The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1)

by T. J. Garrett

  Elspeth spun on her heels and grabbed her bow. She started to march north towards the clearing.

  Grady jumped up from his stump and stood in front of her, his arms stretched wide. “No, Elspeth, you wait here with Gialyn.”

  Elspeth tried to push past. “Out of my way!” she ordered. She looked ready to pull one of her knives…

  But Grady grabbed her arms at the elbow, forcing her to stand up straight. “They may have been followed,” he said. “You and Gialyn gather the packs and make ready to run for the woods.”

  Grady turned to Arfael. “You come with me.”

  The big man just nodded.

  “No!” Elspeth groaned, pushing at Grady’s shoulder. “You’re not going without me.”

  “I don’t have time for this, child. Do as I say, and be quick about it.” Grady grabbed up his sword – more of a long knife, but lethal just the same – his bow was already on his back. Reaching around Elspeth, he took half the arrows from her quiver. “Come on, Arfael, and bring your war face.”

  Arfael lumbered after Grady. He looked ready to take on the entire eastern army. Gialyn found himself backing up a pace; he was surprised at how fast the big man could move.

  Elspeth looked like she was thinking up an excuse to follow. “By the gods, who does he think he’s talking to?” She threw down her quiver and kicked the remaining arrows across the ground.

  Gialyn quickly gathered them up. “Just do as he asked. We need to be ready.” Putting her arrows back in the quiver, he handed it to her with a nod of certainty. It was no time to worry about her feelings. Yes, he liked her – more than liked – but she could be stubborn to the point of stupidity at times.

  After a long, accusing gaze, Elspeth snatched her quiver from his hand. She probably expected her contemptuous stare to leave him questioning his resolve. But not this time. Instead, he ran around the fallen tree and began gathering their things. “Come on. Help me,” he shouted.

  “Who are you shouting at?” Elspeth asked him. “Has everyone gone mad? Why do men suddenly grow hairs on their chest when they think they can order women about?”

  By the time they had secured the packs in a pile by the track, Grady and Arfael had returned, with Daric, Olam and Ealian trailing behind them.

  Elspeth let out a long sigh and ran over to her brother, almost bowling him over in her embrace. “Thank the gods you’re safe.” She was crying, but made an effort to laugh off the tears.

  “Come on. This is no time for a reunion party.” Daric was already sorting through his things and kicking at the fire. Even though they had not lit it since the previous night, Gialyn’s father always made a job of making sure their fires were out. “I want to be in that marsh in less than an hour.” He stabbed at thin air, pointing to the east.

  “Why? What’s the rush?” Elspeth asked.

  Gialyn hoped the answer was not as frightening as the look on his father’s face.

  “No time to explain. Just make haste. Please.” Daric was already securing his pack on his back. “Come on! Don’t stare at me like a row of ducks waiting for their feed. Quickly! Now!”

  The travellers gathered their belongings. Before long, they were following Daric down the narrow path and into the woods.

  * * *

  It was a bright midmorning, yet the sun barely penetrated the thick covering of leaves and branches which enveloped the track. The dark path was unused; calling it “overgrown” would be an understatement. But Daric seemed to pay little or no heed to the obstacles. He forced his way, unyielding, through the scrub.

  Elspeth could see the tension in his eyes every time he turned to make sure they were still following him. Her mind began to work, imagining yet more horrors.

  “Can someone please tell me what happened?” She turned to her brother. “Ealian. Please. Why are we running?”

  Ealian glanced over at her and shook his head. He was clearly breathless from his run back to camp and looked quite sick. Maybe it was fear; his face was certainly white enough. Sweat matted his hair, plastering it to his forehead – he was not about to explain anything; breathing, and not tripping over his feet, were all Ealian could manage at that moment, Elspeth thought.

  “Elspeth,” Grady whispered while gesturing for her to move up beside him. She quickly caught up. “They were taken by Salrians. It was a mistake – Daric and Olam heard as much from their leader. They were going to send Ealian back to the Baralan Heath, leave him there, but Olam… improvised… so they could make their escape. And now they’re on our trail, and none too happy with us.”

  “But why are we running if it was a ‘mistake’? And what do you mean… ‘improvised’?”

  Elspeth could not let it lie. Something was wrong, someone was coming after them, and if these men thought they were going to drag her along without telling her everything…

  “I don’t know what he did,” Grady said. “But they have horses. We’ll be safe if we can reach the marsh. The Ambieth is no place for a horse.” Grady hitched up his pack. He was breathing heavy, likely from the effort of talking while walking fast. “Now, please, Elspeth, look to your footing and make haste. We will be there soon, at this rate.”

  * * *

  At Daric’s lead, the travellers ploughed on through the knotted web of bushes and branches, hardly slowing down at all. Not even the spiky brambles hindered their progress. Daric cut through branches at the stem and flung them to the side, mindless of the pain their spiny thorns inflicted on his hands.

  Fear gripped him. A fear he had not felt in many years. Not fear for himself: fear for the three youngsters. Grady, Olam, and Arfael could defend themselves if it came to a stand-up fight – especially Arfael. But he could not allow that to happen; no fighting, not with the young ones there. He had to get them to safety, no matter how much those blasted thorns stabbed at his hands.

  They did the hour’s journey from the camp to the Ambieth in less than half that time. Daric stopped at the edge of the woods and glanced warily to the north, along the treeline. The grey-green tint of the marsh grass and the shadow of trees made a clear view near impossible. However, as far as he could make out, nobody was following them… at least not along the eastern edge of the woods.

  Daric waved Olam up to the front. “Is this a good place to enter?” he asked when the wizard knelt beside him.

  Olam crept forward half a pace. With his staff laid on the ground, he surveyed the area, looking both north and south. Daric thought the man was trying to pick out some landmarks – of which there were very few.

  “You see that ridge?” Olam pointed south towards a shallow crease in the land which reached a mile into the marsh. “We should enter at its base. I have knowledge of the route from there on – what route there is, at this time of year.”

  “Thank you, Olam.”

  Daric turned so the others could hear him. “We’ll stick to the tree line until we get—”

  Grady’s frantic waving stopped his speech. His friend pointed to his ears and then to the track along which they had just run.

  Damn!

  “How close are they?” Daric whispered, crawling slowly to the rear of the group. He squatted next to Grady and cupped a hand around his ear.

  “Two, three hundred paces, maybe more. It’s hard to tell in these woods.” Grady said. “But they’re making no secret of it. Gods, a one-legged blind man could catch us up on this track!”

  For a moment, Daric felt embarrassed at leaving such an obvious trail – and then a flash of anger, because Grady knew he had no choice but to run. His anger was short-lived, however. Grady was not blaming him for leaving a trail; he was just stating the obvious: they were easy to follow.

  Daric felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Olam.

  “I can help if you will allow me.”

  Daric thought the older man had a mischievous smile on his face. What’s he planning, now? Another one of his tricks? More explosions? He decided he did not care, as long as it got them safely into the mar
sh. “Anything, Olam. What do you need?”

  “Just stay silent, and do not move until I say so.”

  Daric and Grady looked at each other. Grady shrugged, and Daric nearly laughed… and not because he thought it was funny. If he were honest, he was curious as to what Olam had in mind. Besides, what other choice was there?

  “Right you are, Olam. I will tell everyone to keep still and quiet.”

  Daric watched as Olam moved into the trees and kneeled down on the ground. The wizard pushed his hands, palms down, under the mulch, and closed his eyes. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing was happening. Then the leaves on the trees began to rustle, and branches swayed as though a strong wind blew down the track. But there was no wind. Indeed, an eerie silence fell over the woods. Then a bird called. Then another. Then another. Before long, the screeching and squawking were deafening. Then, as quickly as it started…

  The birds stopped calling. A moment later, Daric heard a wolf’s howl… a pack of wolves, by the sound of it.

  Olam seemed to be whispering, Daric noticed, and his whispers appeared to answer the wolves’ howling. Was he talking to them? Was this how… what did Elspeth call it… a blessing? Was this how it worked?

  The howling died down, and Olam pulled his hands out from the dead leaves and forest litter.

  “That should keep them busy for a while,” Olam said.

  Daric scratched his chin. “What… what did you do?”

  Olam slung his cloak over his shoulders and picked up his staff. “I called some old friends. But at this range, the bond will not last more than ten minutes. We should go.” Olam gestured towards the marsh.

  Daric shook himself back to the reality. “Oh, yes, the marsh, of course.” He waved Grady forward. “Can you lead us down? I’ll keep the rear guard.”

  Grady nodded and moved to the front.

  Daric secured his pack as the others prepared to move. Ealian looked exhausted. Elspeth looked angry, and Gialyn gave him a worried nod of the head. “Not long now,” he said, taking in all three with a reassuring smile.

  “By your leave, Captain,” Grady asked.

  Daric waved them on.

  Grady led the travellers out of the forest and south along the tree line. Darting in and out of every recess, he never strayed more than a short stride from the trees. Now and then he would point at something – a pothole, a hidden rock or downed branch – and mutter a quiet “Careful here” to those following. The soldier in him was plain for all to see.

  After ten minutes, they reached the base of the shallow ridge. Grady set his position inside the trees and waited for everyone to catch up. The travellers gathered quickly, crouching in a circle by the bole of a large elm. Grady took out his waterskin. “Everybody, have a drink,” he said. “We will set off in five min—”

  Daric raised his hand and put a finger to his lips. “Quiet. I hear something,” he whispered.

  Gialyn, Elspeth, and Ealian ducked down… as if that would make them quieter.

  It would not, but Daric was pleased they were all paying attention.

  A faint sound of scrambling was coming from the northeast. And every so often, the thwack of a blade against a branch or root echoed through the woods. Daric turned and surveyed the area. “Seems our decoy has returned to their den.” He nudged at Grady’s shoulder. “We could make a run for that crop of bushes,” he whispered while pointing to an island half way along the base of the ridge.

  “Maybe? What about that mound?” Grady said.

  “If you ask me, we sho—”

  “Not now, Elspeth,” Daric said. “The mound is too far north. They will see us! What abo—”

  Elspeth interrupted again. “Will you list—”

  “Elspeth. Not now,” Daric insisted. What’s wrong with the girl? She always wants her say. Doesn’t she know we’re running from armed men? He turned his attention back towards the marsh and was following Grady’s finger as he pointed at a small island when he felt a tug at his shoulder.

  “Cross over the bloody ridge!” Elspeth said, squealing her demand through clenched teeth. “They won’t see us entering the marsh, once we are on the south side, and it’s too steep for their horses.”

  Daric turned to Grady, whose mouth was wide open. “Why didn’t you think of that?”

  “Me? You’re supposed to be the captain, Captain.” Grady shook his head while giving Elspeth a smile.

  “Right you are, Elspeth. We will cross.”

  The next half hour passed slowly – too slowly. Daric knew if they could get to the edge of the ridge – a mile or more within the marsh – without the Salrians finding them, chances were they would be free and clear of their pursuers. Nobody spoke. The only sounds were the shuffle of tired feet and the heavy breaths of their weary lungs.

  The loudest by far was Ealian. He had struggled with his pack until Arfael took it off him – effortlessly cradling it under his arm. Arfael stayed with Ealian all the way along the base, until they reached a small rock outcrop at the end of the mile-long ridge.

  To the north, east, and south, nothing but marsh lay before them. Flat, dank and lifeless, it seemed. Even the colourful flowers lay subdued by the overwhelming mass of pale, grey-green grass. The grass shone with a persistent dew which still lay upon it, even though it was hours since dawn. Daric scanned around the marsh, making note of its still waterways, wet grass and mud. His observations brought him to one conclusion: We are going to get wet.

  “Do you think we should wait in here until dark?” Gialyn asked. They were all crouched in a circle of thicket. It made for good camouflage.

  “No. They won’t be able to follow us on horseback. We are safe now. Just check your things and we’ll be off.” Daric took a second to reassure Gialyn. “Are you all right, son?” he asked, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Gialyn smiled. “Yes, I’m fine, just a little confused, and maybe… angry.” Gialyn smiled at his father, a nervous smile that reminded Daric of the kind of forced bravery he had often needed while serving the king.

  Daric allowed him his dignity by not persisting with his fatherly concerns in front of the others. He knew Gialyn would not want that.

  “Are we all ready?”

  Daric did not wait for an answer. Nodding for Olam to take the lead, they slowly, cautiously, made their way into the Ambieth Marsh.

  CHAPTER 13

  Secrets of Am’bieth

  Despite all the talk, their first half-day in the marsh was relatively easy. The travellers had to be mindful of their footing and not stray from the path, but for the most part they made quick progress. It was not until they crossed the first tributary of the Am’firth River – the river running south through the centre of Ambieth – that things started to become difficult. Not least because there was no recognisable path to follow. All they had to go on was the educated guidance of Olam and Daric’s admittedly limited knowledge of the area – and maybe Grady, if he could be persuaded to take an interest… he hated the marsh.

  Once beyond the first tributary, the ground became much softer. On every side lay the dismal prospect of damp, muddy progress… no sun-baked trails here. Fog clouded the view until only the moderately brighter glow of the southern sky gave them proof of an easterly bearing.

  The travellers continued for some three hours, crossing streams and soft mires, mindful of every footfall, occasionally stumbling, always testing for firm ground before trusting their weight upon it. By mid-afternoon, the mist had cleared somewhat, allowing Daric to see ahead for maybe two miles.

  “There are some rocks over there,” Daric said, pointing southeast towards a lone island amongst the mass of watery channels. “Is that Am’ilean?” He looked at Olam, unsure of himself, as by his reckoning they had not travelled far enough into the marsh to reach their first campsite oasis.

  In truth, he had little idea where they were, but he was not about to admit that.

  Olam shaded his eyes and squinted in the direction of Daric’s
pointing finger. “I do not think so, but it looks a good place to rest for an hour, at any rate.”

  Daric scanned the land around the rocks. A vast area of damp but firm grass lay between them and the island. “I don’t think you’ll have much argument, Olam. It looks easy enough to reach: no puddles, at least.”

  He turned to the others. “We have four hours of daylight, give or take. We need to find a camp in no more than three. Make for those rocks over yonder.” He pointed to the small island. “We will decide what plan to follow once we have rested a while.”

  “If you ask me, we should camp there and be done with it. It’s been a long day,” Elspeth said.

  “I’m with her,” Gialyn added in a surprisingly forceful voice.

  The boy looked exhausted, more so than at any time since leaving home four days ago. His eyes had become transfixed on the three feet of earth directly in front of him, Daric noticed. The boy’s stride was sluggish, his mouth ever open – apart from when he was drinking, which he did far too often for Daric’s liking.

  “Me too,” Ealian said.

  If anything, Ealian was in a worse shape than Gialyn. He was pale in the face and continuously swallowed as though his throat was dry. It was the nerves, of course; Daric knew that much for certain. The poor lad had not yet recovered his wits after the morning’s ordeal.

  “Maybe,” Daric said, as he hitched up his pack and began to lead the travellers towards the rocks. “We will see what to make of things once we’re there.” He looked over his shoulder at the others. All but Arfael appeared to have taken their fill of the marsh for one day. “This is going to be an interesting few days,” he muttered quietly, though Grady heard and nodded. Maybe the rock island would do for a campsite.

  The skies of the eastern horizon had begun to clear to a deep blue. The travellers’ spirits appeared lifted by the prospect of rest at the ever-closer island of rock. Gialyn and the other youngsters had quickened their pace and were all but on the heels of Daric and Olam. Ealian was so eager to get to the island, he very nearly ended up in the water. Arfael, who had apparently taken the mantel of Ealian’s guardian, kept him on the straight path, occasionally dragging him by the shoulder back onto the right footing. Daric was glad of the big man’s help. He did not think he could muster the strength to pull Ealian out of a pool. The prospect of rest was becoming all the more enticing to him, too.