Complete In the Service of Dragons

by William Robert Stanek

  “Midori, I trust Calyin’s life in your hands. Do what you must!” called Serant pushing Calyin into Midori. He lowered his eyes to the waters of the river only for an instant, and then whispered, “I am sorry,” as he pushed them both over the edge, and into the waiting waters.

  “Bad, very bad. I do not like that, and when I do not like something, I usually kill the offender.”

  “Just as well. Today is a good day to die!” shouted Serant charging the man.

  “Not likely—” spoke the man as he called to his confederates.

  Lord Serant struggled under the weight of a heavy blow, and for an instant he stared through crossed blades into his opponent’s eyes. Only then did it become obvious to him that the man he faced was oblivious to his lineage, and perhaps he truly only wished his valuables, but Serant would not part with them. There were only a few tangible things he valued above all, and one was the ring that had been passed down through generations from father to son, and the other the sword of his forefathers.

  “One against dozens!” shouted a voice, yet a good distance away, “Not very fair at all!” Captain Brodst and Geoffrey wasted no time in their charge, sending men scrambling to avoid being trampled by horses’ hooves. Geoffrey raised his mount on its hind-legs just to the right of the one Serant fought, while Brodst offered a hand to Lord Serant. “We could not leave you, my friend. The farther we drew away from you, the heavier our hearts grew. Come, let us be off!”

  The two horsemen made a quick, decisive retreat. Lord Serant looked back, fixing upon the upturned face. “Another day!” called out Serant, “Another day!” The man sheathed his weapon and then turned his back to them. He did not order his men to pursue because he knew the time of their next meeting would be sooner than the other thought. Serant watched as the attackers withdrew, climbing back up their ropes.

  “Your timing couldn’t have been better!” exclaimed Serant patting Brodst on the back.

  “Where are Calyin and Midori?”

  Lord Serant brought a hand to his chin, “Oh my—” he thought. “The water—they are in the river.”

  “The river?”

  “Yes, the river. I didn’t see any other way.”

  Geoffrey and Brodst began to laugh because for a moment it seemed funny; but the feeling passed, and it suddenly was not humorous any more. Lord Serant scoured his thoughts, searching for a quick solution, which did not come. At the time, it had seemed his only choice, but now he knew it was a brash act. He did not like to think that he was a fool.

  “What in the name of the Father is that?” exclaimed Captain Brodst reining in his mount suddenly, so suddenly that Lord Serant almost lost his grip.

  “That is not of the Father, of this I can assure you,” replied Geoffrey. Even though he could not clearly see those that readily approached, he recognized them. He knew nothing good would come of their meeting. The hunter beasts had only one thought on their minds, and that was their prey. Geoffrey and Brodst began to turn their mounts around, back in the direction they had come; midway, they realized their dilemma.

  Neither Captain Brodst nor Lord Serant had seen anything like these before, but immediately they sensed danger and instinctively they reacted. Geoffrey bade them to return their weapons to their sheaths; as much as he hated to admit it, he knew this was an encounter they would lose, and he knew this as surely as he lived and breathed. A tiny voice in his mind hoped that perhaps they were not the objects of the beasts’ hunt, in which case they had nothing to fear.

  As the creatures drew closer, their distinctive features became quite noticeable. They had the appearance of men, but a thick, fur-covered hide enshrouded their forms. Their faces were long with an elongated snout, and white upturned fangs sprouted from their mouths. Even at a distance, Geoffrey could see crystalline droplets ooze from the nearest creature’s mouth, a sign that he was looking for.

  Geoffrey yelled for the captain to follow him and then retreated back down the canyon, the way they had come. Very soon they found themselves approaching the high canyon walls. Those waiting above rejoiced at the sighting, and one in particular had a broad grimace on his face. “Welcome back!” called out a now familiar voice.

  “What do we do?” asked Brodst.

  “This is not good, definitely not good.”

  “No, it is not.”

  As they turned their mounts around to face those that came up from behind them, the ravine, wherein lay the river, caught their eye, and more importantly the sound of rushing water caught their ear. Geoffrey did a mental calculation. He approximated the bandits’ numbers to be around twenty or perhaps a little more. He also knew their kind well enough to know a small reserve was probably waiting. It was at least a two-to-one ratio.

  He turned back toward the leader of the bandits. He wanted to get close enough to recognize the clan, but this was also his gravest mistake. As he staggered forward, the distances closed between the two forces. They found themselves in the middle of a stand-off, and he knew they were the prize.

  The pack leader of the hunters, who identified himself to the bandit chief as Ermog, dismounted at a careful distance and approached singly. He called the bandit chief to a council of words, and though he spoke in the tongue of man, his speech was slurred and did not carry well. Only the other’s words carried fully to their ears, and it was these words that sparked Geoffrey’s interest.

  In the interim, he conversed with Serant and Brodst, speaking quietly, stopping as the two spoke, and starting again in low whispers, passing his concerns on to them. The bandit leader had recognized Geoffrey and thus discovered the identities of those that accompanied him. He was playing with Ermog for the price of the bounty. Geoffrey knew the teachings of the histories and the passing down of the sons of the fathers and the realms, but the Borderlands were a realm outside all else. Nowhere did the histories speak of the Bandit Kingdoms or the Hunter Clan, societies that were older than that of the Great Kingdom but had never gained recognition in civilized circles.

  Geoffrey understood the references to blood and sword, coin and fist, and as the two leaders returned to their ranks, he knew what he must do. He dismounted slowly, signaling for Serant and Brodst to do the same. He made sure they made no sudden movements, and he maintained his speech in low whispers. After a close but limited survey of the ledge and the waters below, they jumped, hoping and believing the river would carry them away to safety.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Valam waited patiently for Mikhal and Danyel’ to return with the scouting party. The group of riders, anticipated to be large, turned out to be only the small band that had been dispatched earlier and a large group of strayed horses. His eyes lit as he saw Mikhal and Danyel’ race their mounts toward the place where he waited. He did not waste any time with pleasantries and quickly invited the two to accompany him.

  The three went to Valam’s quarters, where Teren yet waited without saying a word to anyone else. Teren listened intently as Valam spoke to the others, waiting for the correct time to speak his mind also.

  “Prince Valam, if I may interrupt for a moment. You are missing the most important point. The four of us were given the gift of sight for a reason, a very specific reason. We merely saw you move through the steps. You must decide for yourself, but remember this in your decision. Choose your path with great care and follow it through to its completion.”

  “I wish I knew for sure,” quietly whispered Valam. “I always pictured Captain Evgej and Seth at my side, no offense—”

  “The future has many turnings. Perhaps it will be so. Perhaps we play a part in the paths of your future, or maybe we are your turning points in the path.”

  “That is a curious statement, Brother Teren,” said Danyel’.

  Two days passed and still Valam struggled with the choices in his mind. He knew not which direction to take. Thoughts of home appealed to him even though he knew the dangers that awaited him if he returned. This day weighed heavily on him. Teren returned to the pla
ins, which were now completely buried beneath a very thick blanket of snow. Even the coastal areas received a fair amount.

  The sky overhead promised that today would be clear and cloudless, and it was with a heavy heart that Valam returned to the affairs of the camp. The cold spell had left its mark on the camp, and supplies of wood for their fires were now depleted once again. They also had to face the fact that many months of cold might lay ahead, and the tents would not make this hardship any easier. They needed to find adequate shelter.

  The small villages of the plains now lay deep in snow also, but the heart of the plain was not where they wished to go. The cold was just tolerable here; there it would be more than unbearable. They needed to find a better solution and soon. The cove where their ships were moored was suggested by Father Jacob, and Liyan also seemed to think this would be a good choice as it was partially sheltered from the winds and close enough that the move would not be excessively taxing.

  The move began slowly and for a brief period it kept everyone occupied. Teren returned during the interim and took Danyel’ and Mikhal away with him. When the change of camps was completed, Valam came to the hard decision to use their remaining wagons as the source for their fires. He vowed even if they had to start burning the longboats they would always have a fire in each hearth through the cold nights.

  Valam stood still, oblivious to the light drizzle falling around him. His thoughts were heavy and his mood decidedly stern. He muddled over words he must speak when he returned to where the others waited. Jacob called a second meeting to solve their current problems and to find insight on the direction they were moving. Inside, all sat waiting; even the seven lieutenants were present. Seth ventured out into the elements, finding Valam gazing fixedly at some distant point that was probably only known to Valam. Seth knew and understood Valam’s situation. He had discussed this at length with Liyan over the past several days, and he knew Valam actually didn’t have a choice to make but rather to accept.

  Valam hadn’t even turned to acknowledge the presence beside him although he had noticed. His voice began softly, gaining volume only as it reached the final syllable. “—I must return to Leklorall and from there, perhaps home—”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I wanted to tell you before I told the others.”

  “You need not explain. I understand. I will miss you heartily.”

  The two stood silent for a long time before they joined the others in the meeting. Father Jacob was pleased to see the two enter together. As Jacob took his place at the table, Valam looked to each face around the room, recalling the names of each as he did so. Brother Liyan had donned the gray of his office; Tsandra was arrayed in brown; even Seth, Valam noted for the first time, wore the red of his order; and Teren wore black.

  Cagan was not in attendance, but Valam had not expected to see him here, with ships so close by. Stretched out in a line to the right of Captain Mikhal sat the seven lieutenants. Valam looked puzzled for a moment upon seeing two empty chairs in the far corner before he recalled who was not present.

  He crossed to the head position without further delay. His mind stumbled and stuttered, as did his tongue, as he began to speak. “Father Jacob, Brother Liyan, Brother Seth—as all of you know, I have been quite pensive as of late. It is very difficult to hide the discontent of your heart. Oftentimes the facts speak for themselves, and as I have considered the many things that are ahead for all of us here, I have stumbled over a host of obstacles, which were mostly phantoms of my own creation. I soon realized I really only had one choice to make, and this did not come without the help of a very close friend—and just a few, short moments ago—”

  “Storm approaching!” interrupted the page as he burst into the tent.

  “Will we never get this meeting completed?” asked Jacob, raising his eyes, and speaking upward.

  “Storm?”

  “Yes, sir, a storm—”

  “Shoo, shoo, go back to where you came from. Go on, Prince Valam, please finish. Wait, wait, wait, one minute there—pass the word to raise stocks high in case the snows are severe and to prepare for the cold—”

  “Yes, sir—but begging your pardon, of course, you don’t understand.”

  “And just what don’t I understand?” asked Jacob with more vehemence than he intended.

  “Nothing, Father. May I return to my duties?”

  “Yes, go!”

  The page departed with an appearance of defeat on his face. Father Jacob shook his head and then reclaimed his seat. Valam hesitantly began again although he paused long to recall where he had left off. Now the import of what he had been carefully building up to seemed trivial, so he just came out and said what he intended to do.

  “I must return to Leklorall, for only there, I believe, will I find the answers I seek. From there, I may perhaps find that I need to return to Great Kingdom.”

  Surprised gasps issued from many, quickly followed by a loud murmuring. A few, like Father Jacob, had been expecting it, and the anxiety of waiting to actually hear it was finally released. Valam was most surprised by Teren’s response, which was disbelief. He had received a similar response from Mikhal, which he counted as disappointment.

  “I will select a small group to accompany me, but I will only take those who willingly choose to return with me.”

  “I do not think that will be a problem, your highness,” said Redcliff. Danyel’ immediately responded with a wide grimace and a sharp glare, forcing silence upon those around him. Valam started to speak again but stopped abruptly as Evgej entered.

  “Didn’t the page reach you?”

  “Yes, he did, and as a matter of fact, he just left. Don’t worry, captain, we are well prepared for the snow. We have already made provisions.”

  “Snow? No, Prince Valam, the storm comes from the sea. Cagan is extremely worried.”

  “This cove should harbor us from the worst. We will be safe.”

  “I am not so sure. Perhaps you had better accompany me.”

  Father Jacob stood with a pained look stretched across his features and approached. He spoke in low whispers to the two, carrying them off a short distance to the corner. When he finished, he excused himself from the meeting and accompanied Evgej outside, leaving Valam behind, very confused.

  As Valam walked to the front of the table and stared into the eyes of those about him, worry and fear touched him. Jacob’s words played in his mind, “You must decide now,” he had said, “you must decide now or it will be too late.” Jacob already knew what the winds carried toward them.

  “I think the time has come, the time when I must leave. I must return to Leklorall before the sun sets this day. There are powerful forces at work here both for and against us. Brother Teren, Brother Tsandra, I would have you accompany me if you would.”

  Valam ignored the pointed remarks that jumped into his thoughts mid-stream and continued. “Brother Seth and Brother Liyan, I regret that I think your place is here for now. Lieutenant Eran, you think I don’t remember your name, but I do. Willam the Black, Pavil the Bearded, S’tryil, Son of Lord S’tryil of High Province, Ylsa, sister to Eran, and Tae, Master of Redcliff, your places are here, save you, S’tryil.”

  Valam regarded S’tryil for a moment. “I shall need a new captain, and you shall be the one. Captain Mikhal and Lieutenant Danyel’ shall accompany me. Father Jacob and Evgej shall remain.”

  S’tryil waited until it appeared that Valam was finished speaking before he responded. “I cannot accept the honor bestowed upon me. I request that you pass the rank of captain to Ylsa. She has already earned it.”

  “Lieutenant Ylsa’s time will be soon; your time is now, Captain S’tryil. Take command of your men and follow Father Jacob’s instructions.”

  Valam continued to ignore Teren and Tsandra’s remarks, which hit him full, even as he walked away. The wind outside, a strong breeze, immediately assaulted his senses, carrying with it sand and debris from around the camp. Valam had to shield h
is eyes with his arm to see clearly. He was amazed at the speed with which the storm raged towards them.

  “Prince Valam, wait!” came the plea into his thoughts, even as he fought to seal them.

  “I do not have time to waste! Tell the others to meet the long boat crew and go out to the flagship. She is Cagan’s favorite, or so I have heard.”

  “They spoke nothing of Tsandra. Why is she—”

  “Perhaps I have my own reasons. Now please hurry!” shouted Valam.

  “Valam wait!”

  The voice aloud caught Valam by surprise for an instant until he recognized it. “Yes, Captain Mikhal, take the lieutenant’s detachment to the flag ship. Cagan is already there.”

  “But they are not—”

  “Yes, I know,” replied Valam as he walked away.

  “Yes,” returned Valam in thought as yet another voice disturbed him. Tsandra was quick to pick the thought from his center. “How many?” she asked. “The choice is yours,” he replied.