by Greg Curtis
“Yes. It was painful, like someone shredding the bones of our skulls from the inside, but thanks to yourself and Samual it ended quickly enough and no harm was done.” It would have been if the vipers had not been stopped, and probably many would have died as the vipers bit them while they lay there, helpless. But that had not happened, praise the Goddess.
“Samual was able to fight because he is vero eskaline?”
“Yes.” Ry heard the alarm in Mayvelle's voice as she asked the question and abruptly understood why the soldier had come to her. This was about blood. She had doubts about her heritage. “As one of part human and part elf blood his hearing is not so sharp as some. He heard the hiss and it hurt, but not so greatly that it could prevent him from doing what he had to.”
“Nor I.” Mayvelle lowered her head. “And I wonder why.”
But she didn't wonder. Not really Ry knew as she stopped working once more and looked up at her. Mayvelle had guessed the truth and the pain was written all over her long face. She just wanted it confirmed. But that could not be done by her, Ryshal knew.
“Among our people there are some with sharper eyes and some with poorer. The same is true of hearing. Perhaps your hearing is simply not as sharp.”
“And perhaps there is a reason for it. As there is for my speed and strength. My stature.”
Ry sighed quietly, knowing that she could not give the soldier the answers she wanted because, firstly it was not her place, and secondly all she had herself was supposition. Mayvelle didn't know that of course. She suspected Samual had more knowledge. And that because of that Ry would. That was why the soldier had come to her. But she didn't and yet she had to say something. Eventually some words came to her.
“I'm sorry but I cannot answer your questions. I simply don't have the answers. The only ones who do are your parents.” She guessed though that they would not want to provide Mayvelle with those answers if they were what she suspected.
“But you can guess.” Mayvelle suddenly looked up from the ground to stare straight at Ryshal, her eyes at once both pleading and accusing.
“What you are speaking of is a matter too important for guesses. You need the truth.”
There was silence after that as neither of them knew what to say. How to broach the difficulty that lay between them. But eventually Ry saw Mayvelle's shoulders begin to relax as she realised that she had told her all she could.
“You are right and I thank you for your wisdom.” Mayvelle nodded politely to her. “But I need to return to my duties. I just wanted to see that you were well and to apologise for my rudeness of the other day.”
With that the soldier abruptly turned and left her, leaving Ry with a view of her departing form and endless questions. She didn't know what Mayvelle would do. Whether she would broach the matter with her parents. It was not an easy thing for a daughter to do. Not even for an adult daughter. Nor did she know what Mayvelle's parents would say. Most of all she didn't know what the outcome would be if her parents did tell Mayvelle what Ry was sure was the truth. But she feared that things would not be easy in the Ellosian wagon for a while. It would be best that none of that was laid at their feet.
Still, she knew as she returned to her work that it was something she could do nothing about. She had said what she could and had been very careful in it. All she could do for the moment was wash the clothes. And speak to her parents and her husband in time so that they knew what had happened.
Maybe too she would say a prayer to the Goddess for the soldier. In the end it was the Goddess who had allowed her to survive for so long in that prison cell. Had she not held to her faith she would have died early on. And she was certain that the Goddess was behind Samual's incredible growth as a mage. That the Fire Angel was her servant even if he did not know it.
Surely she could do something for the Fire Angel's sister as well.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Heri smiled grimly as he plunged the dagger into the last soldier's throat and then watched his lifeless corpse collapse back. He was pleased that the battle such as it was, was over. But he was annoyed that it wasn't Galan's gurgling he was listening to.
The man was an annoyance. His entire family was a plague. They had opposed him from the start. They had threatened his rule, and ultimately they had taken it away from him. Heri was certain that it was their assassin who had killed the hostages. No one else would be so ruthless. No one else hated him so greatly.
The Fallbrights had to die. All of them.
But his vengeance would have to wait for a while. He was back in Fair Fields, not too many leagues from their own barony. Soon he knew Galan Fallbright would be back with his entire verminous family, no doubt in a hurry to throw a rope over a suitable tree branch and hang him from it. They were going to be very unhappy he suspected when they returned to find their entire patrol dead. Especially Galan when he'd raced hard through the wastes to get him here as quickly as possible.
Really though, it was their own fault. They had restrained him and searched him thoroughly for weapons before taking him away. And they thought they had done their job well. But they had been stupid. The Fallbrights had always been an unimaginative family. Slow witted and quick to anger. It had never occurred to them to check for poisons.
It had never occurred to them either, to guess that as they had brought him back through the wastes to face judgement in Fair Fields that he had let them. His beard was growing nicely into a bush. His hair was longer now and unkempt. His wounds were healing. And they were actually escorting him through a dangerous land and away from his enemies. Enemies who had proven surprisingly dangerous. Now as King Heri was dead, no one would be looking for him and he would be safe enough in Fair Fields. As long as word didn't get out that he was alive. Which was another reason he was angry that Galan wasn't there to die with his men.
Still, it was only one man. One noble anyway. The soldiers, those who had ridden with Galan, didn't count. And Galan was a Fallbright. A family that were already in deep trouble with the other noble houses. The word had spread that it was they who had sent the assassins into the keep and arranged the killing of their loved ones. After that the stories of his survival would look like the desperate attempts of a noble house to deflect blame.
So really, while Galan had imagined he was bringing a condemned man back for execution, in truth he and his soldiers had been escorting the former king home. Back to where he had his gold.
A man with gold could do a lot. His mother had taught him that.
She had taught him a lot. The ways of power. The art of deception. And of course the science of poisons. In fact it was a pity she was dead. Still, she would have died quickly. If he had been overthrown and tried then she would have been tried too and her execution would have been by stoning. That would have been a far crueller fate. This had been better for her.
And in the end she had betrayed him. She had in fact planned his poisoning with bale root. He had found the plants in her private garden and understood her plan immediately. And removing the plants had not been enough. She would have done so again. It was simply the woman she was. She wanted the throne. She would have done anything she could to get it. And if she couldn't be queen because the laws of Fair Fields did not allow for a woman to sit on the throne, she would have settled for regent for a son laid low by long term sickness. In time she could have ruled through her grandchildren after he'd finally died of whatever unfortunate malady she'd intended for him to contract. In time no doubt, they would have died too. She could have been regent for life.
Another soldier suddenly gurgled one final time before collapsing at Heri's feet, catching him by surprise. He'd thought they were all dead already. Hearing him he checked the rest of the corpses just to make sure. When he found that one solider still had a pulse he slit the man's throat again just to make sure. After that he was done.
Soldiers! They had to be the most stupid men alive! Who but a fool would take coin to fight for someone else when they sho
uld be fighting for themselves? And now look at them. All dead. And for nothing.
Heri wiped his hands on the coat of the nearest dead soldier before going to sit by the fire and plan his next move. Naturally he didn't touch the stew. Not after he'd dropped a bulb of scorpion venom in it while the others weren't looking. That was the other failing of soldiers. They looked for threats with weapons. They never thought to think of things like poisons. And they had paid for that mistake with their lives.
But what next? That was the question. He couldn't go after Samual. Not again. Not yet. The elves would never let him go near them again. Once more his brother had proven himself too strong for him. Even without magic. And the elves would not be lied to either. Not twice. They were an irritating people, but not completely stupid. So for the moment his brother would live. It was time instead to start thinking about the rest of his enemies. And about his throne.
He had gold, and gold was power. It wasn't the throne and he couldn't buy it back with it. But it could be used as part of his plan to get it back. He'd always been careful to stash some away in little repositories throughout the kingdom, just in case. There might be some digging involved since many of those repositories were graves. But that just meant it would take time.
What he didn't have and what he needed most were allies. The gold could buy him property and servants and guards. But not allies. And thanks to the Fallbright's one clever idea, he never would. Not among the nobles of the Court. They too like the soldiers were stupid, though their foolishness related to family rather than force of arms. They would never ally themselves with someone who had killed their loved ones. And though they were now warring with one another as they fought for the throne, if they knew he lived they would all come together to destroy him. It was foolish and short sighted. But it was who they were.
His mother had taught him better than that of course. Caring for others was weakness. Love was a mistake. His mother had proven it repeatedly as she had arranged time and again for her husband to die. Finding ever more difficult and dangerous battles for him to fight and enemies to face. And why? Because his father had never loved her. His heart had always belonged to that elven whore. And so true hatred had been born in her heart. While love for a dead whore had killed his father.
It had been tricky of course. She could never have let him guess it was her behind all the attempts on his life. Or that she had killed his first love. And she had had to make sure that the kingdom would hold together after he was gone with her as regent. But she had been determined. It was simply that he had been even more determined to live. Something that had infuriated her as nothing else could, though she'd always had to hide it behind a forced smile and fake tears of relief. His mother had really hated his father.
But really as he recalled, the hardest thing she had had to face was her joy when she had finally succeeded. When his body was being lowered into the ground. She had finally realised that her subtle machinations were never going to work, and resorted to acting directly, poisoning his food and then pretending that he had been struck by an assassin's poisoned dart. And when she had finally succeeded the smile had scarcely left her face for weeks.
He had been dead. She had been regent – queen in all but name. And life had seemed wondrous. At the time the only dark spot on her horizon was him. That had been a trans-formative moment in his life. When he had seen her smile and realised her plans. He had been sixteen. In two short years he would have been old enough to claim the throne for himself. And her short reign as regent would be ended before it even began. He knew then that she was never going to let that happen. Seeing his father lowered into the ground and his mother's grin hidden behind the black veil, he had known his life was in mortal danger. It was then that he'd known that he would have to act against her.
False charges, accusations of infidelity, rumours of further tax reductions – all had played into his hands as he'd undermined her rule. And of course he'd had her watched. Made sure he knew every plant and poison she had. Destroyed most of them. She had never known it was him. Not until after it was done. She had taught him well.
But those strategies would not serve here. The noble houses were already at war with one another. It was not about reputations anymore. It was about blood and strength of arms. And the throne along with the city and its keep were gone. Now he would have to create a new throne. His own throne. And he would have to do it with allies who didn't want to kill him on sight. Allies he hadn't harmed.
There were only two.
The first were the thieves, outlaws and miscellaneous brigands and black market merchants he had dealt with over the years. But they were all by their very nature, untrustworthy. They would betray him the instant it served their purposes.
Which left him only with the second. This new Dragon.
He had bargained away some of his knowledge to the pestilent elves to save his life. He had had to after his plan had fallen apart so badly. And he had taken a secret joy in telling them of what he had done to some of their people. But he had kept a lot hidden. And then the elves had surprised him with their betrayal in turn. It had been surprisingly unelven of them. They were such an honest people. So straight forward. Now it seemed they were also capable of deception. He hated them for that. And yet it was also the only time he had ever respected them for a single decision they had made. But his deception was still greater. He had not told them all. And the most important thing he had not told them was that he knew where the Dragon could be found. And how to contact him.
His former spymaster might have betrayed him at the end. But his army of spies had been extremely effective. When the Dragon had struck they had been able to learn a lot about him. And Augrim had divined a fair amount as well. All of which meant that Heri was now the only man on the entire continent of the Dragon's Spine that knew who the new Dragon was.
Not his name of course. Heri wasn't even sure that troll bloods had names. But he knew where he could be found and how to contact him. And that was far more than anyone else knew.
He had not told the elves that of course. He had scarcely told them even a fraction of all that he knew about the Dragon. He had really just given them information about the Dragon's attacks across the entire continent. The strategies he had employed against different cities. The different creatures he had used. And what had happened to those realms he had conquered. They had been particularly concerned about Shavarra and he could tell them what the rats had done to it – nothing. Once the people were gone, dead or fled, the Dragon hadn't cared about it. His goal was murder, not conquest. In the end he was a troll blood.
Heri had not tried to make contact with the Dragon thus far, because there had seemed no point. And dealing with troll bloods was always bad for your health. But looking at the dead soldiers and knowing the pain of his ruined back muscles and missing half a hand, he knew the time had come. It was time to use the Dragon.
It was dangerous but necessary. The alternative was to run away and give up his dream of taking the throne once more. He could not do that. So he had to take a chance. His mother had in the end realised that she had to take a chance and risked revealing herself as she had set about poisoning his father herself. That had worked out well for her. He would have to do the same and hope for the same outcome. He needed an army now that some of the people knew he was alive, and the Dragon's army would do. After all, even if most didn't believe Galan's story, they would still investigate. They would start hunting for him, just in case. And he couldn't expect to poison them all, pleasing as that would have been. So he had to destroy his enemies before they succeeded in killing him, and that would require an army. Or some steel drakes.
The thought made him laugh a little. His enemies would not know what had struck them until it was too late. And when they did, those few survivors would never be able to link the attacks to him. It was the Dragon after all. And that was what he did.
Then, after his enemies were dead he would unite the survivors under his ban
ner. The Dragon would conveniently go away once the noble houses had been left in disarray. The troll blood would be easy enough to control. Heri would make up some story about having beaten back the Dragon. And maybe a story about why the Dragon might return if he wasn't made king again. The people would not be able to argue against him. And by the time he was finished with them what remained of the noble houses wouldn't even think of trying.
“You should have bowed to me soldiers!” Heri shouted at the dead men, a feeling of triumph overcoming him. “This is what happens when you fail to acknowledge your king!”
Heri would gather his strength. Rebuild his armies. Take back his throne. And once he had rebuilt his castle and his kingdom he would find a wizard and have this hideous compulsion removed from him. Then he would arrange to have Samual slaughtered. And all the rest of the accursed elves with him.
He might even mount Samual's damned head on a wall!
Chapter Twenty Eight
Sam walked the last few dozen paces to the Council meeting, choosing to leave Tyla behind to graze. The horses tended to wander a little when the elders were meeting, sometimes intruding on what was being discussed as they hunted out the best grass.