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

by T. J. Garrett

  He waved the runner over. “Stay here and keep an eye out. If the enemy starts to move forward, you come and find me. I will most likely be at the Highgate. If not, inform General Mikelmoor that the eastern wall is vulnerable.”

  “Are you sure about this, Cal?” Fletch asked.

  “No,” Cal admitted. “But we are stretched too thin to sit on a wall, waiting.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Any Given Day

  Elspeth gathered her wits and scampered across the open field to a small copse of trees. Until then, she had been able to stay behind the cover of the dark cliffs that ran along the coast, only occasionally coming out into the open. The copse of trees bordered the footpath that eventually led to the tower at Barais’gin. With any luck, she would be able to stay hidden until she passed the Kel’madden’s camp. She was sure Arfael would be heading this way. He would want to come in behind the enemy’s position and, if she had learned anything over the past week, it was that Vila always pitched her tent at the back. Arfael would probably know that, too—she hoped, or she could end up walking all the way back to An’aird Barath.

  Of course, she could have climbed down the cliffs, swam around the point, and back into Bailryn harbour—if she saw any Kel’madden scouts, she might still do that—but for now, the way was clear and looked safe enough. Apart from being on the wrong side of the wall, of course.

  Why she had to chase after Arfael was beyond her understanding. Finally, she was in Bailryn, her original destination when all this had started. She could have been safe and comfortable within the palace walls—the palace. But no; after less than three hours in the city, she was traipsing along the edge of a field—again. Strange as it was to admit, something about her current predicament excited her. Maybe she was doomed to always follow the wrong path.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw movement in the small clearing opposite. Crouching, she ducked down behind the broad trunk of an oak. She was too late, though, they had seen her.

  Spinning around, she ran back to the field she had just crossed. If she could make it to the cliffs, maybe they wouldn’t follow her down. She ducked her head and ran as fast as she could, lifting her knees high to clear the long grass—she had tried ploughing through it, but it was too thick. She could hear shouts coming from behind, and something that sounded like laughter. Halfway across the field, her lungs begun to ache and her legs were turning to lead. An arrow whistled past her ear and ripped through the grass. Stopping dead, she raised her hands and slowly turned around.

  “And what do we have here?” the tallest of the six Kel’madden asked. His voice was mocking. “One of those local beauties we’ve all heard so much about, aye, men.” He turned to the others. “What do you think, worth a tumble in the long grass?” The others laughed.

  Elspeth backed off as the men fanned out in front of her. They were all smiling, and eyeing her up and down.

  “Aye, she’s definitely worth a tumble,” another said. “Come over here, girl. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

  “You’ll not take me alive,” Elspeth shouted, waving her dagger from one man to the next.

  She backed up again and glanced over her shoulder. She was still fifty paces from the cliffs. Gods, why didn’t I stay in the bloody palace!

  The man shrugged. “We’ll keep you alive, just.”

  His face creased from ear to ear in a cruel grin. And then his eyes bulged as an arrow blossomed in his neck. It had been shot from behind and went right through. The other Kel’madden quickly spun around, but two more were down before Elspeth caught sight of who was attacking them. They looked like another group of Kel’madden troopers; darker skinned, and shorter, but in the same uniform.

  The three that remained from the first group tried to run, but they didn’t get far—less than twenty paces.

  The other group came out from behind the trees.

  “What did you do to make them chase after you?” a woman asked. She was middling height, with short black hair and a round face. By the way she walked, leading the others in her group, Elspeth thought she might be in charge. And there was something about her voice? Elspeth wasn’t sure why, but she sounded familiar.

  Elspeth shook her head and raised her palms. “I was just in the wrong place.”

  The woman laughed. “That’s an understatement. You do know there’s a siege going on less than a league to the south?”

  Elspeth wondered whether to tell them the truth. Could she trust the woman? Yes, they had just killed a group of Kel’madden, but what if there had been a reason for it… maybe the first group were deserters. Still, something about the woman put Elspeth at her ease—a little. “I was looking for a friend of mine. He would have come through here half an hour ago, maybe more.”

  “He wouldn’t be a tall man with silver skin, would he?” a man said.

  Elspeth nodded. And then wished she hadn’t. How did they know about Arfael?

  The man who asked the question was shorter than the woman was, and stood a pace behind. He looked at the woman and nodded. The woman took in a long breath, then gestured for the others in her group to fan out.

  “My name is Elspeth Tanner, and my friend is Arlyn Gan’ifael, the Cinnè’arth. I’m not sure if you have heard of—”

  “The Cinnè’arth? That silver thing is the Cinnè’arth?”

  Again, Elspeth nodded.

  “Then I think we may be able to help each other. My name is Nana Duran, formerly a captain of the Kel’madden.”

  Nana bowed.

  “Former captain? What happened? Didn’t Vila like you?”

  Nana laughed. “I see you know her. No, I had a disagreement with Turasan. I all but had the rope around my neck when my men rescued me. These vermin were probably looking for us,” she said, kicking one of the dead Kel’madden.

  “So how do you—”

  Nana cut herself off and took a step forward. “I’ve seen you before. You’re that girl Vila brought back from the Tunnels of Aldregair.”

  “And you’re the woman who led me to her tent,” Elspeth replied. “I didn’t recognise you without your helmet.”

  “How did you manage to—never mind, we should talk about your friend. If he is hunting Vila, we might be able to lend a hand. But I doubt he’ll listen to us. Are you willing to help?”

  “I’m not sure he’ll recognise me,” Elspeth told her. “The Change used to do things to his mind. He’s supposed to be cured, but I don’t know for sure. I’ll try, though, he could use the help. Only, don’t cross him. He’ll kill you where you stand without a second’s thought.”

  That probably wasn’t true, but it didn’t hurt to let them think it.

  “Fair enough,” Nana said. “Come on, he’s got a mile on us.”

  They broke into a trot, and Nana introduced Elspeth to the rest of group. She could hardly believe her luck: ten armed troopers to help Arfael. And to think, she was going to turn back.

  * * *

  Brea let Alacin help her up the steps into the Eastern Tower. It was, as the guard had said, unoccupied. She could see why: the floorboards were rotten, cracked in places; the spiral staircase that wound its way around the circular tower was made of stone, but large portions of it had crumbled away; looking up, Brea could see crows nesting in the ceiling, and the roof was full of holes.

  “I don’t know,” Alacin said, “a bit of paint, a few cushions, maybe the odd plant or two.”

  “I wish you would stop joking about everything. You weren’t like this before. What’s happening to you?”

  “I’m remembering, and the more I remember, the funnier it seems.”

  “Remembering what?” She had noticed Alacin changing since he’d come across that old man in the Tunnels of Aldregair. Like Arfael, it would appear that Alacin had memories he would just as soon stayed hidden.

  “Oh, nothing that concerns you, nothing that concerns anybody. Not now—it was eight-hundred years ago.”

  “Well, if you’re not going to talk, then
I suggest we climb. Would you mind going first?” Brea gestured towards the stairs.

  Alacin gave her that ridiculous bow of his before starting up the steps.

  Most of the steps were green with a thick covering of moss and damp after the recent rains. The air smelled like the old storeroom in the back yard of the Whistling Shepherd; thick with the scent of something rotten—probably rat droppings. Brea ignored all thought of rats and concentrated on her footing. More than once, she wished she had worn breeches and gloves.

  Finally, after more assistance from Alacin, she crawled up the last few broken steps and stood on the landing at the top of the tower. The crows beat their wings in protest at their unwanted visitors, creating a cloud of dust that filled the small room. Brea coughed and waved the dust away—she was doing that a lot lately. To her left, a small door led to a narrow balcony. Brea edged her way out, mindful of the low wall and the apparent fragile condition of the stone.

  Northern Bailryn lay out in front of her. She could see all along the wall, from the cliffs in the east to the Highgate at the northwest corner. Soldiers, looking like lines of ants, were busy on the parapet. Now and then, she heard the faint cries of the wounded or the shout of orders. She couldn’t see any ladders, and it appeared as if the soldiers were aiming beyond the wall. That was encouraging; the guards were doing their job, and doing it well.

  North, she could see over the Crescent and into the Kel’madden camp.

  “Can I have the eyeglass, please?”

  Alacin pulled the short, brass tube out from inside his coat and handed it over. Brea put the lens to her eye, and immediately felt dizzy at the sight of distorted trees and rocks.

  Alacin grabbed her arm. “Steady yourself. Sit down, if you have to.”

  Brea knelt down and rested her elbows on the low wall. Bracing herself, she looked again. It took a while for her eye to adjust; only the centre of the image was in focus.

  “It’s not very good,” she told Alacin.

  “It was the only one I could find. Better than nothing.”

  “Barely.”

  “If you don’t want it, give it back. I wouldn’t mind seeing their camp.”

  Brea said nothing. He was behaving childishly again. It might be funny… if it did not happen so often.

  Blurred or not, Brea could make out the large circle of tents, four deep, at the centre of the Kel’madden camp. Beyond that was a smaller circle of large tents. That would be where Vila had her command post. To the right—and further back—she saw a field full of horses, but no dragons. Aiming the eyeglass towards the west, she blinked at the gleam of metal, then gasped when she realised she was looking at a flying cauldron.

  “What the—” She pulled the focusing wheel to get a wider view. Four dragons were carrying the cauldron. “Where are they going?” Aiming the eyeglass further west along the dragons’ current path, she saw what must be their target: the Highgate. “Oh dear, we have to do something.”

  “Do what?” Alacin asked.

  She handed him the eyeglass and pointed towards the dragons.

  “Oh dear, indeed,” Alacin said, and for once it didn’t sound like a joke. “I fear we are too late to stop them.”

  “We can try,” Brea snapped. “Give me your hand.”

  The now familiar curtain fell, and Brea immediately became aware of a powerful presence within the Voice.

  Alacin gasped. “That must be Arfael. Can you get past it?”

  Brea focused her mind towards the west. Images began to flash in front of her eyes—a crow, a dog, a cow, but no dragon.

  “Use the necklace,” Alacin said.

  Brea bit back a curse; how could she have forgotten about that. She pulled out her necklace and held on to the stone talisman.

  This time, the image of a dragon’s eye flashed in front of her, but it wasn’t one of those carrying the cauldron. The eye was orange and reminded her of Tor. “Sek?” she whispered.

  I can see you, child, Sek sent. There’s no hiding from me.

  Brea opened her eyes and let go of the necklace.

  “What happened, why have you stopped?”

  Brea forced herself to swallow. “It’s Sek. He’s on his way here.”

  Alacin bit his lip but said nothing. He reached for the eyeglass and aimed it at the Highgate. “Too late, they’ve dropped whatever it was on the gate.”

  Brea sank down. Back against the wall, she stared at Alacin. “I suppose this is what we wanted. Sek, I mean, not the other. Are you ready?”

  “No, but if we waited until I’m ready… How far away is he?”

  “A few minutes,” Brea said, staring north.

  In a few minutes, either she would be dead, or Sek would be on their side. She definitely wasn’t ready.

  CHAPTER 14

  Reprieve

  Rarshman rounded the small clump of trees and found Kirin’thar waiting at the edge of the camp. Gaiden, and a few folk he did not know, were standing with him.

  “How many?” Rarshman asked, pulling his mount alongside Kirin’thar. Even on his horse, he still had to look up to meet Kirin’s eye.

  The Cren looked taken aback. “How many what?”

  “How many dead and injured, of course.”

  Gazing at the camp, Rarshman noticed nobody was making much of a fuss. From where he was sitting, everyone—man, woman, and wolf—appeared to be calmly going about their business. The way Bre’ach had told it, Rarshman had half-expected pandemonium—or at least a level of mild disarray.

  “None,” Kirin’thar said. “They came for the livestock. We took a few injuries, but nothing serious.”

  “‘A few injuries?’ Did you just stand back and let them take our food? You know they’ll ride straight for the Kel’madden camp. You have just fed the enemy for a month—more, probably. How could you be so—”

  “Calm yourself, Captain,” Kirin’thar interrupted. “As soon as we knew you were close, Tanri and a few others called the animals back.”

  Gaiden, the Rukin Elder, was standing by Kirin’thar’s side. He didn’t look like he believed it, either.

  “Are you saying our livestock is going to walk back on their own?”

  “Oh, I doubt they’ll be walking,” the Cren laughed. “I’m hoping for more of a stampede.”

  Rarshman, gawking at the Cren, slowly shook his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he whispered.

  Kirin’thar gave him a wry look. “In the meantime, perhaps you should set your men up on the other side of the road, out of sight. I doubt the Black Hand will be stupid enough to follow the animals back, but you never know with Surabhan.”

  Rarshman looked over his shoulder at Grady and Si’eth.

  Grady shrugged. “Cows and goats running back on their own; it wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve seen in the past few weeks.”

  “We’ll need to hide the prisoners, keep them quiet,” Si’eth added.

  “We’ll take care of them,” Gaiden said. “We’ll hide them behind the trees, over by the quarry. They won’t know what’s happening.”

  Rarshman let out a long breath. “I suppose we had best get on with it, then. Grady, lead the men over the road and into the west field. You should be able to hide in the small valley behind the forest. Si’eth, you gather the archers and help Gaiden secure the prisoners, and then join Grady.” Rarshman spun round in his saddle, left then right. “And someone tell Farnok what’s going on.”

  “I’ll do that,” Bre’ach said, reining his horse back.

  “Good. And thank you, he never listens to me.”

  Rarshman turned in his saddle. Catching the young Salrian’s gaze, he said, “And keep to the facts, Bre’ach. We wouldn’t want the Darkin rushing to the rescue before an arrow has been fired.”

  Huge attacking force… what was the boy thinking?

  Organising an ambush did not take long. Renik and Farnok were waiting across the road behind a thin line of trees when Rarshman rode up. Grady and the Salrian—Si’eth�
�were in the valley behind their position, waiting for Rarshman’s signal.

  Renik was laying behind a line of sparse thicket. In front of him, Rarshman could see the hill—more of a gentle slope, really—down which their livestock would run. Rarshman scratched at his ear; the plan seemed ridiculous. How would he write this up in his report to Mikelmoor—waited in the trees with Renik and Farnok. Expecting a herd of stampeding goats. Kirin’thar planning a picnic. Yes, ridiculous.

  “Is this going to work?” he asked Renik.

  The Cren nodded. “It’s a simple thing, really. Livestock aren’t very intelligent, but they do have good instincts. We can send a longing, a desire to want to follow.”

  Rarshman chuckled. “I’m betting you people don’t have to do much hunting.”

  “On the contrary,” Renik replied. “The beasts of Crenach’coi are far from stupid. Some, like the Culb’coi, have a Voice of their own. Cren children have to learn to resist their calling.”

  Rarshman stared wide-eyed at the man. “Animals that can control people!” He chortled nervously. “I was thinking I might visit Crenach’coi when this is over. Maybe I’ll go to Eurmac instead.”

  Renik laughed. “Their Voice only works on young children. Even you Surabhan have strong enough minds to resist, once you are of age.”

  “Do you people have something against Surabhan? Kirin’thar suggested that—”

  “Be quiet,” Farnok growled. “They’re coming.”

  Rarshman stared at the big wolf. Who, in turn, was staring off to the northeast, and seemingly oblivious of his rude behaviour. Mind-controlling animals aside, the Darkin were proving to be another reason to avoid Crenach’coi.

  “Any sign of the Black Hand?” Rarshman asked Renik.

  “Not yet, but they’ve only just—wait… there they are.” Renik pointed to the northwest. “Seems they really are fools.”