“I shall not waste your time, Raymond,” Darnuir said. He brought out the Dragon’s Blade with ample ceremony for the men to see. Raymond lowered his kerchief and momentarily forgot the odour in the air. I’m beginning to like having an effect on people. Raymond’s companion remained unstirred. “Yes, Darnuir is my name, and here is the Dragon’s Blade.”
“Certainly it looks impressively dragonish,” Raymond leered. “But can you fly? Breathe fire? Is your skin as hard as thick steel?”
“Has any dragon flown since the transformation?” Scythe questioned. “I can attest to Darnuir’s authenticity. I have seen the blade launch fire and him singlehandedly beat off a demon horde.” He lied of course, for he had not been at the battle, yet he spoke so convincingly that Darnuir felt no one would deny it. Darnuir smiled at Scythe, who gave a quick nod back. “It would not bode well to provoke a dragon with idle demands,” Scythe warned. “We are but cowering children in comparison, are we not?”
“Far be it from me to deny a King of Beasts,” Raymond said pompously. “It has been so long since the dragons contributed to the world that it seems I have forgotten what they can and cannot do. Perhaps provoking the dragon would finally awaken them from whatever slumber they have dwelt in.”
“I have done nothing to you,” Darnuir said. “Why hold this anger towards me?”
“Oh it’s not just you, don’t worry,” Raymond assured him. “You are but a representative of your leeching race. Twenty years your kind has taken from human lands, from human tables, and when our time of need arises, once more they vanish.”
“Our time of need was great for months,” Darnuir said. “Where was Brevia when the Boreacs burned and bled?”
“Struggling to cope with the chaos your kind has left in its sudden departure,” Raymond said. “Good King Arkus sends a call to arms to counter Castallan’s threats and swathes of the men registered on the rolls leave his lands. Whole regiments depleted, any sense of order gone. Refugees from the Dales and Marshes scurrying north and demons roaming freely in the south. What help was the King to send in haste?”
“I am not in control of the dragons,” said Darnuir curtly.
“Clearly!” Raymond said.
“Stop it,” Scythe said, for once the voice of reason. “Raymond, I have no great love of his kind but this will get us nowhere. Now state your purpose. I can think of only one reason for Chevaliers to roam so far from the capital.”
“Indeed,” Raymond said, “and a far flung place from the civilised world this is. As I said, King Arkus has called all able-bodied men to Brevia to assemble. Now that some semblance of order has been restored in the Crown Lands, there is a chance to gather in force.”
“Are you not aware that Castallan’s army crosses the marshlands as we speak?” Darnuir said. My craning neck grows weary from speaking to you, human. The thought had come unbidden. Another thought came to him, of the Dragon’s Blade spinning gracefully and relieving the man at his collar. Darnuir shook his own head. No, why do I have these thoughts?
“We are not aware,” Raymond said. “We have been riding hard for weeks. We travelled west to the border of the forest, and down to the tip of the loch. After acquiring passage at Inverdorn, we have been progressing through the Golden Crescent, informing all we meet. So no, we have not heard of the movements of Castallan’s army.”
“Did droves of refugees fleeing north to the forest not seem suspicious?” Scythe asked.
“As I said, Captain, chaos is the word of the present. We are merely following orders.”
“We will be happy to pass along your message to the people here,” Darnuir said. “Perhaps you ought to leave?”
“Was that an order?” Raymond said.
“We are fleeing for our lives,” Darnuir implored. “Castallan’s army hounds us. Go back to Brevia and tell Arkus to send his army west to aid us.”
“Or south to the Bastion,” Scythe suggested. “Whichever Arkus deems fit.”
“You would speak of your King in such tones?” Raymond asked.
“I was always told that a good captain looks after his hunters and the people he is charged with,” Scythe said. “Arkus is Captain of us all, yet look around you, Chevalier,” he swept his hands dramatically. “Look at the state of his people. Brevia does nothing. We must take matters into our own hands.”
“The consequence of following a dragon,” Raymond said tersely. “They care nothing for our kind.”
“Well I do!” Darnuir said passionately. “These are my people. They have suffered due to my existence. But I assure you that I will see them made safe.”
“Then run to the demons,” Raymond said “Let them have their prize. Save your ‘people’ if you mean your words.”
“Edwin suggested the same thing,” Darnuir said bitterly.
“This Edwin sounds like a reasonable man,” Raymond said. “And officially, we are to relay our message to him, so, if you don’t mind us waiting?”
Darnuir felt a temper rise hotly in him; that same anger that often caused him to lose control. I must contain it this time. He fought against it but the prodding on his mind quickened and it felt as if some invisible force were yanking at him from behind his eyes. Perhaps Scythe had an inkling of the signs of these episodes, for he answered Raymond on Darnuir’s behalf.
“As we said, Captain Edwin is yet to return from patrol. He might be some time.”
That the gates of the town swung inward at that moment, and that a band of bloodied and bruised hunters in red muddy leathers stumbled inside, was almost mocking. A short, stocky, man with a strong but swollen jaw led the pack.
“Ah,” Scythe said. “That would be him now.”
“Bleedin’ spectres,” Edwin mumbled by way of explanation when he and his party drew up to them all. “Well isn’t this quite the gathering?”
“Captain Edwin?” Raymond asked.
“Aye, that’ll be me,” Edwin said. “One moment, Chevalier,” he said and turned to dismiss the hunters that followed him through the gates. “You lot, go patch yer’selves up.” The men and women trotted by looking exhausted. Some had escaped whatever skirmish they had been in with only a few cuts, while others held limp arms, or leaned heavily on their bow for support. Once they had passed, Edwin faced Raymond once more. “Must’ve been a spectre vanguard that found us,” he explained. “None o’ the men I sent east returned. We would have come away even worse, or not at all, if we hadnae been alert. Some blasted bird kept swooping overhead, likely geeing us away.”
“That eagle was a friend of ours,” Darnuir told him. “She’s a shape-shifter. You wounded her badly.”
“What?” Edwin said a bit dazed. “Ach, I’m sorry, lad. I didn’t know. She alright?”
“She should pull through,” Darnuir said.
Raymond coughed from above and sniffed loudly. Edwin did not seem to hear him.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Look we have tae pick ourselves up and get going at once. We cannae stay here a moment longer.”
Raymond coughed again.
“Can I help?” Edwin asked, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground. Raymond eyed the saliva distastefully.
“Captain Edwin,” Raymond began, “by order of King Arkus, you are to send every able-bodied man to Brevia. Your hunters are exempt but must maintain order in the region.”
Edwin massaged his jaw for a few long seconds. “Didn’t catch yer name there, Chevalier.”
“Raymond,” he said, “of House Tarquill.”
“Ah, that’s a nice name,” Edwin said. “We don’t have nice names like that oot here. Can I ask ye something, Raymond of House Tarquill?” Raymond seemed confused but remained silent. “Are ye deaf?”
The Chevalier’s expression hardened at once. “I beg your pardon?”
“Or simple?” Edwin added. “Maybe yer both?”
“I beg your pardon,” Raymond said through gritted teeth.
“Pardon?” laughed Edwin. “No, you won’t get that. Di
d ye not hear what I just said? There’s a great big army of demons swarming all over the south; moving so fast you’d think Dranus himself is wiping their fiery wee arses!”
A clap of thunder rolled somewhere from the east. Darnuir saw dark grey clouds assembling, heavy with water, and jagged in shape. As they edged closer, they began to block out the sun, casting long shadows. The horses grew restless and their riders fought at the reins to keep them in control. Darnuir looked again at the faceless man and felt uneasy. Instinct told him something was wrong. Other than settling his horse, he had not moved at all. Darnuir cautiously tightened his grip on the Dragon’s Blade.
“So I’ll ask ye again,” Edwin said. “Are you deaf or simple?”
Raymond’s temperament seemed to be reaching its limit. His hand drifted towards his own sword.
“Stop this!” Darnuir said as sternly as he could. This was quickly getting out of hand.
“Edwin, you’re exhausted,” Scythe said. “You should take some rest while we prepare to move out.”
“And I think you better leave now,” Darnuir told Raymond. “Go tell Arkus to send aid. Tell him the King of Dragons has returned. Word from one of his Chevaliers should be proof enough to satisfy the rumours that reach him.”
The tension was palpable and was broken only by a gatekeeper scurrying towards them.
“Sir!” the man bellowed at no one in particular. Who does he mean? One Chevalier, two Captains and a Dragon King. Sir just about covered them all. “Sir!” he said again, “men at the gate.”
“What!” Scythe scorned, looking visibly stressed by the news. “Who are they?”
“I dunno, sir,” the gatekeeper said. “But there’s maybe thirty of them and they are wearing armour of gold.”
Gold? Could it really be dragons? Here? He had considered that meeting other dragons was still something far off. I’m not ready for this.
“By order of the Guardian of Tenalp, open this door!” a voice roared above the wind, whistling through the long marsh grass. “Open this door so we may come to our King.”
Whoever they were, they seemed impatient.
“This is turning into quite the farce,” Raymond commented.
“Edwin!” Scythe exclaimed, rounding on him. “I thought you said they were far off.”
“I said I heard they were, Scythe,” Edwin said. “Nowt but rumours and hearsay, remember?”
“Open this door!” the dragon outside roared. “Very well. Light Bearers, prepare to break it down.” The poor gatekeeper looked aghast.
“Well, go open the door before they charge!” Darnuir ordered. It seemed to bring the man to his senses and he scarpered off.
The gate swung inwards and in marched the promised collection of golden-clad dragons. They had bodies of men and their expressions were severe and serious. Half of them carried enormous rectangular shields, which could cover their bodies from shin to neck. The exception seemed to be the dark blond-haired man at their head, who oozed a quiet confidence. His armour was either the most magnificent or the most ludicrous that Darnuir had ever seen. His pauldrons were gigantic and appeared to be ornamental suns. I hope that I never have to wear something like that. That is far too cumbersome.
“Greetings, Darnuir,” the dragon in the bulky armour said. “May Dwna shine upon our first meeting. My name is Blaine, Guardian of Tenalp, at your service.”
“Hello?” Darnuir said hesitantly. Blaine surveyed the scene around him. His amber-flecked eyes lingered on the two Chevaliers.
“Darnuir, we shall have time to converse fully later,” said Blaine. “We are here to escort you to safety. A host of demons rapidly approaches and you must leave at once.”
“Yes, we were just discussing that,” Darnuir said. “I fear that if there are any more interruptions, we will never get going.”
“We?” Blaine said curiously. “Darnuir, we cannot tarry. You must come at once. Your people await you in the forest of Val’tarra.”
“Ah, so that’s where you’ve all gotten to?” Raymond said. He had attempted his usual lazy haughtiness but it contained a pinch of fear. Darnuir sensed a strange sweetness brush under his nose. Why would I be smelling that?
“Hiding once more,” Raymond droned on. “Seeking the blue skins for protection.”
“Careful, human,” Blaine said. “Refrain from such condescending remarks of our fairy allies. That looks like fine armour. I’d regret having to prove how soft it really is.”
Another clap of thunder, this time louder, and Darnuir did not fail to notice the shadows along the ground grow larger as the jagged clouds crept closer.
“I’m not leaving,” Darnuir said. “Not on my own at least. Val’tarra was our destination so we can make our way there together. All of us.”
“Darnuir,” Blaine said, as if speaking to a child. “My outrunners tell me that the demons number well into the tens of thousands. We cannot hope to defeat them in battle. We can only outrun them if you join us now. Your people—”
“Are right here!” Darnuir insisted. “I will not leave them to die.” It was the one thing he was certain of. He was not going to leave them all, not now. Not Cosmo. He needs me, I’m sure. Not Balack. Not Brackendon or even Kymethra. Not Cassandra. How can I go without those green eyes, that perfect smile? I promised her she would be free, not condemned to death. Not even Garon. Garon? The man himself appeared on the scene. He joined the gathering crowd, looking perplexed. His pewter pot was empty, as was his basket of fish.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Garon, stay out of it,” Scythe said. “They are too many opinions here already.”
“Yet only one that matters,” Blaine said. “Darnuir, come now.”
“Can naebody use their ears today?” Edwin asked. “The boy said he ain’t going. Isn’t he supposed to be yer King? Shouldn’t ye dae what he says?”
“I have neither the time nor the desire to explain the minutiae of my position to you,” Blaine said. “In short, I do not ‘have’ to. Darnuir, you will come with me now or we will take you.”
Oh will you, Darnuir thought but did not quite have the courage to say. The dragon was intimidating.
“I wouldn’t worry about his insolence, Lord Guardian,” Raymond said. “These southerners have yet to learn how to address their betters.”
Darnuir felt it then. Some instinct took over him. Something bestial. He raised the Dragon’s Blade ready. Edwin drew his sword as well, brandishing it at Raymond. The Chevaliers both unsheathed their weapons and kicked their steeds forwards. Raymond pointed his sword threateningly towards the hunter. From his elevated position, he could take Edwin’s head off if he had the notion.
“Go on then, Raymond of House Tarquill,” Edwin spat. “Prove yer man enough to use that thing. I dare you.”
“Edwin,” Darnuir pleaded. “Let it go. He’ll be on his way now, right Raymond?”
Darnuir looked to Scythe for support but the wiry captain seemed unable to find any words.
“Eighty years have I been absent,” Blaine said, “yet petty bickering still leads men quick to naked steel. Do not draw your blades, humans, unless you intend to use them.”
Raymond narrowed his eyes, and slowly lowered his sword. Edwin raised his eyebrows mockingly at him. Darnuir noticed Garon let out a sigh of relief beside him. That could have ended badly.
“Come, brother,” Raymond said to his companion. “We have over-stayed our welcome.”
Raymond’s silent companion began to move but not away. Face still hidden under his visor, the man carried his horse on a few short steps towards Edwin.
“Got something to add?” Edwin said.
The Chevalier lifted his sword.
Edwin tried to call out one last time. Perhaps a final jibe or a howl of shock, but the sound caught in his throat as the Chevalier brought his sword down hard. The stroke fell with an inhuman force, cutting the marshland captain to his heart. The smell of the gore laced Darnuir’s nostrils, fresh and bl
oody; it made his own blood run hot. His head thrummed with a few quick blasts of pain. Edwin gargled his last breath as he hit the muddy earth.
Darnuir felt the tension tear apart around him.
Everyone in the vicinity rushed for their weapon. Raymond seemed the most appalled of all and was even more surprised when his fellow Chevalier turned against him. The two clashed atop their horses and Raymond managed to strike his fellow upon the head. Helmet dented, the offending Chevalier removed it. Beneath was a face utterly unremarkable. The man was plain, his hair a common mousey-brown, but his eyes glowed a malevolent red.
One of the dragon warriors sprinted forward and ripped the man off his horse. Darnuir thought that it would be over in seconds as the dragon prepared to pierce the man’s stomach. But the red-eyed stranger deflected the incoming strike with a speed and strength that was surely beyond him. He slashed at the dragon’s legs, cutting at the knees, jumped to his feet and rammed the unsuspecting dragon through the face. Blaine cried out and Darnuir’s vision was momentarily blurred as a flash of light whipped out from the sword the Guardian bore. His fellow dragons roared their displeasure and those with shields smashed them threateningly off the ground. The red-eyed man remained silent and collected, so sure of himself, despite being overwhelmingly outnumbered. He even edged towards another of the dragons.
Then screeches came from all around as countless spectres bounded from the shadows, tackling some of the dragons and flying towards anyone in reach.
On his left, Darnuir saw Garon club a spectre with his pot and make off to engage another two. On his right, a spectre materialised close to Scythe and placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder. The spectre seemed surprised when Scythe pulled it closer to him, flicked out his long skinning knife and placed several punctures in the demon’s back. Movement flashed on Darnuir’s periphery. He turned right and shoved his sword arm forwards to skewer the leaping spectre through the mouth. Rust-coloured blood spurted out of it and smoked as it hit the air. After dealing with another one of the creatures, Darnuir caught a glimpse of the dragons in action. Despite the ambush, they seemed to be faring well. Another two golden bodies lay still in the mud but the rest fought on. The majority of the spectres seemed to be concerned with them. Blaine was attempting to clash with the red-eyed man but spectres continually got in his way, to their own detriment.
The Dragon's Blade: The Reborn King Page 24