Dragonfire

by Charles Jackson

  “And how d’you figure that?”

  “Because you took my room, boy… simple as that…” Randwick answered with anger of his own now, not pleased that an innocent man had been murdered because of his presence there. “Those three went for my room first and found you three instead. We were lucky you were quick with your sword there, lass…” he added, giving a nod in Nev’s direction “…and I’d warrant all of us owe you our lives this night. I’ll ask you more on where you learned to fight like that another time, but right now we need to get as far away from here as we’re able.”

  “You presume a lot, old man,” Godfrey snapped, far too tense to be open to taking orders from a stranger. “Why should we trust a stranger so… ‘specially if he’s one hunted by assassins, as you seem so ready to declare. Why should we trust you?”

  “For a few reasons, boy…” Randwick growled in return, lifting himself up to his full, intimidating stature in the stark moonlight. “One: because without thinking, you let slip a moment ago that The Brotherhood was after you, and you’ll need all the help you can get if they are… Two: you’ve been travelling on the road with this lass here, her eyes uncovered – which might explain at least partly why those bloody ‘Brown Robes’ are after ye – and she’s something special, judging by the way I saw her fight; so there’s a story there I’m going to be wantin’ to hear soon enough… and three: …three?” He repeated, lowering his tone just enough for fear of being overheard. “Because, three: I knew you lot were something unusual the moment you walked in that tavern, and I know you knew I knew it…” he pointed out, locking eyes with Godfrey and daring him to say otherwise. “I didn’t denounce you for heretics then, and I’m not going to do it now… I’ve bigger fish to fry today.”

  “I… I think we can trust him…” Nev whispered slowly, her strange new instincts telling her there was good in the old man, and that he might somehow be of use to them. “I think we should tell him what we’re doing…”

  “Are you insane…?” Godfrey hissed in return. “Have you breathed too much smoke? We’ve just met this fellow, and I do not think it a good idea that we share our secrets with a complete stranger – no insult intended, sir…” he added quickly in deference to the tall and clearly powerful man standing beside him.

  “Oh, none taken…” he replied evenly, his eyes narrowing slightly all the same. “Perhaps it might help if we were properly introduced? My name is Foucault Randwick, sword-master and Mentor to the Crown of Huon, and unless you’ve lived your entire life ‘neath a rock, somewhere out in the Great Momofan, you’ll know that name well enough.” His tone hardened now as shock and recognition flared in the eyes of two out of the three present. “You’ll also know that as Mentor, my word is honour-bound…

  “Now, whether by design or just damned good fortune, your arrival here this night probably saved my life. Why those assassins were after me I know not for certain yet – although I could hazard a guess or two – but the fact remains it were my room they came for. So like it or not, I’m somewhat in your debt and I swear to you, anything you tell me now will never pass to another soul…”

  “Master Randwick…” Godfrey acknowledged eventually, falling to one knee in a flourishing bow the moment his motor impulses had caught up with the realisation within his own mind. “I offer my apologies: I could never have guessed…”

  “How would you…?” He conceded genially, almost smiling at the sudden turn around as Lester too fell to one knee, almost in reverence, and Nev stared on from a short distance, completely dumbfounded over the fawning display the two boys had suddenly put on. “And you, lass…?” He added, turning a raised eyebrow toward her.

  “I guess I must’ve been living under one of those rocks…” she shrugged as casually as she could manage as she fought not to wither under that expectant stare “…for I’ve never heard of you. A pleasure, I’m sure, but I don’t think I’ll be getting down on one knee just yet…”

  “Yet it was you who first vouched for me…” he pointed out, nodding faintly in recognition of her trust as the other two hurriedly regained their feet, looking a little embarrassed in the process. “You need not bow down to me, lass… t’ were you who raised the first alarm if I’m not mistaken and despatched two of those blackguards without help from me or anyone else. That sword ‘o yours is a fine one and no mistake – one I’ve not seen the like of in many a summer – and you’re welcome to stand at my side anytime.

  “But first to the dirty business at hand,” he added quickly, bringing everyone back to the present. “If there were three of these footpads about, there’s sure to be more soon enough and I’ll not feel at rest until I’ve got the walls of Burnii around me once more. Let’s see to the rest of these poor travellers and then be off as quickly as we’re able… time to talk later, when we’re somewhere safe.”

  The family and the old couple were gathered together and hurried as much as was possible as the three men worked at hitching the right horses up to the right carriages and seeing them on their way. Godfrey and Lester also had taken the time to quickly bury Nguyen’s body and perform a basic ceremony of sorts; it seemed the least they could do under the circumstances.

  The others’ departure left three horses still, which they found saddles for in a small shed at one corner, and there then remained only the matter of who was going to share with whom. With Nev not knowing the first thing about riding a horse, there was little choice to be made: with Lester being too light of frame to make it feasible for her to ride behind him and Randwick still being an old man they still didn’t really know (Ew…!), it therefore again left Godfrey as the only logical option.

  “I know of a place near hear – perhaps ten minutes’ ride – where we might hold up safe and wait for morning,” Randwick suggested, glancing around warily from the saddle as the remains of the tavern continued to burn, albeit at a far lesser intensity than it had had half an hour before. “It’s a bit out of our way but I’d prefer not to be on the road at night any longer than necessary: if my enemies have any friends lurking about, I’d much rather face ‘em in daylight rather than in darkness.”

  “I’ve no objections,” Godfrey conceded, giving it some thought as he threw glances at the other two, “and I doubt anyone else has either. Lead on, sir: we’ll follow…”

  Randwick turned his horse north and they set off at a steady canter across open fields that lay well away from the main road, looking to avoid any watchful eyes in the darkness. They travelled on for perhaps two kilometres or so, everyone following his shadowy silhouette in the moonlight, until they happened upon a narrow dirt track and then followed that instead, continuing in the same general direction. The air was cool and refreshing and it at least went some way toward easing the thumping headache that had plagued Nev the entire time since leaving the burning inn.

  Never again! She told herself, unknowingly echoing the words of countless millions of teenagers the universe over on the morning after their first serious encounter with alcohol. Never again will I subject myself to that!

  They could hear the sounds of surf again as they rode on along with the faint smell of the sea, and it occurred to Nev, based on what little she’d seen of the landscape on their walk earlier, that they probably weren’t that far away from where they’d left the sailboat. That suspicion was borne out as the track took them to the very northern edge of a huge, rounded cape with cliffs towering hundreds of metres above the sea below, and she realised in a flash of clarity that it must be the very same cliffs she’d seen as they’d sailed into the beach.

  They followed Randwick to a point right at the very cliff edge itself, where a lone, towering ruin stood overlooking the sea. In the shimmer of moonlight against water and the waves crashing against the rocks at the base of the cliffs, there was no denying it was a stunning view that must’ve been absolutely amazing during daylight. The ruins themselves were little more than a tall, partially-collapsed tower of stone standing perhaps twenty metres high – possib
ly used as a lookout for enemy ships or something similar, Nev mused as they tied the horses to a tree some distance away and walked the rest of the way.

  She found that the base was actually surrounded by a narrow trench perhaps two metres deep, with just one doorway set into the stone at ground level. The entrance would have been inaccessible save for the fact that the trench had been filled in just enough below the doorway to allow precarious entry in single file. The interior was cramped and musty, but it was secure and it was warm enough in their cloaks to avoid the need for a fire that might otherwise draw attention to their presence.

  “I’ll take first watch if y’ like…” Lester volunteered, receiving an appreciative grunt from Godfrey as the boy disappeared outside with his trusty crossbow.

  “Hardy lad…” Randwick observed softly, taking a seat on a fallen lump of stone, directly across from the entrance.

  “Aye, a roughie, but a good ‘un,” Godfrey acknowledged in return, his grin a flash of pale white in the otherwise almost complete darkness. “Been lookin’ after him these last few summers and he’s come a long way. Knows how to handle himself.”

  “I’m sure he can,” Randwick agreed, a wry smile flickering across his lips. “Most Southern Oster boys are pretty well-trained by their second year as squire; I’ve no doubt the boy’s as capable as any…”

  “That obvious…?” Godfrey asked immediately, crestfallen that the old man had pegged him so easily.

  “Took a little thinking on account of you havin’ a woman with y’ as well, but with yer dress and the age difference of you and the boy, it seemed logical were a ranger and apprentice. We’re well aware of the Southern Oster’s training practices at Cadle: it pays to stay informed o’ these things.”

  “And does that change your attitude?” The question wasn’t aggressive but it was definitely direct. Godfrey wanted to make sure all cards were on the table.

  “Me word’s me word and I gave it freely,” Randwick shrugged, admiring the boy’s forthrightness and taking no offence. “If you’ve a mind to ride with me, I’ll see all of you safe wherever you need to go. There’s a guard garrison the other side of Windward – maybe five miles from here – and I know the commander there. He’ll see us right with an escort at least as far as Burnii. If you’ve a mind to travel on from there, provisions and fresh horses can be arranged also.”

  “We’d be in your debt,” Godfrey suggested, tilting his head slightly in thanks.

  “We’d be even…” Randwick corrected, alluding back to the attack at the tavern.

  “And why is it that someone might send assassins in the middle of the night against one of the most renowned advisors to the House of Namur?” Godfrey asked pointedly, using the little-used, official title of the royal family of Huon. “I know the ‘misfortune’ that befell the king’s brother last fall-season, but to put it bluntly, sir: what might warrant an attack on the king’s advisor rather than the king himself?”

  “A fine question deserving of a similar answer,” Randwick nodded as Nev stared on with interest, seated between the two with her back against the curved stone wall. “I’d be inclined to answer in good time, but I’d first ask why you want to know.” He again raised an eyebrow. “I’ve a suspicion there’s more than polite interest behind it…?”

  “You trust him…?” Godfrey asked, turning his attention to Nev now in the darkness. For reasons he wasn’t completely able to explain, he was becoming more and more ready to consider her opinion on matters. With what he’d seen her capable of when using that pendant, and with her actions in saving them from attack earlier (not the first time she’d saved them all, either), he was slowly coming to realise that there was a great deal more to her than he’d originally suspected, even taking into account what he’d already learned those last few days.

  “Me…?” She blurted, caught unawares as she felt the withering power of both men staring at her expectantly. “I – uh…” She paused for a moment then, settling her mind and reaching out blindly for the same instincts she’d felt earlier during battle. She still had no idea what they were but they’d not steered her wrong so far and she therefore saw no reason not to heed them. At she stared back at Randwick in the darkness and continued to reach out with her mind, she received nothing in return save for a warm and comfortable sensation of well-being that was more than good enough for her.

  “Yes… yes, I trust him…” She confirmed again, echoing her words back at the tavern. “Tell him… tell him everything…”

  And everything was exactly what Godfrey went on to disclose, spending at least a good hour as he ran through all they’d experienced since he’d first taken Nev’s hand in the middle of that forest near Crookhaven and led her to Garry’s farmhouse. Randwick listened with great interest as they told of the journey to Long Hop, the loading of the cannon aboard Rapier, and their subsequent capture and interrogation at the hands of Silas and Baal.

  “It seems our encounter is doubly fortunate this night,” the old man declared eventually, after considering the story for a long time in complete silence. “You say that having seen all this, your first thought was in fact to make your way to Burnii and find some way to warn the king?”

  “You’ve reason to be sceptical,” Godfrey agreed, hearing the man’s tone. “The Oster’s never been an ally to any king, it’s true, but if what Nev says is true about these cannon Harald has, then it’s not only Huon will fall. Having the whole of the Osterlands crushed beneath the boot heels of the Blackwatch will do no one any favours, including my boys. The Oster knows Phaesus to be a moderate – probably the most even-tempered monarch anyone’s yet seen – and as we’d no alternative but to make landfall in Huon anyway, warning him seemed the sensible thing to do.”

  “I know an honest answer when I hear one,” Randwick nodded, having again taken some time to consider those words in silence. “I’ve no love for mercenaries either but the Southern Oster generally operate with honour and decency, and they’ve often been of help against Harald in the past – truth be told – in times when there were deeds needed doing by less ‘official’ means.

  “You’re sure about Baal…?” He continued, changing back to the topic at hand. “I’ve heard all you’ve said well enough, but to accuse the cousin of the king himself is no small matter – I’ll need evidence for such a denunciation.”

  “We’ve none other than our word,” Godfrey admitted, not happy about it. “We barely escaped the ship with our lives – there was no time to think of bringing proof…”

  “There’s proof…” Nev interrupted, surprising both men. “A little, at least…” She added as an afterthought as she reached into her cloak and drew out her phone. “Try not to be too shocked…” she explained, noting Randwick’s surprise as she swiped the screen open and it flared into light. “I know everyone seems to think I’m a witch, but this is nothing more than a simple device where I come from… it’s not witchcraft…”

  “This… this is a machine…?” He asked warily, reluctant to touch the iPhone as she opened the gallery and brought up the latest video taken.

  “Here…” she offered, rising and moving to stand next to him so she could hold the phone out for both of them to see. Adjusting the volume to a lower setting so as not to startle him too much, she hit play and allowed the video to run.

  Randwick gasped openly as the screen flashed into life, playing back the images Nev had recorded from the roof of the warehouse at Long Hop. A panorama of the surrounding landscape showed massed campfires to the east, suggesting the presence of hundreds of troops if not more, and the camera then zoomed in on the work taking place down on the docks. Although the footage wasn’t great quality at full magnification, it was nevertheless clear enough to show the cannon being assembled, along with the name Rapier emblazoned across the bow of the ship behind.

  “These are the cannon you saw…?” Randwick asked immediately, knowing the look of a weapon when he saw one. “These things can shatter a castle’s walls fro
m a mile away?”

  “Maybe more than a mile,” she answered with a shrug. “I don’t know enough about guns to be sure but I do know they can outrange any catapult or trebuchet. They can also fire something called grapeshot: hundreds of little balls the size of your thumb or less that can spray advancing troops at closer range and kill dozens at a time – like a great volley of crossbows firing all at once.”

  “This is real…” The old man croaked, clearly shaken by what he’d seen and heard. “I can see Baal’s ship, Rapier… I can see the weapons of which you speak, as if it were with my own eyes!”

  “They also have a smaller weapon called a shotgun… one easily carried by a single man. It’s like nothing you’ll have ever seen before – like a piece of iron pipe stuck onto the stock of a crossbow or something like that – and it’s not as powerful as a cannon, but it’s lethal at close range: I think it could probably punch straight through the armour of anyone trying to get within sword-fighting range.”

  “We mostly think she’s not a witch…” Godfrey grinned, earning a scowl and a poke of the tongue from Nev in response.

  “As for our story…” she continued, closing the video and putting her phone away “…you can check for yourself next time you see this Baal: I’m pretty certain I broke his arm when I hit him with the chair. Also… there’s this…” she added, diving one hand inside her cloak once more. This time, she drew out Silas’ pendant, letting it drop in front of Randwick’s eyes, suspended from her fingers by the chain.

  “Dragonfall take me!” He breathed, finding it difficult to cope with the overload of shock and surprise he was experiencing in such a short period of time. “No brother would willingly allow another to take their crystal…”

  “He didn’t give it willingly,” Nev pointed out, more than a little proud of herself in that moment. “He was quite annoyed about the whole thing, to be honest.”

  “This is damning proof…” Randwick conceded, almost breathless with excitement over the magnitude of what they’d told him. “Yes, it’s mostly circumstantial, but it fits the story better than any other I could think of… and I’d be very interested to see what explanation Baal might give as to why his personal warship was taking on Blackwatch weapons at Long Hop, or why Taas was allowing Harald to station an invasion force on the island, for there can be no denying that’s what it must be…”