The Faithful Traitor (Wizard & Dragon Book 2)

by Robert Don Hughes

  “Why didn’t you ask?” the boy wailed — then the three of them were being pulled off their horses and hastened toward the large pavilion in the center of the camp. Seagryn tried at each step to turn into a tugolith — nothing. The tent flap was tossed out of the way, and they were unceremoniously frog marched inside.

  “My Prince!” the chief guard shouted. “Invaders!”

  The Prince of the Army of Arl bounded up from his chair and whipped around to stare at them. Then he dissolved into laughter. “Seagryn! Dark! So you’ve come to visit me again!”

  “Jarnel,” Seagryn murmured. The last time he’d seen the Arlian general he’d not really seen his face. Jarnel had remained hidden throughout that interview behind a terrifying mask formed in the shape of a pyralu. That encounter had taken place far to the north in the middle of last winter, and the general had been terribly suspicious of all of them and particularly resentful of Seagryn. Today the mask was gone, and Jarnel seemed to regard them with genuine warmth. Seagryn sneaked a peek at Dark, hoping to gauge their danger by the boy’s expression. As usual, the prophet’s expressionless face gave him no clue.

  But Jarnel seemed sincere. “And who is this with you?” he asked, taking Fylynn by the hands in a gesture more characteristic of a court charmer than the no-nonsense soldier he’d always appeared to be before.

  “My name is Fylynn — my Prince,” Fylynn replied, curtsying with a grace that belied her figure. She, too, had lived at court and knew how to pick up on a title and use it.

  “You’re welcome here, Fylynn.” The general bowed. “Please don’t be offended if I seem to direct my attentions to these two. We’ve just known each other for some time.” He walked toward the chief guard, gesturing for him to leave as he said, “These are not invaders, nor spies either. They’ve come with information vital to the interests of Arl. Did — you arrive by horseback?” the general asked, looking at Seagryn and raising an eyebrow doubtfully. “Or by — some other beast?” Of course! Jarnel knew well Seagryn’s ability to transform himself.

  “Yes, on horseback.” Seagryn nodded.

  “Very good.” Jarnel turned back to the lieutenant. “Return their goods and horses to them, and extend them every courtesy while they’re in this camp. You’re dismissed.” As the warrior left the tent, Jarnel turned again to Seagryn and smiled. “Now. What is the purpose of your visit?”

  Seagryn shook his head. “There is no purpose. We were traveling north and trying to avoid the dragon. We’ve stumbled into your camp by accident.”

  Jarnel looked at Dark. “With the whole of the Marwilds surrounding us, you’ve come across this compound by pure chance? And with this lad along? I’m convinced there are no accidents with Dark. Are there, boy?”

  Dark didn’t flinch before the Pyralu general’s gaze. “If you truly want an answer to that question, General Jarnel, then yes — there are accidents with me. Accidents happen. I just know about them before they do.”

  “But surely — ?”

  “Jarnel, listen,” Seagryn interrupted apologetically. “If I had known you were here, I’d certainly not have come this way. We were traveling north. That’s all.”

  Jarnel pursed his thin lips and grunted thoughtfully. “It’s difficult for me to accept such a thing as a coincidence.” His thin face grew thinner as he hollowed his cheeks and looked back at Seagryn. “You can surely understand why? And it’s my duty to learn your purpose, to insure that it doesn’t run counter to the purposes of Arl.”

  Dark spoke up again. “Perhaps the purpose is hidden — even from us.”

  Jarnel chuckled. “And how could that be, boy, since you see everything?”

  “Perhaps our meeting is in the purpose of the One Who Allows me to See?”

  Jarnel’s gray eyebrows shot up and the lines that streaked his high forehead furrowed. Then his face relaxed, and he smiled once again. “Oh, that’s right. You two are Lamathians, after all. Are you, dear lady?” Jarnel asked Fylynn. She was so shocked by the sudden attention she could only stammer and shake her head. “But if you’ve been around these two believers long, you know that they regard things differently from the rest of us.” He looked back at Dark. “A higher purpose, perhaps?” Dark shrugged, and Jarnel began pacing about the pavilion. “I once had a higher purpose myself. But of course, you shared it, didn’t you — the Grand Conspiracy!” He shook his fist over his head, then smiled at them mockingly. “Dedicated to the higher purpose of reuniting the One Land. Of course, it cost me my command-cost me my army, too, Seagryn, for I would never have attacked Haranamous as foolishly as my ambitious subordinate did, and you would never have had the opportunity to destroy it. That purpose almost cost me my family — and it certainly cost me last winter. I’d been accustomed to wintering with my troops in Ari, and spending the time with my grandchildren. Instead I spent the season chasing Sheth through the northern woods, while he — and you — made the dragon that will ultimately consume us all.” Jarnel’s face had now lost all its warmth. He looked again like that stern Pyralu general Seagryn had first met in the Remnant — while there still was a Remnant. And what the man said was true.

  Yet suddenly, strangely, Jarnel smiled. “But that’s all past now,” he went on. “The Conspiracy is dead, its members gone on to new pursuits, and the grand design of a reunited One Land is forgotten. Isn’t it?” Those thin eyebrows arched expressively.

  Seagryn looked at Dark. “Ah — we — I guess we’re more interested in stopping the dragon now than anything else.”

  Jarnel’s laugh was devoid of friendliness. “Stopping the dragon! But you’re the very ones that started the dragon! Oh,” he mused, looking away, “I guess that was the plan, wasn’t it? But it’s no longer necessary, is it? After all, the dragon is under control now, and, by agreement between my king and his new trading partner, the One Land will be reunited.” Rich sarcasm vibrated in his voice as he added, “But I wonder what they will call it then? Greater Arl? Or Greater Ognadzu?”

  “Paumer’s son and the Army of Arl are in league with one another?” Seagryn asked.

  “Of course.” Jarnel pointed toward Dark. “I’m certain he knew that already. He didn’t tell you?”

  “And the two of them — guide the dragon?”

  “It’s simple!” Jarnel shrugged, smiling bitterly. “Our army captures whole villages and feeds them to the dragon. We took a little place called Ritaven last week, but we’ll be getting around to Lamathian villages soon. In return, that hungry dragon follows the instructions provided by Ognadzu through a tugolith messenger. To be honest, Seagryn, I had thought you were involved somewhere in the whole scheme. I’m still not certain that you aren’t.” Jarnel looked again at Dark and smirked. “A higher purpose, I think you said?”

  Dark had kept silent throughout this account. Now he raised his head, and Jarnel paused to hear him. “General Jarnel, have you heard anything about some falling out, some disagreement between your king and his ally?”

  Jarnel frowned thoughtfully. “No. Is that the case?”

  “It is,” Dark announced. “Would you mind if I stepped outside? I’m feeling a bit closed in and need a little fresh air …”

  “Certainly.” Jarnel smiled. “Every courtesy, you remember?”

  As Dark left the tent, Seagryn glanced at Fylynn. Apparently she’d known none of this either, for her face was white and her eyes wide and staring. “So, General,” Seagryn asked, trying to control his own dismay, “you know all of this — and have no urge to stop it?”

  “The censure in your voice is unmistakable, Seagryn,” Jarnel replied evenly. “It causes me some resentment, since I know a few things about your ethical choices. But why should we bicker, hmm? After all, we’re prisoners, both of us. I know you did what you did in the hope of finding some comfort and stability at home, and I understand that. I’ve made the same choice.”

  “But whole villages —”

  “It’s your dragon, Seagryn, and it would eat those villages anyway!” J
arnel roared, his face suddenly red. His temper cooled quickly, for he seemed to feel a deep need to explain himself. “I would choose to do differently if I could, Seagryn. I can’t. Things have changed, and we must adapt. It’s wrong, but I’ve decided that I’d rather the town of Ritaven be consumed than to have the beast destroy my children. I’d rather that I be the Prince of the Army of Arl than have someone else fulfill the role! And under some control, the dragon is really a very precise weapon. Instead of burning the entire city of Haranamous, it will be instructed to burn just the palace. Isn’t it better to kill Haran and Chaom, and allow their army simply to surrender to us in the field?”

  “You knew the dragon was attacking Haranamous?” Seagryn asked.

  “Of course. Why?” Jarnel demanded. “Has it already happened?”

  “Several days ago. But Nebalath and I chased the beast away. Oh, Haran is dead, but Chaom lives still. He’s now king over Haranamous.”

  “Chaom is king!” Jarnel brightened, then his excitement died. “I’d not thought of that. Chaom as a king. He would have made a good one.” Jarnel sighed.

  “Would have?” Seagryn asked.

  “You’re here. The dragon is not. How protected do you think that city is without you?”

  Seagryn wouldn’t have known what to answer, had he been given the chance to do so. But he wasn’t, for Jarnel was wrong about the whereabouts of Vicia-Heinox, and Dark had been very right about the disagreement between Ognadzu and Arl —

  The shouts began on the eastern edge of the camp — indistinct at first but growing steadily louder and clearer as the warning cry rolled toward the pavilion. “Dragon! Dragon in the sky!”

  Seagryn and Jarnel stared at one another in shock. Then the general raced to the tent flap and threw it aside.

  The Prince of the Army of Arl had not risen to his post through intrigue or family leverage. He’d proved himself a competent warrior over many years of battle experience. He’d survived dozens of surprise assaults and appeared to Seagryn fully capable of enduring this one. But as they both watched the supply tent next door erupt upwards in a brilliant spire of flame, Jarnel’s first reaction was simple human terror. He jerked the tent flap down again and scrambled backward to the far wall, knocking aside a table and field chairs on his way. When he looked again at Seagryn, his bulging eyes and shallow, raspy breaths made him appear almost fishlike. The general was afraid. Seagryn guessed he should be, too.

  But he wasn’t, really — or, rather, not afraid of the dragon. These moments had become commonplace to him. Every new attack now only deepened his resolve to do something about this world-plaguing monster. He glanced back at the stunned Fylynn and shouted, “Outside. Let’s go.” She raced past him toward the split in the canvas and knifed through it. He looked back again at the general — and saw that Jarnel now regarded him with mingled fear and fury. It was obvious that he held Seagryn responsible.

  “You!” the general raged, first pointing a trembling finger at Seagryn and grasping blindly for the sword that hung at his side. “You’ve done this!”

  “I rather think Ognadzu has done this,” Seagryn muttered as he grabbed the fallen table up by its legs and held it between them as a shield.

  “Traitor!” Jarnel shouted as his sword flashed towards Seagryn’s face. Seagryn knocked the blow aside. “Assassin!” the general shouted again, this time stabbing forward, and the point of the blade buried itself in the wood.

  Seagryn saw no sense in debating the question. Jarnel would never hear him anyway. Instead he dropped the table and dodged backward through the flap and out of the tent. He found Dark and Fylynn waiting for him, already mounted. “Get on!” Dark shouted, and Seagryn jumped into his saddle. As they dashed off, Seagryn glanced backward in time to see Jarnel fighting his way out of the pavilion, wildly swinging his sword. Then the fires around them made riding treacherous, and Seagryn was forced to give his foil attention to it. “That way!” Dark directed, pointing through the smoke, and they galloped quickly for the entrance to the compound as fleeing warriors dodged out of their way.

  Once his horse knew where they were bound, Seagryn threw his head back and looked up. With the grace of a blue flyer, Vicia-Heinox rode the fiery updrafts. In flight, the twi-beast appeared an almost-beautiful creature. Seagryn wondered how he could even think such a thought at a moment like this, but it was true. It wasn’t the dragon itself that was hideous, but rather the evil that directed the beast to make these attacks. And how could a plan initiated by such a callous criminal as Sheth ever deal with the root of the problem?

  The compound blazed behind them. Seagryn reminded himself that tents flamed quickly and could easily be replaced. He hoped that this instance of dragonburn would prove more confusing than life threatening. There’d been some warning, after all. Had that given the men of Arl enough time to dash from their tents to the shelter of the forest? He could concern himself with it no longer. He needed to find Sheth — and Elaryl — before the dragon did.

  At least they now had a road to follow. The military’ minds that had planned the compound in the dense tangle of the southeastern Marwilds had obviously seen the need for a quick way into and out of it. The track ran northwest, and while Seagryn couldn’t remember seeing it from the head of the dragon, from this vantage point it was a wide, well-marked avenue. During the brief interruption in the journey, their horses had been fed and watered, giving them energy to respond powerfully to the motivating flames and smoke they were leaving behind. They galloped a long distance before slowing to a more comfortable pace. Through the rest of the day, the three riders took turns watching behind them for Arlian search parties dispatched by the angry Jarnel. They saw none.

  By late afternoon the nature of the forest had changed. They now found themselves surrounded by giant trees, their trunks spaced well apart down on the forest floor but their boughs interlocking tightly above. It was like looking up at a ceiling of leaves — green, this week, but soon they would be turning orange, yellow, and red. Seagryn wished he might have a chance to see that. He did love autumn. But he supposed he would be spending another fall buried away from the dragon’s sight in a cave someplace.

  “Are you all right?” Fylynn asked, peering at him.

  Seagryn came up out of his reverie with a grunt. “Hmm? Oh. Yes,” he answered before thinking. Then he thought about it and frowned. “I think so. Why?”

  “You look — sad.” She shrugged, stroking the neck of her mount. “I know you’re often burdened by worry — and guilt, too, I suppose, with so many people despising you and holding you responsible for the dragon problem. I just wondered if what that Arlian general told us was weighing you down further.”

  “I’m trying not to let it,” Seagryn said, feeling comforted by her concern. “While I’m appalled by this arrangement between Paumer’s son and the King of Arl, I’m not surprised by it. I’ve come to expect these powers to disrespect people —” He stopped himself abruptly, for he’d seen her smile. “Why are you — ?”

  “Powers. You called them powers, as if these two human leaders were themselves elementals.” Fylynn’s gray eyes focused on some point out ahead as she reminisced, “I remember juggling for Ognadzu at court when he was just a boy. His little sister enjoyed my performances, but nothing I tried to do ever delighted him. Oh, he watched me, of course, but as a predator watches its prey, waiting expectantly for it to make a mistake. When I would miss — and sometimes his malice seemed to force me to — then he would laugh, and clap his hands with glee.” She shifted her weight in her saddle and looked back at him. “Is he a power and not a person? Is that why he values power, instead of people?”

  Seagryn considered that. But for some reason he thought not of Ognadzu but of himself. He was apparently hated by much of the world. He felt certain many would regard him as an evil power, rather than as a single individual caught up in a sequence of uncontrollable events. But did he value power? Or simply try to use that which he had to protect and defend oth
ers — to help? Not always, he admitted to himself. He thought of his conversation with General Jarnel and realized that he had no right to judge that man when many of his own choices had been based more on his own comfort and security than on any ideal of care and concern for others. He thought all this and said, “I don’t know who — or what — Ognadzu is. But I know that at times there are powers in me that compel me to shape events to my own best advantage. I’m certain they’re in Ognadzu as well. How they come to be there — I don’t know. And holding them in check seems to be beyond human ability.”

  “You’re too kind, Seagryn,” Fylynn said, her eyes hard. “You give Ognadzu too much credit. He’s evil!”

  “Apparently.” Seagryn nodded. “But so am I.”

  This confession made Fylynn angry. “How can you even consider yourself in the same category with him? He’s trying to rule the world! You’re trying to save it!”

  “Or so I tell myself,” Seagryn murmured. “But then, I told myself I was trying to save the world when I helped your Sheth make the dragon that now threatens us. Wasn’t that evil?”

  His mention of Sheth gave her pause. “Well —”

  “You love him, true, but you surely realize that many would regard Sheth as the personification of evil.”

  “They don’t understand him,” she argued, adding, “or you either!”

  “Fylynn, I don’t even understand myself. I know what I want to see changed, but my efforts to change things often bring more grief than comfort. If it weren’t for the Power —” Again the lady jester was laughing. “Now what did I say?”

  Fylynn blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry. It’s just this Power business. I have a hard time understanding why you Lamathians cling to such a notion.”