The silence stretched into awkwardness, and still the general said nothing.
After what seemed like an age, Alaf’kan lowered the scroll and raised his head. He regarded Bre’ach with a cold, impassive stare. His searching grey eyes gave nothing away. “You’re Si’eth’s son, are you not?” he asked, sitting back and lacing his fingers across his waist.
Bre’ach nodded. “Yes, sir, I am, First Sergeant Bre’ach Uldmae, sir.”
Trying not to let his nerves show, Bre’ach steadied himself, but he could not help chewing at his bottom lip. Surely, the general would shout at him at some point, ask what he had meant by “Working with the Surabhan,” or ask where his father was now, or why they were late. That’s what generals did, wasn’t it? Shout at people and ask awkward questions.
The general grinned at him; a soulless smirk that spoke of hidden annoyance. “What are you waiting for, son of Si’eth? Surely you’re not going to leave it at that.”
Bre’ach started at the beginning, explaining everything. It took a long time. The general only reacted once, when hearing Bre’ach’s description of the beast the Surabhan called Arfael, and that was only to raise an eyebrow. Other than that, Bre’ach might as well be giving Alaf’kan a report on food stores. Of course, he missed out the part about the stealing of the scroll being his fault. Luckily, Uld’eth knew nothing of that.
After he had finished, Bre’ach took the scroll and placed it on the desk in front of the general.
Alaf’kan sat forward and rested his hands either side of the scroll. Another awkward moment ensued, as the general gazed vacantly at the rolled-up parchment with its broken seal. Bre’ach felt his lip twitching again. He bit down and clamped his mouth shut. How long was the man going to leave him standing there?
The general lurched forward and slapped the desk hard with an open hand. He stood and went to pour himself a drink from a pitcher on the table at the back of the tent.
“All’s not lost; we have the scroll. You have done well, son of Si’eth. However, I would stop calling yourself that, were I you.” The general took a sip from his drink. He seemed to be thinking. “Let it be known, Captain Si’eth Uldmae is a traitor. Say nothing of the broken seal, or its contents. We can reseal it easily enough. My… friends won’t care about that, not as long as they have the map.” Alaf’kan paused to take another sip of wine. Again, he stared vacantly at nothing in particular.
So that’s it the;, father is a traitor, Bre’ach thought. The knot in his stomach came back, joined by what felt like half a barrow-load of river rocks.
Who were these “friends” the general mentioned. Bre’ach remembered what the wizard, Olam, had said, and what his father had told the Surabhan. Gods, after all this, if Si’eth was right… Bre’ach bit back a curse; it was too late to worry about that. He had made his bed.
The general picked up the scroll he had been reading before Bre’ach entered. “Ask my secretary to find you a tent,” he said. “And remember; say nothing of the scroll’s contents. Speak only of your father’s treachery.” Alaf’kan jabbed a finger at Bre’ach, as if highlighting his order, then sat back down.
Bre’ach bowed and turned to leave.
Before he reached the door, the general asked, “What of the prisoners? How many of our men were left at this… hollow?”
Bre’ach cringed before turning back to the general. Why does he want to know that?
Uld’eth answered. “I think three were left alive, sir. Maybe two.”
The general nodded and waved them off.
Bre’ach watched for a moment as the general continued reading his scroll. Again, Alaf’kan stopped and gazed into thin air – thinking, maybe. The man was planning something, that much was clear. What have I gotten myself into now? This isn’t Council business.
They followed the secretary out and, before long, were shown to a tent where they could rest and wash.
* * *
The rest of the day passed slowly. The general had wasted no time spreading the word about Si’eth’s treason. Bre’ach had to face many of his father’s old friends, people who had known Si’eth for years. To a man, they all refused to believe that their captain was a traitor. It sickened Bre’ach to hear their words of support, to sense the respect they held for Si’eth. Many seemed to share his father’s opinion of Alaf’kan, too. Indeed, Bre’ach thought a few of them might have had words with the general, were it not for Alaf’kan’s forty-strong personal guard.
The day turned to night. Bre’ach sat by the fire with Uld’eth and another Salrian, a man called Marjen.
“You know no one believes you, don’t you, boy?” Marjen said.
By this point, Bre’ach had had enough. His guilt – peppered by one after another of his father’s old friends, each more adamant than the last that Si’eth was no “traitor” – was more than he could stand.
“And if you are right, what can I do about it? I was following orders.” Bre’ach threw a stone into the fire. He wanted to shout, to tell them to shut up. What do they expect from me?
“‘Following orders’?” Marjen rolled his eyes. “With no chain of command? This venture is Alaf’kan’s scheme. The man’s working for himself, using the army as his personal retinue. Sickening.”
Gods, will they ever stop? I get the point. I got the point six hours ago.
“Maybe so,” Bre’ach hissed, “but like I said, what can I do about it? I’m just a sergeant. Should I go to the general? Order him to recant? He would have me hung at first light… if he bothered to wait that long. I can do nothing.”
Marjen made a clicking noise with his tongue while tapping his foot. “Well, you could start by helping those prisoners. Word has it, they are involved, somehow.”
Bre’ach stopped midway through throwing another pebble. “Prisoners? What prison—?”
Bre’ach stopped abruptly. The forest was deathly quiet as if every creature had chosen that moment to hold its breath. Uld’eth and Marjen reached for their swords. A guard – standing just inside the camp perimeter –looked to the skies, then set off running towards the general’s tent.
“Why is he in such a rush?” Uld’eth asked.
Marjen shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m going to see what he was looking at.”
Before Marjen could stand, leaves began to fall all around them. A whooshing downdraft pulsed through the branches, causing the fire to heave. Bre’ach heard what sounded like a bird flapping its wings, only a hundred times louder.
“Dragon!” The shout came from the far end of camp.
Bre’ach and the others jumped to their feet and ran towards the cry. A dozen or more of the general’s guards abruptly halted them in their tracks.
“What’s all this, soldier?” Uld’eth tried to pull rank on the man, but the staunch, armour-clad guard was having none of it. He crossed his spear in front of his black and gold tabard and made a motion to push Uld’eth back.
“None of your concern,” the guard said. “It’s the general’s business. Go back to your fire.”
“Go back to… A bloody dragon just flew ten paces over our heads and you want me to—”
“Like I said,” the guard interrupted, “it’s none of your concern.”
More soldiers gathered behind Uld’eth. Bre’ach took a step forward. The other guards crossed spears, too. Together, the general’s guards took a step forward.
“You would attack us?” Bre’ach scowled at the first guard.
The man stared passed Bre’ach’s shoulder, ignoring him. Then, as one, they took another step forward.
Bre’ach felt a hand on his shoulder. “Come, boy. We will get no answers here.”
Bre’ach wanted to force the issue, but followed Uld’eth back to the fire.
The older man sat down with his eyes still on the guards. “If there are dragons, the Kel’madden won’t be far away. What’s that damn fool got us caught up in?”
“Hush yourself, Uld’eth,” Marjen hissed through clenched teeth.
“‘Hush yourself’?” Uld’eth glared at Marjen. “Who do you think you are talking to, soldier?” Uld’eth reached for the hilt of his sword.
“Just think for a minute,” Marjen whispered, leaning in closer. “There are forty guards and only thirty regulars. Alaf’kan doesn’t need us; we’re just part of the show, here to make him look good. Once his business is done, either he'll swear us to secrecy – maybe pay us off – or it’ll be a knife in the back. I, for one, am not waiting to find out.”
“And how did you come by that idea?” Bre’ach asked.
“There’s no reason to be here,” Marjen said. “The general has been pranced around in full dress uniform for three days while giving orders to stay silent in our own territory. We’re nowhere near the border, and Cul’taris is ten leagues to the south, so why does he have forty guards with him?” Marjen peered over his shoulder, towards the general’s tent. “I’ve been waiting for something to happen, for one of Alaf’kan’s schemes to unfold, but gods, I never thought he would involve the Kel’madden. We need to get out of here. He’s gone too far this time.”
Uld’eth was nodding. He had a vacant look, but it seemed he agreed with Marjen. “Come on, we are leaving.” He began to stand.
“What do you mean, ‘leaving’?” Bre’ach blinked at the two men. Are they mad? “Where are we going? We’re already home.”
“The way I see it, the only chance we’ve got, is to make a run for Barath,” Uld’eth said. “Inform the council, tell them what’s happened here. They’ll think us mad, but I’m betting someone else has seen that dragon. Rumours will be all over the capital by the time we get there.”
“But other than the dragon, what can we tell the council? We don’t know what Alaf’kan is up to,” Marjen said.
“Yes we do.” Bre’ach felt his shoulders slump. He dropped his head into his hands. “The scroll we delivered is a map of the Tunnels of Aldregair. The Kel’madden are planning an invasion of Aleras’moya.”
“You bloody fool,” Uld’eth said. “You told me it was a map of the Bailryn sewers.”
“It is, in a way,” Bre’ach said.“A map of how to sneak up on Bailryn, at any rate. Come on, Uld’eth, don’t look at me like that. You know well and good the Kel’madden aren’t here for a map of Bailryn’s sewers.”
“You should have told me. I would never have let you give him the thing. I should have known something was up when you wouldn’t let me look at it.”
Uld’eth kicked out at the fire. He stared for a moment. Bre’ach could feel the disgust in his eyes, the disappointment. For a moment, Uld’eth reminded him of his father. Gods, what have I done?
“Enough, you two,” Marjen said. “What’s done is done. We need to plan what to do next, and quickly.”
Uld’eth glared for a moment longer, then nodded.
Bre’ach lowered his eyes. His father was right; he was a child.
CHAPTER 5
A Day of Rest and…
Gialyn had woken midmorning. Come early afternoon, he still had not left the room he and his father had chosen on their first visit to Illeas’den – the second of four guestrooms located behind the kitchen of the Great Hall of Wolves. Only this time, of course, he was on his own. No more of Daric’s snoring. That, if nothing else, was reason enough for good cheer.
Being on his own felt good, and not just because he was going home. Rather than his father forcing their pace, Gialyn could play to his own tune, so to speak. It was liberating, he noticed. Something he could definitely get used to. However, it occurred to him, as he lay there staring at the ceiling, that he would never get home if he carried on like this. He would have to get up, sooner or later.
Gialyn idled away a few hours reading a leather bound edition of Battles in the Age of Eldred – a glorification of old King Eldred’s victory over the Kel’madden in 1410 SE. Reading it, one might conclude that King Eldred had defeated the Kel’madden hordes single-handedly. Little wonder Olam had had such a hard time finding out anything about his friend; there was no mention of Arfael or any of the Kel’mai.
Olam and Arfael… I wonder what they’re up to.
That thought made him think of Elspeth. Has she come back yet?
Gialyn had heard her rustling about earlier on. He had stuck his head out the door to say good morning, but she had already left. Out with Lorne Trelan – the young girl Elspeth met on their first visit – practising her archery, apparently. Elspeth had spent the last two years perfecting her skills. To her, archery wasn’t just a hobby; she revelled in her abilities, forcing herself to practice every day – and liked nothing more than to tell folk how she had won the Albergeddy Archery Tourney.
Yes, she was good, but Gialyn could remember the look on her face when the Salrians had attacked them. It wasn’t a game then, was it? he thought. For days after, Elspeth had left her bow unstrung, tied to the back of her pack. He was glad she had started practicing again.
Gialyn sighed as he laid the book on his chest and closed his eyes. Resting on the bed would be a perfect way to spend the rest of the day, but his stomach was telling him to move and grumbling louder by the minute.
This is no good. If I shout, I wonder if they’ll bring food? No, likely as not, I’ll get an earful from one of the kitchen staff.
He put down the book and stretched. After a moment’s contemplation, he spun his legs off the bed and pushed his feet into his boots. Luckily, the kitchen was only at the end of the corridor. He brushed his fingers through his hair, splashed water on his face, and went hunting for food. Or rather, he went hunting for Lanay, to ask her to make him some food – assuming that was not too much of a liberty; he knew Lanay was a busy woman.
As hoped, Lanay was in the kitchen. It looked – and smelled – like she had been baking. Gialyn peeked around the door and saw that she was cleaning up. When he entered, Lanay stopped and folded her arms. She shot him a look that reminded Gialyn of his mother when he had forgotten to do his chores.
“Ah, good afternoon to you, Master Re’adh. I was going to give you another ten minutes then come throw a bucket of water over you. You know it’s almost three in the afternoon,” she said, pointing at the old clock on the mantel.
“I wasn’t asleep, Miss Lanay. I was reading.” Gialyn scratched behind his ear and looked around at the counters, shelves and ovens: anywhere but at the clock. Did this mean he was too late for food? “Is there any, uh, bread, or anything?”
Lanay smiled.
She was a motherly looking woman of late middle years with a touch of grey in her long braided hair. She reminded Gialyn of his grandmother – the nice one in Beugeddy, not Mairi’s mother. Alliandra would have him up at dawn, scrubbing the kitchen floor.
“Of course there is, young master. You come and sit down and I’ll dish up some stew.” She pulled a stool out from under the table. Then, with a stern look, she asked, “Are you old enough for wine? Sometimes you look eighteen, but with your hair sticking up like that….”
Gialyn flattened his hair. “I am, Miss Lanay, but I’ll have water, or maybe tea, please.”
Lanay raised an eyebrow. “Young lad like you, don’t want wine when it’s offered. Strange place you come from.” Lanay fished out a bowl and plate and served up Gialyn’s food as she spoke. “Are they all like you in… Geddy, is it?”
“Albergeddy, Miss Lanay. And no, I don’t think there are many who wouldn’t take the wine. I just don’t like it much. I like ale, sometimes, but it’s too early for that, and it’s not Sir’tirdis.”
Lanay laughed. “Does that mean you’ll not be drinking at the party tonight?”
“Party?” Gialyn’s shoulders slumped. “Oh yes, I forgot about that. I’d rather go to bed early.”
“Nonsense! Honestly, boy. Go to bed early? You sound like my father. No, you’ll have to go. You can’t let the young folk down, not when they’ve gone to so much trouble,” Lanay thumped the plate down in front of him and folded her arms. She began to tap her foot. She w
as waiting for an answer, Gialyn thought.
“Oh, I’ll go. I’m sure it’ll be a great party. I’m looking forward to it.”
Gialyn forced a smile. It wasn’t too late for Lanay to throw that water over him, and the bucket, too. But all she did was laugh.
“You should make the most of this time; these days will pass before you know it. ‘You’re a long time old,’ as my old mother would say. Best not waste the good days.” Lanay ruffled Gialyn’s hair, then went back to her cleaning.
‘A long time old’? What’s that supposed to mean? So I’d rather lie on the bed and read a book…
Gialyn picked up his spoon and began to eat the stew. It was very good – probably lamb, or maybe mutton. Either way, it made a change from fish. The cheese was good too; tangy, but good.
While he ate, Gialyn looked around the kitchen and through the door into the main hall. It was quiet; such a big place and hardly a soul about. It reminded him of the Albergeddy Village Hall on Tai’tirdis – they only used the hall at the weekend. Maybe they did the same here; it might be full of villagers tomorrow. Seemed a shame to waste it, though; such a large, ornate building.
Indoor archery; they could use it for indoor archery, Gialyn thought. It’s long enough. The thought brought a smile. If they did that, Elspeth would never leave. I’d be going back to Albergeddy on my own.
Gialyn looked at the clock on the mantel. He had three hours before the party. Maybe he should think about taking a bath.
“Is there any hot water, Miss Lanay?”
Miss Lanay turned to him. Grinning, she said, “I’ll have some water done in a quarter hour, Master Re’adh.” She seemed pleased with herself.
I would have gone anyway. Just like to take my time, that’s all.
Gialyn stood. Piling his plates ready for washing, he was surprised to feel excited: maybe a party wouldn’t be so bad.
* * *
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 50