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

by William Culbertson

Renshau nodded. “I agree, but I wanted you to know exactly where I stand on the succession arguments going on in Tazzelton.”

  “Thank you, sir, but it’s a succession argument in which I have no part.”

  “Unfortunately you were a pawn in the game Mathilde was playing. By disappearing as you did, you most certainly saved your life.”

  “She did try to kill me, you know. Poison.”

  “Orin mentioned that in his letter.” Renshau’s face was dark. “Your father too?”

  “I heard her admit that with my own ears.” Dax looked away. “She was talking to Castellan Keir.” He paused and tried to contain the fiery surge of hatred the memory had roused. Now that he had seen real dragon fire, his visions of revenge had expanded. Dax forced himself back to the conversation at hand. “General Herne found me on the streets and took me in. We talked about many options, and we agreed on Iron Moor. My father was popular, but with his long ‘illness’ and my lack of contacts, any movement to put me on the throne would have been too weak to oppose Mathilde’s planning and preparation. Even if I had been able to gather support, it likely would have divided the kingdom.”

  Renshau nodded. “Just so.” He sighed and looked at Dax. “Meanwhile, what do we do about you? I agree with your thinking about a struggle for the throne dividing the kingdom.” He sighed again. “But you realize this places me and the academy in a rather awkward position. I’m sitting here in the quiet of my office, speaking to the rightful king of West Landly. You have in effect thrust the fate of the kingdom into my hands.”

  Dax had not thought of his problems from this viewpoint before, and he was dismayed by his lack of foresight. Evidently Dax’s face had betrayed his thoughts. Renshau smiled and said, “Please understand. I agree with all of your thinking. There are a number of factions maneuvering for power. Instead of turmoil, this kingdom needs a mature leader to hold it together. No matter how good a king you might become someday, you are not that man today. Now that Keir is out of the way, the Assembly of Nobles has a chance to choose a ruler who can bring the kingdom together.” He scowled. “And, to keep the jackals from the South off our necks.

  Renshau got up and walked to a shelf of books along one wall. “Orin sent me news from Tazzelton.” He removed a folio and turned back to Dax. “The Old Bear has done many favors for me and the other dragon-bound. I came to Iron Moor after he’d left, but later in his career, he came back from time to time to give seminars for groups of special students . . . other favors too. He was always more than willing to help.” Renshau sat back down in his chair, took several papers out of the folio, and held them out to Dax. “He wrote me two letters,” Renshau continued, “and in code, I might add. They were both delivered by personal messenger. He took no chances with others’ safety.”

  Dax took the papers, but they were filled with rows of neatly written letters and symbols that were totally indecipherable.

  “I’ll translate them for you sometime if you want.” Renshau shifted in his chair and looked out the window for a moment. “You heard about Keir?”

  Dax frowned. “General Herne told me he would never let that man take the throne. I should have guessed he might do something.”

  Renshau nodded in agreement. He reached into the folio again and took out another paper. He handed it to Dax. It was in a different, lighter hand, but just as unintelligible. “Moryn wrote me a note after it happened. I received it by messenger about a month ago.” He sighed. “Moryn is every bit as sharp as Herne is . . .” He paused. “Rather, was, and two people don’t spend that long together without picking up a few of each other’s tricks. Sometime after you’re settled, I’ll let you read it too.”

  “Thank you,” Dax replied. “I’d like that.” After a minute he asked, “Sir, could you tell me what happened to General Herne?”

  Renshau frowned. “It was bad, but I’ll tell you some of it now.” He wiped his hand across his face. “The hard part.” The commandant’s eyes had been dark and hard in Dinwiddie’s main square earlier, but now Dax saw a flicker of anger there . . . dragon anger. “They killed him . . . Herne.” His voice was flat, betraying nothing of the dragon’s ire that was in his eyes. “Mathilde set it up as a grand execution. Treason against the kingdom.” He shook his head. “Hauled him stripped naked into the castle’s courtyard to be whipped at the quarter post.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “Fifty lashes with the heavy whip, it was. Breaks your bones as well as cuts your flesh. No one survives that.”

  The commandant’s face had been grim, but now it was fierce. Flashes of light sparked off the water clouding his eyes. “None of the guard would carry out the sentence. Not one.” He smiled tightly with satisfaction. “No, they had to get a team of three bullyboys from the city watch to do the deed. They left him there in the dirt of the parade ground until all his blood was gone, then they threw his body to the sharks off the west gate’s porch.” Renshau’s voice was hoarse as he spoke of the end of Orin Herne.

  Renshau wiped his eyes and said nothing more for a time. Finally he looked up at Dax and cleared his throat. “Now, we have to take care of one immediate concern before I introduce you to the corps this evening. There’s a bit of awkwardness about what name you use.”

  “I’ve been going by Leith, sir. It worked with Moryn’s idea . . .” He paused. “That’s a story in itself too.”

  “Which I’ll expect to hear in full when there’s time.” Renshau paused and rubbed his prominent chin. The anger had gone out of his face, and he looked thoughtful. “Leith is one of your names, so that made it usable for you. However, it’s also known as the name of the boy king.” He thought for another moment. “So what do you call yourself? What do you think of as your proper name?”

  “My father liked to call me Dax,” he offered. “You know, the letters from Darius Ambergriff X.”

  Renshau smiled. “I like that. How many people were familiar with that name?”

  “Not many, I think. Some people in the castle heard my father call me that, but they never used the name. Only General Herne and Moryn ever called me that.”

  He nodded in satisfaction. “Since I am the commandant of Iron Moor, I have authority to give you your official academy name.” Renshau thought for a time. “You will find it easier to use the name Dax. Let’s choose a name for which Dax would be a natural nickname.”

  Dax had an answer almost immediately. “How about Daxengriff.”

  “I like the idea, but I think the griff part is a little too close to Ambergriff. It may give people unwanted thoughts. How about Daxdendraig? The draig part announces you are of the dragon-bound, and when people react to that, they won’t be thinking about a young king.”

  Dax turned the name over in his mind several times before nodding. “It’s awkward enough to say, and the nickname is obvious.”

  “Good. Then by the power of my authority as commandant, you are officially to be known to one and all at Iron Moor Academy as Gard Daxdendraig.”

  “Gard?” Dax asked.

  “All of our cadets have two names, whether they bring both of them to Iron Moor or not, and I think we need to stay away from the name Leith.” He smiled. “With your secret, we must all be on ‘Gard.’”

  “I already used the name Leith in town today.”

  Renshau nodded. “And some might remember. Well, I’ve renamed more than a few nobles’ sons and daughters to prevent troubles akin to yours. I will introduce you properly this evening.” After a pause, Renshau went on. “Yes, you are the orphan son of noble parents. Period. As dragon-bound, we cannot lie. We just won’t mention that you are the son of the noblest parents in the kingdom.”

  The day had been trying, and Dax had experienced a whipsaw of emotions. The account of Orin Herne’s death had upset him, and it had obviously upset Renshau as well. However, the commandant’s focus on the practical matters at hand had returned Dax’s thoughts to the present. He was exhausted, but he was safe in this refuge. Renshau’s welcome and support had m
ade Dax calmer and more confident. He nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, sir.”

  “So, Dax,” Renshau said, “we need to get you settled. You’ll be just another cadet here at Iron Moor, but you will get the best training available in Landly—East or West.”

  “Yes, sir, That’s what General Herne said.” Because of his mixed feelings, Dax could not think of anything else he wanted to say. He was relieved to be at the end of his journey, but he had to learn a whole new way of life.

  Fortunately Commandant Renshau was used to welcoming new students. He stood up, and Dax stood with him. “Well, Cadet Daxdendraig, you will be safe here. The work will not be easy, because we will challenge you to be your best.” His eyes twinkled for a moment. “I’ll be very interested to see what your best is.” He gestured to the door. “Now, let’s go get something to eat, and I’ll introduce you to the corps.”

  Chapter 22

  Cadet Wellik Weddle was upset. No, he decided, that was too mild a word. He was downright mad. Cadets were never supposed to use that word to describe angry feelings, but mad was exactly how he felt. It gave him a secret satisfaction to use the word in the privacy of his room.

  His pillow was too hard. He lifted his head and punched one end. He was mad because he had not even touched the deevee this afternoon. Rab and Pazen had attacked the scruffy-looking kid. Weddle had bent down to help Rab get up, but that was when the deevee had knocked him down. Of course that was the moment Renshau showed up.

  He turned over in the bed onto his belly. The textbook he had been holding but not reading fell to the floor. Confined to quarters after supper too. He could not even go down to the barracks common room to see any of his friends. He sighed. Yes, he was mad.

  Three raps on his door startled him. He had not been asleep, but he had been thinking about the special-order hearing tomorrow. He had never been in trouble like this before. “Just a minute,” he replied to the knock. It took him a minute to get himself up. He picked up the book and flipped it onto the bed. He took a quick look around to make sure the room was neat enough for an official visit from one of the officers. None of the other cadets would be visiting someone confined to quarters. Besides, cadets seldom knocked.

  He pulled open the door and stepped back in surprise. “Commandant Renshau!” He stood gaping before he remembered his manners. He opened the door wide. “I’m sorry, sir. Won’t you come in?”

  “Thank you, Cadet Weddle. I have some business to discuss with you, and I need to do it this evening instead of waiting for tomorrow.” The commandant stepped through the door and gestured to another cadet.

  Weddle had noticed the other figure, but his attention had been fixed on the commandant. Now he saw the cadet with the commandant was the deevee from this afternoon. A cold chill went down his spine. This could be trouble—real trouble. The boy was in a cadet’s uniform now. Who knew what tales he had been telling the commandant?

  “We won’t take but a moment of your time.” The commandant nodded meaningfully toward his bed. “I know you want to get back to your studying.” The last statement was not given as a command, but his book still lay where he had tossed it carelessly onto the bed. Weddle knew an order to get back to his studies when he heard it.

  The commandant gestured to the boy who stood beside him. “I would like to personally introduce you to our newest cadet, Gard Daxdendraig. I think you met him briefly this afternoon. We’ve had a place reserved for him for some time, and he’s just arrived. Cadet Daxdendraig, this is Cadet Weddle.”

  Daxdendraig offered his hand, and Weddle automatically shook the other cadet’s hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you,” Daxdendraig said mildly.

  Weddle looked at the boy and immediately noticed his eyes. They reminded him of the intimidatingly intense eyes of the commandant. What Weddle had dreaded most about tomorrow’s special-order hearing was having to look the commandant in the eye while he tried to explain what happened. At DRC this evening, two cadets who had been disciplined last month had told him the scariest part had been their face-to-face conversation with the commandant in his office.

  The commandant started speaking, and Weddle looked back into his eyes, trying not to tremble. “I’ve assigned Cadet Daxdendraig to your company.” The commandant gestured toward the room’s extra bed. “Since you are one of the few in the company with no roommate, I thought he might room with you. Do you have any objections?”

  Weddle blinked in surprise. He thought furiously. He had not had a roommate for the last two years, and it was his right as a cadet to have the last say about who his roommate would be. Weddle did not have any close friends in the corps. He was not popular, and too many people teased him about his name, “Welly Weddle, Welly Weddle.” He had gotten in the habit of being a loner. Now the commandant was practically ordering him to take in the same cadet who had gotten him in trouble this afternoon. On the other hand, this might be a way to offset some of his problems.

  The commandant smiled. Weddle could not remember having seen the commandant smile before. “How’s that for a request?” the commandant asked. “Let me explain before you make a decision. Cadet Daxdendraig has had a long, hard journey to get to Iron Moor. On the way he was attacked by criminals. If he’d been able to come straight away, he would have been here during the summer. He would have joined the corps at the regular time and before the troubles started. No one would have noticed him.” The commandant pointed toward Daxdendraig. “Now, however, I have to try to get him started late. That’s hard enough by itself, but that little scuffle this afternoon is going to make it doubly difficult for him to fit in easily.”

  Weddle was confused. It sounded like the commandant was confiding in him. Finally he found his voice. “Sir, I’m not exactly the most popular of cadets. I mean, wouldn’t he do better with someone like Fazen or Shuttlesworth?”

  “Perhaps,” agreed the commandant. “However, you are the one with an empty bed, and the boy has to bunk somewhere. I’m sure the social order will work itself out soon enough.” The commandant smiled at him. “No, in many ways I think you will benefit most from having a roommate.”

  Weddle blinked. That was a surprise. The commandant thought having a roommate would be good for him? He had gotten used to being alone. What if Daxdendraig was an ass?

  “There’s one other thing, Cadet Weddle,” the commandant continued. “Your special-order hearing tomorrow has been cancelled. Cadet Daxdendraig explained to me that your involvement was only to lend a hand to a fellow cadet who had fallen beside you. Since it was an accident you got caught up in the fighting, there will be nothing entered in your record. You are no longer confined to quarters.”

  Weddle caught his breath. No special order? “Gee, thanks! Uh . . . thank you, sir!”

  “And your decision?” the commandant asked.

  He snuck a look at Daxdendraig, who smiled in return. “I guess it will be okay.” He thought about what he had just said, and rapidly revised his answer, “Yes, sir. I would like to have Cadet Daxdendraig as a roommate.”

  “Then I will leave you two to get acquainted.” The commandant nodded to both cadets. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He left and closed the door behind him.

  Daxdendraig broke the awkward silence when he offered his hand again. “Hey, thanks. I really do appreciate you agreeing to let me room with you. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. Is that my bed over there?”

  Weddle picked up his book from the bed and laid it on top of his desk. He pointed to the other bed, which he kept pristine to make it easier to prepare for morning inspection. “Yeah, that’s yours. Give me a second to get some of my things out of your wardrobe, and you can put your stuff away.” He had three shirts and an exercise tunic in the other wardrobe. He stuck those back into his own wardrobe and retrieved two books from the other desk.

  “There you go, ah . . .” He hesitated. “Ah, what’s your first name?”

  “Gard, but I usually just go by Dax.” The boy smiled. “What should I ca
ll you? I can’t go around calling you Cadet Weddle like the commandant.”

  “Just call me Welly like all the rest.”

  His new roommate looked at him for moment, and Weddle felt almost like he was standing there naked. “Is that what you like to be called?” his new roommate asked.

  Weddle met the boy’s challenging stare. “No,” he said flatly. “My name is Wellik.”

  “Wellik. Nice name.” The boy nodded. “I think everyone should use your proper name, don’t you?” He held up the small pack he carried. “And don’t worry about making space for me. I haven’t got much.”

  Finally Weddle’s curiosity got the better of him. “You got attacked by criminals?” He knew as he asked that he sounded like an awestruck little kid, but he had never met anyone his age who had been on a serious adventure. “How did you get away?”

  His new roommate smiled at him. “I had help. I’ll tell you about it later, Wellik, but what I really need to know is . . .” He shrugged his shoulders and made a helpless gesture with his hands. “Everything, I guess. I mean, I don’t even know where the jakes is.”

  Weddle laughed. “Hey, that’s easy enough. Come on. I’ll show you around some before lights-out.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate you helping me settle in.”

  The two went out the door, and Weddle turned right. He would show him the jakes first.

  <<<>>>

  This is the end of King’s Exile but not the end of Dax’s adventures. King’s Dragon, the second book of the Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound, continues the story.