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

by T. J. Garrett

  As the ‘Third’, Mott was the den leader. It was his job, amongst other things, to organise the duty roster. Guarding the livestock was one of those duties. In return, farmers like Rasan’s family took care of the dens.

  Mott chortled. “They’re persistent. I thought Muraban and Tumar would have scared them off by now.”

  “Oh, they didn’t get anywhere near the chickens,” Rasan said, “but they did manage to steal some of the goat feed.” Rasan was laughing, doubtless wondering how a fox managed to drag a sack of goat feed away from the feeding shed. “They dragged the sack up past the archery range. Tumar followed the trail, but they were gone by the time he found the empty sack.”

  “You should keep those sheds locked from now on; we don’t want the foxes thinking there’s a free meal available.”

  “Already done,” Rasan said, brushing the tip of Mott’s tail with the wire comb. “I just thought you should know about the foxes.”

  Mott nodded. “Thank you. I’ll add it to the list. It’s a shame we can’t invite them in, but take care of one fox and there will be a hundred more lining up behind.”

  Rasan grunted his agreement. “That’s it, sir,” he said, tapping the brush on the side of the bucket full of dead fur. “You should see about a bath; I got most of the clots out, but something has stained your fur along the left side.”

  Mott knew it was blood, but said nothing about it.

  “Thank you, Rasan. Best get on. I’ll have a bath when I get back from Am’bieth.”

  Rasan just nodded; no doubt the man knew a spot of blood when he saw it.

  After taking a drink and cleaning his teeth by chomping on a liproot twig, Mott left the den and was immediately greeted by a line of sombre faces.

  Aleban was one of them. “Morning, Mott. Are you ready for this?” he asked. “It’s going to be a long day.” The Second moved up to Mott’s side and matched his pace as they turned the corner into the village. The other three, Tumar and the other den leaders, followed.

  “Ready for what?” Mott asked. “The trip to the marsh, or the Wildlings?”

  “Well, both.”

  “Taking Gialyn and Elspeth to the marsh is not a problem. I could do without the Wildling rituals, though,” Mott huffed. “You would think they would have given up all that by now; it’s been three hundred years. How can they not be bored of living in the forest, pretending they can’t talk, going on the hunt, and fighting to choose their Alpha; haven’t they heard of progress?”

  Aleban laughed. “Hunting, fighting; that doesn’t sound boring at all. Besides, who are we to deny them their traditions? These rituals keep the peace. And let’s not forget, we may need them before all this is done.”

  Mott raised a brow. “Are you going to ask them to join us? Fighting side by side with humans; that would go against those traditions they hold so dear.”

  “If you could pick between the Wildlings and the Darkin, who would you choose? I know what I would say.”

  The Wildlings or the Darkin? That’s hardly a choice at all, Mott thought. “Do you think they will listen? They’re only here for the ritual; they usually leave as soon as it’s finished. And what about Toban’s orders? Will you still travel to Crenach? I thought that was the plan: ‘Bring the Darkin in on our side.’ He didn’t say anything about the Wildlings.”

  “We might need both,” Aleban said. “I’ll seek out the Darkin, but I’m not sure what good it will do. To tell you the truth, from what I’ve heard, I’ll be glad to come home with my hide intact.”

  “Then why go? If it’s that dangerous, why risk it? I’ve heard the stories, too; everyone knows they’re twice our size. And that’s not the only change. Who’s to say they will hold to the old treaties, never mind agree to help?”

  “And that’s the point, isn’t it; we don’t know anything. That’s why I’m going. Anyway, enough of that; I am only here to tell you that I will deal with the Wildling ritual this month. You have a long day ahead of you; you should prepare for your trip.”

  “You don’t have to do that. It is my job; I agreed to it when I took the place of Third. The Wildlings are… troublesome, especially when they refuse to talk, but I’ll manage.”

  “I know you will, Mott, but I want to tie this in with the Darkin.”

  “Really? And how are you going to manage that?”

  “I have a few ideas. But I don’t want to give them more information than necessary. I need to be the one who takes the meeting.”

  “Very well,” Mott said, trying not to sound too relieved. “I’ll go find the travellers. I’ll probably have to wake them up; they’re a lazy pair, even for Surabhan.”

  Aleban snorted. “Ah, you noticed that, too.”

  Mott looked back towards his den as Aleban led the other three wolves off to their meeting with the Wildlings. He considered leaving Gialyn and Elspeth in bed a little longer – let the two youngsters sleep while he had some breakfast – but the thought only lasted a moment; there was a lot to do and a long way to go. He really should go and wake them up. Turning back to the Great Hall, he sniffed the air. Why had Lanay chosen today to cook bacon? He ignored his rumbling stomach and made for the courtyard at the side of the kitchen.

  To his surprise, both Gialyn and Elspeth were already up and out. They were standing in front of the hall packing their bags. They didn’t look happy. Elspeth had a look on her face like someone had just slapped her, vexed and defensive, and Gialyn was apparently trying to avoid looking at her – so much for an easy trip.

  “Good morning, you two,” Mott said, in the most congenial voice he could muster.

  “Is it?” Elspeth snapped.

  Gialyn’s shoulders dropped and he rolled his eyes. “Well, I hope at least you have had a good morning, Mott.”

  Elspeth grunted something inaudible, then yanked at the ties on her blanket roll. “When are we leaving? Do we have time for breakfast?”

  Mott stifled a groan. “There’s no need to rush, Elspeth; you’re already up and ready. You can take a half hour for breakfast.” We all can, Mott thought. It seemed he could have some bacon, after all.

  Elspeth said nothing. She leaned her pack up against the wall and stomped back into the hall.

  Mott gazed at Gialyn – who was standing with arms folded and glaring at the two foot of dry earth in front of his feet, slowly shaking his head. Mott grunted. “What happened? Why the bad mood?”

  “Damned if I know. She’s been like that for the past hour. She almost kicked me out of bed. Been ranting on about how we have to be organised and make an early start. Then she sat for half an hour staring at the wall, sighing every other moment. I don’t know what has gotten in to her, do you?” He doubted the wolf would have any more idea about Elspeth’s mood than he had, but he had to ask someone, talk to someone. Argauing with Elspeth made his throat tighten and his stomach feel like he had swallowed a rock.

  “Don’t ask me.” Mott laughed. “I’m no older than you.”

  “Well, one way or another, I think we are in for a long day.” Gialyn moaned, kicking the side of his pack.

  Mott had to chuckle at that.

  And to think, I left a meeting with the Wildlings for this. Watching the rituals would have been less trouble.

  “You should get something to eat, Gialyn. I’ll do the same. We will meet at the gate in an hour. We should make the marsh today, if not a little further.”

  “‘Further’? We won’t make Am’ilean, or whatever you call it. I thought we weren’t supposed to camp in the marsh?”

  “The northern track is different, it’s quite rocky. Yes, I know about the Black Raics. We’ll be fine; I can smell the signs a mile away.”

  “Oh, that’s good to know.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. Go get some food. And… keep out of her way.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I will,” Gialyn said, then made his way up the steps to the Great Hall.

  He stopped halfway up. “To tell you the truth, Mott, I thi
nk she’s going to miss this place. She met a boy last night.” Gialyn whispered the last part.

  “I heard. Marcus. Perhaps it’s just as well she is leaving.”

  “Why?”

  Mott looked around before answering the question. “Marcus is a good lad, for the most part. Nevertheless, he likes to put people in his pocket. I don’t think your Elspeth would stand it for long.”

  “My Elspeth! She can do what she wants; see who she wants.”

  Mott turned around. He knew well enough what was going on between those two and wasn’t about to get involved. “Food… one hour… don’t be late,” he said, then left his young friends on the steps, hoping he could get through the rest of the day without listening to another argument. He didn’t think that was likely.

  * * *

  Mott had gone to the gate before the hour was up; he had a feeling the two travellers would be early. He was right. Elspeth was fidgety, eager to get going, but Gialyn seemed reluctant. Mott nodded them forward, then led the way north, out of the village.

  It would be an easy trip for the first few hours. The track was good – straightish, and relatively flat. They would pass by the fields and farms of Illeas’den and continue up into the western plain, before turning west into the marsh. The morning was hot, but nothing they weren’t accustomed to, and there was no shortage of eager farmers proffering drinks of lemonade or orange juice. It could have been a pleasant trip, yet neither Elspeth nor Gialyn spoke much for the first few hours. And when they did, it was all argument…

  “There you go again: gods this, gods that, gods-gods-gods. Do you even know anything about the gods?” Elspeth asked Gialyn.

  Mott didn’t think she cared one way or the other about Gialyn’s opinion; it was just another excuse to argue. He was beginning to suspect that she was very good at finding those. To think, he could be having lunch with a group of Wildlings. It would almost be tame by comparison.

  Gialyn walked on the left of the track, as far away from Elspeth as he could get without hiking through the long grass of the Northeastern Am’bieth Plain. “I know they are dead,” he told her without looking up.

  “And who told you that? Mr Mayrob? The man is a half-wit. I don’t think he’s been west of the canal. What would he know of your so-called gods?”

  “No, Elspeth, Mr Mayrob didn’t tell me. I went to school in Bailryn, remember.”

  “Oh, and I suppose the big city school teachers know everything, do they?”

  Mott chuckled quietly to himself. That girl can be as cantankerous as old Ishban when she wants to be.

  “I didn’t say that,” Gialyn said. “I’m just saying, I wasn’t taught by Mr Mayrob. Why do you have to make a fight out of everything?”

  “I’m not, I just… argh. Nobody knows anything about the gods. They have been dead for a thousand years… if they ever existed.”

  “Oh, they existed,” Mott told them. “And they are not dead; just… different.”

  Mott kept walking while the two stood and stared. I bet they didn’t even know I was listening. He looked back at them, the curl of his wolfish smile creasing his jaw. “Well, come on, we haven’t got all day. We’re making good time; I’d like to be at Blue Rock Pass by nightfall.”

  “What do you know about the gods, Mott?” Elspeth asked. “I mean, you’re a… a wolf. Do you even believe in things like that?”

  “Belief is irrelevant, Elspeth. The gods are as real as the dirt beneath your feet, the air you breathe, and the water you drink. Tell me, your own brother is possessed by a thousand-year-old Cren Raic; how do you think that happened, if there is no power, no magic. The Power is there; it always has been. If you believe that, then you must believe there are those who can control it, some better than others. Some well enough, perhaps, that you might well call them ‘gods.’ They are power, and they’re as real as you and me.”

  “So where are they then?” Gialyn asked.

  “That, I do not know. They have changed, there’s nothing as sure as that, but that does not mean they have gone. Without the Powers, we would not exist, nothing would. No, that’s not true; something would be here, but there would be no soul, no good nor evil. The Gods take what they find and shape it in the minds of men… and wolves, and whatever else has a mind to choose right and wrong. If it were not for them, we would be no more than worms, mindlessly crawling around, living on instinct instead of choice. There have to be gods. How can there not be!”

  “So, you think my brother is a god, do you?” Elspeth said. Her tone was belligerent.

  “No, I didn’t say that, Elspeth.”

  “Yes, you see,” Gialyn laughed, waving a finger at Elspeth. “You’re doing it to him, too; making an argument where there isn’t one.”

  Elspeth kicked up the stones beneath her feet. “Oh, enough of this; I will agree when one of them stands in front of me.”

  “Then you’ll never agree, Elspeth,” Mott said. “I don’t think the gods were ever physical beings; animals, birds, sea creatures. As I said, Gods are the Power, and you of all people can’t deny the Powers; you have seen more of it than most.”

  Elspeth and Gialyn remained quiet.

  “Anyway, enough talk, let’s move on. Gods or no gods, the next few days are all about putting one foot in front of the other. Nothing divine about that.”

  The two moved up on either side of Mott and kept his pace. For once, they remained quiet, for a while, at least. Long enough for Mott to appreciate the warmth of the day and maybe have a little peace. Without a doubt, wolves liked to hunt, liked to run – when it was called for – but travelling was just… well, travelling. Mott preferred to do that quietly and with as little fuss as possible. Yes, he was glad for the silence.

  The hot afternoon bled into a sultry evening as they passed the marker denoting the beginning of the Am’bieth Marsh. The sign was not much to look at, just a mid-sized rock with a circle chiselled into it, warning travellers of dangers ahead. There was nothing to say what the dangers were, but the fact that it was there at all was enough to make most folk wary, at least those with enough sense to pay attention to such things.

  They passed the marker and immediately felt as if they were in another country. No sooner had they moved beyond the sign, than the ground began to soften underfoot. Long pools of stagnant water edged the track. Briny-smelling reeds and tall grasses circled the pools, for the most part. The salt-stone flats – the barren landscape at the far-northeastern rim of the marsh – kept all but the hardiest of vegetation away. For the first few miles, there was little more than a sparse sprinkling of ragwort or the occasional scraggly bush. There was plenty of rough grass, though; sharp grass, with points like tiny daggers. The salty run-off made it impossible to camp, never mind drink the water, which was why Mott asked the other two to hurry up.

  “Come on. Blue Rock Pass is an hour and we have two hours of light. I want to get there and make camp while you two can still see. I don’t want to be dragging you out of a pool.”

  Mott stepped up the pace, ignoring the grumbling. The “my feet hurt” from Elspeth and the “I hope we have a fire” from Gialyn made him chuckled quietly. Surabhans! There’s always something.

  The ridge – where the pass lay – was just coming into view, curling in the middle distance, when Mott thought he saw a flashing light coming from the path ahead. Elspeth and Gialyn were still arguing, albeit relatively quietly. Both walked straight past him when he stopped to listen. They were five paces ahead when they finally realised he wasn’t moving.

  “What is it, Mott?” Elspeth asked.

  Mott said nothing. Instead, he pricked his ears and fixed his eyes on the flashing lights. It looked like someone up ahead was carrying a lantern, swinging it at their side. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.

  “We have company, and I don’t think we want to meet them,” he said as he looked around for somewhere to hide. “You two may be able to walk on by, but if they see me…”

  “If who sees you?�
�� It was Gialyn’s turn to ask a question.

  “Salrians, I’m sure of it. There are three of them walking this way.”

  At that, Elspeth reached for her bow and Gialyn for his knife. They both turned to the west with gritted teeth and panicked looks in their eyes. Elspeth began to breathe heavily and Gialyn gulped hard.

  “Calm down. We won’t be fighting our way out of this, not if I can help it. And there could well be more of them.” Mott tried to speak calmly, for all the good it would do; he knew their feelings toward the Salrians. Honestly, he could not blame them. “They’re trespassing; they will likely walk on by. They will no doubt have a problem with me, though. I must hide, wait until they’re are gone.”

  “How do you even know they are Salrians? I can’t see anything,” Elspeth said.

  “Their torches; the blue light, it glows that colour when you burn blackpitch oil. There’s no blackpitch oil in Aleras, and the Salrians don’t trade it.”

  “What are we going to—?”

  “Just walk on as if nothing is out of the ordinary. I’ll wait until they pass and catch up with you. Keep on this path.”

  Elspeth and Gialyn looked at each other. Both sighed. Clearly, they were none too keen on the idea, but neither complained.

  “I’d just as soon go with you,” Elspeth said, looking nervous. “Why can’t we all hide?”

  Mott nodded down at the wide channel of murky water that hugged both sides of the track. “Can you jump that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We have to hurry. Trust me. Act normally. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just remember: don’t do anything stupid.”

  “All right,” Elspeth said. “But what do we do if they start something?”

  “We’ll deal with that if it happens.”

  Mott’s answer was not very convincing; he knew that well enough, but what else could they do? There was no point starting a fight when there was a good chance it might never happen.

  “Well, that’s not a very good strategy,” Gialyn told him. The impetuous pup still had his hand on his dagger.

  “It’s all the plan we have, for now. And put that knife away before you hurt yourself. Now, you start walking; I will hide. Remember, you’re just two people using the path; you have no reason to act any differently.” Mott stood watching them for a long moment. “Go on then; they will be here in a minute.”