Complete In the Service of Dragons

by William Robert Stanek

  “But I do not understand. You have done nothing to offend me.”

  “Shh, listen. I, most of all, should have known that you would do nothing to harm our queen intentionally. I betrayed your friendship, but what I can never forgive myself for was that I also acted out of jealousy. I—”

  “What are you—jealous?”

  “I know it is wrong, but I am in love with you.”

  “Love? What? Wait—stop a minute—say that again.”

  “I am sorry. I have said too much already. Come, we should go.”

  Brushing the tears from her eyes, Tsandra retreated from the hilltop, leaving Valam completely baffled. He watched her go; he wanted to scream at her but did not. He remained alone on top of the hill and tried to rethink his actions.

  He watched as the others saddled their horses in preparation to rejoin the trail, then walked down the hill to join them. In minutes they were back in the saddle trotting toward the plains, leaving behind no signs that they had ever stopped here. They traversed the short distance to the grasslands quickly. It was almost instantaneous, as Valam crossed into the tall grasses, that he began to feel a peculiar sense grow within him.

  His eyes began to search the plains rapidly back and forth. He had sensed this feeling once before though he could not place it. His eyes followed down the line to Seth, Cagan, Evgej, Liyan, and finally Tsandra. Their eyes answered his unspoken question; they could also feel it.

  With the passing of two days on the plain, the sensations only increased. The air began to grow colder and stronger, reaching sharply through their heavy riding clothes. Seth called a halt late in the afternoon. He held his hand up high, until the last of the group had formed and stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Valam, wondering why they had stopped so soon. Seth pointed to a spot on the plains where the wind blew up dust in patches. A whisper of thought entered their minds. Valam had heard the sounds shallow within his mind before. He strained to concentrate only on listening. He could tell the sounds were words, but they were too weak to understand.

  “I am Brother Seth, first of the order of the Red!” said Seth, reaching out with his mind. Valam perceived the thrust of Seth’s energies like an explosion within his mind. He clenched his teeth tightly and immediately covered his ears. Evgej’s reactions also brought his hands speedily to his ears. Although the action did nothing to curb the intensity of the burst of sound in their minds, it did appease their senses.

  “Come! It is Brother Teren!” exclaimed Seth as he firmly swatted his steed with his tethers. The two groups of riders raced towards one another. It was not until the other group was in clear view that Valam realized that it was composed mainly of men. By the size and outfitting of the group, he estimated that it must be a scouting party, which Valam hoped to mean that the camp was close at hand.

  “Supplies at last!” shouted Mikhal as he approached. He dropped to his feet quickly and knelt, with his head bowed in reverence. He did not allow the icy snow slapping his face to deter his moment of silence. “My prince, you live!” he shouted with a joyful voice, as he stood with his head still bowed.

  Words fluttered to Valam’s tongue; he knew the man, but couldn’t remember his name or title. He tried to think carefully, although quickly, searching for a name to match the face, but he was puzzled and Chancellor Van’te wasn’t there to whisper in his ear. What was the man referring to? Of course, he was alive. Valam tried to picture a name for the face he saw, “Mikhal,” flashed into his thoughts.

  “Prince Valam, we thought you dead. We thought the storm took you. Oh, thanks be to the Father!” shouted Captain Mikhal. Images spun through the captain’s mind. His thoughts carried him back and swept him away.

  “A storm is going to take us if we don’t hurry!” whispered Liyan into Seth’s mind.

  Seth turned to face Liyan. “Yes, you are right. I sense heavy snows. An odd season, is it not?”

  “More than that, I suspect,” directed Liyan into Seth’s mind alone.

  “I am Captain Mikhal; this is Lieutenant Danyel’,” said the captain as he watched Valam search for words.

  “Captain Mikhal, yes, ‘Lieutenant Danyel,’ curious,” said Prince Valam. “It is good to find you.”

  They rapidly went through the remainder of the introductions. As Brother Teren took the lead, the winds suddenly changed directions, bringing in a gale from the northeast. The new wind had an instant chilling effect as it touched bare skin. Evgej and Valam wrapped their cloaks tightly around them.

  Evgej didn’t much care for the cold; as it touched his face and hands, he cursed it. He would much rather be in the warmth of his southerly homeland. Quashan’ was rarely visited by harsh cold, and even more rarely with snow. As the group turned in a northerly direction, his teeth began to chatter.

  Snow descended from the sky in large flurries. Evgej was growing agitated in the saddle. He had to keep moving around to gain warmth. Evgej could see from Valam’s staunch features that he wasn’t reacting to the cold as much.

  “Do you think he will come before the snows fade?” whispered Seth into Liyan’s thoughts.

  “I believe we must wait to see, but if he is a wise man, he will wait.”

  “Yes, as would I.”

  “These snows are out of place and time. They will soon trap us indoors; let us hope these men have built adequate shelters.”

  “We have nothing to fear; Keeper Martin and Father Jacob are smart men.”

  “The weather along the coast should be considerably milder than here,” commented Liyan, as he squinted in the face of the heavy snowfall; a mild, tingling sensation against his face spoke of the cold without; otherwise, he did not feel it though he did think it a dark tiding.

  Valam drifted back in thought. Images wandered through his mind as life-size pictures against the white backdrop of the snow. He saw the Queen-Mother in those images, and he whispered out the name she had told him only he could call her. He was careful to use the mind controls Seth had taught him to mask his open thoughts, so his words did not drift into the others’ consciousness by mistake.

  Brother Teren raised a gloved hand high. Although the gesture was scarcely visible, it was seen by the rider behind him and was passed on to those behind him. Thus, the signal to halt was passed to the rear. With a dour countenance, Teren dismounted and led his mount back to Seth and Liyan. The walk was more a formality than a necessity, for he could have directed his thoughts to Seth or Liyan instead, which would have been more forceful than his spoken words.

  Seth’s response was just as exaggerated; he wished to continue, no matter the odds. A delay in the open plains could prove fatal; they could be snowed in indefinitely. They would continue on, even if they must travel into the night.

  “Not much like home anymore, is it, Seventh?” called out Captain Mikhal to the man who rode close at his side. Danyel’ waved his head negatively in response although snow wasn’t that unusual a sight for him. He had spent many long winters in the northern sectors of the kingdom. It wasn’t that he liked it or disliked it—mostly, he was indifferent to it.

  Although Teren could no longer see his way, he could feel it. He had visited this prairie many times, as had the snows. His native sense of direction was extraordinarily strong, an important attribute of any good scout, He knew where the camp of men lay along the coast, and the Father willing, he would lead everyone to it.

  A startled emotion flowed to Tsandra, who had been riding solemnly with those of her order. She steered her horse mid-group and charged without thought, issuing rapid summons for those of the Brown to follow her and prepare.

  Her thoughts reached Seth and Liyan in disarray, and caused the remainder of the group to come to a sudden halt. Seth was confused, as was Liyan; they didn’t understand what Tsandra had perceived. Seth sent questions to her mind, but her thoughts were scattered and unreachable.

  Valam raced his mount toward Seth; his voice wavered as he shouted his questions. Tsandra’s words h
ad been sent frantically. They had been in the words of Seth’s people, but he had only caught a few words. As Valam approached, it became obvious to him that Seth was also confused, yet he asked again anyway, “What is it? What did she see?”

  Seth’s response was that he did not know either, but she had told them to wait until she returned. So they would wait until she returned.

  “Can you ask her again?” queried Valam.

  “I have tried but her thoughts are unreachable.”

  “Unreachable?”

  “She is confused.”

  “Confused?” asked Valam, adding when Seth didn’t respond to the thought that lay heavily on his mind, “Is this what you call mild snows?”

  “This is an odd storm. I assure you the coast is clear and tranquil compared to this. The sea breezes are much more forgiving than those of the plains.”

  Brother Teren, also of the Brown, charged after Tsandra, screaming out, “No! Don’t!” to her mind, but her thoughts were closed. He spurred his mount several times, chiding it to go faster. “What are you doing? No, don’t! Leave him alone!”

  Tsandra released her right leg from the stirrups, carefully securing her left. She leaned outward and downward with her arms, ready to snatch up the tiny scurrying form as it raced away. She grabbed the figure, with its legs still flailing the air as she picked it up, and tucked it close beside her, sending her followers out in all directions in search of any others.

  The child muttered something Tsandra didn’t understand, biting her hand immediately afterwards, causing her to release her grip. Tsandra jumped from her mount and chased the child. Her feet slipped as they hit the icy ground. As she grabbed the tiny figure again, she fell face first.

  “Brother Tsandra, I implore you. He means no harm. He is my shadow,” forced Teren into Tsandra’s mind.

  “What do you mean shadow? Why is he following us?”

  “He is not following you. He is following me.”

  “Why?” demanded Tsandra.

  “He always does. Let him go, and I’ll explain.”

  As Tsandra released the boy, he scurried away, his short legs weaving a blur, very quickly carrying him to a distance where he felt safe. Teren pushed thoughts and images into Tsandra’s mind as they hurried back to the group. Tsandra recalled her warriors and movement slowly restarted; the dark storm attained full fury during the delay and was not dealing with them kindly.

  “Explain?” demanded Tsandra into Teren’s mind, letting him know that it was a subtle order, which she as the first could make, and that it demanded a quick, precise response.

  “He is an orphan. He has been following me for a very long time. Do not let his size fool you; he is quite capable of surviving on his own. He has endured worse storms than this, and the fact that you sensed his presence was not an accident, as you would think. He wanted you to notice him although I don’t know why.”

  “Why haven’t you found him a suitable family to dwell with?”

  “He would not go. Again, you only sensed him because he wanted you to. Most often, I only know he is there by a presence at the edges of my awareness.”

  “Nevertheless, I caught him, didn’t I, where you couldn’t. I could have helped him.”

  “He was only playing with you.”

  “Playing with me?”

  As Tsandra rode angrily away, Teren didn’t regret her later scorn. There was no worse place she could send him to and no better. Contrary to what Tsandra thought, Teren really loved roaming the plains, even in the face of storms such as the one they now endured.

  Cagan, who wouldn’t have missed this trip for anything, was having second thoughts. Clumps of thick, wet snow fell upon them, sticking and forming tiny mounds and layers on clothing, equipment, and everything else it touched. He was mutely thinking that if he had remained at the capital, he could at the very least have watched the wind fill the sails of his craft while it was moored at the docks. He would have run the sails up for the occasion. But now instead of rolling waves beneath his feet, he had saddle sores.

  The snowfall grew so thick that Teren thought it better to dismount and lead his horse rather than ride. There was nothing he could mistakenly lead them into along this open span. He felt closer to Mother-Earth as he walked across the thick grasses of the plains and it allowed him to maintain his sense of bearing. The animal also needed a reprieve. It was instinctively cautious about traveling under such foul conditions. Being led reassured it.

  The pack animals were becoming heavily bogged down under their burdens. The group was forced to stop frequently and remove the mounds of snow from them, most especially from the protectors over the animals’ eyes. The snow still had a wetness to it that made it cling to everything it touched. An animal that could not see would not move, no matter how much it was coaxed.

  The thick grass they traversed still afforded them fair traction even with inches of snow piled deep onto it, but ever so rapidly the last signs of the grasses were disappearing. Teren stopped the group again and went back to counsel Liyan and Seth. Although his eyes chanced upon Tsandra, who was close-by, he did not acknowledge her presence in his conversation with the two. His suggestion was to construct a shelter here where they stood, while they still had the means and the illumination of day. Although the odd storm obscured the light, it was still better than it would be after dark.

  Chapter Three

  With the arrival of Nijal and Shchander, the curious company was complete. Xith, Amir, Noman, and the others would now go to the last place the dark lord would expect. They would journey straight into the heart of darkness itself to confront the darkness sweeping the land before the darkness confronted them.

  Crossing the Wall of the World at night was a dangerous gamble but a gamble that was accomplished without accident or incident. The company entered the thick woodlands of the Western Territories, traveling day and night for two full days before slowing the pace. The distance did little to quell Xith’s nerves. His mind was continually on edge since Vilmos left them. He had failed. He had tempted fate and lost; its sting upon him was as a thousand lashes against his innermost self. He had altered the paths, and they were now lost to him. He felt the convergence sweep in, but nothing beyond.

  Yet most puzzling among his many disconcerted, disconnected thoughts was the whereabouts of Ayrian. Although intuition told him Ayrian was not dead, he could not conceive another fate for him. In his mind, Ayrian slowly ceased to exist as hope of his sudden re-appearance waned. He was greatly saddened by this because Ayrian was the last of the mighty eagle lords.

  The thoroughfares they traveled, although they were the primary connection between the kingdom and the outlying cities of the territories, were wildly overgrown in many areas. Progress along them with a carriage was slow and tedious. Xith sat absent-mindedly holding the reins in much the same manner that he had chastised Nijal for previously, watching the team of horses plod along the path.

  Amir rode beside Noman, honing his muscles with a series of tiny contractions and relaxations, being careful to stretch them after they became fatigued; thus, he maintained his awareness and he was not the only one in the company to feel increasing unease. He took every opportunity, although they were few, to wrest his sword from its sheath. Nijal was often his companion, willing or not, but most times willing. Shchander sometimes joined in with Nijal, making it two against one, to give Amir a challenge, but he was most comfortable watching.

  Noman was also content to observe. He spent most of this waking hours reflecting on the turnings of the Path. He enjoyed the intellectual conversations he and Xith would have late in the evenings, which as of late had been of varied lengths, usually lasting well after the two should have retired to get adequate sleep for the next day’s travels. Sometimes he would secretly cast the sticks, playing at the game of Destiny though he knew he should not.

  Since their passage into the forest, the company had switched their practice of traveling in darkness, for the path was extremely
treacherous at night even with the talented Amir leading the way. Noman put to full use the hours that would have been wasted. He sent Amir to search for any signs that they were being followed or tracked. He sent Nijal and Shchander in search of game for their food stocks, as the supplies were running short. Both searches were fruitful.

  Adrina whiled away days in relative solitude within the confines of the carriage. Nijal seemed to ignore her presence since Shchander’s arrival, not that she blamed him. She could see that the two were old acquaintances, and they had much catching up to do; nonetheless, she felt left out.

  She picked up scattered bits of Shchander’s stories of Imtal through Nijal, only enough to arouse her curiosity but not enough to quench it. She was very glad to hear that Calyin and Lord Serant were in the Great Kingdom. From time to time she would unconsciously massage the fingers of her hand, soothing away a pain that was no longer there. Nijal remained the only one who knew of the mark upon her. She told no one else and made sure Nijal didn’t speak of it.