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

by T. J. Garrett

  No sooner had Renik shut the gate than a fat man wearing a wide white apron came stomping up from the inn.

  “Now, what’s all this? You can’t come in from the alley, you need to go around the fro—”

  The fat man cut himself off and backed up a pace when he saw the Cren Woodsmen – well, he probably saw them from the inn, but didn’t realise how big they were until he got closer – he backed up even farther, when he saw the wolves.

  The fat man looked about ready to turn and run when Arlec called to him. “It’s all right, Eddar; we are friends.”

  Eddar squinted through the darkness, and then his eyes widened at the sight of Arlec. “Gods, Arlec, is that really you? And after all these years. What are you doing with…?” His sweeping gesture took in everyone in the courtyard.

  “These are friends, Eddar, and it’s a long story,” Arlec said as he walked towards the fat man. “We are on our way to Bailryn. I was hoping we might rest here for the night. We will pay, of course.”

  “A long story? I don’t doubt it.” The fat man studied the group for a long moment. Now and then, he looked over his shoulder towards the inn, probably hoping no one was watching. “Well, never let it be said that Eddar Flinn doesn’t know the meaning of hospitality.”

  “Thank you, my friend. And if you have rooms for me and the two ladies, I promise to tell you all I can of my tale.”

  “Judging by this crowd, your tale might well be worth the price of the rooms. Yes, your friends can stay in the east stable. They’re both near-on empty – since the King’s Cavalry came through and took all the good horses – but that one is dry. We use it to store grain after harvest. There’s some good hay in there, too, if your friends don’t mind making a bed of it?”

  “I’m sure it will do fine,” Arlec said. Then on top, Renik asked, “When did the King’s Guards pass through?”

  “The King’s Cavalry, sir,” Eddar corrected. He straightened, vainly trying to square up to the Cren. “They came through here a few days ago, took every horse in town, and left me with a few half-dead nags. It’ll be a week before I can put a saddle on any of them without the poor thing falling over.” Eddar shook his head. He didn’t look annoyed at the cavalrymen; if anything, he was sorry for the state of their horses. “No sooner were they gone, than the Black Hand showed up. They were following the king’s men, I’d say, or at least keeping them in their sights. Bit too much of a coincidence to show up just like that, not two hours after the cavalry left.”

  “By the sound of it, perhaps I should listen to a bit of your story, too, my old friend,” Arlec said. “But before that, I don’t suppose you could muster up a bath and some hot food ?”

  Sarai and Kalina nodded in fervent agreement. Even some of the Cren raised an eager eyebrow, though quite how Eddar would find a bath that big…

  “I’m sure we can manage something. I’ll send the lad out to build the fires. And then there’s always the tin baths we use for dipping the sheep. Yes, we can manage.” He nodded to himself. “Right, best get started. Follow me, ladies, Arlec. The rest of you, make yourself at home, and welcome to the Blue Goose.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Eiras

  After briefly resting Tulak on the southern coast of Toi’ildrieg, Elspeth and the others had finally made it to Eiras. She had thought that flying across land was frightening, but it was nothing compared to the relentless buffeting of the ocean winds. Fighting against the wind was torturous. More than once, she thought the contraption in which they were travelling might come loose and slip off the dragon’s back. The gliding wasn’t much better. For some reason, Tulak would rise or fall fifty spans without warning. More than once, Elspeth had come close to losing her breakfast – and every other meal she had eaten over the last few days.

  Toi’ildrieg, where they had rested for a few hours, was Vila’s home, Elka had told her. The witch had lived there since the civil war with Toi’ifael ended some one-hundred and thirty years ago. In a quiet moment, Elka explained how Toi’ifael had been winning that battle until Vila came along and took control of the dragons. The beasts had proven too much for the Kel’mai, and the Kel’madden soon rose victorious.

  However, there seemed little point to her victory. Apparently, shortly after the final battle, Vila had withdrawn her forces from Toi’ifael, leaving the Kel’mai to get on with their lives, while she concentrated on fortifying the Kel’madden’s island. Elka said she had never understood why the witch had withdrawn from Toi’ifael; the tactic made no sense. But Elspeth guessed that that was when Vila had decided to attack Aleras’moya. If Arfael’s story was accurate, Vila’s first invasion – her failed invasion – was less than six years later. Had she installed herself as the Kel’madden leader just to attack Aleras? It certainly appeared so.

  Eiras – the Witches’ Island, as some called it – was nothing like what Elspeth had imagined. There were no orange skies, purple fields, flying cattle, or talking plants. In fact, it looked quite familiar, not much different from the Geddy Valley, or a dozen other places she had visited over the past weeks. At first, she had been disappointed by the apparent normality. Although, thinking about it, the familiarity had made her feel better. She had had enough mystery for now.

  However, as ordinary as the island seemed, the city of Bhail was far from normal.

  They had landed to the northeast, on the grassy slopes of a mountain that shared its name with the city below. Mount Bhail reminded Elspeth of the Mountains of Monarcdair. Although not as high as the mountains back home, Mount Bhail shared the same colouring, and, like the Monarcdair, Mount Bhail had two spurs extending to the south and west. The city nestled in between them, spanning a river that ran down from the high ground to the north.

  They had waited at the landing site for two hours while Sergeant Haselan, Tulak’s handler, went off to find a horse for Vila to ride. Those two hours were a quiet time. Elspeth and Elka had sat on the grass beside the broad bole of an oak while Vila lounged on a chair that Strob, her cook, had brought down from the dragon carriage. Tulak had spent most of that time stripping the high branches from another tree. Meanwhile, the maids had busied themselves organising their mistress’s belongings. It could have been a nice day out, if Elspeth could have forgotten why they were there – and who she was with.

  From where they had sat, elevated on the slope, Elspeth could see the city of Bhail. The outskirts were no more than three or four miles away. But the outskirts weren’t what had caught her eye. The blue towers in the centre of the city were like nothing she had ever seen, or could have imagined. Like shards of flint, they cut into the skyline above the city. There were ten in all. Six made a circle around the others. Inside those six, three more made another circle; and inside those, another tower stood in the centre of it all. That tower must have been twice as high as the others were. Elspeth had thought the tall tower must be this temple she had heard about. It looked… ominous.

  Like the towers, the rest of the city appeared far from ordinary. For one thing, Elspeth hadn’t been able to see any difference between one part of Bhail and the next. Usually, a city had quarters: a poor quarter, a rich quarter, a merchant quarter and a ruling quarter; but this city was a blanket of uniformity. No building was taller than any other, no street narrower, and all the roofs had the same dark blue tiling. Even the road, fifty paces south from the tree under which they had sat, was uniform. No dirt track, it had been flattened, was a precise width throughout, and paved with good stone, just like all the others Elspeth had seen while flying over the island. Elspeth had begun to suspect that the witches kept a tight rein on the citizens of Eiras. How else could they make them work, if nobody was rewarded beyond that of their fellow citizens? No rich people, no rulers; Eiras must be a strange place to live, she had thought. Maybe that was why Vila’slae had left; the witch had not struck Elspeth as the type to stand in line.

  Sergeant Haselan had managed to hire three good horses, a small cart, and two shaggy mules to pull it. Aft
er a little organisation, mostly arguing amongst the maids as to who was going to ride the other horse, they had made their way along the well-constructed road towards Bhail City.

  Now, after nearly an hour, they were approaching the outskirts.

  “Do you know where we’ll be staying?” Elspeth asked Elka.

  The woman shrugged. They were sharing the front seat of the cart with Strob the cook. Elka sat in the middle with Strob to her left. The man didn’t seem to know what he was doing, but he had refused her offer to take the reins. Elka had laughed at his inept steering, and rolled her eyes when they bumped into the kerb, which had put the cook in a mood. He hadn’t said a word for the past half an hour. “I don’t know where we are staying,” Elka said. “I’m no more familiar with this place than you are. The closest I have been to Bhail is Vila’s house on the northwest coast, and that’s forty miles away.”

  “I didn’t know she had a house here. I thought you said she hadn’t been back in over a century.” Elspeth said.

  “Nobody knows she has a house here, at least nobody from Bhail. I think she comes back because she misses the place, if you can believe that.”

  Elspeth eyed the cook. “Should you be talking like that in front of…?” She nodded towards Strob.

  Elka chuckled. “Oh, don’t mind my husband. He knows where all Vila’s skeletons are buried.”

  Husband? The two of them are married. Elspeth could hardly contemplate the idea. She had never met two people that were more different. Elka was strong willed and sure of herself while Strob was a weasel, weak and mytherly. The man could complain about anything.

  Elka must have guessed what she was thinking. “Oh, don’t take him as you see him, Elspeth. When we are home, he is quite the masterful one.

  It was Strob’s turn to roll his eyes.

  Elspeth grimaced. Strob…masterful? That was hard to imagine.

  “Is his name really Strob?” Elspeth whispered.

  Elka laughed again. “No, our family name is Strongbow, but Madam Vila insists on calling him Strob. I don’t know why. She seems to like shortening everyone’s name. For instance, my name is actually Ellanniyaka.”

  Elspeth felt a cringe crease her mouth. She wasn’t going to say she agreed with Vila. Ellani…Ellayikk… Elka will do. “I see, so I can expect her to start calling me ‘Speth, or something like that.”

  “Probably, but to be fair, she only does that to people she has known for a couple of years.”

  Elka gazed at the runners, and Strob – Mr. Strongbow – made a study of the reins in his hand. Elspeth knew she wouldn’t be around in a “couple of years.” She would probably be imprisoned in a couple of days… or worse. “Well, you can call me Elly, if you want. My mother used to call me that.”

  Elka smiled. “Elly it is.”

  The road led them towards the city gate. Ten soldiers guarded it: three each side of the road and four up behind a crenelated walkway that merged into the rest of the city wall. Sergeant Haselan raised his hand to bring them to a stop and then reined his horse in next to the cart. Vila walked her horse forward to meet the guards. She didn’t look happy about it.

  While they watched, Vila waved her arms about in the air, pointing here and there, apparently arguing about something, though Elspeth couldn’t hear more than muffled curses. The guards that had been sitting down were now standing in a line barring the gate. What was happening?

  Vila heeled her horse forward, and the guard she had been talking to grabbed the reins. Another shouted, “To arms!” and those standing above the gate pointed their bows at the witch. Vila reacted by raising her hand. One by one, the guards dropped their bows and covered their ears, but Elspeth couldn’t hear any noise. The horse Vila sat upon reared when she tried forcing her way forward. The guard who held the reins would not relent, and before Elspeth could turn to see what was happening, a group of twenty guards ran out from a wide doorway built into a tower beside the city.

  Sergeant Haselan made a move to heel his own horse forward. It appeared that the fool was willing to take on all twenty. But Strob grabbed his arm. Shaking his head, the cook told the sergeant that no good could come from dying today. With a bitter glare at Strob, Haselan relented.

  Vila had lowered her hand by now. The guards above the gate were back on their feet. The witch had her arms folded and made no attempt to take the reins back from the guard. She looked as if she were submitting. Half the guards surrounded her while the others made their way back along the road.

  “You will follow us. Keep your hands where we can see them,” one of the guards told Elspeth. Eight more surrounded the cart.

  “What is happening?” Elspeth whispered to Elka.

  The other woman’s face was a pale as fresh milk. Her mouth was agape and she was mouthing something inaudible. Strob put his hand on her knee and Elspeth heard him tell her to stay calm. The look in his eye said he did indeed love her. Of the three of them, Strob was by far the most composed. Elspeth could do nothing but keep her hands on her lap as the guards led the two shaggy mules in through the gate.

  Once in the city, the street widened slightly. On both sides, long rows of buildings stood, each one a near copy of the last. Some were shops, some were houses, one or two were inns, if the signs outside reading “The Maiden’s Rest” or “The Spotted Cow” were anything to go by. They followed the wide street towards the centre of Bhail. Now and then, a child stood at a crossroads pumping fresh water into a bucket. Women walked, smiling and laughing, with baskets of fruit or flowers on their arm. There was no litter, nobody wore rags, and Elspeth hadn’t seen a single beggar. Some of the shops had merchandise on a table set up out front, and on that table, a small tin or clay cup had been left so people could pay for goods without having to take them into the shop. What was this place, where everyone was well-dressed and seemingly happy, were shopkeepers trusted customers to leave money in a cup, where not so much as a dead leaf cluttered the street? Elspeth wasn’t sure if the thought of it all made her feel better or not. What power could force people to behave like this?

  A short while later, the guards led them through another gate and into the courtyard of what looked like a small castle. They were close to the centre of the city, close to those towers, and this was the first building she had seen that didn’t look like all the others. It must be something important.

  A guard helped her down from the cart, and once Elka and Strob joined her, he asked them all to follow him. Elspeth couldn’t see where they were taking Vila. Her horse was led through another gate, and deeper into the castle grounds.

  Elspeth followed Elka and Strob, as the guard walked up a short flight of steps and through an ironbound door. Once inside, the man asked them to sit, and then he wanted to know if he could fetch them a drink. Elka said “No, thank you,” and after a friendly warning to stay put, the guard left them alone.

  As soon as the man left, Strob jumped up and strode towards the window – or rather, the slot in the wall.

  “This is a garrison headquarters or I’m a blacksmith,” the cook said.

  “Well that much is obvious,” Elka replied, shaking her head and straightening a crease in her skirt that didn’t need straightening. “But why are we here?”

  “What happened to Sergeant Haselan?” Elspeth asked. “Did they take him through that other gate, too?” Elspeth had to admit that she quite liked the kind old dragon rider. Surely they wouldn’t think he was dangerous.

  Strob shrugged.

  He was still staring out the window when Elspeth joined him at the other “slot” in the wall. Outside, the courtyard was full of soldiers running about as if they were expecting an attack at any moment. To the left, a tall man – who must have been an officer judging by his elaborate uniform – pointed at a group of guards who were standing by their horses, and then pointed in the direction of the ten towers. Immediately after the officer stopped stabbing the air with his finger, the guards swung into their saddles and galloped out through the g
ate.

  What was going on? Where had they taken Vila? Why wasn’t there a guard watching them? Elspeth allowed herself to indulge in a little optimism. Maybe they were good people, people who would set her free and help her get home. They certainly couldn’t have anything against her.

  The door swung open, and a tall woman with black hair walked in.

  The woman held herself straight as she eyed each of them in turn. Her deep-set eyes appeared to float past Strob and Elka and fix on her. Elspeth felt her optimism melt away as the woman stepped closer. Standing in front of her, the woman bent down and looked into Elspeth’s eyes.

  Smiling, the woman said, “Welcome to Bhail, Oracle. My name is Torani Bauer, and I am First Commissioner to the Circle of Twelve.” The woman bowed deeply, head past her waist.

  “Oracle?” Elspeth whispered. She must think I’m Brea, but how? Does she know something? Is Brea on her way… is Arfael on his way?

  From the corner of her eye, Elspeth saw Elka urging her on. Clearing her throat, she nodded to the woman in blue. “The pleasure is mine, Torani. I’m pleased to meet you.” She hoped the woman couldn’t hear her heart thumping.

  * * *

  Niel Haselan let the guard’s body slide to the ground before grabbing him by his ankles and dragging the corpse behind the gatehouse. He could hardly believe how easy it was to escape from the garrison. The guards were so focused on Vila, none had noticed the old sergeant slip away.

  Peering out from where he hid the corpse, he used the ever-present view of the towers to judge his location. He would have to run – something he didn’t much like doing; his old bones weren’t made for it – if he was going to rescue Vila. Run to the Nirad, and hope he could find help before it was too late. It would mean flying back to Toi’ildrieg, a three-hour trip, and probably half a day persuading a captain that he was telling the truth, but what else could he do? He couldn’t let the witches have her!