The Dragon Hunters

by Christian Warren Freed

  General Huor cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s more disturbing news, sire.”

  “Go on.”

  “Captain Cron is missing. My men have looked everywhere in the city and surrounding area but can’t find him. Under the circumstances I find it suspicious at best. Perhaps he is the traitor we’re looking for.”

  Rentor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I find that highly unlikely, General. Cron is the captain of Kelis Dur, hand chosen by myself for his skills and abilities in battle. Have your men double their search efforts. Treachery may have befallen him.”

  “That is one possibility, but my men have been searching for a week already. He is not in Kelis Dur,” Huor replied coldly. His distaste for Cron bled through his words.

  Father Seldis cut in before harsher words were spoken. “Our enemies may already have him. I know Cron. There is no evil or malice in him. He is a true son of Thrae.”

  “Be that as it may, Father, times are increasingly perilous. We cannot simply dismiss the possibility of his betrayal just because he is a friend,” Codel added.

  “Very wise words, Minister,” Seldis replied.

  Codel fumed at the implied redirection.

  “A week? Why am I only now finding out about this, Huor? Tell me why no one thought it important enough to warn the king one of his champions has gone missing?”

  “Considering his position we thought it wiser to investigate all possible avenues before bringing it to your attention, sire,” Huor said flatly.

  The apprehension in his voice suggested hesitance and regret. He passed a nervous glance towards Codel, so slight none of the others picked it up. Or so he thought. Father Seldis casually rubbed his chin in thought. He’d seen everything and now studied the general carefully. Confronting Huor here was problematic and would only serve to weaken the already fractured council. Seldis decided to wait to find time alone with Rentor before bringing the subject back up.

  “I want him found,” Rentor ordered. “My heart tells me some foul deed has claimed him, but if he has turned against us we need to know. Double your scouts, Huor. Keep the army where it is for now, at least until the enemy gives himself away. I will not see this kingdom fail while I still draw breath. If there is nothing else?”

  They rose as one and filed towards the doors. Rentor soon stood alone, silently wondering what more he could do to save his people. He’d heard of kings so engrossed with personal power their kingdoms turned to rot and filth. His own father had been such a king. Rentor vowed the day he took the crown to never let that happen again. The fear of becoming like his father kept him grounded.

  Father Seldis closed the door behind him and sighed. He’d briefly contemplated going back to speak with Rentor but decided against it. Everything was going according to plan and if he stayed longer than necessary he’d only give himself away. The aging monk slipped down the hall. Huor and Codel were a bit further off, whispering to each other in angry tones. Seldis passed by nonchalantly. Neither noticed the slight hesitation in his gait as he passed. Codel nodded to him coolly while Huor just glared.

  An ill feeling reached out to him after he’d gone by. Their private meeting wasn’t something he’d been able to foresee. Seldis looked deep into his soul and tried using his powers to discover more. Nothing happened. He closed his eyes and, using his Mage sight, searched out their auras. Foul shadows encircled their souls. Darkness was at work in Thrae and he’d been blind to it from the beginning. He hurried down the stairs and back to the stables. There was much work to be done and no time in which to do it.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Aftermath

  Grelic winced when Kialla tightened the bandage on his arm. She couldn’t help but laugh at the foolishness of it. Old memories resurfaced. She imagined herself running through fields of wildflowers, eager for her father to return. Part of it stemmed from the knowledge that Grelic would be standing right beside him. Always. Constant. Grelic was almost a part of her family and she loved him more than either knew.

  “What’s so funny?” he scowled.

  She tossed her head back and broke out in laughter. The golden song echoed through the ruins of Gend. “You. The big, fearless warrior who’s been in more battles than any man alive, wincing from the gentle caress of his field nurse. Really, Grelic, I’ve seen you take far worse without blinking an eye.”

  “Wine and ale tend to do that.” He grinned, despite his best efforts to remain taciturn. “How are the others?”

  “About the same as you, though you managed to take the brunt of the beating. We’re getting pretty banged up. The damnedest thing is Fitch came through without a scratch again. I’ve never been a big believer in luck but he’s got to be the luckiest man alive. Two major battles and not a bruise on him.”

  “It is curious,” Grelic agreed. He kept his thoughts private and did his best to ignore his previous vision of her slinking up to him nude and alluring.

  Faeldrin and a handful of others had returned from sweeping the village of Goblins. The Elves all wore similar woodland camouflage and were nearly invisible to sight unless looked at directly. Grelic had never seen an Elf before and was surprised to find each bore distinct features separate from the general characteristics of the race. He’d always assumed from tales and hearsay that each Elf was strikingly similar to the next. This was not the case. Elves, he saw, were as different as leaves.

  “My apologies for passing out,” Grelic said as the apparent leader approached.

  Faeldrin gave a curt nod. “Why were the Goblins hunting you?”

  The giant was about to snap a comment about being rude when the Mage stepped forward. The Elves bowed.

  “Master Dakeb. We did not know you were here,” Faeldrin said.

  Dakeb waved off the formality. “Unfortunately I had no intention of being here. Matters led me to Thrae and here I must remain.”

  “We’re damned lucky he came too,” Pregen pitched in. “He helped save our skins a few nights ago against the dark wolves.”

  Faeldrin’s golden eyes widened. A murmur rose among the Elves. They’d run across the corpses but hadn’t known any further information, until now. A sense of appreciation rippled amongst the Aeldruin.

  “This is ill news, Dakeb. The dark creatures have not been loose in a century.”

  “Forces are working against us even as we speak. I have not yet discerned who or what,” the Mage said.

  “Tell him about the Dwim,” Pregen led. He wanted answers more than any of them.

  “Twice cursed!” Faeldrin gasped. “Evil is stalking this land. I fear for your safety. Such creatures should not have been allowed to exist.”

  “King Rentor has hired us to find the source of this threat. We’ve come this far and it is far too late to turn back now. All Thrae depends on what we discover,” Grelic told the Elf. He didn’t like how the conversation progressed.

  Faeldrin regarded the bigger man. “More than just your precious Thrae is at stake. My instincts whisper all Malweir is in danger.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Kialla asked. “Granted, these are grave times, but we’ve been able to handle what’s been thrown at us so far.”

  “My dear lady, when last these lands knew such peril, the dark Mages nearly destroyed us all. I would not see those days returned. My memories are still too vivid,” the Elf said and then fell silent.

  Ibram looked up from his sword in shock. He’d heard Elves were long lived, but to have been there during the wars, three hundred years ago, was inconceivable. Many stopped by the monastery during their travels and he’d been fortunate enough to speak with one or two. Faeldrin and his band were hundreds of years old, possibly thousands. Ibram stared up at the Elf’s sparkling eyes.

  “Yes, we were there. All those long years ago. The Aeldruin stood on the battlefield along with your Iron Legions and the riders of Harlegor. Times were different then. Men understood the meaning of allegiance.” Faeldrin looked away, the bemused look he bore fadi
ng. “Grelic, I think the tide is against you. If my suspicions are correct, you’ll need all the help you can get. The Aeldruin are at your service if you’d have us.”

  “That is a great honor but you may want to rethink the offer,” Grelic replied. He shot Dakeb a guarded look. The Mage nodded back. There wasn’t any point in keeping secrets. Besides, Faeldrin was right. They were going to need more help than their tiny band already had. Dakeb’s premonition of a dragon left him shaken to the core. Perhaps the Elven mercenaries could help.

  “Faeldrin, we have a serious problem. There’s a dragon at work, but something far worse as well. I haven’t figured it out yet. None of this makes any sense. Thrae is of no military value. There are no great riches to be had. No hidden treasures in the mountains or forests any longer. These are a simple people content with their lives. Yet look around. The burn marks can only be from a wyrm.” Dakeb frowned as he fell silent.

  “There hasn’t been a dragon in this part of Malweir since Kalgor the Wicked attacked the Dwarves of the Bairn Hills,” Faeldrin said.

  “Nigh on twelve hundred years,” Euorn commented. The way he said it suggested he was there as well.

  The Elf Lord reached down and picked up a handful of ash. “Yet these signs are unmistakable. Dakeb, it’s been a long time since we fought a dragon. Granted, we are mercenaries and our quests have always been noble, but there is only one place large enough for a dragon lair within a thousand leagues of here.”

  “Aye. Druem,” the Mage said.

  Another murmur spread through the Aeldruin. The very heart of the Deadlands! No good thing could come of this. Faeldrin bade his Elves to quiet down. “There is more you should know. About a week ago we came upon the ruins of another village just like this. Thim, I believe. Similar to this but on the far edge of the Qail Werd. Evil is moving much quicker than you think.”

  “Time is running out. I fear our enemy is too far ahead of us. There is some dark game being played in Thrae that I don’t yet know.”

  Faeldrin nodded and asked, “You think it’s him, don’t you?”

  The old man stared at the Elf for a long time. He felt old, used up. He wasn’t the same Mage that had ended the wars and kept the dark Mages from ruining the world. He was just an old man tired of fighting. Tired of all of the wars and never-ending nights of cold sweat and haunting failure. Dakeb sighed. It was a breath he’d been holding for years. All of his fears and visions of dark realities were coming true. It was a weight he’d been forced to carry since the fall of Ipn Shal, five hundred years ago.

  “Perhaps not,” he finally said. “But this smells of his work.”

  “Whose work?” Cron asked.

  “Sidian, the Silver Mage.”

  They sat around three campfires. The Elves talked and laughed among themselves while waiting for the stag Euorn had brought down to cook. Only Faeldrin and the scout sat with the humans. The sun was beginning to dip over the horizon. Long fingers of shadow and night crept out to reclaim the world. Grelic suggested they abandon the ruins before nightfall, an idea they eagerly followed. Such a place could only attract evil.

  Kialla took to herself. She wasn’t interested in stories of Elves or Mages. Her body ached from exhaustion. Her hand trembled, slightly but uncontrollably. She grimaced. She’d never been afraid in battle. That in itself was a rare gift. Thousands of men wished for the same though most were little more than bones collecting dust.

  “Here, you need to eat,” Cron said gently.

  She quickly dropped her hand and gratefully accepted the wooden bowl of stew and hunk of roast meat. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

  “Thank you,” she managed between gulps. “I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.”

  Cron flashed her a smile, secretly suspecting there was much more than just being hungry. He’d never fought beside a woman before. Truth be told, he never wanted to. Most fighting men viewed women as liabilities. He’d been no different until he watched Kialla battle the Goblins. She’d held her own and more. Cron had seen men crack and break under less and always passed it off as the unwritten rules of war. But Kialla, she’d stared Lord Death in the eye and made him flinch. Cron was truly impressed and already rethinking his previous opinion. Her being the most attractive woman he’d ever met went a ways in helping as well.

  Cron helped himself to a seat and smiled again. He didn’t know why, but she had a way of making him more nervous than staring down a hungry bear. “You’re welcome. With all you’ve been through I imagine it’s easy to forget the simple things like eating.”

  Kialla grinned. He made her relax, reminded her of being a little girl again when he came near. “I can’t remember much actually. Both battles are somewhat unclear. Personally I think the Mage is putting something in the stew at night. Whatever it is, it’s working. I haven’t had any bad dreams since he joined us.”

  She abruptly fell silent, as if he wasn’t supposed to know the great and terrible secret.

  He took the hint and changed the conversation. “Where did you learn how to shoot like that? Not a single bolt missed.”

  “My father and Grelic. They taught what they could between campaigns and I practiced by myself when they were away,” she replied.

  Cron shook his head with disbelief. “And here I thought little girls picked flowers and played in kitchens the whole time.”

  “I happen to be very good in the kitchen,” she said defiantly.

  Cron held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sure you are. I wasn’t trying to say anything bad.”

  She finished the last bite of meat. “You have to learn a lot when your father is away all the time.”

  “Where was your mother?”

  “She died when I was still a baby. The fevers took her shortly after I was born. My grandmother came to live with us. She did what she could until it was her time. Then it was just me and my father. Grelic was there, of course. He was like a second father.”

  Cron decided to back off a little. She obviously held strong feelings for the old warrior and until he discovered what sort, he was going to leave the matter alone.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “This is all I’ve ever known. My father was a soldier, and his father and his father before that. We can trace our military heritage back to the Mage War. Actually, I think most men can. That was the first time in modern history the world needed a grand army.”

  “I know the histories,” she interrupted without trying to hurt his feelings. “I want to know about you.”

  There’s a good sign. “I’m the youngest of three sons. The oldest, Maen, serves along the Thed Mountains. Brith lives with a wife and four children on a farm close to my parents’ cottage. I think I was the only one meant for military service. The other two played along with me when I was a child but their hearts were never in it. Like good brothers they let me live out my fantasies. Those were good times. I didn’t have a care in the world.” He laughed. “We’d chase each other around the fields and woods with wooden swords, really just sticks, and then go swimming in the pond behind the house. When I was old enough I joined the army. I did my job as good as I could and got promoted. Now I’m the garrison captain of Kelis Dur.”

  “No wife or children for you?” she asked innocently.

  “With what time? No wife, though there has been plenty of girlfriends to pass the time.” He regretted it the moment he said it.

  Kialla stiffened a little. Not much, but enough for him to wince.

  “And no children. Well, at least none I am aware of. I spend too much time at work and don’t have time for much of a social life.”

  She asked, “Why do you train so hard? Is the military really worth losing touch with reality? There’s more to life than fighting.”

  He finally brought himself to look up into her soft eyes. Euphoria spread, warming him in cold places. Cron struggled to suppress his growing feelings. “I’ve given my life to the sword. Now Thrae needs me. She needs my sword and all t
hose I’ve trained and fought with. The king believes this, so much so that he forbade me from joining you.”

  Her mind reeled in surprise. “You knew about us all along. This was no chance meeting, was it?”

  “No,” he confessed. “I’m supposed to be directing the defense of Kelis Dur but I couldn’t stay. The ghosts of Reben and Ele haunt me. They died out here, stolen from me under my very nose. I will see them avenged before returning to the capital.”

  “You’ll be branded a traitor.”

  “General Huor has been chafing to get rid of me since I got promoted. Looks like he finally gets his wish,” Cron said dryly.

  “How will you be able to go back? They’ll arrest you on sight,” she said.

  “How can I forget about the two brothers I’ve sworn to protect? My heart tells me this quest is necessary. If, just if, we can succeed here, I know in my soul that Thrae will be saved. I can do no less,” he told her.

  Kialla reached out and gently took his hand. “You’re wrong. It’s not just you. We’re all in this together, Cron. To whatever end the old gods see fit.”

  Halfway across the camp, Grelic looked up in time to watch her take his hand and a great weight was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. The nagging despair from his nightmares started to fade.

  Dawn came much sooner than any of them wanted, but the long night’s rest was both needed and appreciated. Even the Elves, who seldom slept, welcomed the respite from long days of hard marching and hectic battles. The remaining meat was reheated over a fresh fire. Fresh water and a few wild vegetables were brought in and the group ate a hearty breakfast. Men and Elves laughed and shared stories. The overall mood was filled with cheer. Times were coming when the dragon would fill their hearts, but not this morning.

  Only Fitch felt out of place. His mind drifted elsewhere. No one noticed him slip away. He had one last thing to do before his demons could rest and it was something he needed to do alone. He walked slowly. His feet suddenly unsure. The Goblin carcasses were beginning to rot, adding to the fetid odor contaminating Gend. Much of his prior sadness was gone. Returning had been both good and bad. He kept walking until he was marching through his life. But it was all gone. His life. His home. His beloved wife. At some point he had stopped blaming himself for the disaster, but he’d never forgiven himself for not being there for Shar.