Complete In the Service of Dragons

by William Robert Stanek

  The clatter of several pairs of hooves against hard rock carried loudly to their listening ears. The two riders seemed to circle the square two or three times as if searching. Once or twice Brodst and Serant perceived eyes on them, but then as swiftly as the two appeared, they were gone. The sound of their retreat echoed for a long time before it faded away. Lord Serant slumped against the wall and sank to his knees in relief; they would wait for a short time before they would go for the wall and escape beyond it. He hoped the night would be very dark.

  In a tiny cleft hidden three bricks high and two bricks in along the high stone wall, lay the gate key, where it had lain now for many years. Lord Serant breathed deeply and flashed its form back to the others who yet waited in the shadows. The night was as dark as he would have hoped; stars peeked in and out of light cloud cover and a twinkle of brass caught Captain Brodst’s eye. He bade the others to follow his lead into the square.

  One by one they crossed the square to the dark recesses by the wall. Geoffrey was the last to leave the alley, his methodical gait, though scarcely audible, grew closer. Five waited patiently for his arrival. Timmer remained where he was; this was the end of his journey this day. The chancellor had only left his side to insure that the gate was secured before the two made their retreat, which would be separate from the others. The chancellor and Timmer had business elsewhere within the city, and not beyond it. Lord Serant fiddled with the key in his hand, waiting to release the latch when all was clear.

  A shrill noise brought cold shivers. Geoffrey slumped flat against cool stone, lying motionless, waiting to insure that movement was safe. The noise passed, as sounds in the dark often do, and Geoffrey rose to his knees and crept away. He did not relax until Serant touched his shoulder reassuringly. “All is well,” he whispered.

  Lord Serant touched key to keyhole and turned it; after a slight hesitation and a little resistance, the old lock released and with a creak the gate opened. He did not dare to push it open more than a foot, fearing that the noise of the old hinges would surely rouse someone’s attention. Serant was the first to slip beyond the city’s walls and into the breezes of the night. Here Volnej parted with the others. Good-byes were hurried and speechless, as there was nothing more to be said, and their voices need not be heard.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hours before the sun rose, the camp was a jumble of activity. Renewed hope and faith filled the thoughts of many. Prince Valam had returned at long last. They had enough supplies to carry them through the cold that lay ahead, and now they were ready to train for the coming challenge with all their hearts, more than ever before.

  Seth regarded Liyan with inquiring eyes. There was something bothering Liyan, but he could not tell what. As he watched Liyan, he paced back and forth, and every now and again, he would glance out the small opening at the front of the tent to note the weather.

  Several hours past first light, a messenger arrived with a summons for them. They were to meet the others in the command tent. The messenger said that Prince Valam was already anxiously awaiting their arrival. The two followed the messenger back towards the center of the camp and then circled off towards the command tent.

  By the time Seth and Liyan arrived, almost everyone was already present and seated around the conference table, which was strewn with scrolls and maps, and even the remnants of several breakfasts, which were being cleared away as they entered. Seth wasn’t surprised to find that Teren had already returned to the plains and his watch. He could tell that Teren had longed to be alone and away from past memories.

  Tsandra sat smugly beside Cagan, and the two were engrossed in conversation. Evgej, Valam, and Father Jacob had withdrawn to a quiet corner away from the confusion at the center table. Captain Mikhal and several other men that Seth did not know were seated around the center table although Seth did not see the one called Danyel’.

  Valam quickly returned when he noticed that Seth was present. He had been awaiting Seth and Liyan’s arrival. Just as they were about to begin and the room grew quiet, several men hurried in and took their seats, apologizing for their tardiness. Valam did an account of who was present and who was still unaccounted for. Only Danyel’ was still missing. He dispatched another runner to find him.

  The room began to grow restless after a ten minute wait with no sign of Danyel’. Captain Mikhal grew visibly flushed as the lieutenant was his responsibility, so it became his fault that Danyel’ was absent. After waiting several more minutes, Valam decided to begin without him even though he had counted on the other’s presence.

  Introductions were first, which Valam carried out at length, hoping Danyel’ would arrive before he finished, but Danyel’ did not. Valam went through a long list of names, titles and positions, adhering to the elaborate way Seth’s people formally announced themselves. He started off with Liyan, and ended with Cagan. Tsandra was annoyed, for he had saved her for second to last, and she thought he was going to rank her last. Afterwards, he similarly announced those from the kingdom, saving the six lieutenants for last, and with side consultation from Captain Mikhal he made it through their names without error.

  He finished and took his place at the table, marking each of the names in his mind, associating each with something that would stick in his memory and help him recall the name. Lieutenant Willam had piercing eyes of coal that held a hint of sparkle, perhaps a touch of blue or maybe it was just the reflection of the light. Pavil had a long wispy mustache and a stunted goatee. He stopped at Eran for a time, listening to what Father Jacob was saying and accidentally skipped to Tae, whose auburn locks were immediately distinctive, and then he backed up to Eran. He didn’t really note anything that he could mark in his thoughts, so he went on. His eyes fell on Tae again. He stumbled once more over the face, which he had seen often at Quashan’, but the name did not jump out at him, and he wondered why. S’tryil was another easy one, for he was the bladesmen to whom the prince and the entire kingdom was deeply indebted. Plus if he recalled correctly he had known a Lord S’tryil in his youth, perhaps the lieutenant’s father. He would have to talk with S’tryil about that later.

  Valam smiled as Father Jacob’s words sparked his memory. Redcliff, that’s the name, he thought, and he cast a sidelong glance at Tae although he couldn’t quite recall how the nickname had come about. The last one Valam knew well; he did not need anything to recall the name. Ylsa had served directly under Captain Evgej when he had been a mere swordmaster third-class, and she had helped him, in fact, to attain the rank of swordmaster first-class. The rank of captain had come much later, of course, and only recently, but she was also a mystery to him, as Evgej had been until a short time ago. “Was it a short time?” thought Valam to himself. In all actuality it seemed so very long ago that the two of them and Seth had been together in the Belyj forest.

  The weather outside turned severe as if on cue as Father Jacob raised the topic, discussing Liyan’s concerns at length. Jacob cast a dreary sidelong stare at the flakes of snow falling just beyond his touch. Brother Liyan was correct—this odd season was full upon them, as was readily apparent.

  Father Jacob paused only shortly, and then returned to full eloquent speech, laden with elaborate words, trying firmly to make his point, which he had considered thoroughly during many long and empty nights. He had been all set for a return trip to the kingdom and was rather disappointed at the turn of events. At long last, Jacob concluded and offered the floor to Valam, who was slow to draw on the cue offered him.

  Valam had only briefly returned from his reverie and stood, as a commotion outside caused him to stop cold on his first word. He was the first to go to the door and first to hear the excited runner’s message. “Riders from the north.” Valam came to attention quickly. “How many?”

  “Lieutenant Danyel’ did not say, sire.”

  “Danyel’—where are Lieutenant Danyel’ and his men?”

  The runner pointed to the North, “Just beyond the first hill; they wait.”

&nbs
p; “Is he mad?” asked Valam aloud, although he had meant only to think it.

  The runner nodded courteously and begged graciously to be dismissed, which Valam did without second thought. Valam’s face grew pale as he retreated back into the tent and spread the news. He did not delay to run toward the far northerly side of the camp, clutching his sword. As he approached, he saw nothing but a rather large commotion spreading like wildfire around Danyel’, who was mounted.

  His eyes scanned the distance, but he saw nothing. He called out to the lieutenant, but his words were drowned amidst many voices. He waited until he was at the lieutenant’s side to gain his attention. He did not have to speak, for the men quickly made a path for him to Danyel’; it was done without words and without hesitation. The men held him in extreme reverence since his return, even beyond that which his office normally rendered him.

  “My prince, you have come. I give thanks,” spoke Danyel’, echoing his men’s respect for Valam.

  “What is it?”

  “Listen.”

  Danyel’ did not have to ask for silence. It followed as if Valam had ordered it. Valam listened, but he could hear nothing. “Wait,” offered Danyel’, “put your ear to the ground; it will tell.”

  Valam put his ear against the hard ground and listened. At first he heard nothing, but soon afterwards a faint rumbling sound rose to his ears. “How far away are they?”

  “A good ten miles, but they come, sire.”

  “Can you tell how many?”

  “My prince, it is a large group or the thunder would not carry such a distance. I would guess hundreds or more.”

  “Please part with the niceties,” spoke Valam, “I am no king,” and responding with the humbleness of Seth’s people, a way which he had grown accustomed to and now preferred, he said, “I am the governor of South Province, son of Andrew, King of the Great Kingdom, this is true, which does make me a prince, but no more. I am very honored by your words and your reverence, but if such a tribute is to be paid to me, let it be earned in the field of battle and nowhere else.”

  In so saying, he endeared himself even more to those who listened. His voice became silent as he put all his attention on a distant point. Seth, Cagan and Evgej soon arrived, and after a short explanation, they waited, poised. Behind them the camp roused, as if to battle.

  Seth considered the possibility that those approaching did not yet know of their presence, and his thoughts could possibly give that away to them if he reached out, so he would be silent until the force was close at hand.

  Liyan was troubled; he watched quietly, whispering his thoughts only to Seth’s mind. Behind him, Tsandra stood poised defiantly beside her mount, and forming behind her were those of her order, who gathered at her summons. Cagan and Evgej, who now stood to Valam’s left and Seth’s right, waited also.

  Evgej, who had been afraid of the seas and very often seasick on their journey to the Eastern Reaches, missed the water and the craft of his forefathers whom he had long ago forsaken. He had never told Cagan that his father was a shipbuilder and that his father had been the one to build the ship for him, the one the rocks and sea had lain to rest. Evgej cut off the memories, thinking them odd for a time when his hand played along the hilt of his sword in waiting.

  The uncomfortable waiting ended as a herald rose to their thoughts and to their hearts like the sound of a bugle in triumph. The will of Teren entered the minds of all who stood waiting. He told them he carried with him a band of mountaineers or so he named them, those he considered to be of his order, which was not that of the brown.

  Teren’s companions, all strongly built for elves, looked to be worthy adversaries in the trials that lay ahead. They, like Teren, lived on the Great Plains and roamed its vast span, changing their place of dwelling like the wind and with the seasons. Most often, or so Teren explained to Valam, they were to be found in the mountains that were the border between east and west, and it was their true home. They had come at Teren’s bidding and because they believed it was time to let their presence be known.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Noman, Xith, and the others departed Zashchita just as the darkness of night waned. Shchander discussed the news he and his men had learned while at the inn. Noman was very pleased to note that word of the princess’ disappearance was heard on no one’s lips. Xith was also pleased; however, Y’sat’s words still weighed heavily on his conscious, as he assumed they did on Noman, but Noman carried them better. Xith considered it good fortune, though, that most of the news was pleasant.

  The next two days passed relatively slowly as they forgot the enchantment of the city. The dark specters that seemed to be with them before they had reached Zashchita returned and it was with heavy hearts that Noman and Xith kept on. Their thoughts often went to Ayrian and to Vilmos—the two that seemed to be lost to them—and to Adrina—the one who they seemed to be losing.

  They held to the main roads through brief stretches of open prairie, yet mostly they moved through thick, lush forest greens. Growth in this area was very different from the heavy pine, tall oak, ash, elm and even a few cedars and walnut. An abundant mixture grew in the old forest, but the great forest now lay far to their west. Here the trees tended to be thick groves. Those they rode through now were beautiful, deep, and green, and the pungent smell of pine assaulted their nostrils. Ahead lay a large stand of thick, dark-wood trees that stretched out far beyond their view, which was apparent only because of the high, fir-covered hills they rode along now. Each time they mounted a new hill, a different piece of the land ahead was revealed to them as they peered out through the branches.

  Adrina was bored as she sat in the carriage with the sun lightly playing across her face. She rubbed the mark glumly; she could feel life within very often now. She stared openly at the one who sat directly across from her, hoping her eyes would stir his tongue although it had not yet in many hours of riding.

  When they entered the thick, dark wood, it became quickly apparent to Adrina, for the sun vanished. She did not have the advantage of looking out over the horizon to see what lay ahead. She moved close to the wall of the carriage, hugging it close, feeling comfort in its presence beside her.

  “Do you ever speak?” questioned Adrina, driving away the darkness she perceived with her words. “Do you have a name?” she further asked before a response could be rendered. “Are you always this tight-lipped?” queried Adrina.

  “Seldom, and yes on both accounts, Princess Adrina.”

  “What is it?”

  “What is what?”

  “Your name?”

  “Shalimar,” quietly whispered the man, as if his name were an evil thing.

  “That is a nice name,” returned Adrina, attempting to stir his tongue.

  Shalimar’s only response was a slight smile, which was quick to fade as his eyes resumed their far-away stare. He longed to be elsewhere although he was also happy to be right here. His feelings were very mixed.

  Afternoon shadows soon came; and shortly afterward, night fell around them. They made camp not far from the road, far enough so they were out of sight but close enough so it would be easy to leave if the need arose. The coach was their primary concern; it could not travel over rough terrain and needed a clear path. It also cast a large shadow, one passers-by might see if they looked closely.

  Another day arrived and went, then two more passed. The country they were in was very different from that which they were accustomed to, but the changes were very subtle. The land had a feel of wildness to it, and a sense that most of it laid untouched by the hands of man. The road narrowed to a wide path, but tracks were deep along it although they had met no one since they had departed Zashchita, a fact that did not seem significant to them.

  Xith was quietly brooding; he and Noman had just had a very lengthy argument, which Xith felt that he had lost. After thinking about it, he decided he would not let the questions sit. He clipped his mount and raced up alongside Noman. “I still do not like it. I te
ll you, I feel an absence. At least let me try, just a little test, a mere spark.”

  “Xith, I do not think it is wise; perhaps we are free of any who would follow, but afterwards, who would know?”

  “Do you not believe the words of Y’sat?”

  “Yes, I do, but we must wait.”

  Xith couldn’t help the smile that lit his lips and cheeks. He liked to see the fire revive in Noman’s eyes. He turned to respond, but as he did the happiness left his face and the group came to a sudden halt. Amir’s sword danced in his hands as he reined in his mount alongside Noman.

  “The forest has eyes,” called out Amir.

  “Yes, I know,” said Noman, turning to smile at Xith. “Put away your weapon. They will do us no harm this day.”