Dragon Choir

by Benjamin Descovich

  “Do you want a lash? We'll not stop in these damned dark woods with a witches moon on the rise.”

  The team of wagons proceeded, and when they reached the fork, Minni guided the lead wagon to the smaller trail off to the side of the main road.

  She called to the lead driver. “There are a few dips, but nothing like the range before. Slippery though, so take it easy.”

  The track was clear and she urged her horse into a trot; she knew this track well by dark or by day. She came to the stream and dismounted, leading her horse to the slow rolling water to drink. Out of sight, Minni pulled a mouthpiece from her saddlebag and blew into it twice, sounding an ibis call into the shadows of the forest. After a short pause a call echoed back from the shadows across the stream. Minni blew again, elaborating a complex series of honks. She paused. The ibis called again followed by the wook wook of two barking owls on one side of the path. Then came the whistle and zip of a bristlebird from the other side.

  Minni mounted again and rode back to the wagons making their way down the path to the stream.

  “Clear ahead,” she called to the first driver. “I’ll wait on the other side of the stream to guide you through.”

  The driver nodded and kept on.

  The wagons came down the small slope taking care not to wedge the wheels burdened by the heavy load in the sand. The lead wagon entered the water and the horses pulled it across the creek. Once the wagon’s front wheels passed safely out the other side, the sergeant called the rear wagon to proceed down the slope.

  Minni made a loud ibis call from her mouthpiece.

  A rope sprung out of the sand and stretched tight, trapping the back axle of the lead wagon. The driver cracked his whip across the horses. The wagon lurched forward, but could not pull the wheels clear. Now at the bottom of the slope, the rear wagon was wedged in; neither could manoeuvre their way out.

  The guard sergeant began yelling commands to his men, but was silenced by an arrow piercing his throat. Arrows danced from the shadows, taking the life of each man with silent accuracy. There was no opportunity for defence, no possibility of a counterattack. The only sound that remained after the short cries of the fallen was the restless murmur of the creek, playing the blood of the dead away into the darkness.

  Shadows in the forest stretched forward, gathering around the wagons. The rising moon revealed men and women of motley height and build camouflaged in mud and ferns. They set to work. Each performed their task in silence, bow and blade slung to their backs. Some dragged bodies to litter bearers who took the dead into the forest. Others cleaned the blood spilled on the wagons and steadied the horses.

  Men in Jandan uniform emerged from the shadows as if the fresh dead had risen. They took up the positions of the former Jandan guard. A woman draped in an ochre poncho approached the horses. She whispered to each in turn, stroking their damp manes and offering them each a blue fruit. Minni’s horse devoured the fruit quickly and nuzzled for more.

  Once each horse received her attention she waded into the creek singing, water lapping at her thighs. She knelt down and dipped her body under. The song continued as she raised her head, water cascading over her body. Thin fabric clung to her delicate curves in the light of the lonely moon, her hands raised to the sky gathering light in each palm. Bringing them together in a cup she drew water from the stream and drank deeply. Moonlight rippled across her body, shimmering as though she had become water herself. She spread her arms in the direction of the horses and her song altered. Her voice blended with the murmur of the creek until all became quiet. Moonlight cascaded from her hands and enveloped the horses.

  Energy rushed from the forest towards the ochre woman. The charged air gathered with the scent of a breaking storm. The water bubbled and whirled, drawing into the wild mage’s body until the creek drained to nothing, leaving her kneeling in damp sand. The woman dropped her hands and the magical light faded from around the horses. She slumped and waited in the sand. The water returned, replenished from upstream and she stood slowly, singing softly, returning to the forest.

  ***

  A tall thin man approached Minni after the wagons were pulled to the other side of the creek.

  “Only watching this time. Why so?”

  “Your crew is too fast, Wendal. I had my eye on sparring with the sweet sergeant. You never leave anything for sport. Never any time for play.”

  “This is no game.”

  “And yet you enjoy it so.”

  “Death is enough for the Jandans. No more.”

  Minni alighted from her mare with a chuckle. “You are too serious. You won’t let me have any fun with you.” She rummaged in her saddlebag and pulled out a leather pouch and threw it to Wendal.

  He opened it and pulled out a handful of painted figurines. Wendal’s face creased with a smile.

  “Minella, I thank you.”

  “I know how much you love moving your pieces about on a map. Though, I can’t see how it will improve your work any; this job was perfect. You need another hobby.”

  “Without Jaspa we must be extra cautious. What if they have him and are keeping it quiet? What if they already know our plans?”

  Minni laughed. “The Jandans don’t have Jaspa. If they did he’d be dead and they’d be singing in the cathedral so loud we’d hear it from here.”

  “How are you so sure?” Wendal studied her face. “Have you received word?”

  “No. You?”

  “Nothing.” Wendal shifted his feet. “Is Delik up to this?”

  “It’s just a little hijack, Wendal.”

  “Hardly. This was a little hijack. That ... That will be a bloody miracle.”

  “Are you a believer now? Got an angel hiding somewhere?”

  “Please, be wary. Kobb has no master except his ego. He’d turn for a title; might have turned already. If they’ve bagged Jaspa, then you and Delik are next. You’re vulnerable together.”

  “At least if all goes to ash, you’ve got new figurines. Who better to lead than you?” Minella winked at Wendal and mounted her horse.

  Wendal frowned and returned to the wagons to talk to his men. Minni knew he was right. Honest Wendal; he never bothered with sweet lies. A lifetime digesting bitter truth had diminished his humour. He was a good friend, a true friend. It was wicked of her to toy with him. Minni thought of hollering something nice, but it would only embarrass him.

  She rode ahead, following the old trail to where it rejoined the main road between Rum Hill and Calimska. North Eye stood alone atop a small hill cleared of trees. Warm light flickered through arrow loops and high windows. A timber stockade encircled the tower with torches lit around the perimeter.

  They would have to hurry past the Jandan outpost to avoid detection. A bright flickering light caught her eye, pulsing out a complex series of flashes from somewhere up in the mountains. Had the Jandans spotted the ambush through the canopy of the forest?

  The beacon on the North Eye pulsed a quick response then four pigeons were released. They circled around the tower several times before heading east. Two horsemen galloped out of the stockade and down the hill, heading right for her at the junction. They had been discovered. The Jandans knew. There must be a traitor in Wendal’s crew.

  If anyone had witnessed the ambush and given word, they would have to scrap the entire mission. Without cover from the Jandan caravan and its cargo, they would draw unwanted attention in Rum Hill.

  The stowaway. Minni had forgotten all about him.

  Wendal was right. Kobb double-crossed them. Mongrel! The Council would have sent a redeemer if they knew. At best the stowaway was just an agent, hitching a ride home. The Jandan guard sergeant must have known about the stowaway all along. She was a fool. She thought to protect him, even feed the little bastard. Perhaps he had escaped after the attack; made a break for North Eye to warn them?

  No, Wendal placed lookouts all through the forest, so he would never have made it to the keep. Then again, if he was a redeemer,
he might have magicked a message and remained concealed. Ash it all. Wendal’s entire crew would be dead before she rode back to warn them.

  Even if she dared ride back and check the caravan, the outriders from the Jandan tower would spot her fleeing and become suspicious. If the stowaway was a redeemer, there was little she could do; the dog would have stripped their souls and gnawed their bones; he would be too powerful to overcome.

  There was no time to dwell on the worst. Minni calmed her breathing and refocussed. She dismounted, inspecting the foreleg of her horse. With a tap of her mare’s caramel shoulder, the horse held its hoof off the ground as though it were injured.

  “That’s my girl,” Minni gave her mare a lump of sugar. “Hold steady.”

  The two outriders hurtled down the path, hooves beating the ground and throwing up sod. One of the riders thundered past, following the road to Rum Hill without slowing. The other eased up and stopped without moving for his blade.

  Thank the Welcome Stranger. Luck was with her still.

  “Swap horses?” Minni flashed a tight smile up at the rider. Moonlight glossed across his chainmail, but was swallowed by the black star embroidered on his blue surcoat.

  The soldier grinned and slapped his thigh. “I’ve just seen a bounty that would buy you a paddock full.” His breath reeked.

  “Why? Someone find a king to kill?” Minni laughed off her nerves with the rum filled Jandan.

  “Who cares what he did. The bounty’s more than any rebel head will fetch. Lord’s truth, it’s more than what’s on Scrambletoe. Someone’s gone and pissed off Calimska’s high and mighty Guildmaster. Ha! The famous Golden Shield, imagine that. All that unholy sorcery and he can’t even catch a street rat.”

  “What’s this rat look like?”

  “Young fella. Dark hair, brown eyes and tall.”

  “So, like every other Calimskan.” Minni shook her head. Some dead letter this will be.

  “That’s it though, isn’t it? How many stray Calimskan’s you see this time a year? They all live the good life up in that golden nest. Count their glitter while we all get fried by the dragons. This pup’s got no chance.”

  “How much is the bounty exactly?”

  “Chest of gold and rights to land and title by the Guildmaster.” The rider leered. “Anything interesting on the way down then? We could share the pot.”

  “The only shiners I’ve seen were headed home to their families. I won’t keep you from yours.”

  “Fancy a ride with me before my ship sails? It’s sure not safe out here in the night for a pretty lady.”

  “Tend to your own. I can look after myself.” Minni drew her blade from behind her saddle to establish an understanding.

  The soldier pulled his horse out of range. “Want to play highwayman? I’ve shell for whores and steel for thieves. Which is it then?”

  Minni was happy for the opportunity to paint his grin red. She was no longer a toy for Jandan pleasure.

  The caravan rattled its way up the rise.

  Minni kept her eyes on the soldier, her hand on her blade.

  He turned his horse, checking his chances between Minni and the caravan.

  “Take the dead letter home soldier. Give bread to your wife.” Minni drew a dagger from under her sleeve. With the comfort of a blade in each hand she relaxed her body, ready to kill.

  “Your bones be bagged, witch.” The soldier dug in his spurs and galloped his steed down the road following the other rider to Rum Hill.

  Minni sheathed her blades. The caravan rolled to a stop at the junction and a rebel disguised as a Jandan guard approached Minni.

  “Commander?”

  “A dead letter is on the march, something special to get the dogs barking.” Minni patted her mare’s shoulder again and the mock lame hoof returned to the grass.

  “Not for one of us?” The guard’s eyes followed the soldier as he rode in the distance. “Is the rider a problem?”

  “No, let him go, he’s not a threat. Though there may be trouble with our cargo. We have a stowaway.” Minni gave another sugar lump to her horse and mounted.

  “Ma’am?” The guard drew his sword.

  “Stay your blade. I suspect he’s another bird, flown the golden nest.”

  “One for the flock?”

  “Maybe so; I want eyes on him and see he doesn’t fly off into harm’s way. With a bounty that big and North Eye quick to take notice, we’ve landed a prize worth at least double what the golden city has on offer. Continue to the Crab and Petrel, no stopping; the horses are eager. Three of you at point. Report as needed, no more.”

  The caravan rattled down the road to the coast. Minni rode out ahead of the wagons, tallying her victories for the day and marking the oddities. The more she thought about each happenstance, the more the mysterious stowaway increased in value.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Stowaway

  Elrin’s body was wracked with tremors. He was cold all over, yet his heart seared; cooking him from the inside out. His robes were a false comfort from the chills, only serving to soak up his perspiration. He huddled in a quivering ball. Overcome with exhaustion and lulled by the rocking of the wagon, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

  The guard he killed had bled out and the baked earth drank it down. The woman with eyes of spring and hair like autumn pulled him into her chambers, brushing her body close to his. She left him yearning and blocked the exit while men screamed outside and a red slick pooled under the door. Unseen forces closed on him, barricaded him in. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t breath.

  Elrin woke in darkness gasping for air, coaxed from the nightmare by a beautiful song. It sprung deep in his head, his mouth tingled and water beaded on his skin. While he had slept the barrels had slid closer, pressing him in, but now his breath returned and a mysterious energy rippled around his body, washing over his tired muscles. It was a pleasant renewal compared to the wildfire of the vapours. The after effects of the blaze must have been giving him hallucinations, for it was all too strange. No sooner had he begun to grasp what was happening than the song drifted away, as if borne by a river flow.

  The canvas opened and Elrin kept still, hidden amongst the crush of barrels. It was secured shut again and all was silent except for the occasional birdcall.

  The wagon shook into motion, leaving Elrin wondering if he had slept through his chance to escape. He could have been asleep for an hour, or a day, and had no idea where the wagons were going; the canvas was too thick to see out. He wouldn’t risk lifting it open or the guards would spot him. It wasn’t worth getting caught just for a peep; that was a lesson he’d not soon forget.

  Propping himself up against a barrel, Elrin ruffled through the satchel hopeful that Kleith had sent him away with some decent food. There were several broken biscuits and a hard cheese wrapped in cloth. It wasn’t a great deal for a long journey, but he was ravenous and devoured the lot, down to the last crumbled carcass of a biscuit which he scraped up and pinched into his mouth. His appetite petitioned for more, so he uncorked the water skin and drank deeply. The cool liquid tasted of home, refreshing his body and fooling his stomach.

  After a brief stop the wagon changed direction then jostled along at a fresh pace. Elrin braced against the weight of the barrels, which shuffled across the floor, squashing him in with every bump and divot.

  He had no idea how he would escape if the wagon kept on going. It didn’t matter so much, as long as it was away from the Guildmaster. He hoped his mother was safe from the trouble he caused. Kleith would look after her, but Elrin craved her comfort for himself. Just a word of reassurance would give him strength. It was a ridiculous fancy. He’d never be able to return home; not until he found his father, or this Dragon Choir; whatever that was.

  There were ships at Rum Hill and the traders or fishermen might want extra crew. That would be the best way to begin his quest and work his way down to Jando. They might be overly fanatical about their almighty Lord down south, but they co
ntrolled the sea, and Kleith said he had to get to the Hoard Islands. Surely they all weren’t so bad, maybe someone there would know of the Dragon Choir too.

  He couldn’t recall if Kleith mentioned which one came first. Should he look for the Dragon Choir to get to the Hoard Islands or was it the other way around? A local in Rum Hill would know more. Some old salt at the docks would steer him in the right direction for a favour or chore. Elrin was not ashamed of honest work, he’d laboured his body for shine and he’d do so for shell. Whatever happened he had to get to the Hoard Islands before the season broke.

  The wagon stopped after several hours had passed. Elrin’s muscles ached from holding the barrels back from crushing him. The wagon guards began to chat together. It was the first time he had heard them since he woke up. Their absence had almost convinced Elrin he was aboard a ghost caravan carting the dead to the afterlife. Maybe he had arrived. At least Nathis would recognise him wearing the garb of a humble herder.

  Muffled cheerful banter seeped out of a building; a tavern, maybe a roadside inn. A female voice called out and the men beside the wagon trailed off towards the music and laughter. The woman’s voice was familiar. He waited for it again, but there was nothing; she’d gone. Elrin was left with an occasional snort from the horses for company.

  Elrin dared to move in the silence. It was difficult; his stiff back and aching joints slowed him down, though he fancied that it improved his stealth. He pressed his ear to the canvas searching for any movement of a guard nearby, then knelt down and peered through the canvas flap.

  There was no one guarding the rear of the wagon, so he eased himself out and peered around the corner. Some guards had gathered by the lead wagon and a few others hovered around the door of a busy roadhouse, snug in a clearing beside the forest.

  Summoning his courage, he dashed through the moonlight into the shadows of a large tree overhanging the wagon. He waited, stretching his legs and listening to the night, but there was nothing. A quick peek around the tree trunk revealed no one had noticed the escape.