must know I would demand the answer to one last question before deciding,” Bek’ka said.
“Yes, and she told me to tell you,” Kusins stated, “not to waste it on asking what happens if you split up. The fates I have told you are the same for each who takes them.”
Bek’ka glanced at her Sisters, fighting a smile. “Then, answer this, where will find Yel’ane, Nessa, and the girls in their charge?”
Kusins nodded, “You will find them in the just north of the Great Way at the Clifftowns. But she bids me warn you, they are not the children you knew and their fate touches on the fate of the entire world. If you go there, you will have two choices. Either flee from them, die, or share their fate.”
Agwin moved her bow up and down, “Make you choice, the Dragon grows hungry and we would not want to stand to close should you decide to serve him as a snack.”
“Bek’ka?”
Stepping back, Bek’ka and her Sisters spoke in hushed tones. “This could all be some clever ruse,” one said.
“The boy knows too much.”
“You credit that Yel’ane is a Goblinslayer and is good with a bow?”
“She would have to be shooting an arrow out of legend to have taken down a goblin,” another said.
Bek’ka nodded, “Our best chance is to split up. You will go to this Clifftowns place and I will tempt fate by continuing north in case this is a lie.”
“And if it isn’t, Bek’ka?”
“So, I’ll be dragon food or to Swear to this Blood. At least I will have kept my promise to find them or die trying.”
“You’re not going alone, Bek’ka,” her friend said.
“I think you should go with them.”
“We’re year-mates, Bek’ka. We’ve come this far together. I’ll not have you die alone.”
Bek’ka nodded, turned, “Which way to the Clifftowns?”
The boy pointed southwest.
The Sister edged away from the goblin’s body, joined the other two and jogged back through the hills, heading off.
Kusins shook his head, “I beg of you to join them.”
“We cannot,” Bek’ka said as Agwin ordered the bows to be lowered.
“Then you must run as fast as you can north, through the woods. You may be lucky enough to hear the dragon before he seeks to claim you as a meal. If so, you must reach the Keep across the great meadow or Swear to the Blood of the Dragon. You fate is now sealed,” he said, bowing as he was taught.
They ran north through the Thorns.
#
In the tower window, the Seeress wept.
Lord Gwilliam was returning from Edous with a train of wagons filled with food and grain and an Edous detachment of five hundred adolescent boys in need of training.
“She comes, my love,” she muttered, knowing her heart would be forever broken.
#
Bek’ka and her friend ran not knowing if there was a dragon or not until they came out of the trees and saw it winging out of the north.
Dark as night against the blue sky and white clouds, its tongue snaked out, scenting prey that was not of the Blood. It banked, gaze searching and saw the pair of running women. Eyes widening it breathed, “CATHARTANS!”
It spat flame.
On the north side of the keep, Gwilliam rode, saw the dragon’s reaction, then heard that word and spurred his horse to a gallop, Truthsayer, racing to catch up with a dozen grizzled looking Gwedian exiles hot on their heels.
#
Bek’ka’s lungs burned as she ran through the tall grassy meadow. The dragon swooping down. She ducked, heard, “Run, Bek’ka, run!”
The dragon dipped its head and scooped up its screaming meal.
“No!” she cried.
“No, Thorinskath! No!” a rider shouted, galloping full out as she stumbled. “Swear to me, Woman!”
Gasping, and on her knees, tears of loss filling her eyes, she heard the man scream, “Swear to me as Blood of the Dragon!”
The dragon spat out fabric as he beat higher into the air, then flipped and dove, wings spread.
“Swear!” the man cried.
She rose, refusing that. In her heart still sworn to her now Shattered House, she accepted her fate. The Seeress words were Truth. She raised her hands, facing up to the dragon, mouth opening wide, with teeth taller than any she had ever imagined.
The pounding of hooves filled her ears and the dragon’s eyes flashed with anger; an arm swooped her up and into the saddle with him as the dragon backwinged furiously. “SHE IS MINE! GIVE HER BACK TO ME!”
Gwilliam rode clear, turned his horse about, “By rights, I should. If you’ll not swear to me, meal to him you will be.”
Bek’ka blinked. He had saved her life. She would stand foresworn as a Daughter of Sire Ryff if she didn’t bond the man. “I swear by the Bond.”
The dragon howled, spitting flame, banking away.
“She is mine!” Gwilliam shouted as Truthsayer and two of the Honor Guard, who dar
ed rode up beside him, their horses’ eyes wide as they fought to back away.
FOOL, MARRIED HER YOU DID. TAKE THAT AS FOOD FOR THOUGHT.
“Married,” he muttered.
“I, uh,” the woman in her arms said, “shall serve as shield and strength… The proper forms to be observed privately, Milord.”
“Married?”
“Bonded, Milord, without a ceremony… I shall bear you fine daughters.”
“TRUTH!” Truthsayer cried out from the very strength of that truth.
At that moment, the Seeress collapsed on the tower floor.
Chapter 45 – The Great Way
The Great Way was more than a ramped avenue from the Crescent Lands to the heights of Imperial walls at the gates of the Province of Rian. It was a series of fortified towns with retractable bridges that had thwarted attacks from the city-states that long ago the Empire had ruled in all but name.
The Great Way was the lifeblood to trade. It was a shaped like a serpent’s tongue, with a northern fork and a southern, with great towers set to defend each. In one such tower an aged elfblood commanded; junior to Lord Rian not due to rank but privilege. The captain of the southern tower was a toady to the Lord of Rian.
The Sergeant entered the chambers of the tower commander with a vast window looking out to the north, the Imperial cliff and the Clifftowns stretching into the distance. “Welcome, back,” the old silver haired elfblood said.
“Commander, I have safely braved the Rian’s Court.”
“And lived to tell about it.” He held out his hand, “What orders do you bring me this time?”
The Sergeant frowned, placing the mage sealed satchel on his desk, “You want to read all the pages of that or let me to you what it says?”
“Let me get us both drinks… I take it we both can use it?”
“Oh, yes, Milord.”
The old elf paused. “Shenret, I know this room is well warded, but never call me that again.”
The Sergeant nodded, “Sorry… Sir. I’ve served you, too long perhaps.”
“No one is safe from… Lord Rian’s eyes and ears. Though his latest spy is seeking a hefty bride from those traders down there.”
He poured them two stiff drinks. The saluted each other and drank, which was a tradition that if Lord Rian knew of its origin, would have gotten them both murdered in their beds.
“So, what will my orders tell me?”
“Lord Rian grows bored.”
“His last bauble?”
“No one’s seen her in months.”
“So she’s dead,” the old elf said.
“He is bored. He seeks new entertainments.” The Sergeant held out his cup, “Another, Sir?”
He poured for them both, knowing he would have to pass on Lord Rian’s desires. “Heavens help her… or them…”
#
The troupe had done fifteen shows, one in each town that led them closer and closer to Everheart, which, by the time they arrived had already set aside their fairgrounds for the show. They also had ten Marshalls and a good portion of the city guard watching out for the safety of their populace from the chained up twenty-five foot troll they had all heard about.
The letters of introduction were shown to Everheart’s Mayor and representatives of the Council of the Dales, who were given a private display of Lawson and Nessa’s control of what the Mayor called “the creature.”
Greth looked placid enough, then when their backs turned he shook his chains. Nessa shouted, “Down!”
“Um, you do have him well trained,” the Mayor said.
Lawson nodded, “He is bound by more than the chains you see, Mister Mayor.”
“I look forward to bringing my family to the show.”
“With our compliments, Mister Mayor.”
He smiled, “That would be most kind of you.”
“The Mayor apparently has a large family, Lawson,” Yel’ane griped.
“How many people are in the stands, do you think?”
She shook her head about to guess, when she frowned, “Two thousand three hundred and thirty-eight.”
He blinked. “That many.”
“Forty,” she corrected, frowning.
He set a hand on her shoulder, seeing the faintest glimpse of a tendril on the lead wagon’s roof. The buggers could be so irritating about their “fixing” things, he thought, then reminded himself that they were quite protective. Several would be thieves had tried for their strongbox only to have found themselves waking up the next morning, knowing they had reconsidered any such thing. After all, the place was not only guarded by the chained troll, but the Magician, himself.
One had reconsidered that decision yet again. Since then he could be found dancing, naked, under the Second Moon, known locally as the Moon’s Child. After the first time, he had run off explaining that he was turning into a Sprite.
People laughed, but gave the Magician odd looks at times.
The dragon scales seemed inordinately pleased with themselves.
“They still paying in bronze?”
“Not for the better seats.”
Lawson covered his mouth and smiled. Everheart proved quite lucrative. They stayed a week and a man attended every show. He quietly asked questions to several of the Marshalls until he learned the troupe were bound for Hollif.
He followed the show south out of the Dales and into the Clifftowns. It was there he decided it was time to invite them to perform for the Towers of the Great Way.
#
The three women frowned. They had little coin to see the show, but used it to watch the Sprites perform. Ani’ya played the fiddle. The girls bounded on all fours as if they truly were hounds. Yel’ane danced on the Magician’s shoulders. Nessa loosed shaft after shaft from the running troll’s back.
The boy, doing tricks on the white horse, they understood even less.
As the show ended, the women hung back and watched.
They were not the only ones. A hooded man dressed in brown stood off to the side. They watched him proceed over to the cowled Magician as the last of the audience members departed after praising the girls, the boy, and the Magician.
“Master Magician…”
Lawson turned, eyes narrowed. “Good Sir.”
“Would you consider making a detour and performing for my friends?”
“It depends.”
“Gold interest you?”
“It could sway me.”
“I am Hynrik,” the man said, smiled.
Lawson did not.
The women standing behind the trees did not.
The dragon scale’s tendril simply watched.
#
That night the women watched as the Magician tucked in the girls. They overheard, “Good night, Milord.”
They liked that not at all.
“You fancy just standing out here all night watching us?” The women turned and stared at Yel’ane, who gestured, “It’s a lot warmer by the fire, Sisters.”
They hesitated, then greeted Nessa, who sighed, “You found us.”
“You have much explaining to do, young lady,” one of the scouts said.
Nessa nodded, “Lady Yel’ane, here, should do that.”
“Lady Yel’ane?” the scout practically choked.
Yel’ane winced, “Lord Lawson saved my life.”
Little faces peered out from the curtains, “Oh!”
“Go to bed,” Lawson ordered.
“Yes, Papa!” Jen’yan said, then covered her mouth. “Oh!”
Every head ducked back inside the wagon.
The three Cathartans glared first at Lawson, then Yel’ane.
“I was about to explain…” she muttered.
“You saved all of them?”
“My friend and I, yes,” Lawson said.
“Those girls are children and Nessa and Yel’ane, are still very much so.”
“I didn’t get a say,” Lawson answered.
“You didn’t?” That earned Yel’ane
a darker glare.
“He accidently saw them all naked and well, he ended up adopting them provisionally, then we learned that… father was dead and it didn’t feel quite as provisional.”
“So, you married him?” one demanded.
“No, she has not,” Lawson said.
“But you’ve seen her naked?”
To that he made no reply. Yel’ane blushed. “We are not married. Though… I wish it when I am of proper age.”
They stared at her. “Nessa you’ve bonded the, uh, big one?” one of them asked.
“As only daughter of his House, Sister.”
That woman took Yel’ane by the arm and asked, “What are you thinking? He’s… a troll,” she whispered, seeing the marshalls looking on, curiously.
“I love him.”
“Did no one explain to you what bonding as a wife entails?”
“I was taken out to the stables and watched the stallion with…”
“That is horses, intended to lend insight into the process. Be that as it may, you would play mare that way to that hairy beast?”
Yel’ane blinked, rasped, “He isn’t a hairy beast.”
“You’ll grant he is hairy, which actually may be an asset as it likely covers up what makes him more clearly a beast.”
“That’s not fair. Lawson is…”
“If a dog saved your life, you would bond and marry him?”
“He’s not a dog.”
“No, he’s a troll, Yel’ane.”
“He is brilliant and kind!”
“Brilliant? Well, I’ll grant he can speak, while the other one can’t.”
“Greth doesn’t speak because it’s necessary he does not, which leaves Nessa to be his voice for now.”
The woman frowned. “Yel’ane, I am not your Sestor –– just a Sister. We came to find you and get you safely to the family.”
“I am home… wherever Lord Lawson is.”
“Though I see the girl before me, I sense the woman… a fool woman –– now mother to twelve impressionable children, whose mothers and Sestors won’t recognize them. They will not be happy with what you have done, but as he saved you and you’ve bonded yourselves in ways I do not understand… You have seen the girls going out at night, I take it?”