by Tim Stead
Narak drew one of his blades. It glowed faintly in the dark like the ghost of a sword. “Does anyone else wield these?” he asked.
“My Lord, it must be him,” one of the other men said. “That is a dragon steel blade.”
Chillarin hesitated again, reluctant, perhaps, to welcome this seemingly improbably piece of good fortune, but he bowed his head and sighed. “You cannot imagine, Deus, how pleased I am to see you.”
“I have some inkling, I think. You have been living off the country these past weeks. You’ve been watching them. That is good. Now you can tell me what you know, the layout of the house and where your mother is being held.”
“I would draw you a map, Deus,” the Prince said. “But we have no light.”
Almost without thinking Narak held out his blade and the glow increased from the downward face It was as though the moon shone through the steel. A couple of the men gasped in surprise, but Narak saw the Prince smile.
“Here,” he said, picking up a stick and clearing the leaf litter from a patch of dirt. “The house is like this.” He began to sketch, and Narak saw the layout of both floors take shape before him. “I cannot be sure where they hold her, but it makes sense that it would be either the cellar – this door here – or in her own rooms.”
He went on. It seemed that his weeks of hardship had not been wasted. By the time the Prince finished describing what he had observed Narak harboured a new ambition. He had wanted to spring their trap, but that was not yet set. Now he had a chance to rescue the Queen and be gone before Alwain’s men knew it. There was some risk in it, of course – not for himself, but for the queen. A stray arrow could turn a bold rescue into a rank folly. That he could not risk, but even so he would have a better chance on his own in the quiet of the night than they would have the following day.
He scrubbed Chillarin’s map from the ground. “Now you must go and leave this to me,” he said. “Head down the road to the south with all speed and you will be with your father by morning. I will join you there.”
“We can help,” the Prince said. “We want to help.”
“No,” Narak said. “The only way this works is if I am alone.”
“You are certain that a couple of good bows couldn’t help?”
“Not materially,” Narak said. “And it would cost your lives. The kingdom needs an heir, Prince Chillarin.”
Chillarin sighed. “It is a necessary cowardice, then,” he said. “I will do as you say.”
“Doing the right thing is not the coward’s way,” Narak said. “And getting killed for no good reason is mere foolishness. Now go. Tell Degoran that I will return before dawn.”
Narak left them. They would do as he said, he was sure, though he understood Chillarin’s desire to see action. It was hard for a cosseted prince to win the respect of his men, and that drove some to foolish risk and early death. Wisdom and youth were such rare companions.
He resumed his wolf form and ran down the slope until he reached the open ground that surrounded Wester Beck. It was a small house for a king. There were no formal gardens at all, just a broad swathe of lawn that reached an abrupt end at the tree line some two hundred paces from the house. He would have to cross that open ground, but at night he’d be no more than a fleeting shadow. Even so, he paused and examined the building.
It was exactly as Chillarin had described it. The map he had memorised placed the queen… there. The windows were dark on the upper floor, but that was hardly a surprise. Only one light showed on the lower floor, and that was in the drawing room.
But on the end of the house that faced him there was an open window. It was on the upper floor, which is why, he supposed, it had been neglected. It was dark. That suggested that the room behind it was empty or that the occupants were asleep. Either condition suited him.
He waited a little longer, looking for any signs of movement. One by one he picked out the guards around the building. They were not patrolling, which was good, too. It would be easier to avoid men who stayed at their stations.
He picked his moment and ran.
A wolf can run quickly, but Narak could run faster. It took a few seconds for him to cross the lawn, jumping the surprise of the ha-ha and flattening himself against the stone of the house.
He waited again. There was a guard on each corner and either of them could have glimpsed him by starlight if they’d happened to look the right way at the right time.
Time passed. Nobody came his way, and it was safe to assume that he had not been seen. He looked up at the window. It was a difficult jump for a wolf – impossible without a run-up – so he took human form again, bent his legs and sprang for the sill. He caught it and flipped himself through, landing in complete silence.
He held his breath and listened. There was no sense of another body in the room, no smell, no sound of breathing. It was empty. He moved to the door. It wasn’t locked and he lifted the latch carefully. The door opened half an inch and he put his eye to the crack.
There was a corridor outside. It was dark and he could detect no human presence here, either. He slipped through the door and closed it behind him. If he had understood the Prince’s plan this was the main crossway on the upper floor. It ran from here to the top of the grand staircase. On the other side of the staircase it continued until the far end of the building where the Queen’s chambers lay. His human senses, sharp as they were, could make no sense of the darkness, so he assumed his full aspect.
The floor creaked under him. Narak froze. He waited, but the sound hadn’t been noticed, or if so, it had been taken for the normal easing of so old a house. Nobody came to investigate.
With his dragon eyes he could see clearly even in this fractional light. There were two guards at the far end of the corridor, sitting in darkness. He could smell them both now, and the unmistakable odour of wine. They had been drinking and by his breathing one of them was asleep.
He moved forwards, one slow step at a time. It was a new sensation for Narak, being stealthy. He was used to his own strength and power, to being immune to arrows and blades, and he was used to being alone. Now he had to think of Queen Annalise. If he stirred up this hornets’ nest she would probably die, and that would make all this quite pointless.
He paused where the wall ended and the staircase began and looked down. There were men down there, too. He could hear voices coming from the drawing room and there he could scent men in the hall below the stair.
He looked across at those outside the queen’s door. There was no change. All he had to do was cross the stair, kill the two of them silently, and he would be in the queen’s room. They could escape the way he had come. He readied himself to step out.
A noise below made him step back, and suddenly there was light. It was just a candle in the hall below. A man had stepped out of the drawing room bearing it, but it felt like dawn had broken. He shrank back into a doorway and flattened himself against the door. If they looked this way he could be seen, but the door behind him was locked and he could neither break it open nor retreat down the hall without great risk.
He stayed still.
“Belman, Tennof, you’re off duty. Get what sleep you can, you’ll be up before dawn,” a voice said. There were grateful mutterings, a few idle words, as men swapped posts in the hall below, but now someone was coming up the stairs. More than one. A changing of the guard up here too, Narak guessed. He needed better concealment.
But he didn’t move. It was as though something inside him whispered to him, told him that they wouldn’t see him, even if they looked right at him. For a moment he thought it was Pascha reaching out to help him, but it didn’t feel like her. It felt like himself, like that secret power that was growing inside him.
He trusted it. He stayed where he was.
The men came up. There were three of them, all armed with short swords and daggers. They turned away from Narak and advanced down to the Queen’s room with their candle. The one in charge kicked the sleeping man and he fell off his chair. He be
rated him and the others laughed. The two relieved guards left, walking towards Narak and turning down the stairs without seeing him. The man in charge stayed. He spoke a few words to the new men and picked up the wine bottle the other had left.
“…and if I catch you drinking, you’ll get the same,” he said and turned towards Narak. He walked slowly to the top of the stair and then turned and looked down the corridor to where Narak was barely concealed. He frowned. Narak could see his face lit up as clear as day by his candle, but he turned and walked down the stairs none the wiser.
He heard the footsteps recede, saw the candle light fade and heard the drawing room door close. He realised that he had been holding his breath.
He breathed again in the darkness. In a way he had been fortunate. If he had been a minute earlier, he would have killed the guards and been caught by the change. In another way he had not. The new guards were alert, just beginning their shift. He would have to wait for them to settle.
He watched them. They didn’t talk, but set themselves on chairs on opposite sides of the corridor, leaning back in their chairs, stretching legs out in an effort to get comfortable. In another age these men would have fought for him. They would have been his soldiers, willing to die for him on the battlefield. Perhaps their grandfathers had. Now they were in his way and he could give them no more heed that he would stones in the road. That made him unaccountably sad, but it could not be helped. He did not draw his blades but, when he judged them sufficiently relaxed, he launched himself down the corridor with silent speed. The first man he killed with a blow to the head and the second he seized by the throat even as he struggled to rise from his chair. Neither had the time to cry out and their dying noises had been a little more than a thump and a cough. Even so, Narak waited again, listening for movement below.
He heard a low voice, but nothing more. Now came the most difficult part. He must somehow enter the Queen’s chamber without alarming her. If she cried out, or even spoke loudly, more guards might come. He put an ear to the door. Silence. He could not tell if she was sleeping.
He lifted the latch and stepped inside.
Almost immediately there was a knife at his throat, and it was thrust with such determination and speed that had he been another man it would surely have ended his life. He clapped his hand over her mouth and took the knife from hers.
“Calm yourself, Queen Annalise,” he muttered. “I am Wolf Narak. I have come to bring you home.” He released her slowly, but at the last moment she pulled violently away.
“You could have come sooner,” she said, a little too loud for comfort.
“No, I could not,” he said. “Shall we go?”
“Do you have horses?” she asked.
“No,” he said. He was beginning to wonder if the woman appreciated the danger she was in. “If speed is required, I will carry you.” Even in the dark he could see from her face that she did not like the idea. “I am faster than a horse,” he added.
“I cannot see a thing,” she said.
“Take my hand. Walk quietly and do not speak. There are dead men in the corridor – do not let them startle you.” He took her hand and she did not resist, so he lifted the latch again and looked down the corridor. It was still silent, and empty apart from the dead guards. He led the Queen past them and down to the open window in the room at the far end. He looked outside.
He pulled his head back in as a flight of arrows rattled against the frame, a few flying through and embedding themselves in the ceiling. Torches flared in the dark and suddenly the house was bathed in light. Apparently he had not been as stealthy as he thought.
He peered carefully through the window again. It seemed that the entire camp had been roused. There were hundreds of men out there and every other man carried a bow. His chances of getting the queen out were minimal.
“Why don’t you just kill them all?” the Queen asked.
“I could, but I suspect those torches would serve to set light to Wester Beck and then I would have no choice but to fetch you out and however fast I am the chances are you would take half a dozen arrows before I reached the trees.”
“I see,” she said. “The other windows?”
“The house will be surrounded.”
“Then I suppose you must leave me here,” she said.
It was the obvious conclusion, but Narak was reluctant to admit defeat. Yet even now they could have sent men riding out towards the King. He did not fear for Degoran’s safety, not especially, but Chillarin was on that road and might well be overtaken and captured or killed by any advance. If he was going to abandon the Queen it would have to be now.
“Wolf Narak!” The voice came from the ring of soldiers outside.
“I am here,” he replied.
“Leave now or we will kill the queen,” the voice said.
So it was a simple choice. It was unlikely that he could rescue the queen now, but the chances are that she would be killed anyway when Degoran brought his small army here tomorrow, and there was a lesser chance that Degoran and Chillarin would die, too. Narak could avoid all chance of that catastrophe if he simply attacked and killed them all now. The Queen would die, but the threat to Degoran and his heir would be eliminated. They could return to Golt.
He turned and looked at the Queen. “Your husband and son could die tomorrow,” he said. “I will do what I can, but one man, even one Wolf, cannot be everywhere.”
She looked him in the eye. “Kill them all, then,” she said.
“They will burn the house. You will probably be killed.”
She shrugged. “If that is the price… you think they will kill me anyway once Degoran is here.”
“Chances are they will put you somewhere in plain sight. Their aim is to kill the King. If he is enraged, he will be reckless.”
She smiled at him. “Then do not hesitate on my account,” she said.
Narak moved to the window, but he did hesitate. She was brave, and such bravery did not deserve to be abandoned, yet he could see no way out of this. It was not a question of what he wanted to do. Some things were simply necessary. He had made a mistake and the Queen would have to die for it. Yet he would avenge her as though she was one of his own.
He turned back to her again. “I am sorry,” he said. “I should have been better than this.” He stepped forwards once more, but stopped. There was another sound out there now. It was high above them and it was a sound that he knew. He stepped back, grabbed the Queen by the arm and dragged her through the door into the corridor.
“What…?”
“Get down,” he said, but didn’t wait for her to obey. He pulled her to her knees just as the roof above them disintegrated. Slates and timbers rained down, but Narak shielded her with his body. From the noise he could tell that the men outside were in uproar. He heard bows loose, saw torches arc over the shattered roof, but above him was the best shield he could have wished for.
“Bane, your timing is impeccable,” he said.
The Dragon looked down, its huge claws gripping the walls, its wing spread above them.
“Quickly, perhaps,” it said. “These walls will not hold for ever.”
“It is a dragon!” the Queen said. Narak smiled a wry smile. She had not been impressed by Wolf Narak, but a dragon?
“He is a friend,” Narak said. He pushed her up, and she quickly got the idea, clambering gracelessly up the creature’s leg and onto its back. Narak followed. “I didn’t know you were allowed to do this,” he said.
“I have killed no-one,” Bane said. “And I will break as many roofs as I please to help a friend.”
Narak wrapped an arm around the Queen’s waist and took a firm grip on a convenient spine. “Let us be gone then.”
Bane beat his great wings and they rose, slowly at first, then faster into the cold night sky. Narak looked down and saw Wester Beck shrinking below him. Already it was being consumed by fire and Alwain’s men were running to and fro in confusion.
“South,” he
said over the dragon’s shoulder. “There will be men on the road, a group of six. You can drop us there.” It was safe enough. He would push Chillarin and the Queen ahead of him and any who followed would die. That much he could do.
“I loved that house,” the Queen said. She was looking back, too, the wonder of the dragon quite forgotten for a moment.
Narak laughed. The high rushing air was like fine wine. “You are alive, Queen Annalise, and you have ridden a dragon. I have no doubt that you will build again, and it will be better. No doubt at all.”
*
When they landed Narak took a moment alone with the dragon as Annalise was joyfully reunited with her son.
“Do not think me ungrateful, old friend,” he said. “But how did it happen that you were here when I needed you. I did not expect it.”
Bane roused his great wings and settled again. “You have a remarkable woman, Narak,” he said.
“She told you to come?”
“Nobody tells a dragon what to do,” Bane said. “But she did speak to me. She pointed out all the people you had saved and helped, and wondered why it was that you always had to face your trials alone, why there was never anyone at hand when you needed help on such perilous tasks as your present endeavour. I took her point.”
“But it’s not true,” Narak said. “I’m hardly ever alone.”
The dragon bared its teeth, a sort of smile. “Nevertheless, she made me feel unreasonably comfortable at Col Boran, so I came. I have been watching for three days.”
“I never saw you, or heard you,” Narak said.
The dragon rippled. Narak knew that was a shrug. “I was very high,” Bane said.
It reminded Narak of a dream he’d had a century ago. It was a memorable dream. In it he’d been a dragon and flying high above the land – so high that nobody had seen him. Yet he had been able, in his dream, to see everything that passed on the ground below, to distinguish one man from another. It had not really been a dream, he knew that. It was one of Kirrith’s memories, and it had been so vivid that he still missed the feeling of flight, though he had never flown. Riding a dragon was a poor second.