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

by T. J. Garrett

  Mrs. Wild eventually stopped complaining, and they travelled in near silence for the rest of the journey. Toban ran around in a wide circle, scouting for Black Hand, barking the ‘all clear’ at regular intervals – a howl meant trouble. Daric wondered how the wolf could keep going; he must have been running three miles for every one the wagon did. But the wolf never rested for a minute. He would have to go in the back of the wagon, though, once they reached the outskirts of Redgate – there was enough peculiarity about their little troop without advertising the wolf.

  Like other towns on the Great Western Road, their first sight of Redgate was the town’s wall. The wall had stood for forty-some years, built to hold back raids during the Brion war with the Salrians. Like the town of Taris, Redgate’s wall was mostly boulders and rocks, piled in a wide arc on either side of the road. The land around Redgate was criss-crossed with deep gullies, dug out in straight lines running north and south along the perimeter. An enemy would have to attack the wall, or run a thirty-mile detour around the town’s defences. No Salrian general had ever made it east of Redgate

  Once through the gate, the town was very much like any other provincial settlement. It differed from Albergeddy, though, in so much as the buildings were made of stone and had slate roofs. The main thoroughfare was wide and cobbled. It was busy; the air full of the sounds of shopkeepers and hawkers touting their wares. The clang of blacksmith’s hammers rang from both left and right, and the earthy smell of horse dung spoke of stables. The cobbles glistened after the rain, but already patches were beginning to dry. At the far end of the street, stood the magistrate’s hall. Next to the garrison, it was the largest building in town, Daric knew.

  “That’s it over there,” Mrs. Wild said, pointing at the Tap and Tumbler inn. “Can we go now?”

  “You can go when I’m sure you won’t just turn around and ride back,” Daric told her. “Ma’am, you are stubborn, and I admire you for it, but if anything happens to you, it will be on my head.”

  Not for the first time, Mrs. Wild shook her head and gave him a sour look. “Why did you have to pick us?” she moaned.

  “I didn’t pick you, Mrs. Wild, I picked your farm. You’ll have to trust me that it was necessary.”

  Daric dismounted and raised a hand to help Mrs. Wild down from the wagon. She slapped it away. “I’m not that old, young man, I don’t need your help.”

  Grady laughed. “She must be old to call you a ‘young man,’” he whispered.

  Daric rolled his eyes; the last thing he needed was another argument with the woman… his ears were still ringing from the last one.

  Fortunately, Mrs. Wild ignored Grady’s remark. “Heather, Rebecca, take the horses around the back and ask Tom to stable them. If he asks, tell him we’ll be here for a few days.” She said the last with a stare for Daric. “You come with me, Rachel. Let us go find your sisters.”

  Mrs. Wild marched off towards the inn. She turned before entering. “Your man, Major; what was his name?”

  “Ashon Paiden, Ma’am.”

  Mrs. Wild gazed at him silently for a moment. “I’ll not forget what he did, Major. If you write to his family, would you please include my sympathy? He saved our lives, and even though you should not have put us at risk in the first place… Well, as I said, I’ll never forget him. My name is Edith.”

  She turned, put her arm around her daughter, and disappeared inside the inn before Daric could say as much as a thank you. “I’ll be sure to mention it,” he said to the now closed door.

  “I’m guessing we’ll be stopping at the other inn,” Si’eth said from up on the wagon seat.

  Daric chuckled. “No offense, my friend, but between you, Cal and Toban, we’d probably be best staying at the garrison barracks.”

  Si’eth didn’t seem to mind the idea; Daric had half expected him to refuse. “So long as they have a good cook,” Si’eth mumbled, as he gathered the reins and whistled the horses on.

  “Probably not,” Daric said, remounting his horse, “but it’ll be better than cold rations.”

  The magistrate, a pompous fat man by the name of Leck, proved to be harder work than even Mrs. Wild had been. It took Daric an hour to convince him to accept Paiden’s body, and another two to issue a warrant for Faelen.

  “But he’s an ambassador,” the fat man had said.

  “He’s a murdering traitor. The magistrate at Gieth’eire has already issued a warrant for Taris. Now will you accept my word and issue one for Kalidhain as well, or should I send a pigeon to Colonel Le’ode?”

  Even then, it had taken another half an hour, the fool insisting that, because Redgate was on the border with Taris and Kalidhain, that one warrant was sufficient. He eventually relented, though, and not only issued the warrant, he also sent pigeons to Linieth and Ironbridge. That would mean all four eastern provinces were covered by a warrant. Faelen would have nowhere to run – not east, anyway.

  That done, Daric walked to the barracks and faced yet another problem. Fortunately, Cal had solved that one…

  Many of the local guardsmen had taken exception to Si’eth. Cal, all eight foot of him, stood in the middle of the dining hall and declared that Si’eth was a “man of honour” and anyone who thought him a liar should, “Stand before him and back up their words with action.” Of course, nobody did – who would? However, the altercation left Daric with an ache in his gut. How was he going to get folk to work together when their first instinct was mistrust? What did you expect? We’ve been at war with them for sixty of the past hundred years.

  He was too tired to worry about it, though, and after paying his last respects to Paiden, before the surgeon shut him away in the cool room, Daric retired to bed. Thankfully, sleep was swift in coming and mercifully dreamless; he didn’t want to think of what dreams he might have had, should he remember them.

  The next morning was fine; the sky was back to its usual shade of blue, but there were still storm clouds to the south. Ironbridge would be having a wet morning. After checking the prisoners were being treated fairly – especially the young lad, Daric and the others made their way east.

  Their group had grown somewhat; fifty of the garrison guards joined them on their journey to the capital – a full unit which, to their mutual delight, meant bringing a cook wagon, too.

  Not surprisingly, the rest of the journey was uneventful; if Faelen had any more men, he would not be so stupid as to attack sixty – although Daric hoped that the traitor would try.

  They didn’t bother travelling across country, either. With the magistrate’s warrant and the extra men, Daric had no fear of entering the city from the northwest. After three blissfully uneventful days, the unit, led by Daric, crossed the Colaroy River and, a few weeks earlier than he had expected, with rather more people than he had begun with, Daric rode down the cobbled drive towards the Highgate and Bailryn. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or not.

  CHAPTER 28

  Whispers

  Tamson held his lamp aloft. He peered into the darkness toward the Voice, though he knew well enough that nobody was there.

  “What do you want now? Hmm. Can’t you leave me alone for five minutes? You always want something, always, always. I’m tired and I want to go home.”

  You are not finished, Tamson, there is another. We have heard her.

  “Another what?”

  Another like her. He has seen her in Arenthenia.

  “Well, you can tell him I’m not interested. Hmm. I am going home, yes, I am going home, no more adventures today.”

  Tamson squeezed his eyes shut. It helped, sometimes, but not very often. If he squeezed his eyes shut and hummed, that usually worked – at least for a while. He turned his lamp north and stumbled through the tunnel. He hardly needed his eyes; after eight-hundred years, he could walk the tunnels blindfolded.

  She is a young child, Tamson; too new for all this. We must help her; she is important.

  “Get somebody else. Hmm. Hmm. Hmm. You hear me! It’s not fair;
I want to go home. Hmm.”

  You don’t mean that, my friend; you know they need you.

  “You said that last time!” Tamson stood still, shouting at the wall. “You said that last time! You said it would be over. Hmm. Why can’t you let me die?”

  Pressing one ear against his shoulder, he plugged the other with his finger and hmmmed as loud as he could.

  Tamson… Tamson… TAMSON!

  “No, no, no. You promised. You lie! You always lie! Right from the start, hmm, that’s all you have ever done, lie, lie, lie.” Tamson could feel the tears welling up. “Damn you, you’re not going to make me cry again, hmm.” The damp of the tunnels touched his skin as he pulled at his robe. He was sweating. A sickening dizziness overcame him and he sat with his back against the tunnel wall. He could smell the stream – his stream; he wasn’t far from home. Why does he have to ask now? Doesn’t he know I am tired, and old. Hmm, hmmmmm.

  I know you are tired, Tamson; but you can’t leave her there. The other will find her, and kill her. It will be bad for the dragons, and for us.

  “Dragons, dragons, dragons, dragons, dragons, hmm. It’s always the dragons, dragons, dragons. Why can’t you tell him to sort out his own problems? Hmm.”

  You know it does not work that way, my friend. There is only you; you are the Tunnel Master!

  “The Tunnel Master, yes. Hmm, hmm. Yes, I am. I am the Master, and I say we go home.”

  Tamson lifted his head. He expected a quick answer – another demand – but nothing. He hmmmed to himself and rocked back and forth a little while he waited. There was always an answer, he always had something to say.

  Finally, after a long minute of swaying and humming…

  There is another who could take your place, if you wish to forfeit.

  “Forfeit? Forfeit! No, no, hmm, hmm, no forfeit, you promised, you promised. Who is he? Where is he?”

  He is with the child. I have been calling, but he does not answer. His Other is young; he cannot control him, But if you will not help…

  “Hmm, hmm. You’re tricky; you lie, lie, lie, and lie again.” Tamson clamoured to his feet and hung the lantern back on the end of his cane. “Fine, but you can take us there, I’m tired.” Tamson closed his eyes as the Voice took over his mind. He knew the Voice would wake him again, once they arrived, but for now, he rested and thought of his beloved. How could he give up, knowing where she was? He was not that crazy.

  * * *

  Alacin’tien creased his brow. That voice again, like a scratching in the back of his mind. He knew well enough that it was important, and probably one of the Old Ones, but who? And why now?

  Let me out, Alacin. Gods, It’s my sister. Let me out!

  Be patient, Ealian. I know she is your sister, but we agreed: I take control in the tunnels.

  That was before Elspeth got herself captured by the bloody witch. Let me out!

  And what would you do? Will you do as I say? Can you hear the Old Voices? No, you cannot. If you want your sister safe, I’m your best choice. Please, Ealian, let me help.

  Olam can do that; we don’t need you. Damn you Alacin, I will never let you have control again.

  We’ll talk about that lat—

  “…going without me. I will tear down the walls if needs be. I am coming with you. Mark my words,” Arfael roared.

  The three Salrians cowered in the corner. They had never seen the like of Arfael. They appeared to be about ready to run.

  But not even they were as white as Bre’ach was; he still looked ready to get down on his knees before the big man. What a fool. Why did he think things would be any different?

  “It should be the four of us,” Brea said, looking at Olam and then Gialyn. She smiled at the youngster. The look she gave him was a little too friendly for Alacin’s liking. That’s all we need – romance in the Tunnels of Aldregair.

  “You can’t come with us,” Alacin told her.

  Brea looked wide-eyed at him, and her dragon growled. Foolish animal, he could ruin everything.

  “And why can’t I come?” Brea asked, with her fists on her hips and chin raised.

  “I don’t know,” Alacin said, “but every time I look at you I get a sick feeling in my gut.” Brea’s eyes opened even wider, and the dragon took a pace forward. Alacin raised his hands. “Someone is trying to tell me something. Someone old, very old. Something about you. You’ll have to trust me; I wish I could explain it better. But I am sure you would put us all in great danger.”

  “But what about the Shard?” Brea insisted. Her voice was shrill and challenging.

  “The Shard is with the witch, Brea. You heard what Tor said as well as the rest of us. Gialyn and our new friends” – Alacin gestured towards the three trembling Salrians – “know where the witch is. There is no need for you to endanger yourself.”

  We don’t want another foolish girl getting herself captured; bad enough that my sister is a mule-headed know-it-all.

  I’m glad you agree, Ealian. Alacin suppressed a grin. At least Ealian was still talking; maybe the young fool was coming to his senses.

  “He’s right,” Olam said. “There is nothing for you to do but put yourself at risk. I don’t think Tor would thank us for that.”

  Alacin nodded at Olam. Now the old man was agreeing with him, too. All he needed was the big man’s approval.

  Arfael was skulking in the corner, pacing back and forth. He looked ready to peel the skin off anyone who interrupted. Alacin sighed and slowly walked over. He heard the big man growl louder the closer he came.

  “What do you want?”

  “You can’t help her, Arfael; not quickly enough, at any rate.”

  The big man bared his teeth. “You came over here to tell me that?”

  “No.” Alacin brought his clasped hands to his chin. He looked squarely at Arfael. “I came here to tell you I will free her. There are Powers in these caves, I can sense them, and I think I can control them, too. I can’t explain, because I’m not sure myself, but I think someone is trying to help us.”

  “Who? When? Where are they? If it’s all just magic, how do you know it will help?” Alacin reached out for Arfael’s shoulder, and the big man backed away. “Don’t give me maybes, Alacin. I don’t trust your wizardry, not where Elspeth is concerned.”

  “You of all people should trust me, Arfael; you know more of the Powers than most anybody.”

  “Maybe I did, but that was a long time ago. But as it seems I have no choice… I will trust you. But, remember this, Elspeth comes first; if you have to leave that damned Shard, then you will leave it. If you put her in danger searching for it…”

  Alacin had little doubt what the big man would do. He hoped he would remember this was Ealian’s body.

  “The four of us will go,” Alacin said, “me, Olam, Gialyn and one of the Salrians. No, not you Bre’ach, you are injured, we must move quickly.”

  The smallest of the three Salrians stood and took a pace forward. “I’ll guide you.”

  “I know the way,” Gialyn said, pushing himself in front of the small Salrian. “There’s no point putting more folk in harm’s way.”

  “And if Fran goes, I go, too.” The tallest of the three Salrians stood and lined up next to Gialyn. “I only wish we could take the dragon. He’d be handy in a tight spot.”

  Alacin grinned. “Sadly, if Arfael won’t fit through those tunnels you mentioned, there’s no hope for Rek.” Alacin scratched his chin. It didn’t really matter who else came, as long as it wasn’t Brea. “Very well, Brea, Bre’ach, and Arfael stay with the dragon. The rest of us rescue Elspeth.”

  “I never said I would go,” the third Salrian said in a high-pitched voice.

  “Shut up, Lud.” Fran, the small one, shook his head at the other while checking his own knives and quiver. “You’re not sitting here on your backside while we risk ours. Now get your gear ready, we leave in five minutes.”

  Brea said nothing. She sat down on a large stone. She was seething. Tap
ping her foot, she glared at Alacin as if it was all his fault – well, it was his fault, but he was still sure of what he had told her. The dragon came to her and snaked himself around the stone, finally placing its head on her knee. The girl looked down and smiled. She whispered something he couldn’t hear – Alacin was glad of that.

  “Five minutes, then. Check everything.” Alacin turned to the pack Arfael had carried, and began taking out everything he thought he might need. There was not much.

  If I knew this was going to happen, I would have packed more knives, Ealian told Alacin.

  Don’t worry, Ealian; knives and arrows won’t win the day.

  * * *

  Vila’slae woke with a jolt. She sat up in her bed and strained to hear the Voice. Kicking the covers away, she all but ran from her tent. Outside, the general was sitting near the fire. He had probably only slept for an hour. She liked that about Turasan; always there when she needed him. The general ran into her tent and emerged seconds later with her robe. She took it from him.

  “What is it, my lady?”

  “She is here, Ebon.”

  The general looked puzzled – and why wouldn’t he? He couldn’t hear the Voice. “Who is, my lady?”

  “The Gan Oracle; she is somewhere in the Tunnels. The old man is trying to talk to her.”

  The Voice floated through the air. It was quiet, almost non-existent, but she knew who it was. No one could use Ein’laig’s Voice that close and expect her not to notice. She felt a grin crease her lips and she turned back to the tent. “They think they can fool me, do they?” she whispered.

  Rummaging through the papers on her table, she picked up a copy of the Aldregair map – she had made several copies since the general had acquired it. “She must think the old man will help them. Fool; the crazy old man will never leave.”

  The general stood in front of her desk. “How may I serve, Ma’am?”