Complete In the Service of Dragons

by William Robert Stanek

  “Ahh, yes. Is there anything that needs to be readied?”

  “All preparations are basically set. We need only to find Cagan and Liyan, my queen.”

  “Yes, Brother Seth, follow everything as planned. You have my permission.”

  “Thank you.”

  Valam leaned close to the queen and quietly intoned, “I—I.”

  “I, too. You must go!” said the queen, harsher than she wished, as she strained to hold at bay the emotions within her. She quickly added, “I think I know where you can find Cagan and Liyan. Try the docks.”

  “That is what I thought,” said Seth as he departed, followed by Evgej and Valam. Valam looked back just before he exited the square, but the platform was already empty. The three walked toward the docks and, as expected, Cagan’s boat was just returning. Evgej caught the line Cagan offered and tied the ship to the dock. He held back a laugh when Liyan stepped off the boat after Cagan.

  The Queen-Mother watched from a window high above. She nodded her head in approval as they hurriedly moved back into the palace. A man clad in dark-colored robes walked out onto the balcony beside her. He whispered into her mind, “My queen, is it time?”

  “No,” came the response into his thoughts, “just follow; I will tell you when it is time.”

  By early afternoon, a large contingent was mounted and waiting before the far gates of the palace with Tsandra, Seth, Liyan, Cagan, Valam, and Evgej at the fore of the group; a mass of brown clad riders filed in long columns behind the lead six. A second formation of riders stretched horizontally across the courtyard.

  The queen crossed to her platform, her emotions controlled behind the mask of her face as she looked over the group from rear to front, wishing each rider a safer return. She paused at the last rider and wished him her love. She ordered the central gates opened and bid the group a final farewell.

  The brigade slowly strode through the city. A gate in a hillside near the outer walls lead to a wide tunnel that carried them beneath the waters of the great lake. At the exit of the tunnel on the opposite shore they were forced to wait until the supply caravans joined them; then they continued on their way. As they rode away, Valam occasionally looked back toward Leklorall’s spiraling towers and mighty walls. His heart was not in riding this day; he longed to be somewhere else but knew he could not.

  

  The vision flowed strongly; it would not fade. Vilmos felt the surge of strength within him peak beyond the limits of his mind. The power became him and he became the power. He could not control it, nor could it control him. They were two entities wrapped in turmoil in each other’s arms.

  “Where will you go now, my friend? Where is it you think you can hide? There is no place to flee to; you only run from yourself.”

  “But I know where I must go and what I must do.”

  “Do not lie to me, for you cannot lie to yourself.”

  “Still your tongue or I will invoke pain within you that will be so great your soul will cry out for death, but I will not let you pass. I will hold your spirit at bay until the pain grows within you to such an intensity that your spirit will wish itself from existence.”

  “You most of all should know true death, but lest you not forget its curse, I will welcome the day I return to walk through the halls of your memories, as I already have and will throughout eternity.”

  “Then it is you, old friend.”

  “Of course it is I, who else could it be?”

  “But you are dead.”

  “So are you; we are both long since passed.”

  “Yes! Last time we met, I defeated you.”

  “No, we destroyed each other.”

  “Correction! I destroyed you both!”

  “I do not understand; why, then, am I here?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I have brought you back to learn from. I need your knowledge, and I will have it.”

  “Do you think you can order us, as if we were children? Each of us has the power to utterly destroy you at will and yet you talk to us as if we were token pawns.”

  “You are quite right. You are token pawns, the fools on the board, and I am your master.”

  Vilmos received a crushing blow to the head; excruciating pain filled every fiber of his being. He cried out into the darkness of the night. He searched within his mind striving to force the vision away. The two would not go; they could not go. The third spoke in a voice that caused Vilmos’ mind to recoil. The image of the last began to clear, and though it was a shadow of himself, Vilmos failed to recognize it. He could not, for he did not want to.

  Vilmos watched as the three began to circle each other methodically, each assessing the other. The two old friends smiled cynically at the third. They knew what they must do, and so they did it. Wildly, they attacked each other, creating a vortex of swirling energies.

  “Go away!” cried out a small voice, “Go away now!”

  The thoughts would not go. They demanded to be heard and recognized. They demanded to be alive. Vilmos clasped his ears and pounded his head into the ground, until the wetness of blood dripping down his face soaked the ground about him. The pain within him was replaced by the pain from without; only then at the moment of unconsciousness did the voices fade from his thoughts.

  

  Nijal raced his mount toward the leader, his sword and dagger raised ready to plunge. He screamed his battle cry of defiance strong and true; then the two horses collided. The leader had not expected Nijal to reach him; the shock was evident on his face as he was knocked sprawling.

  In an instant, the other riders stopped; they thirstily began to circle Nijal. He did not flinch under their scrutiny. His weapons remained erect and challenging.

  “Your death will come easy, put down your weapons and we will not harm you!”

  “I spit on your offering of surrender; no free man ever surrenders willingly. I am a free man.”

  “And will die as such!” the words rang out before Nijal could finish them. “The free man’s code, where did you learn it?”

  “Why, from my father of course,” said Nijal spurring his mount into a charge at the speaker. He leapt from his mount, throwing the rider back to the ground. Nijal dropped his sword to free his hand to hold the man, while his other held a dagger firm against the man’s throat.

  “Tell them to stop the attack. Tell them now or you will die!”

  “I cannot. We will both die then.”

  “Tell them, or I’ll slit your throat!” yelled Nijal while he pulled the man’s head back by his hair with his free hand. The other stared into Nijal’s eyes unafraid.

  The light of torches increased about them while the two struggled. Nijal knew his fate was soon coming. He had accomplished what he had hoped for. He had given his friends a chance to escape, and that was all he had wanted. He would die, but he would take this man with him.

  “I, Nijal, son of Geoffrey, take your life with that of mine!” said Nijal as he raised his dagger to plunge deeply, insuring the other’s demise. The man released a blood curdling cry, “Nijal? No! Nijal, don’t.” It was too late; Nijal thrust downwards with his blade.

  Strong hands grabbed Nijal’s arm and held his dagger at bay. Nijal gritted his teeth and cursed, thrusting downward with all his weight, never faltering in his determination. “Nijal, son of Geoffrey—don’t! It is I,” screamed the other.

  Thoughts and sounds exploded in Nijal’s mind; with a puzzled frown, he allowed his weapon to be pulled from his hand. “Release him at once! Stop! Stop! Go now and tell them to stop the chase. Go! These are friends!”

  Shchander continued to yell and wave his hands wildly in the air until everyone began to listen to him. He helped Nijal to his feet, grabbed the nearest torch and pushed it close to Nijal’s face. “Look!” he yelled, “It is Nijal. Nijal, I tell you. Get Geoffrey quickly!”

  Several riders raced back towards the main group by the roadside. Nijal instantly recognized the distinguished-lookin
g statesman that raced towards him and embraced him. “It is good to see you!”

  “Yes, father it is good to see you also.”

  “Sorry about the misunderstanding, but when we spotted you and you broke for the trees, we assumed you were bandits.”

  “Well, maybe I am.”

  “Yes, you are quite the rogue, aren’t you? Have you found what you sought?”

  “Yes, father. I am finally content; I have purpose.”

  “This is good. Tell your friends to return. We shall camp here for the evening and catch up on times past.”

  “I am sorry. We cannot afford to tarry any longer. We must find our path.”

  “Are you sure? Do you need anything? Want for anything?”

  “No, father. We need only to return to the road. My companions will wish to remain anonymous. We have cargo that cannot be seen.”

  The two talked, as a father and son do, and quickly caught up on times past. Nijal was very interested in hearing news of the gathering. Readily, he soaked up the information Geoffrey offered so he could re-tell it to Noman. When Geoffrey had finished, Nijal quickly and carefully skirted the details of what he had been up to.

  “Ahh, yes, I understand. May I ask where you are headed?”

  “North. Tell Calyin and Lord Serant our cargo is safe. The child will be all right. I do not want her to worry.”

  Geoffrey knew better than to push for further information, so he asked, “Will you be all right, Nijal, my son?”

  “Yes, if we leave here soon.”

  “I will give you an escort to insure your safety.”

  “We need none.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Shchander is a good man. I will send his detachment with you. They are all loyal men, as you well know. They will receive your orders as they would mine.”

  “Your offer is kind, but I must flatly refuse it. We need no assistance.”

  “A few more men can only aid you. It would be for the best.”

  “We have no need for brute force. Only stealth will save us.”

  “Then I must accept your words. May the Father watch over you.”

  “May the Father also watch over you,” said Nijal as he remounted. He gripped the reins tightly and spurred back toward his companions.

  “Tell your friend, I send salutations. Tell him thanks again for the assistance. I am twofold in his debt.”

  “I will, father.”

  Nijal had a wide smile on his face as he raced away, a smile of contentment. His purpose in life had seemed to grow suddenly manyfold. He called out, “It is I, Nijal!” to the bear of a figure that guarded his entrance as he rode closer. “Everything is all right. It was only Geoffrey of Solntse and a group of men from the free city.”

  “Yes, we know. We heard. We were with you in thought,” said Amir. Nijal didn’t understand what Amir had meant by the statement, but not understanding didn’t bother him in the least. He simply overlooked the incomprehension and understood. “Is Adrina okay?” asked Nijal, jumping to another subject.

  “Yes, she is well.”

  They waited until Geoffrey’s group rejoined the road and the sound of their horses thinned into the night air before they too returned to their path. Hastily, they proceeded along the trail, quietly thanking the Mother for the darkness of the night she afforded them.

  Amidst the gloom, they passed the place where it is said that north meets south and east becomes west. Nijal thought it strange that the only settlement was an old rundown outpost. If he were a merchant, this would be the perfect place for a business venture, but then Nijal was no merchant, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

  Though the winds were quite calm, the night air held a bitter lash. Xith remarked that the storm season would be early this year, bringing with it an end to the previous year. Noman nodded slightly in agreement with Xith’s words. They had been casual in the saying, but each held within them hidden meanings. The future held surprises for them that would not be solved so easily.

  As the first light of morning broke, the group stopped for a short reprieve, then took up the trek again: there would be no rest this day. The great road was too well-traveled by patrols and merchants alike. Nijal’s mind started to roam as they slowly journeyed down the road. His attention fell briefly to Xith and he smiled, remembering his companion’s earlier comments.

  “Huh?” Nijal uttered as he recalled their previous conversation.

  “Only rogues sleep during the day.”

  “Well, I guess we are rogues then, are we not?”

  “Of course we aren’t rogues. Now go help Amir with the horses. We can’t afford to have any lame animals on our hands.”

  “But wouldn’t it be better to rest here than to continue?”

  “No, it would not be better. Sometimes it is better to be blatantly obvious than to be covert; this is one of those times, and we also need to make up some distance.”

  “Nijal, watch out! Here give me those.”

  “Sorry,” apologized Nijal as he snapped out of his reverie and pulled the reins to bring the horses to a halt. “What is it?”

  Xith pointed to the rider in the distance behind them. “So, what about him?” offered Nijal. “You said this road was well-traveled and so far this is the only person we have encountered.”

  “Amir marked him last night. He has been following us ever since.”

  “Where is Amir? I haven’t seen him for some time.”

  “He is there,” said Xith pointing again back down the trail.

  “Where? I don’t see him.”

  “That is because you see only with your eyes. Look with your mind and you will see him.”

  “Hocus pocus, mumbo jumbo,” thought Nijal to himself. He partially understood the concepts of energies and magic although it was hard for him to accept. Inside, Nijal did not want to admit their truth although he had to confess to seeing some fairly odd things happen since he had joined Xith and the others.

  “Okay, I’ll look,” said Nijal. Once again he was forced to rework his consciousness up to a level of acceptance without comprehension. “Wow!” he exclaimed when a second rider entered the images of his mind.

  As the first rider approached it became clear that he was puzzled as to whether he should continue up the path or stop. His horse would speed up and then slow down. Once he even stopped under the pretense of watering and feeding his mount; and when it became clear that he was being scrutinized, he mounted and continued up the path towards them. His face was completely covered by a dark hood, making it impossible to see anything distinguishing about the figure. As the distance between them diminished to a few paces, Nijal couldn’t contain the smirk on his face. It seemed so ironic that Amir rode right alongside the other and yet was invisible to him.

  “You can dismount now!” said Amir to the startled rider as he appeared beside him and reined in his mount. Obviously shaken, the rider dismounted as he had been told. “Aw, I should have known I never would have been able to pull it off,” muttered the rider as he removed his hood.

  Nijal burst out laughing as he recognized the disgruntled man. “You never should have come. This is no place for you, but since you are here—” Nijal paused to judge Xith’s opinion on the subject then continued, “—since you are here—you are most welcome!” Nijal jumped down from his perch and embraced the other.

  “Shchander, you are most welcome in our party,” said Noman, “although you have picked a rather precarious time to join us. It would be best for you to rejoin your companions on the road to Imtal.”

  “My place is here. I have given my pledge.”

  Nijal added quietly, “Now there are two,” saying the last word only in his mind, “misfits.”

  “Neither of you are misfits,” added Noman.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Princess Calyin’s face blanched as the words fell heavily upon her. “What is this outrage?” she cried out. “I will not have it! There will be no test!”

  Father Joshua put h
is hands gently on Calyin’s shoulders and attempted to calm her down. Calyin would not calm her tongue for anyone. She pushed Father Joshua aside and rose from her seat. Her face was now dark with anger. Calyin, with eyes cold and fixed, glared around the room, daring anyone to say anything further on the subject. No one with was willing to challenge her, so all remained quiet for a time.