King's Exile: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 1

by William Culbertson

  “Well, my young friend,” Treyhorn said as she shouldered her pack, “I guess we’d better get on the road.”

  Dax picked up his own pack. “Where are we going?”

  “You are going to Iron Moor.” She smiled.

  He settled his pack in place with a frown. “That was not helpful. What road will we take?”

  “So what do you know of this part of the kingdom? Can you figure it out?”

  His tutor, Evnissyen, would have asked more specifically, but Dax tried to remember what he knew of the area. “Since we are just south of Leyden, you mean to head there to pick up supplies. You haven’t said anything about horses, and I imagine horses and dragons do not mix.” He waited until she nodded. “Therefore, you probably mean for us to go on foot from Leyden along the Timberlake Trace.”

  What had been on the maps he had seen? “There’s a fair amount of open land mixed in with forest, but by the time we get to the Greenway Hills, it’s mostly forest. From Timberlake there’s a road along the river on to Dinwiddie.”

  Treyhorn raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Well, you’ve got the most of it. We could bear south to the Silver River, follow that up to Pine Barrow, then north to Newham. That’s an easier route, but a longer hike. We’d still have to hire a boat to take us across the Circular Sea to Dinwiddie.” She shrugged. “Besides, I like going up through Timberlake.”

  They started northward along the shoreline of the bay. Treyhorn said, “I’m impressed with what you know about this area. I had the impression you were from the South. Most people down there don’t know the north lands.”

  Dax immediately was on his guard. Treyhorn was not likely to be an enemy, but as one of the dragon-bound, she would know any falsehoods as he spoke them—as if he could actually speak them aloud. “Yes,” he said cautiously, “but my tutor encouraged me to learn about the whole kingdom.”

  “Tutor, huh? Noble birth, I’ll bet. That explains your manners as well.”

  To Dax’s relief, she did not probe further, but he was worried. If he did not watch his answers more closely, she would soon know his whole story. He fell in behind as she headed up the slope from the beach, angling toward the north. The two dragons were not in sight, but Dax could feel Kahshect focused on something intently. He was probably off with Namkafnir hunting.

  Chapter 18

  Today was going to be a good day. Hap Harwood could tell. His order for fabric from Bington had finally come three days ago. Yesterday Ema Sumatem had brought in her last two barrels of pickles—enough to last the summer season until the new crop came in. The nails from Tazzelton? Well, those were late, but they would be along soon now. Besides, except for Tad Minnot, who wanted to patch the roof of his stable, he had not heard of anyone else who would need any until fall.

  What made today a specially good day was that Bindle Treyhorn had come to Leyden to conduct a little business. Harwood had gotten to know her over the years. She stopped infrequently, but she was always interested in any news he had to tell. And Harwood loved to tell all the news he knew.

  Treyhorn called his information “gossip,” but that was okay with Harwood. Seeing her gave him a chance to do a little flirting. Attractive in a casual, outdoorsy kind of way, she was a real woman, not at all like some of the fancy ladies he had seen a time or two in Silverdale. It would not be polite to ask her age, but he figured her to be a little older than his oldest daughter, maybe thirty-five now.

  Leyden was a small village. A hamlet? A settlement? The bay at the mouth of Ommel’s Creek was just big enough to offer protection from storms that rolled in from the Western Ocean. That made Leyden a port, leastways a port if you counted the one public dock big enough for a coaster to tie up to. A few people round about the area had boats, but they fished only for themselves and the local market. Most hauled out their crafts when they were not on the water.

  Leyden was a crossroads in a small way. A few people passed through traveling the Costal Track north of Deadman’s Finger, but it was not an easy road. Rivers and streams meant finding a ford shallow enough to cross, and there were bogs along the way, especially the dark marshes up near Bington. Sailing on a coaster was quicker and easier, but they were expensive. The trace inland to Timberlake and on to the Circular Sea was not a fixed road; the land was mostly open. With few settlements between, travelers made their own way into the interior, but they all picked up supplies in Leyden. That helped keep Harwood in business.

  Village or hamlet—whatever you called it, the fifty or so households in the area around Leyden were Hap Harwood’s community. He served as a sort of unofficial mayor. No one had appointed him or elected him. He just was. He ran his store, and he stocked mainly goods the locals could not make for themselves. He knew his people well.

  Harwood pushed the wrapped packages of dried fruits and vegetables across the counter to Treyhorn. “That’s three coppers and a half.” He was a little disappointed she did not need more today. She had not been especially talkative either. Disappointing.

  “Prices are up,” she said with a frown.

  He did not like to make her frown. “What can I say, Bindle? The first of this year’s crops are out of the ground, but winter stores are gettin’ to the bottom of the barrel.” He spread his hands helplessly. “I can’t sell what I don’t have.”

  Treyhorn shrugged. “I’ve heard the same thing around Newham.”

  Harwood motioned toward the boy who stood back watching the transaction. “So who’s that with you? Is he kin?”

  She looked at Dax, then back to the merchant. Finally she favored him with a little smile. “No, he’s a lad headed for Iron Moor. I’m traveling with him since I’m headed that way myself.”

  “What’s your name, son?” Harwood called to the youth.

  “Call me Leith, sir.”

  The merchant nodded politely to the boy. He smiled at Treyhorn and lowered his voice. “Think he’ll make it with Renshau and the cadets?”

  “So far he seems to know what he’s doing. He won’t be the youngest there, and if he works hard, he should make a good soldier.”

  “Well, it sounds like there will be plenty of work for the older ones.” Harwood nodded. “I imagine they’ll be hiring aplenty of them. Have you heard the news from the South?”

  “You mean about the disappearance of the boy king?” She nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that some time ago.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why? Something new?”

  Harwood raised his hands and sighed for effect. “How new is new in these parts?” He was in his element now. “Jok Rogger was through here maybe ten days ago, and it seems things are all aflutter down in Tazzelton these days. You know Mathilde’s been scheming to get her boy on the throne?” He waited until Treyhorn nodded. He nodded in return and leaned a little closer. “Yep, and not everyone down there likes it.”

  The boy Leith stared at him intently. From time to time, Treyhorn could make him uncomfortable with the seriousness of her stare, and this boy could do it too. He looked at Treyhorn, and her eyes were locked on him. He swallowed. He liked casual conversation, but their unexpected interest made him uncomfortable.

  He coughed to give himself a moment to organize his story. As the leading merchant in Leyden, Harwood heard all the news that passed through the area, and he relished his role in passing on reports to the uninformed. He looked to both sides as if checking to see who might be listening. He leaned forward and spoke in the low, conspiratorial tones of one imparting confidential information, while enunciating carefully to make sure they heard him. “Top everything, a coaster come in two days ago with fresh news from down south. There was a political killing right in the Tazzelton castle itself.” He nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. Caused quite the stir.”

  Treyhorn arched her eyebrows. “Somebody stick a knife in old Mathilde?”

  “No, no. More’s the pity,” he said at full volume. Harwood leaned back and parked his rear on the stool behind his counter. “No, but somebody did stick a knife into her
man she was trying to make the new king.”

  “Really?” Treyhorn prompted the merchant. “So who was it, and who did it?”

  “Ah, the stickee. What was his name?” He scratched his thinning hair. “Cur, or something like that. Nobody I’d ever heard of.”

  “It wasn’t Castellan Keir, was it?”

  Harwood scratched his chin. “Could be. I’m not real familiar with all those lords and ladies down there. Only time I been to Tazzelton was when my pappy and I went down to see old Darius Ambergriff get crowned—what, fifteen years ago?”

  “Any idea who did it?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. This was the best part of the story. “And get this. It was the Old Bear himself! They was having a to-do for all the guard officers, and the Old Bear walked right up to the guy and stuck a knife up into his belly. Gutted him out like a ten-point buck, I hear. Yes, sir. Right there in front of everyone.” Harwood glowed. He enjoyed telling gory details and watching his audience react.

  Treyhorn had been leaning forward, but now she straightened up. “The Old Bear? Now there’s a name I haven’t heard for a while. I didn’t even know he was still around.”

  “I know. But I’ve told it just the way I heard it. Both the captain and the mate sweared it was true.”

  “What about the Old Bear?” Treyhorn asked.

  “Haven’t heard, but I’d be willing to bet Mathilde will make sure he’s taken care of right soon.”

  “What will happen to her now that her man is gone?”

  Harwood shrugged dramatically and raised his hands palms up. “Don’t know. I’m just glad I’m all the way up here in Leyden. I’ve got no stomach for bein’ near any kind of a royal row—especial not when they use knives.”

  Harwood nodded solemnly to Treyhorn, then looked up to greet a new customer who had just entered his store. “Hey, Nak. What you after today?”

  “Scuse me,” the newcomer said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

  “That’s all right,” Hap said. He glanced around, noticed the boy had gone, and turned back to Treyhorn. “Anyways, that’s the story. Anything else you be needin’?”

  Treyhorn gathered up her package. “Not this trip, I don’t think. Good to see you as always, Hap.”

  “You bet, Bindle. See you next time you’re through this way.”

  Harwood turned to the newcomer as Treyhorn left the store. “Now, Nak. What can I get you?”

  Chapter 19

  Dax was in the shadows. He leaned against the side of the store with his eyes on the ground. He noted when Treyhorn came out of the store. He knew she was looking for him, but he could not bring himself to say anything. Sightlessly he stared at the ground even when she stood beside him. “Let’s go back to the dragons,” she said quietly. Dax wiped the tears from his cheeks. He picked up his pack, but he just held it in his hands, staring at it dumbly. Treyhorn looked at him a moment before she took the pack from him and helped him put it on his shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get out of town so we can talk.”

  Treyhorn went back down the track the way they had entered the town, but just past the last of the three shops at the center of Leyden, she turned to follow a track leading east. They went on for some time without speaking. Dax was numb and scarcely noticed. The merchant’s words echoed back and forth in his head. The Old Bear. Orin Herne. Orin Herne had killed Keir? His thoughts were a jumble of imagined images of Herne, of Mathilde, of Moryn, of Herne . . .

  Unaware of how far they had gone or where they were going, Dax followed Treyhorn without raising his eyes from the path. Suddenly Kahshect was beside him, rubbing at his legs and bleating in his mind. “Dax. Dax. Don’t be sad. Kahshect is here. What is wrong?” Dax bent down and hoisted the little dragon into his arms. Kahshect was an armful, but he hugged the dragon to his chest. Tears stung his eyes, and he buried his face in Kahshect’s warmth. He let Treyhorn guide him off the path to the shelter of a copse of trees. Sobbing, he sat down, still holding the dragon.

  #

  Time passed, but Dax’s mind refused to conjure any clear thoughts. He dumbly watched Treyhorn build a small fire. She put a few of the vegetables she had purchased into her cook pot and added a little dried meat from her pack. She stirred in water and put the combination on her little support stand over the fire to heat. While the pot heated, she came over and sat beside him. “I don’t want to pry, but that news upset you. You knew those people, didn’t you?”

  It was impossible to deceive one of the dragon-bound, so he just nodded.

  Treyhorn sighed. “Leith, please. You have to know we are on the same side. The dragon-bound stick together.”

  Kahshect lay beside Dax, with his head on Dax’s left thigh. Dax idly rubbed the good spot behind Kahshect’s ears. “I knew Orin Herne, the Old Bear,” he finally admitted. “He helped me in Tazzelton.” He sighed and looked up at Treyhorn, feeling about as miserable as the rainy night he had discovered Mathilde had eliminated his aunt and her family. “He helped me a lot,” he finished awkwardly.

  Namkafnir had curled up nearby, a dark mass backlit by the light of the setting sun. The dragon shifted his position and lifted his head to look toward Dax. Dax turned his attention back to the fire, but he startled a moment later when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Namkafnir’s head was just inches away. Dax’s heart gave an extra heavy beat, and Kahshect lifted his head and hissed a warning. The large dragon ignored Kahshect and inspected Dax closely. His golden eyes glowed with reflected firelight. Namkafnir was so close that Dax could feel gentle puffs of air from the dragon’s nostrils on his chin. Finally the dragon turned away and looked toward Treyhorn.

  Namkafnir turned back and looked intently at Dax. Treyhorn looked at Dax speculatively. “He says you smell like family.”

  With his thoughts still on Herne, Dax was puzzled. “What does that mean?”

  Treyhorn looked at him strangely. “He knows my children and their children. Dragons have a keen sense of smell. Your scent reminds him of my family.”

  Dax was puzzled. “You have grandchildren?” he asked, surprised in spite of his misery. “You don’t look any older than . . . I mean, I thought you were younger than my father.”

  “I guess no one has told you yet that the dragon-bound grow old as dragons do. If we avoid trouble, we live a long time. In fact my oldest grandson and his wife now have a child, last I’d heard anyway. I haven’t seen this one yet.”

  By now the thick soup was warm, and she dished out a portion for him and settled back with some for herself. She poked at her food for a time with her spoon without eating. “I think Namkafnir just told me something important.”

  She held up her hand as Dax started to say something. “No, just wait until I tell you a little story. I think you need to hear this.” She prodded her soup one more time, then looked back at Dax. “Many years ago, King Darius Ambergriff VII had just taken the throne. He went on a tour of his kingdom so people could see their new king.”

  Dax nodded. His father had talked of doing that when he had first taken the throne.

  After she swallowed a bite of her food, Treyhorn went on. “In Silverdale the king met a charming young girl, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Silverdale at the time. The king was not yet married, and he had a brief dalliance with the girl—if you know what I mean.” She waited until he nodded again. “Well, the royal wedding with the daughter of the Earl of Butterock had already been arranged and announced, so the duke’s daughter was no more than just a passing fancy for the king.”

  She sighed again and set down what was left of her portion of the stew. “Sometime after the king left, the girl discovered she was with child. Of course the scandal was kept quiet. The girl was sent to Newham to live with relatives and have her baby.”

  Breathless, Dax stared at her, desperately wanting to hear the next words but also dreading what it might mean. Treyhorn put her hand on her chest. “Me,” she sighed. “Born on the wrong side of the sheets. Denied by all, but
there I was. Thank the Goddess I bonded with Namkafnir. As one of the dragon-bound, I didn’t have to worry about how I fit with life in anybody’s court.” She sounded relived and looked at Dax expectantly.

  Dax was overwhelmed by the implications of her story. He had an enormous lump in his throat. “You . . . You’re . . . I . . .”

  Treyhorn looked at him with a tight smile. “Unless I am badly mistaken, your name is not just Leith, but Kort Leith Tavas, Conal’s boy.” She picked up her cup and took another bite. “And I—well, I am your great-aunt on a misbegotten branch of the family tree.” Overflowing with emotion, Dax wept openly now. Treyhorn set down her soup and took him into her arms for comfort. Kahshect pawed at the two until he was admitted to the embrace as well. For the longest time, Dax thought of nothing. He just sat there in her embrace while she held him gently. He had Kahshect, but now he had family, as well?

  He had a sudden thought of Orin Herne. He sat back and looked at Treyhorn—his great-aunt Bindle? That idea would be hard to adjust to. “General Herne helped me so much, and now he’s in trouble. Can you think of anything I can do to help him?”

  Treyhorn released him, sat back, and shook her head. “No, not likely. That news is days old, and it is at least a week by fast coaster to Tazzelton, most likely more. I would imagine his part in it has been settled one way or the other by now. Besides”—she shrugged—“what could you do? Do you have a cadre of loyal followers in the city? Can you raise an army? Otherwise, all you could do is offer yourself up in his place. I think the sharks in Stone Harbor should be afraid of the sharks in the castle these days.”

  Neither said anything for a time. Treyhorn finished her cup of soup and set it aside. “You ran away because you were in danger, didn’t you?”